Unhappily Ever After B. 01

AUTHOR'S NOTE:

Unhappily Ever After

is a long, novel-length story that relates the story of a veteran who returns to civilian life and pursues a career path begun before joining the Australian Defence Force. He is forced to resurrect his 'stay alive' skills when he is betrayed by his wife, whose lover puts a hit order out on him.

---oooBJSooo---

As with many of my stories, this one started out as an idea for a short story. Unfortunately, the characters took control, and it became my version of War and Peace. In an attempt to encourage those with an aversion to long stories to read it, I have broken it up into two books. This submission is Book One.

Book Two has been written and is currently in the editing stage. Each book tells its own story, but I'd recommend reading Book One first to get a handle on some of the characters.

Hopefully, those who didn't like the absence of gratuitous retribution in my previous submission,

Happenstance

, will find

Unhappily Ever After

more explicit. Doncha hate it when you've got to work things out for yourself?

Be warned, however. If you start this journey, be prepared for a long ride. Book One contains ten chapters, which will be submitted in seven parts. All seven parts have been submitted simultaneously, with a request to the moderator that they be published on consecutive days.

I trust you will enjoy my offering, but I will be happy to receive your comments either way. It should be noted, however, that I have blocked anonymous comments. I know that might inconvenience a few of you, but my philosophy is that 'better one commenter be inconvenienced than ten trolls be allowed to spew their vitriol'.

Please Note:

The right of Black Jack Steele to be identified as the author of this work - Unhappily Ever After - Book One - is asserted under worldwide copyright laws. All rights are reserved.

UNHAPPILY EVER AFTER

BOOK ONE

Copyright © Black Jack Steele 2022

CHAPTER ONE

Friday, December 15, 2017

The Betrayal

Everyone in the room turned to watch the outstandingly beautiful woman as she negotiated the five steps that separated the raised dais upon which she'd been seated for the past two hours from the auditorium's main floor. And why wouldn't they? She was a sight to behold.

Her striking facial features were highlighted by the professionally applied makeup; makeup that drew the observer's focus to her deep blue eyes and Jezebel-red lips.

Whoever had coiffeured her hair had done an excellent job with her long, thick, dirty-blond locks. The woman claimed it was difficult to manage because of its natural curl, but her hairdresser had seemed to tame it. It had been piled on top of her head, but her face had been framed in a series of long ringlets that cascaded downward, their ends resting comfortably on the top of her almost totally exposed breasts.

Of course, the cut of the bodice was one of her floor-length evening gown's main features. It complemented the body-hugging skirt that featured a slit up each side. The slit on the right side came up to just above her knees. One supposes it was designed that way to allow her to walk. But walking was certainly not the purpose of the slit on her left side, which went all the way up to mid-hip. That slit was designed to send a message.

That message was a simple one: 'I'm available, and I'm ready if you are'. Mind you, she had the body to support the offer. Standing one hundred and sixty-five centimetres (5'-6") tall - three inches taller in the heels she was wearing that night - with C-cup breasts, a narrow waist and hips that matched her bust size, she carried the classic hourglass figure. And all of it - including her breasts and derriere were as tight as those on a woman a decade younger than her thirty-four years.

Stevey Wonder would have seen that she wore nothing but a pair of thigh-high stockings beneath that gown. The other message was that whoever sat on her left side and was interested in finding out whether the hinted-at nakedness beneath the gown was real could easily and unobtrusively slip a hand through the slit and under the front flap of the dress to find out.

That person would ordinarily be the man who had escorted her to the function because tradition had it that the boy-girl seating arrangement would have her sitting in pride of place at her partner's right hand.

On this particular occasion, though, she hadn't been seated beside her plus-one. Instead, she'd been seated beside her boss at the high table while her escort had been relegated to the benches. As an indication of his place in the pecking order, he had been allocated a seat at the back of the room among Moreton City Law's secretarial and paralegal staff members.

