Dare
Angel went down. I caught her before she hit the floor. She was out. Fuck.
I’d seen only black from the moment I returned to that dining room and saw Rafe Ruiz, leaned in, an inch from her ear, talking to her. The look on her face, his proximity, and all of that on top of all I was already dealing with? It crashed down on me then, at that second, like a black curtain of anger.
Cleo?
I’d felt like it had to be done. That cunt needed punishment and by my ordering my wife to do it, I’d show them what they wanted to see. I’d agreed with Gan Chen when we’d spoken in the hall outside the dining room.
Having Angel punish Cleo would put Cleo in her place. He’d told me I could do whatever I felt needed to be done. In fact, harsh punishment would be appreciated, since several slaves had witnessed Cleo’s attitude since we’d arrived and action had to be taken.
They’d be pulling her from her current position, handling, training, and managing and correcting slaves. She would be put somewhere else on the resort. But, only if she got back in line. She was apparently behaving like she’d never behaved before, so they were putting her in line or she would be put out of her misery.
Having Angel punish her at my command would show I was Angel’s master, she was my obedient wife, and that bitch would get what was coming to her. Even more, my Angel would get something cathartic out of it. Revenge. Pay that bitch back for her bullshit treatment of the Kruna victims. If I were Angel, I’d wanna pay that shit back. For sure.
So, in the heat of the moment, my anger at all we were dealing with, I thought I’d done something good for her by giving her what I figured I’d want in her shoes.
I was wrong. As she opened her eyes, in my arms, I knew just how wrong. Really fucking wrong. I hadn’t thought like her. Just because I figured I’d want that didn’t mean it’d be what she would’ve wanted. I’d made irrational decisions through blackness.
Her body started trembling and her eyes were filled with accusation. I’d abused her trust. Horribly.
“Sweetheart…” I whispered.
The trembling had started low and was revving up like someone turned the volume up. And it kept going up.
Her chin was trembling, her eyes were wet, and then she started to grab for my shirt.
I lifted her wrists up over her head and pinned them under one hand and my other hand went into her panties. Her skirt was up around her waist.
“Kick your shoes off,” I told her. She jerked around, crying.
“Shh, it’s okay.”
I leaned down and took her shoes off for her. But when I’d let go, she started to fret, to hyperventilate, so I grabbed her wrists and re-pinned her.
“Shhh, I’ve got you. Open up.”
She spread her legs wide. The thought of cameras occurred to me but she still had her panties on, just me with my hand in them. She was not wet.
“Feet together.” She put her soles together so that her legs were wide. She was sobbing.
“Baby, I’ve got you. Okay?”
She nodded, her eyes bloodshot, her chest moving up and down quickly.
I kissed her tears. Her eyes were fixed on something. What? I followed them to my forearm, which had a thick red welt from when I reached and took that whip from her. She squeezed her eyes shut tight and chewed her cheek.
“Stay still. Let me make you come. You’re such a good girl. My good girl.”
It wasn’t very convincing.
I tightened my grip on her wrists and then I circled with three fingers around and around her clit. She closed her eyes tighter, her facial expression like she was in pain. She lifted her bottom up a little, moving into my hand.
“Look at me.”
She obeyed. But her eyes…they were looking right through me, like she didn’t even see me.
“I want you to come for me. Calm down and concentrate on what my fingers are doing. What are my fingers doing?”
“Trying to make me c-come.” She groaned and her mouth opened.
“Yeah, baby. Making you come. My good girl. Moan for me. Say my name. Tell me what you want.”
She was not wet.
I leaned over and sucked on my fingers and then worked them into her. I kissed her, teasing her lips open with the tip of my tongue as I worked my middle finger inside her and pushed against her g-spot.
“Ah. Yeah, Master…” she whispered against my mouth, “Right there.”
I kept that finger there and put my thumb to her clit and strummed and stroked it.
“Master. Please don’t stop. Don’t. Ah! Damn it.” She got a frustrated look on her face. She’d been at the edge of that cliff but hadn’t gone over.
Her body went from lax to tight and she shifted, blew hair out of her eyes, used her upper arm to rub her nose and then blew her hair out of her eyes again. She was having trouble. She began breathing harder, almost hyperventilating, but it wasn’t with an impending orgasm. This was stress. Full blown anxiety attack and I wasn’t doing anything to help.
I let go, grabbed the crotch of her panties, and yanked it forward without pulling them off so that I could get my mouth to her clit.
“Fuck, you taste amazing,” I told her.
She let out a whimper. I worked her with my tongue and seemed like she was getting closer. But then she started to fret, like she didn’t want it.
I flipped her over onto her belly and lifted her hips.
“Master,” she pleaded. I don’t know if she wanted me to hold her down again or what but I wanted to make her okay, so I was trying something else, something that’d maybe be a different pattern.
