Chloe Becomes a Hotwife

"You'll gamble everything we have sweetheart."

"I need to win big just one time, then I'll get everything back, Chloe."

"You won't, but I can't talk you out of this, so I'll wait for you at the bar."

Lance was always convinced the next hand would be his way back to riches, but every week, when the casino closed to regular punters and he joined the high rollers for a private game, the same thing happened. He lost big, someone advanced my husband more credit and he lost that too.

It went on for nearly and year and now, we had practically nothing left. I couldn't stop him even though most of our income came from my job as an executive in a specialised beverage import/export conglomerate. Lance gave me the ultimatum of divorce or support him. I'd never faltered before, but frankly, I was wavering these days.

We married young. I was twenty four, Lance was two years older and, to be honest, in the beginning everything was great. Now, with six years invested, we were both tired, barely still in love, and flat broke.

"Would you like a drink, Chloe? It's on the house."

"Yeah, I'll take a mineral water please, Harry. Ice and a slice."

"I see Lance is in the red big time again."

"Yup. He won't be done until we lose everything."

"Why do you put up with it?"

"Sometimes the only way out of a car crash is after the vehicle stops rolling, Harry."

A round of applause rippled through the players and a few guests observing them. My heart soared because it signified a big win and I glanced hopefully but my husband remained slumped in his chair, looking every inch the loser he appeared to have become.

I glanced back at Harry who looked sad for me, sighed, rolled my eyes and readied to collect my husband and assuage his pain.

"Just before you leave Chloe, may I say something."

"Yes, Harry?"

"You need to leave Lance. I hate saying it, but I've seen these guys habitually lose so many times and they never rise again. They don't stop gambling until their life's curtain comes down and in his case, you'll get dragged along."

"Thanks Harry, it's fair advice and I appreciate it. I'll be seeing you."

I collected Lance from the table, holding his trembling hand tightly, praying he could hold back the tears welling in his eyes just long enough for me to get him out the front door.

As we walked through the casino foyer, a familiar voice shouted my name.

"Hey, Chloe, can I have a word, please?"

I whirled around with my husband following in a slower orbit, him turning like an ocean going tanker. My old school friend smiled when he approached with an arm outstretched.

"Simon, it's lovely to see you. What's up?"

He wasn't offering a hand to shake, instead, Simon gripped my elbow, ushering me to god knows where behind reception.

"Come with me, please. It's a private matter."

"Private to you and me or private with Harry, too?"

"Both of you, please."

He sounded and looked intense, so I knew something was amiss, but I kept my calm because I couldn't imagine his concern might be about me.

Simon and I grew up together and were friends for years. We dated in high school but never got past kissing, then lost contact during college years and met again when I began working as a buyer of expensive whisky.

When Simon appeared disinterested in catching up, I had a couple of romances, mostly through work, then met Lance and well, the rest is history.

"Where are we going, Simon?"

"To my office. It's just around the next corner."

When we arrived I was agog. His office was palatial, and it became clear to me that Simon had fared well in life. The managing director and part owner of a casino with two thousand slot machines and three hundred tables had an office suite fit for a king.

"Wow. This is the most gorgeous office I've ever seen."

"Sit down, please. Would you like coffee or anything else to drink?"

"No, thanks."

I noticed he didn't chase my husband for a response, but I sat down to hear my old friend out despite a rising irritation. My husband browsed collectible sports memorabilia on display in well lit, fancy walnut and glass cabinets.

"You're scaring me, Simon."

"Lance owes a hundred grand, Chloe."

"Oh fuck. I thought it was ten."

"Nope, ask him if you need confirmation."

My husband hadn't batted an eyelid, admiring a tatty baseball in a presentation box on a table.

"Lance?"

"Lance?"

"Lance?"

On the third time of asking, he spun around with a deeply apologetic expression.

"What's up, Chloe?"

"Did you hear what Simon said?"

"Yeah."

"How will you pay the debt off?"

"Umm, well. It's, umm. Why don't you ask Simon?"

I turned from my stupidly nonchalant husband towards Simon. By now, both men angered me and I was fairly sure my old friend had detected that.

"He's offered you, Chloe."

"Fucking, come again?"

"Lance has offered you in repayment of the debt."

"In what way?"

My head snapped from one to the other as though I were spectating a tennis final. My stomach churned and I felt light headed as the ramifications of Simon's words coalesced.

"In a sexual way."

"To whom?"