The woman we are talking about is Samantha - Sam, to her friends - Bourke; although she uses her maiden name in the legal circles in which she works, where she is known as Samantha Smithers-Browne.

I am Aaron Bourke, Sam's husband - AKA, plus-one, escort or invited partner - and she was sitting with her boss and not with me because, among the announcements made at her firm's end-of-year Christmas function this year, was that advising those present of her elevation to the rank of 'Junior Partner'.

While I admit to having initially been annoyed about the seating arrangements, I quickly realised it was part of the game Sam and her boss, Nathan Kingston, were playing. It would have been nice to have received prior warning about her promotion, though. Had I known, I might have bought her a celebratory gift. But then again, maybe not.

But if I wasn't prepared for the news of her partnership, I was even less prepared for their

pièce de résistance

. That was when I finally learned why it had been so important for me to accompany my wife to this function.

After a short break in the speechifying, Kingston once again took up his position behind the podium and announced that in addition to being made a junior partner, Samantha would also be assuming the role of personal assistant to himself, the managing partner.

"She has proven her ability to fulfil that role during the two years she has been on my team," he said, "and has effectively been performing the function of my chief of staff for the past year." His announcement merely formalises that arrangement so there could be no misunderstandings.

"Sadly, Aaron," he continued, "this means you will probably see even less of her than has been the case in recent times." Just in case there was any confusion about the meaning of his words, the bastard's eyes never left mine during his announcement. That, and the smirk on his face, told me everything I needed to know.

Mind you, my eyes never left his. Nor did the smile leave my face as I stood and gave them both a slow clap. I had to applaud the theatrical flair with which Kingston publicly declared my cuckolding.

"Well spoken," I said in my best parade-ground voice, which carried across the room. "I hope you'll be happy together."

The firm's managing partner looked a little confused as he walked back to his seat where Sam was already standing. Pulling her into a tight hug, he kissed her lightly on her cheek. After whispering in her ear, they both turned towards me and smiled. It was the kind of smile one imagines of the cat that got the canary. It was obvious that they had achieved one of their goals. This one, it appeared, was to publicly humiliate me.

Their 'gotcha' grins faded a little, though, when I smiled back at them. That smile told them that I was not as surprised as they thought I should have been at the public declaration of their arrangement. If they could see my eyes from their eyre, they would also have recognised the message I was sending back to them. To reinforce that message, I raised my right hand and, as a child would do, formed a make-believe gun. With my first and second fingers forming the barrel, I pointed my finger gun at them and dropped my thumb... twice.

Kingston laughed off what he obviously interpreted as an act of bravado, but Sam's smile faded, replaced by a look of concern.

After resuming their seats, Kingston leaned down and whispered something in Sam's ear before lowering his right hand beneath the table. I then saw Sam's eyes open wide in surprise. They then closed before she threw her head back while biting down on her bottom lip. That was something I had once been accustomed to seeing. She did it when I'd done to her what her boss was doing when we were in public, where she couldn't scream through an impromptu orgasm.

As he had done when announcing his ownership of my wife, Kingston glared at me the whole time he was diddling Sam to her climax. That glare was telling me: "She's now my property. Take it on the chin or suffer the consequences".

'You're right about that,'

I thought as I held his gaze.

'She's all yours. And, yes, there will be consequences.'

A smile spread across Sam's face as she opened her eyes. She was trying to find me in the room to rub her cuckolding of me in my face but was having difficulty focusing.

As I watched her regain her composure, I realised that I wasn't the only one to suffer Kingston's humiliation that night. Sam's very public debasement told everyone in attendance that she was now his slut... or, more to the point, his slave.

Of course, she wouldn't see it that way. She would see that being made PA to the Grand Poobah made her the managing partner's consort, meaning she had become the second most powerful person in the organisation. That's when it occurred to me that despite still only being a junior partner, she had reached the pinnacle to which she had been striving since she'd started working for the firm.

I just hoped she was willing to pay the price of admission to that august position.

