This evening should be special. It's 5 p.m., and I've cleaned the entire house, as well as prepared dinner and breakfast for Mike to take. Oh, how I hate him. I'm probably too terrified to do what some women do: grab a knife and stop the charade while he's sleeping. And it would be simple enough. Mike is used to me being obedient and does not expect me to abandon him.
Has he ever been tender with me? Hmm, probably not. Our relationship has always been clear, and he has never lied to me about his emotions. There is at least one positive aspect of this parasite.
He was always honest about how much he mocked and used me, but he was also envious whenever any of the partners/clients I serviced said anything kind about me. At times, he seemed jealous that I wasn't as involved with him, even though I received praise for having great sex.
After my bath, I came close to the mirror. My husband loves order, style, and luxury. The bathroom was full of black marble and included a dressing table with a large mirror and professional lighting evocative of a makeup artist's studio. I enjoyed the separate closet that had a variety of women's and men's perfumes; we were both captivated with it. It's a full collection.
I looked at myself in the mirror. "Damn, girl, that is a sad view."
Almost every part of my skin that may be hidden by clothing has a scar or a fresh wound. Here Mike and his friend had left a mark on my hipbone as they stubbed cigarettes. And here Mike had left four cuts on my chest because he wanted to know what "bloodplay" was about. If the body is art, then mine is a historical tragedy manuscript. I put on a black silk robe and grabbed my makeup bag. It was time to pull myself together.
An hour later, my chin was flawless, as if yesterday's scandal never happened. Red lipstick on my plump lips masked minor faults. Brown smokey eyeshadow enhanced my green eyes, making them appear bigger.
My hairstyle was Hollywood curls turned to one side. But the most intriguing part was still to come.
I glanced at the clock occasionally as I neared the finish line. Mike was expected to arrive soon, and I needed to look stunning before it. Otherwise, he feared I'd spend a horrible evening with all of his friends as punishment. And that's extremely not good.
As I entered the bedroom, I looked at the camera in the upper right corner and realized my husband was watching me. I removed my robe without embarrassment and stood completely naked. Starvation caused my ribs, chest, and knees to protrude. I didn't look like a dead herring yet, but I suspect someone would like to order me a double Big Mac. Mmm, it's been a long time since I had something like this. The last time I was this fortunate, I was servicing one of Mike's clients.
It's been the most gentle sex and the most wonderful conversation. I knew he treated me like a product he bought, but he was obviously very careful with everything he had paid good money for. The dinner was also excellent. However, Mike made me throw up afterwards to prevent gaining a few pounds. But the taste was incredible...
I unlocked the bedside table and took out some red lace lingerie. The thong highlighted my tiny but still firm ass. And the semi-transparent bra cup displayed my nipples, which stood out against any fabrics.
"Yes, Errin, whatever slut you are, you have really nice tits." Mike always said that. Breasts were his preferred target. It always made him horny to see them blush, have red and swelling stripes, or accidentally cut my nipple.
I looked in the mirror while wearing a scarlet floor-length dress with a plunging cleavage, long sleeves, and a wide slit up my right thigh. Perfect. I feel I will earn compliments on this outfit today. The beige shoes and clutch purse were the perfect finishing touches.
"I hope you're ready." Damn, it's already seven. I quickly checked my purse to see if my secret pill was inside. I'll need it today.
"Yes. I'm coming." I went downstairs to the corridor and noticed that he seemed satisfied with my appearance.
"Great. He will love it." Mike slapped me on the butt, and I went silently out of the apartment. "I hope you'll be a good girl, as always."
We left the house and walked to the parking. He got into his black Mercedes AMG S 63 and began to coach me. God, I adore this car. Where does this jerk get its amazing taste?
"My client's name is Alan Gorsky. Do not ask him about our business—he will not discuss it. It's unclear whether you will be alone with him today; he seems to be married. But some guys believe he prefers beautiful women, particularly married ones, to have true fun with. If he wants you and you do a fantastic job, we might become great partners." He looked at me as I stared emptily out the window. "Hello, are you listening to me?"
"Yes."
"No. Smile and at least pretend you like it. Do you understand what I am saying?" He looked at me again with his lifeless brown eyes, and when he didn't get a response, he grabbed my thigh hard. I couldn't help but wince with ache. "Do you understand or not? I'm asking you."
"Yes, I understand." God, is this asshole capable of any pleasant feelings at all?
"Be a lovely girl, and I will buy you something tasty and drive you to the mall with the guards for an hour. Be a bad girl, and I will remind you what it was like to be in our underground cage.`
Damn, Alan must be a big shot. The cage is always quite terrible. Mike can lock me in there with my hands and feet bound for several days. A few times a day, one of the maids would come and offer me some water or bread. Mike simply goes there to check out his new whips and toys on me or just fuck me. Yeah... Is it worth taking the risk now...?
«OK, I understood. Be a good girl, smile more, and speak less.
«You're a smart girl. Good girl.»
It twisted me to hear that phrase from him. Oh, God.
