A Life Unnown

Somewhere, out there in the great beyond, where good things happen and people have the capacity for happiness, her 'other' was living the good life. That particular version of herself had enjoyed a loving childhood, raised by good people. She had grown into a well-adjusted woman, had a rewarding career, was married to a caring man with 2 wonderful children, had many friends to share her ups and downs, and no reason to believe that life should be otherwise.

Here in this world it was more about making it through the day.

To the normal 'outsider' it might appear that she was that other version of herself. Looking in, she was sure it appeared as though she had married a caring man, a good provider, and had no reason whatsoever to even need a career, let alone one that might be rewarding. Thankfully, there had never been and would never be any children.

A teacher had once told her "we live what we know". She had never heard a more accurate truism. She was, at thirty-six, living the only life she knew.

Having been raised by two people who appeared to be loving parents, she was well acquainted with the perception of showing a different self to the outside world than what existed in the home. Observation had shown her that most parents didn't show their love for their only child by locking her up in her room for sixteen hours a day; feeding her on a tray twice a day; making threats to her well being if she ever told anyone.

Her father had introduced her to Stephen when she was seventeen. He had seemed to be her savior; talking about taking her away to exotic places, treating her like a queen. Although he was years her senior, when he proposed to her six months later, she readily accepted.

She and Stephen were married at her parents house two weeks after her eighteenth birthday, with only her parents in attendance. Stephen had no family, and had told her that their wedding would be more meaningful if there were no outsiders present.

The nightmare of having been locked up in her room had been replaced by having the run of a large house out in the country. Fifteen rooms on three acres of land, all hers to do as he saw fit. No telephone, no television, no contact with anyone Stephen didn't hand pick.

Stephen didn't keep her locked up in the house. There were parties. Some were at their home and he would hire a crew to come in and clean, cook, serve. Most times they were at the home of one of his associates.

The first time he had taken her to one of his parties after they were married, she had been taught that she was to speak to no one unless he was beside her. Not having known it was forbidden, when a younger man sat in a chair near her and said hello, she had returned the greeting. Stephen was at her side before she could say anymore, excused them, then escorted her to a room at the back of the house. There, he had made it clear that she was never to speak unless given permission.

Years later, she still remembered that experience as if it had just happened.

He had locked the door and thrown her into an overstuffed armchair.

"That dress is for me!" he hissed at her, referring to the red gauze knee length halter top dress he had chosen for her to wear. He had also chosen the tiny red lace panties she wore beneath it. She didn't like the dress, feeling completely exposed by the sheer material.

"You're not wearing it so some jack ass can ogle your tits and pussy. You wanna fuck him?!"

"No," she stammered, wondering why he would question her.

"I married a virgin, and a virgin you will stay!" he said between clenched teeth.

They had been married three weeks at that time. Although they shared the same bed every night, they had yet to consummate the marriage. She realized then that they never would.

He ordered her to untie the top of her dress and she had complied. Then he had come to her, brushed the material aside, and cupped her bare breast in his hand, gently rubbing his fingers over her nipple. He continued for a few minutes, moving his hand from one breast to the other. The sensation it was causing was new to her; a tingling warm feeling low in her belly, a slight throbbing between her legs, and a dampness in her panties that had never happened before.

"You like that?" he asked, his voice low and husky.

"Mmm," she had replied.

He then took her nipple between his thumb and forefinger, pinching and tugging until it felt like he was going to twist it off. When she tried to push his hand away he increased the pressure. Then he did the same to the other. The pain was excruciating. As soon as he removed his hands from her, she placed her own on her bruised and swollen nipples, trying to stymie the ache that ran like a knife to her insides.

He pushed her hands away.

"You little slut! You don't touch them unless I tell you to, or I'll cut them off and put them in a jar for you to look at."

He began rubbing his hand over the front of his pants.

"Damn you , bitch!" he said, still rubbing the bulge in his pants. "Go get Margo and bring her here."

She pulled the front of her dress up, tying it behind her neck. Before she left, he told her to wipe her eyes and warned her against talking to anyone.

She left the room in search of their hostess, fully aware that her nipples were protruding against the thin material, gaining the attention of everyone who even glanced in her direction. She found Margo in the kitchen.

Margo made no secret of staring at her breasts. In fact, the woman smiled and licked her lips.

"Stephen would like to see you," she said.

Margo linked her arm in hers, brushing a hand over her bruised nipple.

"We mustn't make him wait," Margo purred.

As soon as the two women entered the room, Margo locked the door. Stephen was standing in the same place he had been when she left, only now he had his back to the door.