---oooBJSooo---

"You seem to be taking this awfully well," the young woman sitting beside me at one of the

hoi polloi

tables said. With Sam having been seated at the high table, the place beside me, down among the lower classes, was filled by her friend, Helen Wheeler - 'Hell on Wheels', as Sam calls her. "I must admit I was surprised you even turned up."

"Why wouldn't I turn up?" I asked, playing dumb. "I've supported Sam throughout her career and wasn't aware that tonight would be any different from any of the other functions we've attended. I wouldn't have missed this year's function for the world. Particularly as I had a feeling that this one was going to be special.

"I'll admit that I would have appreciated being given a heads-up about the seating arrangements and the ambush... sorry announcements. But at least she didn't leave me sitting here like a pimple on a pumpkin. Whoever arranged the seating has provided me with a dining partner of equal if not greater beauty."

I saw her smile light up her face. The epithet, 'Hell on Wheels', suited her. If I weren't married, I might be out there chasing her, just like so many others; assuming that even half of what Sam had told me about her was true.

"I hope you won't tell her I said that," I said sheepishly, just as a good cuckold should. Unlike my wife, I try not to flirt with the women we interact with; although Sam has often told me that many of her friends - including Helen - see my stoic demeanour as a form of flirting. She said they find my big, strong, 'stay away from me, I'm married', stone-like armour as a turn-on - a challenge.

I believe I played the part of the subservient husband well, making polite conversation with Helen and the others around the table during dinner and listening attentively during the presentations and announcements. I think I might have embarrassed Sam, though, when I gave her a standing ovation and whistled loudly when her promotion was announced. I figured that if she was going to treat me as a dumb, gormless fool, I should act like one.

She neither smiled nor looked over at me during my performance. In fact, she leaned over to her boss and appeared to be apologising for my brutish behaviour. He, in turn, looked over at me with a self-satisfied grin on his face.

"So, how long has their affair been going on?" I asked Helen after the dinner tables had been cleared and the room was being set up for dancing. Situated as it was, on the outer rim of the room, our table hadn't had to be moved.

The group Sam was currently talking with had descended upon her like flies on a fresh turd as soon as she had stepped down from the raised stage where the high table had been set. She hadn't looked in my direction since her performance with her boss. It was as if I no longer existed. That suited me fine. In fact, I was pleased about it.

I had been preparing for this night since I first learned of her duplicity. I probably should have thrown her out then, but I'd needed a bit of time to get my affairs in order before pulling the pin to ensure she - or they - couldn't get their hands on my assets. Besides, I'm a curious and patient man, and I wanted to find out what their end goal was and how they planned to achieve it. Now I knew.

"The thing between Mr Kingston and Sam has been going on for the past couple of years," she answered. "But she'd been doing a bit of bedroom climbing since she started working for the firm. Nothing long-term. Just little liaisons that helped her get far enough up the ladder to where she could reach the sweeter, higher-hanging fruit.

"Don't forget that these people are goal-oriented. And a lawyer in a big firm like this isn't going to get ahead unless they're willing to make sacrifices. They have to be prepared to slit the odd throat and step over the still-twitching body to get to the top. And those at the top won't even put your name in the hat unless you have proven you're willing to go to the lengths needed to be considered. Sleeping with the partners is par for the course.

"Except for the odd team-building retreats and the cruises, tonight will be the last night she'll have to spend time with the junior partners. From here on in, she'll be one of them. The only partner she'll have to sleep with after tonight will be Nathan Kingston; unless he lends her out to one of the other senior partners or a friend or a major client, of course. She's very good at what she does. But you would know that. I'm sure you would have reaped the benefit of her experience."

"Not as much as you might think," I commented. "But please continue. I'm enthralled."

"I'm afraid you won't be seeing her for the next couple of days," Helen said. "I'd say it will probably be Sunday evening before she gets home. She has a full dance card for tonight, which will probably extend well into the weekend, if you know what I mean."

"No," I answered, "I don't know what you mean."

Helen then went on to explain what would happen tonight.