After a brief journey, we reached a charming, expensive resort. "Aquamarine" is an upscale, expensive restaurant; it also features a spa and, naturally, a hotel. A lot of gossip circulated about this location, as ordinary individuals were unable to gain access, regardless of their financial means. The state's most prominent citizens come here to engage in business and indulge in pleasure. The facility was capable of meeting all of the requirements of its customers. ALL OF THEM. Even those that seem completely unethical to you. It was brought to my attention that several rooms in this building have crimson decor. Myths circulate about the red rooms of this hotel streaming to the darknet. Overall, I have a negative impression of this place already.
The gates to the complex swung open before our car, allowing us to enter this stunning environment. As frightening as it was, it was equally breathtaking. We traveled down a long road adorned with garlands and huge trees. We noticed statues and antique fountains, along with paths and lanes paved with marble and precious stones.
I think if homeless people could come in here and take a few of the stones scattered around, that would change their lives forever.
Upon entering the parking area, I spotted a yellow Ferrari adorned with the license plate "ALAN." God is boasting in front of guests.
"Your partner clearly has good taste." I could not help but smile ironically.
"You are correct; he likes to brag. But it's better not to tell him that." Mike fixed his tie and cufflinks. The black suit looked wonderful on him. He then looked me up and down.
"Yes, nature has truly blessed you."
We proceeded right to the restaurant entrance. Black velvet chairs, grey walls with silver accents, and stunning chandeliers. The restaurant boasts a stunning combination of Art Deco and Gothica design elements. I like it.
We A server in a black velvet carnival mask greeted us and handed us two glasses of champagne.
"Are you expecting someone, Mr. and Mrs. Dreese?"
"Yes, we have a meet with Mr. Gorsky." Mike had a sip of champagne.
"Please follow me."
After a few minutes, we arrived at the correct table.
"Would you like your meal now or later?"
"Wagyu A5 for me, seafood salad for her, please. Thank you." Mike put $50 into the waiter's pocket.
"Thank you, Mr. Dreese."
As soon as the server left the table, I heard someone yell out to us from behind.
"Mike, buddy, hello!" A young man, around 30 years old, was standing behind me, staring openly at my buttocks while talking to my husband.
"Sup, Alan. How are you? Glad to see you."
"I agree. Who is the lovely lady in red with you?"
"My name is Errin, and it's a pleasure to meet you." I extended my hand and shook his. Alan bowed deeply and kissed my palm. Sweet. Very sweet.
«Nice to meet you, Milady. Where did you keep such a treasure?»
«She's my wife. But we can discuss that later. - Mike smiled and winked.
As soon as we sat at a table, they served us steak and salad. Alan requested truffle pasta. And while the men began to drink whiskey, I considered what would happen that evening.
I waited three years to get this pill. I'm not sure what kind of drug it is, but the man who delivered it warned me it can be lethal. In theory, if Mike becomes intoxicated as usual while I'm alone with Alan, I could sneak it into his drink and make my escape.
Was it risky? Yes. But what more can I do? I don't want to live like this forever. I can and will escape, whatever it takes.
"Sweetheart, what are you thinking about? Girls should not think too much; they should just be gorgeous." Alan was already heavily drunk, and he was not shy about giving me intense stares. He even put his hand on his cock sometimes, thinking I wouldn't notice. Perhaps he realized I could see everything.
"I was thinking about what cosmetics to buy next time," I murmured, gazing at him coquettishly. He was objectively attractive: tall, athletic, and well-dressed.
"Don't fill your lovely head with anything. I'm sure Mike will find a girl who will think for you and buy everything, right, Mike?"
"Yeah, dude, you have no idea what my wife is capable of when she isn't thinking in the bedroom, hahaha». What's funny, faggot?
"Really? Will I be fortunate to find out?» My throat dried up at his arrogance, but I knew that was exactly why I was there.
"I think we have a deal, right?"
Alan's hand was already resting familiarly on my leg as they almost finished their drinks and smoked their cigarettes. His fingers would periodically creep under the slit in my dress, hoping to find my panties, but he was unsuccessful.
"So, I guess it is time for us to leave, correct? Will you be a good girl tonight?" Alan looked at me again, and his fingers fell on my nipple, pinching it lightly. He licked his lips, watching it harden through the fabric.
"She will be." Mike looked at us with envy in his eyes. "You sure will, right, baby?"
The time had come. Alan and I headed for the hotel section. Mike remained at the restaurant and ordered many more glasses of whiskey. He'd probably stay there to sleep, which was fine with me because I'd be able to leave.
When we arrived on the third floor of the hotel, we went to the room furthest away. Fortunately, these weren't the rooms I was most afraid of.
When the door closed behind us, I stood with my back to it. I heard him lock it and wondered where he'd kept the key. Alan approached me gently from behind, and I felt his presence on the back of my neck. He inhaled my perfume, sending goosebumps down my neck. His fingertips traveled the length of my spine, stopping at my waist, where my dress's zipper began.
«Wait.» I turned to him and smiled as flirtatiously as I could. "Maybe we should get another drink. You know, I have a cool trick with my tongue, throat, and champagne..." In a split second, his expression changed from surprise to enthusiasm. His golden eyes gleamed, and he smiled broadly.
"What a wonderful idea, milady." Alan came over and pressed the call button. "Please bring two glasses of cold champagne, strawberries, and ice."
So now it's completely up to me.