"Peter Ingram."

"I've never heard of him."

"Gangster."

"Fucking hell. I won't do it. This is on Lance. He's a stupid wanker and needs to sort this out. I'm not fucking anyone to pay off his debt."

Simon stood up and sidled over next to me on a red leather sofa. I shook with anger and fear about what Lance had done. I saw he was upset too but not for the same reasons as I was. When my husband knelt before me, the tears rolled down his face.

"Peter will kill me if you don't do this, Chloe."

"Why, Lance? Why would you do this to me?"

He bowed his head in shame and the tears dropped onto Simon's parquet wooden flooring.

"I never thought it would come to this."

I let go of my husband's hands, unable to come to terms with his treachery. I stared at Simon, praying he had another solution, but his face was completely blank.

"How many times must I sleep with this guy, Peter, is it?"

"Just one night, Chloe, but it's tonight, here, upstairs in the penthouse and everything is prepared."

I recoiled in horror, pushing my husband backwards in disgust and as though doing so might drive the problem away.

"Did you know this, Lance? Is that why I'm here? As payment for your bad debt?"

"I'm sorry, Chloe."

"It's too fucking late for I'm sorry you disgusting bastard."

I collapsed back in the sofa, hyperventilating and sobbing. Simon sprung up, ran to his desk and rummaged in a drawer. I grabbed the paper bag he opened and breathed deeply into it until my heart rate settled and both lungs weren't near a collapse.

"Who keeps a paper bag in their office desk drawer?"

"Someone afflicted with the same anxiety disorder as you, Chloe."

Simon's expression was soft and kind, which was little consolation for a married woman about to be defiled by a stranger to pay off her husband's debt.

"How do we do this, Simon?"

"Security will take Lance upstairs first, then Peter will arrive and my team will take you up."

"Why's Lance going to be there?"

"Peter wants to teach him a lesson."

"So do I. It's not a bad idea."

"Then it works for both of you?"

"Will Peter hurt my husband?"

"No. That's not his way. He just wants you."

"Why me?"

"You'll have to ask him."

I sighed again. Lance had picked himself up and looked like a desperate, pathetic worm sitting on a wing-back chair opposite me.

"I'll have to deal with you later."

"Sorry, Chloe."

"Yeah, you said that, but it doesn't mean a lot right now."

I turned to face Simon who still had sympathy writ large all over his face. I tried to be pragmatic. There was no other way to quickly sidestep Lance's debt, because we had nothing left to sell.

"So I'm to lose my dignity at the hands of a sordid pervert?"

"I don't think Peter is that Chloe and fair exchange is no robbery."

"One hundred grand for one night with my pussy. I should be honoured I fetched such a high price, actually."

I shook my head in exasperation and Simon offered me his brown paper bag again. I politely, and gently declined, appreciating my friend was the messenger and that I shouldn't shoot him.

"What does he want from me? I mean specific details?"

"No holds barred."

"Hold on, that could be fucking dangerous."

"Not really, because you can back out any time."

"And Peter withdraws his payment offer?"

"No. Once you step into the penthouse, payment of Lance's debt is guaranteed."

I mulled it over in a calmer state. I kept glancing at my husband, feeling little except revulsion for my poor treatment at his hands.

"Honey, look at me."

"Yes, Chloe."

"Is this the only way to clear your debt?"

"I'm afraid so, yes."

I glanced sideways at Simon and his nodding head confirmed it.

"Okay. Let's do it."

It took five minutes for Simon's security team to collect my husband. I was surprised and slightly annoyed when they handcuffed him before leading a seemingly contrite Lance out of the office.

"He'll be restrained throughout, Chloe."

"Fucking hell, that's scary, Simon."

"Peter doesn't want this cuckolding to be disrupted."

"Can you tell me more about this guy, please. Is he a fat greaseball? Am I to be disgusted with myself for having fucked the devil for the rest of my life?"

"He's neither overweight, greasy nor a devil. I actually rather like him. Maybe you will too."

"I doubt that."

"Do you want a drink? Something to calm the nerves."

"Okay. Yes, please."

Simon strolled over to a small bar at one end of his office and fixed me a drink. When I sniffed it, realising instantly what it was, I was surprised.

"That's at least a forty year old malt. I'd say Fettercairn if I wasn't so terrified."

"Your nose has never let you down, Chloe."