"Celia is delectable," Margo said, not letting go of her arm.

"She's not for you," Stephen said.

"Can I at least look?"

Stephen turned his attention to Celia. He ordered her again to untie her top and pull it down. Fearful that he would cause her more pain if she resisted, she did as she was told.

"Oh, Stevie," Margo said. "You've bruised her. Can't I kiss them and make it better?"

"She's a virgin who wants to be a slut. Stay away." he said to their hostess, then turned his attention to Celia again. "Take your panties off, slut!"

She reached up under her dress and pulled the bit of lace off.

Pointing to the chair she had been in earlier, he told her to sit down. He then demanded that she pull her skirt up, tucking the hem into the band beneath her breasts. Humiliated and feeling shameful, but more scared of what he might do if she refused, she closed her eyes and did as she was told.

"Open your eyes, bitch!" he said to her.

When she didn't open them immediately, she felt him pinch her nipple again, causing a new rush of pain.

"She's delightful. So young and firm," Margo said, her hands on her own breasts, rubbing them through the material of the simple white dress she was wearing. "Unzip me, Stevie."

As he unzipped the back of the white dress Margo was wearing, he warned Celia to keep her eyes open and to watch. Margo pulled the dress forward off her shoulders, exposing her own bare breasts, nipples hard and extending nearly an inch. She wiggled her hips, sliding the dress all the way off until she was standing there wearing only a garter belt, stockings, and a pair of wispy white panties.

Margo turned to face Stephen.

"Bite me," she instructed, holding one breast out to him.

Celia saw him clamp his teeth down on her nipple while Margo placed her hand on the front of his pants, rubbing his bulge, whispering to him. Stephen put his hand inside Margo's panties, causing the woman to arch her back and moan loudly.

A moment later he pulled Margo's panties so hard they ripped away from her body. Standing behind her, he reached around to the front with his hand and began stroking the patch of hair between her legs. With his other hand, he undid his pants and pushed them down to his ankles.

Celia couldn't see any of her husbands' nakedness with the exception of a bare hip and thigh.

"Touch yourself," Margo said to her, her hands tugging at her own nipples. "Touch your pussy for me."

When she didn't comply, Stephen made it an order.

She put her hand between her legs, not sure of what was expected of her. Slowly, she moved her hand up and down over the thatch of hair between her legs. The friction was causing sensations similar to what she had felt when Stephen was touching her, before the pain.

"Put your legs over the arms of the chair and open your pussy wide," Stephen told her. "Make yourself wet like a good slut."

She did as she was told. Putting her hand between her legs again, she was shocked when her fingers touched the velvety smoothness of the inside of her pussy, never having touched there before. The feel of the skin there and the touch of her fingers combined, causing her body to involuntarily tremble. The degradation of being forced to do this for the first time while being watched was almost unbearable. She knew it was something she would want to explore at a later time, but nothing she wanted to do then and there.

"She's so green," Margo said, her breathing becoming ragged. "Touch your clit," she directed Celia. "You'll love it."

Celia had no idea what the woman was talking about.

"You stupid slut! You don't even know where your own fucking clit is?" he said to her.

She felt tears falling down her cheeks. Never having been with a man or being touched in a sexual way until a few minutes ago, she felt her body redden because of her ignorance.

Margo stood with her legs apart, put her hand on the mound between her legs and separated the folds, revealing her own pink inside.

"It's this sweet piece of flesh," she said, touching a slightly protruding nub. "The juice button, baby. You're gonna cum real quick, and when you do I want you to rub your panties in the wetness."

Celia moved her finger along the inside of her pussy, feeling her hole, and up toward her belly, where as soon as she touched her own nub, it was like a bolt of electricity hitting her soul. She touched it again, and again was hit with the bolt. As she continued to hesitantly touch it, she could feel a wetness forming inside. She moved her finger lower and was surprised by the warm coating of a wet substance covering her pussy.

For a moment, she forgot there was anyone in the room. Her body was reacting to her touch in a way that was completely unfamiliar. She could feel spasms low in her belly, a tightening in places she didn't know existed, and a need to keep touching. Within minutes she felt her body moving in ways that were alien to anything she had felt before. There was an unknown pressure building that scared her and she stopped.

"No!" she heard Margo scream. "Keep touching yourself!"

She shook her head.

When Stephen threatened to cut her nipples off, she put her hand back again.

Sure that something was wrong, her touch was light. She didn't want that feeling again. There was no way that was supposed to be happening. Yet, fearful that Stephen would carry through with his threat, she continued touching herself even as the pressure mounted again.