It has apparently become a tradition that a new junior partner is treated to a night of sex and debauchery. That usually involves having sex with multiple partners and being involved in what can only be described as an orgy. The fact that Sam is a woman - something that's only happened twice before tonight - changes the script a little. Rather than the new partner being the fucker, she will become the fuckee.

"The remainder of her weekend will be spent pulling trains, being made airtight and being the subject of a continuous cycle of group sessions. It will only end when her fellow junior partners - of which there are nine, including the other two women - either run out of Viagra or run out of steam.

"Of course, Sam will have numerous toys to play with while she is waiting for them to recover. She'll need them. She'll be so high on ecstasy and coke that she won't want to go without something inside her for any length of time."

"Holy fucking hell!" I yelled, feigning anger. "And these bastards allow this to happen?"

"Not only do they let it happen," she responded, "they quite often join in. If they all turn up - and I think they will tonight - she'll have to take on fourteen players."

"This is sick!" I yelled once again. "I'm going to put a stop to this immediately!" My disgust at what I was hearing was no longer feigned. Sure, I expected to be publicly humiliated and had prepared to act out the part of the surprised and beaten cuckold. But I hadn't expected to hear that Sam had been playing the slut since before we were married. Nor was I prepared to learn the full extent of her betrayal and the number of partners involved.

As I started to rise, I felt a large hand settle on my shoulder.

"Take it easy, Sir," an authoritative voice said from behind me. I think it might be time for you to say your goodbyes and leave."

"You're right," I said, continuing to stand.

The large uniformed Maori keeper of the peace was pushing down to stop me from rising, but my legs proved stronger than his arm. When I stood, he could see why. My work-fit one-hundred-and-ninety centimetre (6'-4"), one-hundred-kilogram (220lb) frame trumped his gym-built one-hundred-and-eighty centimetre (6-foot), one-hundred-and-twenty kilograms (265lbs). Certainly, he could lift weights, but I'd have bet that if I could stay away from his crushing arms for three minutes, he'd run out of puff. I'd then give him three minutes of hell.

"Don't worry about her," Helen said. "I'll look after her and make sure she gets home safely."

"What?" I exclaimed. I was astounded. "You're part of this, too?"

"Damned straight I am," she answered. "I'm usually one of the prizes. Why wouldn't I be? I'm young. I'm single. And I love cock. I'm too much for one man, and I live for nights like tonight. I'm a nymphomaniac. These are the only times I can receive the level of satisfaction I need. I guess that makes me a slut."

"Okay, slut," I said. "My new friend and I are going over to say goodbye to my soon-to-be ex-wife. If she disappears with her cohort of players before I get to her, would you kindly tell her not to bother coming home? Tell her I'll bag up all her shit and put it into storage for her.

"You might let her stay at your place until she finds somewhere more permanent. Or maybe her boss will let her stay with him and his wife.

"Now there's a question. Does Mrs Nathan-fucking-Kingston know about this arrangement? Considering how long it's been going on, she'd probably have to. She should be all right with her husband's new mistress coming to stay.

"I might call her once I leave here just to check," I said after looking at my watch.

I watched as a range of emotions darted across Helen's face. For some reason, she and Sam and Sam's boss and her fellow junior partners must have thought I'd be okay with being humiliated in this way.

"I don't think calling his wife would be a good idea, Aaron," Helen said. "From what I gather, they have an understanding, part of which is that he doesn't rub her nose in his extra-marital activities. And as far as divorcing Sam is concerned, I don't believe that's part of the plan either."

"I don't give a flying fuck about Kingston's arrangement with his wife," I responded. "Nor do I give a fuck about Kingston's plans regarding my marriage to his concubine. The divorce papers have already been drawn up (I was lying about that, but I did have plans for the permanent dissolution of our marriage). I only came along tonight to see how far their cuckolding performance would go. Now that I know, there will be no turning back. I'd tell him myself, but I don't expect the backstabbing bastard has the balls to face me. It appears he uses his sluts and flunkies to do his dirty work for him.