I rested back in the sofa, enjoying a generous shot of a seven thousand dollar, forty something year old Scottish Highlands Malt. It calmed my nerves, taking the edge off a very anxious frame of mind.

"Can I have another one, please?"

"Take the bottle, sweetheart. I'm sorry this happened to you."

"Are you sure? It's an expensive malt."

"You're worth that and much more, Chloe. Collect it before you leave. I'll also have a car waiting outside to whisk you home when you're done. Anything I can do to make this easier for you is my pleasure."

"Sign a cheque for a hundred grand?"

We both chuckled and I poured another shot of the most expensive whisky I'd ever drank. My backpacking years after university took me to France and Scotland where I had jobs working in vineyards and distilleries. Two years later, on returning stateside, I was employed as an expert in marketing expensive whisky, brandy and wines, and eighteen months after that, I returned to Europe six times a year as an executive buyer.

As I eased further into the bottle, my attention turned to the past and Simon.

"Why weren't you interested in me after college?"

"I can't answer that, Chloe."

A knock at the door disengaged me from the conversation and I turned to see the security team had returned. I downed my whisky, then shot a glance at Simon.

"No handcuffs!"

"Of course not."

Our journey to the penthouse was brief, in a massive VIP elevator with jazz wafting gently through and with no words exchanged between me and the security guards.

I was surprised when I stepped off the elevator alone into a darkened room. The security team disappeared behind rapidly closing steel doors and I was suddenly alone.

"Hello?"

"Hello?"

I heard a muffled, choking cry from somewhere in the darkness and looked around for a light switch. Before I could press it, a dim, red architectural light turned the room a deep, hellish hue and my thoughts drifted through an alcoholic mist to thoughts of the devil again.

"Hello? Peter?"

No answer came, so I stepped further into the massive living room for his penthouse. The whisky made me feel warm and brave, so I strutted around, more cockily than I'd felt half an hour earlier.

Muffled cries were nearby, so I headed into the darkness, noticing that wherever I stepped, the lights tracked me, darkening to pitch black behind, lightening to Lucifer's bedroom in front.

"Who's there? Lance?"

"Mmm, mmm, hmm."

"Fucking hell!"

I must check my swearing.

I saw my husband still handcuffed, but this time his hands were out front. He wore a thick leather strap ball gag mask, covered in his spit. The mask had a padlock around back to prevent my husband from escaping his mute condition.

More incredible though was the steel bar cage that imprisoned Lance. I tried the door to his gaol cell, but it didn't yield.

"He's quite comfortable in there, Chloe. Lance can't be released until you decide, and as you can see he has a comfortable chair to sit in and watch."

I turned towards the darkness and Peter's voice, seeing only shadows.

"Watch what?"

"Us, Chloe. He will watch us."

"And what do you think we'll be doing?"

"I think you already know from Simon, that's entirely up to you."

"I need to see you, Peter."

He emerged from the darkness, almost naked with the most beautifully ripped physique I've ever seen. Peter was six feet tall, with a mop of soot black hair.

"Why are you wearing a mask?"

"It's a half mask and I wear it to protect you, Chloe."

"Protect me?"

I scoffed aloud because I was taken aback by the mysterious demeanour of a man Simon described as a gangster and because of the attraction I felt for him.

"I'm keen you aren't able to identify me. Perhaps later that might not be necessary."

"What do you want with me, Peter."

"To make love."

"You're very direct."

"When I know what I want, yes, I am."

"And right now, you want me and my pussy."

"You, yes, your pussy if you want to gift it."

"And if I don't like your terms?"

"Your husband's debt is resolved and you may leave at any time."

He stepped close in to me and I heard muffled screams from behind. I spun around to study my husband, surprised when Peter encircled my waist with both arms from behind, pulling me tight.

My husband was having an apoplectic fit. More spit frothed out from the gaps between his mouth and the ball that tightly, and very effectively almost silenced him. I trailed Peter with me when I slid my feet along the wooden floor, stepping towards Lance.

"You're in prison for being bad, husband."

I felt soft kisses planted on my neck more gently than my husband ever had. I ground my ass backwards and felt lifted when a hard tool poked back into me from the man who would pay a hundred grand to fuck me.

"Peter thinks cuckolding you will help, Lance. Nod if you agree."

He shook his head violently, screaming something that sounded like no.

"But you wanted this, hun. You traded me like a whore and now, you're being set up as a cuckold. Is that what you expected?"

Again, my husband shook his head violently, crying and screaming into his gag.

