Only Consenting Adults Ch 09

[Author's note: Marlowe has been learning about his wife's objectification fetish. Now, under Cassie's tutelage, he puts Victoria to the ultimate test, in public, helped by veteran scene players Adam (

I01

) and Eve (

I02

)]

---

THE OBJECT OF HIS ATTENTIONS

Marlowe led his wife by her hand through the club, his bulk moving easily between the cocktail tables and the throng of people. It was a Saturday night, and the Lost and Found was in full swing. He could feel how tightly his wife's fingers were wrapped around his, how nervous she was, and Marlowe had to steady himself to not also get caught up. Even so, when he saw the empty booth in the corner of the club, partitioned off by a red velvet rope, his adrenaline surged.

"Take a seat, Vicki. I'll get the drinks."

He saw instantly the look on his wife's face, how she reacted to being called Vicki rather than Victoria. Not for the first time, Marlowe found himself reflecting on just how perceptive Cassie had been. Silently, his wife stepped around the velvet rope and slid into the booth. She crossed her legs, demure in her midnight blue silk slip. Her shoulders were bare, just the shoestring straps holding up her dress. Victoria had done her make-up very carefully, with dark red lips and smoky eye-shadow, her long, black hair gathered back in a French twist, tucked neatly out of the way.

Marlowe managed a smile and turned away hastily, bustling through the crowd to the bar. He spotted Eve on a barstool and slid into a spot next to her.

"Nice night for it," Eve remarked.

"For what?" Marlowe replied and Eve laughed.

"Oh, everything."

She squeezed his forearm.

"It's okay," she continued, "We're ready, whenever you are."

Marlowe grunted and tried to attract the attention of the barman. He felt Eve's hand on his arm again.

"I'm not sure I'm ready," the big man confessed.

"Sure you are. Look, if it all doesn't go to plan, then just see where it goes. It's not Swan Lake, it's not got to be perfectly choreographed."

Eve was grinning now.

"If it turns into slam dancing, then that's half the fun."

The barman arrived, and Marlowe turned to Eve. "Whatcha drinking?"

"Oh, just yourselves. We'll take care of us, don't worry about it."

Marlowe nodded to the barman. "Beer and a soda water, please."

"Sure," he replied and moved away.

"Which one of you isn't drinking?" Eve asked.

"Victoria. Didn't seem sensible."

"Yeah, I tend to agree. Just one for yourself? To steady the nerves?"

"Something like that. Man, this place is, uh, a lot more crowded than I thought. I didn't think there'd be this many people."

Eve shrugged. "Sometimes it's better that way. There's a lot going on, everywhere, and you'll be tucked in a corner. You get the experience without the mass audience."

The barman returned with the drinks and Marlowe paid. He took a gulp of his beer, feeling Eve's eyes on him.

"Safewords?" she asked.

Marlowe put his glass down on the bar. "Yeah, we talked. She's got a safeword. We're good there."

"And what about you?"

Marlowe baulked. "I... uh. Do I need one?"

"If Adam's doing his part and you don't like where it's going, I'd suggest we have a way to signal."

"I guess."

"Intense," Eve said. "Let's use that. You can put it into a sentence and we'll know, but your wife won't be distracted."

"Intense. Yeah. Pretty appropriate."

Marlowe took another swig of beer.

"Very busy," he remarked, looking across the floor.

"Busier than I ever remember it," Eve replied, "Not in years."

He was watching her face now as she looked out at the people.

"Strange vibe," she murmured, "Intense. Like the party at the end of days."

Suddenly, she stood and waved, her mood lifting instantly. A rangy-looking man in black leather pants and a dark collared shirt was making his way through the crowd towards them. When he arrived, Eve went up on her tiptoes to give him a kiss. He grinned back at her and then turned to Marlowe.

"Marlowe," he said, holding out his hand.

Marlowe shook it. "Adam," he replied.

Eve stood between them, her head at shoulder height, beaming. "Jeez, I feel like I'm at the bottom of a well down here," she laughed.

"Good to go?" Adam asked, looking from Marlowe to Eve then back again.

Marlowe nodded.

"Cool. I've lined it all up. Let's get started. Shall we give you five minutes?"

"Yeah, that'd be good."

Eve patted him on the arm again. "See you soon."

Marlowe picked up his drinks and worked his way back across the floor to the corner. His wife was sitting there alone, still cross-legged, people-watching. Her expression was guarded. Marlowe stepped around the rope and handed her the soda water.

