Chapter 16
MADDOX
As my fourth test omelet set, I looked nervously at the clock. It was almost seven.
My latest attempt looked marginally less shitty than the first three, but still nowhere near the quality of what I’d seen online. I had watched multiple how-to-cook-a-French-omelet instructional videos over and over, but the results were proving impossible to replicate.
I had at least succeeded in returning the kitchen to spotlessness, though the effort left me sore and exhausted.
I’d thought my intense workouts had taught me what it was to be completely physically drained.
I’d known nothing. Housework at this level went beyond anything I’d previously experienced.
My knees were killing me after hours spent scrubbing the floor.
My hands were raw from exposure to too many abrasive cleaning supplies.
But I’d cleaned up every last drop and glass shard and blob of smashed food.
I’d beautifully restocked the fridge. Hopefully, that would keep her happy enough.
This had been the darkest of dark nights of the soul. Too many hours of solitude doing tedious manual labor, replaying all the condemnations of the last few days, struggling to process the extremity of my fall from grace.
Only two weeks ago, I had everything I’d ever wanted. Now I’d lost it all, with only the slimmest chance of gaining any of it back.
Maybe trying to get out of this at all was a fundamentally stupid idea? This could be a total waste of time. Perhaps I should simply admit my life was over and go join a remote monastery or something. My defeat might already be final.
But I knew I wasn’t ready to give up yet. Callie was only allowing me to stay to toy with me, but that was still an opportunity. I would just have to submit to that and look for ways to win her over.
Though if it was really going to require me to cook the perfect French omelet, then there was probably no hope for my dick to recover.
From upstairs, I heard the braying of Callie’s alarm clock, quickly silenced, and immediately followed by her footsteps as she got out of bed. She always sprang right up in the morning, bright and excited.
I winced, remembering how that had annoyed me. Why? Now that I thought about it, it was actually sweet and endearing, the happy cheerfulness with which she greeted each day. Why had I always been so sour about it?
But there was no time to think on that now. The clock had run out. All right, this fourth omelet would have to do. It looked… passable.
As I did my best to slide it onto a plate without totally destroying it (I’d give myself a C minus for how well I managed that), Callie glided into the room, wrapped in her sheerest robe. “Good morning! Did you have a nice night?”
Watching how the gauzy fabric clung to her, I felt stirrings of arousal. This was going to be a rough journey.
“It was a really difficult night,” I admitted.
“Good, glad to hear it.” She swanned into the chair at the head of the table.
Which used to always be my seat, but I guessed now it was appropriately hers, wasn’t it? I did my best to suppress the pain of how recently this house had belonged to me.
Now I had nothing left to my name. Nothing except the charity of the wife I had betrayed.
So I better make sure she felt like continuing to issue that charity. I placed the omelet in front of her. She regarded it skeptically and took a first dainty bite. As she chewed, her expression was carefully neutral.
“I made three practice omelets before it. I would have made more, but that was all the time I had left after cleaning the place, and I tried to watch as many cooking instructional videos as I could find online. I promise I’ll get better with practice.”
“Let’s hope so. The taste is decent, but the presentation is poor.
Also, the texture of the eggs needs to be fluffier.
But it’s good enough. You’ve won yourself at least one more night in the house.
” She paused for a long moment. “Now, please bring me a glass of ice water and have a seat. I need your thoughts on something.”
Filling the glass, I thought this must be a good sign, right? Seeking my advice? She was still talking to me. As long as we were talking, I had a chance to win her over.
As I sat beside her, she slid her phone over to me. She continued to eat what I’d prepared, another good sign.
My hopefulness died the moment I looked at her phone screen and saw a grid of jacked dudes flexing for the camera.
“This is my ‘No Strings Attached Hookups’ folder,” she explained enthusiastically.
“The day after you walked out, I set up my profiles on the apps. I’ve been chatting with a few guys this week and getting them all lined up for once our divorce was done.
I’ve saved all their pics here, but I can’t decide what order to tackle them in.
” She gave me a big, radiant smile. “I want to know which guy you think should fuck me first.”
That produced a burst of rage so intense I had no chance of suppressing it. “No goddamn way!” I roared.
Callie narrowed her eyes. “Try that again.”
“I still love you! I still want you! I still feel like we’re married! I can’t help you pick out other guys to fuck!”
“I’m not asking you to pick the guys. I already picked them.
I’m just asking for your thoughts on the order.
” As placid and unperturbed as could be, she reached across the table and started swiping through the pics.
“Now, Dante here talked a lot about how much he loves to go down on women. Naturally, that’s something I’m dying for after our marriage. ”
Damn. Why hadn’t I gone down on her more? Callie had always blown me anytime I asked. She had done anything I asked, whenever I asked, sexually or otherwise. Why again had I ignored her as much as I had?