“No. Stay like that.” I worked my suit pants undone. Shit, I wasn’t even fully hard. I grinded against her ass, my dick still in my pants. I grabbed a handful of her hair and lifted her up by it. She was supporting herself on her palms. I held her tenderly by the throat and grinded a few more times.
Shit, I loved her. I needed to make her okay. I’d fucked up really badly and now I was on the verge of an anxiety attack, too.
What good was I? I fucked up and now I couldn’t calm her down and I could barely get it up. And people were listening. Not just that, they might even be watching.
“Beg,” I demanded. She usually got off on that. I usually seriously got off on that, too.
“Pl-please.” She whimpered.
This wasn’t her normal begging style. Fuck, but we were both struggling here. And if someone was watching this on camera, they might be able to tell.
Motherfucking Feds listening to me fail at fucking my wife. That reminder got me hard, my dick taking it as a challenge, and I pushed into her, getting resistance as she was still mostly dry.
She winced.
“You did good, you’re okay. We’re okay. Yeah, babe?” I asked.
She nodded, saying, “Uh huh” as she supported herself, hands on the bed. I got into a rhythm, moving inside her.
“Tighten for me. Milk my cock,” I said.
She didn’t.
She lost her balance and fell on her face. Instead of moving, though, she just stayed there and wept into the pillow.
I grabbed her hands and pinned them above her head, going in slow circles, trying to fuck her right, trying to make her feel good. Kissing her shoulders, nibbling on her neck.
“Good girl,” I lied.
It wasn’t working. Anyone might think she was crying in ecstasy but she was just weeping into the fucking pillow.
I stopped and got up on my knees, straddling her backside.
I gathered her hair into my fist, gently moved it aside and leaned over and kissed her exposed neck. I started massaging her back with my hands, wanting to work out the tension. I didn’t feel any. She was like a ragdoll. Just limp, lying there.
I rolled off to the side but took her with me. She’d stopped trembling, stopped whimpering. She was just red-eyed, limp and broken. And it was my fault. I’d been spending weeks trying to put her back together and now she looked worse than she did before.
I undid her blouse and took it off her. She just laid there while I did this.
I took the bra off and threw it across the room, hating that she was wired. I got her out of her skirt and she was against my side in just her tiny peach thong. I turned the television on and cranked the volume up. Some Asian parade was on and there was music playing. I turned it louder.
I threw the sheet over our heads. It was a cream-colored sheet so the light filtered through and we could see one another.
“What can I do?” I whispered softly into her ear, as softly as I could, hoping she’d hear me over the loud racket.
She shrugged. She wasn’t looking at me. She was looking off into space. Eyes red, cheeks blotchy.
I curled into her, keeping the bedding over our heads, shielding us from them.
She didn’t snuggle in. She didn’t respond at all. She closed her eyes and then she started to sob again.
I held the back of her head, burying her face into my throat.
She didn’t pull away. She let me hold her. She wasn’t holding me back, though, and that was something I felt in my throat like a big fucking lump.
I tried again. I slid my fingers between her legs. She winced. Her entire body winced. I let go.
Space. I’d give her a bit of space.
I watched her, tried to read her expression. She lifted the sheet down so that she could get air, leaving me underneath. As if we were in two different places. Separated.
What to do? What to fucking do? Smoke? Drink? Swim? Sleep?
Take her off this property and the fuck away from Thailand?
My phone made noise.
I reached into my suit pants pocket for it.
A text from Tommy told me they were back home and asked me to check in when I had a chance.
I texted,
“FML.”
He wrote back,
“You ok?”
I replied,
“Not really. Angel really isn’t but I’ll try to fix it. Call you tomorrow. All ok there?”
“All ok here. Sorry to hear that. You’ll fix it. Take care bro. Talk to ya tomorrow.”
I wanted to go work out, take out some frustration. I also wanted to take the pulse of the Kruna partners that were already here. Delgado had knocked on the door while it was happening and asked if he could observe in person. I’d said No. “My wife needs this and I need to be the only one there while she gets what she needs.”
He shook my hand and said he respected that. I had the feeling they were testing me. Things they were doing might’ve been to see if I was putting on an act or being myself.
Now, I needed to know if they would show me a poker face over what’d just happened here. I was good at cards, very good at reading people, and if their opinion of me shifted because of what’d happened in that room or what’d happened in this room, I’d probably see it.
But leaving her alone right now; would that be a good thing for her or a worse thing than the myriad of ways I’d already fucked things up today?
“I’m gonna go speak to them, take the temperature of things. You okay for a few minutes?”
She nodded but her eyes were still lost-looking.
“Want anything?”
She shook her head.
“Back soon.” I kissed her temple, “I’m so sorry,” I whispered into her ear, “Love you very much.”
The grating sound of the loud music on the TV might’ve been bugging her. It was certainly getting to me. I turned the volume down and scrolled until I found cartoons for her. I put the remote beside her and left, taking my keycard and locking the door on my way out.