"You took a while," she observed.

"Yeah, busy at the bar."

"I didn't expect to see so many people in the club."

Marlowe sat down next to his wife, resting one large hand on her knee. "Second thoughts?" he asked.

"Yes," she confessed.

"You're not here to think. You're here to sit and look pretty. Can you manage that?"

"Marl, I...."

"And by which, I mean seen and not heard. There's only one word you're allowed, okay?"

He watched her beautiful, reddened lips open, suddenly transfixed. He could feel himself reacting as he watched his wife's expression change. She didn't speak, though, and the lips closed again. She nodded.

"Good girl."

Marlowe squeezed her knee. "Hands behind your back," he said, "Chin up. That's right. Chest out."

Victoria straightened, folding her arms behind her, rolling back her shoulders and thrusting her breasts out. She stretched her long neck.

"Better."

He couldn't help himself, following his words with a stroke of her neck, letting his hand trail downwards over the smooth silk, around the rounded shape of her breast, over her stomach, to finally rest on her thigh. His thumb stroked the silk, shifting it over her hip, feeling nothing but her skin beneath his touch. He'd made sure she wasn't wearing underwear.

Victoria allowed herself to be posed and touched, her eyes studiously staring directly ahead. Marlowe felt his nerves evaporate, seeing his wife responding to his control. Cassie had told him how to do it, and it had worked, though he suspected she had also been training Victoria to respond correctly. It didn't feel natural, yet, but Cassie had told him that would come with practice.

She had revealed his wife's fetish for objectification, had helped him through the shock and the bewilderment, had gotten them as far as this: a night out in the Lost and Found, an exercise in trust and control. Marlowe was going to put his wife through her paces tonight. He was still unsure about it all, but he was also determined to give his wife her fantasy. He watched her face as she posed for him, sipping his beer in silence, his thumb working back and forth over the crook of her hip.

Her expression flickered, and Marlowe turned to see a woman coming towards them. Without being invited, she stepped around the rope and approached their table. Marlowe watched his wife steal a look at the newcomer, appraising the woman's short, black cocktail dress over coffee-coloured skin, her leather stilettos, her toned, bare legs. Eve smiled back at her, dark eyes flashing in her delicate face.

"It's so crowded. Everywhere else is full. Mind if I join you?"

Eve pouted delectably, then continued, "I'd do anything to take the weight off. My heels are just killing me."

"Sure, no problem," Marlowe responded, "There's plenty of space."

The newcomer didn't move, her eyes on Marlowe.

"Can I sit there?" she said, looking at the space next to him.

"If you want."

Marlowe patted his wife's thigh. "Move up, hon," he said, "Make some space."

His wife shuffled along the seat around the table, and Marlowe followed her. Eve slipped onto the end of the seat, pressing her hip up against his.

"Thanks, babe. This is nice and cosy," she giggled.

Eve seemed to be studying Victoria now. She frowned then pointed.

"Hey, you look familiar," she said, "I've totally seen you before. Like, uh, I'm sure of it."

Marlowe felt his wife stiffen next to him, and he was suddenly impressed by Eve's uncanny ability to switch from the intelligent, perceptive woman at the bar to the bimbo sitting next to him. Cassie had already told him how Eve had helped out with the previous scene, when Victoria had been strapped up, helpless and waiting to be fucked upstairs. Marlowe still recalled the moment that Cassie had led him to the room, to see his wife splayed for him to fuck with her upper body hidden through an opening in a partition wall, unaware that she was submitting herself to her husband and not to strangers. Eve had played the part very well, convincing Victoria that she would be taking Eve's place and her clients for an hour, setting up the illusion.

Marlowe had struggled, that night, but Cassie had helped him through it. She'd explained objectification, what his wife was looking for, how it wasn't about sex with strangers, how it wasn't about cheating: how Victoria had a need to be used.

That night, with his wife unaware that it was him, Marlowe had used her body for himself. He had given into his base urges and fucked her without regard for her needs, and incredibly he'd met them, feeling her climax again and again as he drove into her. It had been a revelation and a turning point, talking to his wife afterwards, facing her at last. Tonight would be another step on the journey.

Eve giggled. "Oh, yeah. I know. Upstairs. Shit, so this is hubby? I heard all about it. Geez, you two are wild."

