My Wife's Compulsion

Chapter Three

She followed through and Monday got an appointment with her doctor and went to his office on Wednesday. She needed to be examined to get the prescriptions filled. He pronounced her fit and signed the prescription forms.

For the next six months, our life was good. She stayed busy and regardless of the ups and downs of the housing market she always seemed to have plenty of clients. I was busy at my job, researching things and writing my reports.

The sex was good too. She was passionate, as she had always been, and creative. We were both spent after we made love.

But there was something missing. Her passion seemed to have boundaries, limits, that hadn't been there before. I assumed that it was the medications and tried to ignore it.

The problem was, I missed that part of her that did not accept limits.

I guess the word I'm looking for is "placid." And I didn't want her to be placid. I liked that bit of wildness, that willingness to push the limit. I liked the bit of madness I saw in her eyes when she was going all in sexually. I like her throwing away all inhibitions when we were alone together. And it wasn't there anymore.

"Millie," I said at dinner, looking at her across the kitchen table, "what would you think about stopping the meds?"

She looked at me wide-eyed.

"David," she said, speaking slowly, "you know what that would mean."

"Yes," I said simply.

Tears were running down her cheeks.

"Why honey?" she said, her voice soft and low.

I was surprised to feel my own tears.

"I miss you. I miss that streak of wildness in you. I miss so many little things. I know, I know," I said, holding my hand up, "you don't even realize that they are missing, but they are Millie, and I miss them.

She reached across the table and took my hands in hers. I looked down, smiling a little, at her tiny hands holding and comforting my bigger ones.

"David," she said, and waited until my eyes met hers before going on. "David, you know that when I do," and here she blushed, "well, what I do, it's not like it's an affair or something, don't you?"

I nodded, not looking away.

"David," she said, and I felt like she was using my name to drive her point home, "it's not for pleasure. It's humiliating. It's degrading. I hate it. I cry afterward."

Again I just nodded.

"And that," she said, her voice hardening a little, "is what you want for me?"

"No," I said, finally speaking. "I just want you back, all of you. And right now there's a part missing."

She sighed at that.

"I know baby," she said. "I miss it too, but God baby, it's a high price to get it back."

"Okay," I said, "I'm sorry, forget it."

"No," she said, her hands gripping mine tight. "I'll do it, but we need to talk, to make sure that you understand what I need and, I suppose, on some level, what I want."

"What do you mean?" I asked.

"You will be with me," she said, and alongside surprise, I felt a little flutter in my groin.

"I was hurt the last time," she went on, "and I don't want that to happen again. Do you think you can handle that?" she asked, holding my eyes with hers.

I thought back to that first night when she had come home beaten up. I remembered her crying when I touched her swollen eye, almost blubbering to me, begging my forgiveness. Telling me she had tried to fight him but he was just too big. Telling me how she had begged him to just let her suck his cock again but he had torn her panties off and taken what he wanted while she kicked and bawled and got slapped over and over. And I understood why she was asking what she was.

"If that's what you want," I said softly.

"You need to understand what it is," she said. "It's not like I don't remember or anything. It's a compulsion, but I know what I'm doing. I remember everything. So listen."

She took a drink of her water and a deep breath.

"You think I was kind of a wild child or something, don't you," she said.

"I, well, no, well, I guess, kind of," I was stammering and that actually brought a little smile to her face.

"I wasn't Davey," she said. "I was, well," and here she giggled a little, "technically a virgin on my wedding day. Never mind what I did with daddy, I had never had a man inside of me. Hell, I still had an intact hymen and if we had lived in medieval Europe he could have hung the bloody sheets out the window." She smiled again.

"I was in love," she said, looking down at the table. "I was out from under my father's roof and out of his bed for the first time in my life. A man was interested in me and I didn't have to hide anything. Is it any wonder that I fell hard?"

I recognized a rhetorical question when I saw one and kept quiet.

"Can you imagine," she went on, "how hard it was for me to fake reluctance the first time he suggested oral sex? Or how difficult it was to seem awkward at something I had been doing practically every night since my 18th birthday?"

"I realized that I had the compulsion," she said with a little catch in her voice, "after we had been married for a little over four years. It just came on me, the desire to just be the cocksucker I knew I was down deep. Not to have an affair. Not to seek pleasure. Just to get a damn cock in my mouth and give a man his pleasure with no thought at all for my own."

She took another drink of her water and looked up at me.

"You need to hear it all if you want this," she said and I nodded.

"I couldn't get the image out of my mind. It was all I could think of to the point that I was having trouble at work. When Steven had to be out of town for a week I took the opportunity."

She was crying now, tears running down her cheeks, but her voice stayed steady.

"So I went through my closet and put together the sluttiest outfit I could and went downtown to one of the hotel bars by the convention center."

She managed a smile and said "I do clean up pretty good, you know," and I smiled and nodded, waiting and listening.

"It took, oh, maybe two minutes before I had the first offer to buy me a drink. I passed on that and a second offer. The third man was it. I don't know exactly why, but he was it. A little older, a little greyer, a little fatter. I suppose, on some level, I was looking for daddy again. Anyway, he was it and when he asked if I wanted a drink I said yes. I slammed back two quick tequila shots and told him I would like to go to his room. He looked surprised and I think he thought I might have been a cop or a whore something. But, well, I told him what I wanted and he jumped off of his stool and led me up to his room."

The tears were dripping onto the table now, and her hands trembled a little as she took another drink.

"In his room, I didn't hesitate. When he went to kiss me I pushed him away. I just got to my knees and started on his belt and then his zipper. He was hard when I got him out."

Again she stopped and took a drink.

"Davey," she said, looking at me, "you know how good I can be."

I nodded, afraid to break the mood, wanting to hear this but not wanting to hear this.

"I took his pants down then, holding him in my mouth, and then stood and led him to the bed. I had him lay back and then crawled up with my head on his belly. I had on all of my clothes and when he reached for me I slapped his hands away. And then I took him into my mouth again and gave him the most pleasurable half hour of his life. I could feel the way he was responding, the way his body's need was building, and I loved that feeling. I took him to the edge and held him there, teasing him, wanting to hear him beg if we're being honest here. His breathing was ragged and I loved that too. I could feel the tension in his muscles as his release got closer and I love that."

Another drink, her eyes on the table again.

"And at that last moment, when I knew he was going to cum, I pulled away, holding him in my hand, so that when he came I caught it on my face, in my hair."

"When he was done I immediately went into the bathroom and washed my face and rinsed my hair, rinsed my mouth, and then left. I didn't say another word to him. I was humiliated. I was degraded. But I was also, in some strange way, satisfied."

She took a deep breath then and looked into my eyes.

"I'll stop taking the pills," she said, looking directly at me, "but you had better be ready to handle that because I am not going to be alone in that situation ever again."

I reached across the table and took her hands. She didn't move to meet me but she didn't pull away either.

"Millie," I said, "I love you. I want you. I want all of you. And if that includes the, well, not the 'bad,' but the, what? The 'awkward,' then that's part of you and I want it all."

She smiled at me, an odd little half-smile.

"I'll throw away the pills tonight. We'll see in a few months how much you want."

"You'll tell me when," I said.

"Ohhhhhhhhh yeah," she said. "I am not going to do it alone ever again."

I stood and took her into the front room where we sat, side by side, my arm around her, watching sitcoms that I didn't really focus on for the rest of the night.