"I guess you thought I'd be fucked someplace obscure where you didn't have to watch and could pretend it never happened?"

His head slumped and I knew my husband was beaten. I spun around, finding myself in Peter's strong but gentle arms. His musky odour revealed a hint of Calvin with some pre-cum.

"You're aroused, Peter."

"So are you, Chloe."

"How do you know?"

"Your pupils are dilated, nostrils are flaring, and I detect a delicious aroma of shameful pussy juice. Just a hint, but it's enough to hook any target."

"Is that what you are? My target, because I thought I was yours?"

"All the power in the room is yours, Chloe. I designed our tryst that way."

"Is Lance's debt to you paid off?"

"Yes."

"And I could leave right now?"

"Yes."

I lingered in his arms, gently thrusting my torso forwards to feel his hard cock. I felt every bit the whore my husband had made me, but strangely, I enjoyed my power over both men.

I turned back to face my husband, released myself from Peter's arms and walked to his cell, holding its bars.

"I'm going to teach you a lesson you'll never forget, Lance. After Peter fucks me, you'll be disgraced and humiliated forever. I doubt that was worth a losing streak at poker."

He bounced out of the chair and slammed into the cell bars, screaming. I saw a hollow look in his eyes of a man in deep regret.

"Yeah, husband. You'll damn well regret this very soon."

I walked back into Peter's arms, gazed into his eyes and kissed him. The sizzle when our lips collided and the electric feel of his tongue buckled my knees, but he held me upright, squeezing his fingers between my ass cheeks through lightweight cocktail dress fabric.

I explored his mouth, more urgently than I thought possible. It felt as though I'd stepped out of my marriage and into a hedonistic fantasy with a passionate and familiar lover.

My dress zip was expertly pulled down and, with the slightest shrug, it fell to the floor. I felt Peter's gasp, then heard it, bathing in his admiration. I was all woman and it felt good to reclaim that after years in a tragic marriage.

"You're such a beautiful woman in every sense, Chloe."

"Right now I'm a whore. You and my husband made me that."

"You aren't that. I've made sure."

"You paid me."

"And now, you don't have to do this. It's your choice, Chloe."

Fuck, I hadn't considered that. It was easier to stay as a whore paying off debt.

"Do you see me as a wife having an affair?"

"I only see your beauty and desire that."

He stared down at me and although I couldn't see all of his features I knew Peter was a handsome man with beautiful eyes that seemed only desirous of me.

"How do we do this, Peter?"

"I have a bed on rollers that we can move closer to the cell or we could stay in the darkness."

"Let's move the bed to my cuckold husband, please. As close as possible."

I stepped into the darkness with my new lover and helped him roll a giant bed across the wooden floor. When we reached close to the cell, I insisted it was still too far away and made sure Lance could touch the bed sheets when I was done. I nodded to Peter, and he stamped down the roller brakes, making the bed as solid as his cock.

I knelt in front of Peter, thumbed his boxer briefs down, pulling harder when his enormous cock held them back. When his veiny shaft sprung loose it shattered my marriage vows and I knew I was going for it.

The smell of his pre-cum sent shivers through me so I dove in, licking, then sucking the salty veneer layered beautifully on his glans.

I swallowed, enjoying my slutty role in discharging my husband's debt, then sucked gently on the slightly purple head with a perfect pillow of skin surrounding it.

"I love a circumcised cock, Peter. Especially one this long and fat. You're much bigger than my husband."

"Thank you, Chloe."

When I bobbed further down his shaft, licking its underside while sucking and depositing saliva on it, I wanked him in a gentle, rotating motion. He gripped my pony tail, wrapped it in his hand and moved my hair away from my face.

He's giving Lance a better view.

I cricked my neck slightly, took a deep breath and forced Peter's cock deep inside my throat, squeezing it hard. When his knees buckled, I gripped both ass cheeks, butted my head forward and held him upright while he slumped over me.

I withdrew Peter's cock from my mouth, desperate to enjoy my lover on his bed. When I tore my underwear off, I tossed the soaking wet knickers into Lance's cage.

"That's all you'll have from me."

My husbands screaming and crying reached fever pitch but I didn't have time for him right now. Primal, hormonal forces drove me towards Peter and the cock that suddenly captivated my body and soul.

He lifted me with both hands gripping my ass cheeks and set me gently on his bed. Without looking at me, Peter prised my legs apart and slid to his knees on the edge of the bed.