Marlowe felt Eve's thigh shift against his, pressed close, but his eyes were on his wife's face. He could see her cheeks colouring. Her eyes were focused intently on her drink in front of her, not willing to look up.

"What's up? Shy?" Eve asked, "Cat got your tongue? You were so desperate to get fucked, I remember. You were dripping for it, weren't you? Just like a proper little slut."

Marlowe felt his wife squirm at being called a slut, staring fixedly at the table. His eyes met Eve's and he frowned, but she winked, encouraging him.

"She's not allowed to speak," Marlowe replied.

"Ah. Uh huh. Yeah, maybe save that lovely mouth for other things."

Suddenly, Marlowe felt Eve's hand on his thigh, stroking him, and he tensed. He saw his wife reacting too, catching the movement out of the corner of her eye. He forced himself to relax and go with it. Cassie had told him all about Eve, what she could do, how good she was. He just had to trust her.

"Tell me, though. It's just in my brain, going round and round 'cos I can't figure it out," Eve said, tapping her head with a finger.

She grasped Marlowe's thigh, squeezing him firmly in plain view of his wife.

"God, he feels good. Well built, plenty of meat, hey," she continued, "So why were you looking to get fucked elsewhere?"

Eve's hand slipped down between his legs.

"I bet he's able to fuck you good and hard. I don't get it. I would find a use for this any day of the week."

Her hand shifted up his leg, cupping the bulge in his trousers. She held her hand there, and he felt himself swelling to fully erect in his pants.

"If you're not using it honey, it's a shame to be a cock hog. Either piss or get off the toilet, y'know?"

Marlowe could see how his wife was bursting with embarrassment now, having her secret exposed and her man groped by the sexy, confident newcomer. Her cheeks were flushed, and Marlowe noted twin points standing out in the front of her dress.

Without removing her hand from his crotch, Eve leaned across, reaching out with her other hand. She stretched out a finger and made contact with the bump of Victoria's swelling nipple through the dress, teasing it with a manicured fingernail.

"Well, slut, you're not arguing," she murmured, "In fact you seem to like the idea. Shall we see?"

Eve gave Marlowe a little squeeze, causing him to shift in his seat. Her attention turned to him.

"Wanna have a bit of fun, big guy?" she asked, "I'm up for it if you are."

"Uh, my wife...."

Eve grinned, ignoring the mortification of the woman on the other side of him.

"Oh, I don't think we need to bring her into this. Just you and me, baby, she won't mind while we have a little fun will she?"

Eve leaned in, kissing him sensually on the lips.

"She can even...." Another soft kiss. "Watch."

Marlowe looked into her eyes, feeling the woman's hand cupping his swollen manhood.

"Wanna feel how real pussy feels? When was the last time you had some of that, hey?"

She kissed him again.

"Not since before you were married, I can tell," she murmured huskily, "Man like you shouldn't need to wait for a proper fuck."

Marlowe hesitated, beguiled. Eve winked again, though the rest of her expression didn't change.

"Let's do it," he breathed.

"Baby, yeah. Let's go. Wanna make some room, and we can do it right here? Get her to move up."

Marlowe patted his wife's leg. She didn't move. He patted again. Reluctantly, she shifted across.

"That's right honey, let a real woman in. You get him back after, don't fret. He just needs a little something extra than you."

Eve straddled him, letting her short dress ride up her thighs, her knee brushing against the other woman's thigh.

"Good girl. Now just be quiet and I'll let you watch. You can do that, can't you?"

Eve reached across to stroke Victoria's cheek. Marlowe watched his wife flinch, her eyes locked on the intruder now, burning with humiliation, but she remained silent.

"Nice and quiet and still," Eve continued, "I don't want to know you're even there."

Eve turned her attention back to Marlowe, kissing him on the lips and beginning to work her way down the side of his neck. He felt his body reacting to her gentle caresses, hardening. He could see the way Eve's eyes remained on his wife, watching the other woman staring helplessly at her while she fondled her husband.

Eve took her time, loosening the top two buttons of his shirt, paring back the cloth to reveal his chest. She began to lavish tiny butterfly kisses across his skin, taking her time. Marlowe sighed, despite himself, conscious of his wife's rigid body next to him, her eyes staring at them both, forbidden to utter a word as the stranger enjoyed the feeling of her husband's body. Eventually, Eve pulled back, wrapping her arms around his neck. She was watching him.

"One thing," she began, "When I saw her last time. Before we get into it, I got an idea. I wanna, like, I want to put her in her place."