She was continuing her monologue on the pics. I tried to block out her words, but failed utterly. A pic of some hairy douchebag posing shirtless in the middle of a crowded gym was up next. “But Lance, I mean, look at this chest hair. I’m dying to run my hands through that.”
“You like chest hair?” I had been shaving mine for a while. Made my pecs and abs pop more. I thought she preferred it that way, too.
“Oh, absolutely. I love a hairy chest. You pulled a bit of a bait and switch on me with that. You had it when we first met, but it’s been all smooth for years now. I guess the mistresses preferred it?”
I looked down, ashamed. “I thought you liked it better this way.”
“I actually told you when we were dating how hot I thought your chest hair was. I guess that was another time when you weren’t listening to me.
” She gave a dry laugh. “At least you didn’t only ignore me when it was things that were important to me.
You ignored me so much you didn’t even hear my compliments. ”
Fuck. When she laid it out that way, there really was no denying it. “I’m sorry. I should have been listening to you more carefully the whole time.” And I really meant it. Maybe if I could muster sincere moments of regret like this one, it might move her?
She seemed to register the authenticity of my statement. Not that her hard expression softened at all, but she took it in.
A silent moment passed. Then she swiped to the next picture.
“And here’s Damian. He’s six foot four, so as tall as you, but he sent me unsolicited dick pics, and I am not down with that.
That being said, look at this dick! Seems way bigger than yours, right?
Thicker and longer! I definitely need to give that a spin.
So, who do you think should be first up? ”
Looking at the screencapped profile pics of these three chiseled guys, I found myself suddenly overwhelmed with mental images of Callie getting railed by each of them.
My sweet, beautiful, innocent wife. The thought of her with these other men felt like knives driving into me from all sides.
The pain of it was searing, and she hadn’t even done anything yet!
Oh god. Was this what she went through when she learned about all my affairs? This pain was too much. Ten percent of this pain would be too much. Even one percent of this would be too much. And nothing had even happened yet!
“I’m waiting, Maddox. Which one of these guys do you think I should be with first?”
I locked eyes with her, and I didn’t try to hide it. All the desperation showed plainly on my face. “Please don’t make me,” I asked.
“Oh, come on, we’re divorced now. Be a friend and help me figure this out,” she said cheerfully.
“I can’t. I hate the thought of you with these guys.”
“But why?” She gave me a taunting smirk. “You thought I’d be just fine you were with other women. And I’ve even waited for our divorce to go through before getting back out there.”
“It hurts. More than anything.”
“I really don’t know why it would, given how uninterested you were in having me.” She swiped again to the unsolicited dick pic she’d received. “Why should it hurt you to picture this dick inside of me? You didn’t want to be bothered.”
“Please, Callie…” I begged, unable to meet her gaze.
She sighed heavily and leaned back in her seat. “All right, I don’t want to be cruel. You don’t have to help me prioritize them.”
The relief that flooded through me in that moment was so intense that I physically shuddered. “Thank you. Thank you.”
“I’ll pick who goes first, and it can just be a surprise when he shows up tonight.
Your task will be preparing and serving us dinner and waiting on us during it.
Call in to work and start practicing your cooking for whatever you’re going to serve us.
Whichever guy is the lucky winner, I’ll be introducing you to him as my butler.
” She handed me her credit card. “Here, take my card and go get yourself something cute. A tux, some kind of nice butler uniform, just make sure it really reads ‘high-class servant.’ When my guest arrives, I don’t want you looking as awful as you do right now. ”
Inside my mind, I was screaming in pain and agony beyond what any man had ever known. To put on a little costume and serve my wife and another guy a full dinner just before they fucked each other? No, no, no. I couldn’t do that. It would destroy me.
Or I might lose control and beat the shit out of him the minute I saw him lay a hand on her.
To be her servant like that was something I was utterly incapable of doing.
But that didn’t really matter, did it?
I didn’t have a choice.
Whatever my wronged wife said now goes.
With the heaviest heart I’d ever had, I took the credit card from her. I tried to meet her eyes while I did so, but I couldn’t lift my head. The shame was too great.
“Okay, I’ll do it,” I mumbled pathetically.
“Of course you will,” she said, as if nothing had ever been more obvious.
Yesterday I was rich. Not set-for-life rich, but getting there. Richer than anyone in my family had ever been.
Today, I needed my wife to give me her credit card so I could pick up “something cute” to wear while I served as her fucking attendant.
I never thought it was possible for a man like me to sink this low.
But I had sunk to these sad loser depths. There was no denying it. For as long as I was under this curse, this was my life now. I couldn’t keep fighting it. I had to accept that this was a punishment I could not escape, only endure.
Because I hadn’t even tried to keep it in my pants, this pathetic cuck existence was what my life would be now.