Again, Marlowe hesitated, trying to read her expression. At last, he nodded. Eve beamed.

"Yay! Oh, this is gonna rock," she exclaimed happily, slinking off him and edging out of the booth.

"I gotta find a friend. Be right back."

Eve strutted off, disappearing into the crowd, leaving Marlowe alone with his wife. His attention turned to her now. He wanted to check in, to squeeze her hand in reassurance, but he held back. He could see how she felt, having been humiliated and sidelined by the other woman, made to feel unworthy, a third wheel. Marlowe ran his hand down her dress, weighing her breast in his palm, feeling how swollen her nipple was. This was tapping into something deep within his wife. He continued to explore her body, stroking her skin through her dress, until Eve returned.

"Okay, all set. Miss me?"

Without waiting, Eve slid across the seat to resume her position straddling Marlowe's hips. She pressed her crotch against his and wrapped her arms around his neck. Her eyes were locked on his, as if Victoria no longer existed. She began to kiss his neck again, fondling his hair. Beyond the booth, there was a disturbance in the crowd, drawing his attention away from the beguiling woman in his lap. Marlowe turned to see.

The crowd parted and a rangy man in leather pants and a dark shirt appeared, pushing something bulky across the floor in front of him. It was covered by a cloth.

"Thought this might be fun," Eve said, then greeted the newcomer, "Hi Adam."

Adam smiled in reply, bringing his payload to rest next to the table. He pulled the cloth up to reveal his burden. It was a steel cage, shiny metal bars big enough to enclose a crouching body. There was an object inside, folded up on the padded floor.

"Fun, hey?" Eve exclaimed. "Let's get wifey tucked safely out of the way so we can play without interference."

Marlowe saw his wife's eyes go wide as she took in the sturdy metal prison. Her gaze flicked from the shiny steel contraption to her husband. He could see the pleading look in her eyes. Marlowe met her gaze steadily.

"Sure," was all he said.

Victoria's face crumpled. Betrayed by her husband, she had no choice now: either allow herself to be imprisoned in the steel cage, or use her safeword. Without waiting for her response, he patted Eve to get off his lap and stood up. Together with Adam, they lifted the cage up onto the booth seating, on the opposite side of the table. Adam showed him the door at one end, swinging it open. Marlowe could see his wife staring at the aperture in shock.

"Get in," he told her.

Victoria didn't move.

"Now."

With glacial slowness, she began to move, edging along the seat around the table, approaching her little prison. He watched as she reached out, exploring the robust steel bars with her fingers. She glanced back at her husband, holding his gaze, asking a silent question. He could see how hard she was struggling with what he was telling her to do, the idea of being locked in a cage while another woman fucked her husband, forced to watch. Marlowe smiled kindly at her and she flashed a tentative smile back in return.

"You're going to look so beautiful in there. I'm going to love looking at you."

He could see his words hit home, as his wife realised that he wasn't going to call it off. Marlowe followed up quickly.

"Naked," he stated, "A pretty little decoration for the booth. Give us something beautiful to look at while we have fun."

Staring at his wife now, Marlowe waited. He watched her expression range between shock, then shame, then finally acceptance. She began to lift her dress up, looking from her husband, to Eve and then to Adam as she did so. Marlowe found himself staring, struggling to maintain his cold demeanour, as his wife stripped herself for him, revealing her nakedness in front of strangers. All the while, her eyes never left his, her cheeks flushed with a crushing, humiliating shame as she was ordered to expose herself.

But it wasn't the sight of her bare breasts that enraptured him, or the little triangle of dark hair on display between her legs; it was the lost look in her eyes as she realised that there was no mercy for her, that she was not going to be saved by her husband from the humiliation of being caged, naked, and put on display in the middle of a crowded club. Pulling the dress over her head, she closed her eyes and abandoned herself to her fate.

Marlowe helped his wife as she squeezed into the cage, crawling forward until her face was against the bars, looking out of the booth into the crowded club. When she was completely inside, resting on her hands and knees on the padded floor, he swung the door closed behind her, pressing the cold steel bars against her bare bottom. She was staring up at him from between the bars as he slid the lock into place. There was a click, and she closed her eyes, accepting that there was no way out for her now.

"Blindfold on," Eve called, "I don't want her staring while we do it. It's gross. It'll totally put me off."

She grinned at the caged woman, clearly revelling in her rival's helpless predicament.