Her body went stiff and breathing was difficult, but only for a split second. Then she felt the pressure let go in a release that left her wet. Positive that she had peed herself, she used the panties to dry herself off.

"Smell them," Margo instructed. "Smell your sweet juice."

Celia became totally aware again that she wasn't alone. They had seen her wet herself! Tears of humiliation welled up again.

Margo and Stephen moved so they were in front of her. Stephen instructed her to turn in the chair so her face was on the seat and her legs were on the back. Sure that the humiliation couldn't get any worse, she did as she was told.

Margo pushed her legs off the back of the chair, one on each side so she was spread eagle, then she moved her hand so it was setting on her open pussy.

"Do it again," Margo said as she braced herself with one hand on the arm of the chair, her legs straddling atop Celia's head, which she held up with her other hand, just inches from her pussy.

Wanting to close her eyes, but afraid Stephen would know if she did, she kept them open. Margo bent forward and Celia could feel the woman's breath against her hand. Then she saw Stephen's hand rubbing against Margo's pussy, two fingers going up her hole, soon replaced by a part of his body she had never seen before.

She only had a glimpse of it before it was inserted into Margo's hole. The smell was strong, a sweet/sour blend, as he pushed his cock in and out of Margo's hole. A few drops of wetness fell onto her face.

After a few minutes of the pushing in and out, he pulled out completely. More droplets fell onto her face.

She felt her head being lifted, her face being drawn to Margo's wet pussy. She tried to turn away, but the hands holding her wouldn't allow movement. Closing her eyes and holding her breath, she felt Margo's wetness grinding against her face.

Margo was moaning and yelling for Stephen to fuck her, but Celia was still able to hear her husband warn her against closing her eyes. To emphasize his threat, she felt him pinch her nipple again.

She opened her eyes and again saw him pushing in and out of Margo. They continued for a few minutes, Margo seeming to be pushing her hips against Stephen as they moved faster. Then Stephen pulled out of Margo and before Celia knew what was happening, he had his cock over her face, his hand gripped around it, moving up and down, until just seconds later there was a creamy liquid pouring out and over her face.

She wanted to wipe it away, but Margo was still there. The woman didn't leave for at least three minutes.

Celia used her hands to clear away the sticky substance, then wiped her hands against the chair. Because her legs had been splayed for so long, it took a moment for her to move them into a position that allowed her to sit up.

She pulled the top of her dress up, tying it once again.

"Are you going to talk to anyone again without my permission?" Stephen asked her.

He had put his pants on and looked just as put together as he had when they arrived. Margo was standing to the side of him, still naked except for the garter and stockings and shoes.

Celia shook her head.

"No," she whispered.

Margo picked up Celia's red lace panties and slipped them on, smiling at her, before stepping into her white dress. Stephen zipped up the dress then told Margo to leave.

"That won't ever need to happen again as long as you follow the rules. Dinner should be ready now. We're going to go out there and you're going to be my devoted wife."

Feeling like every pair of eyes was on her, eating had been difficult. No one said anything to her and she said nothing to anyone. After dinner, Stephen took her back to that same room and told her sit there and think about what she had done while he visited in another room. He hadn't come back to get her for three hours.

Months passed. There were more parties, both at their home and at others, but she was never put through that particular humiliation again. Always, after dinner, Stephen would take her to a room and tell her to wait for him.

One time, at their home, he had her wait for him in the den. She had waited a few minutes, then had snuck out of the room to see where he went. The main living room was empty, the dining room, kitchen, library all also empty. Then she heard laughter and voices coming from the rarely used second living room.

The pocket doors were closed, but not tightly. She stood off to the side, hoping no one spotted her as she peered between the doors. All the guests were in the room, in various states of undress. There were groups of two, three, four, all touching each other. Stephen was sitting on one of the settees, a man kneeling between his legs, his head bobbing against Stephen's crotch, while Stephen was fondling the bare breasts of a woman sitting on her knees facing him on the settee.

She had run back to the den to await her husbands return, praying he hadn't seen her watching. He came to get her an hour later so she could say good-bye to the guests.

Occasionally the scenario would change. Instead of being left alone in a different room, Stephen would bring someone in. If she had unknowingly broken a rule she hadn't been aware of until then, there would be a consequence. She didn't iron his shirt correctly; she had to give one of his friends a blow job. She didn't get all the wrinkles out of the bedspread; she had to finger one of his female friends.

One time, upset that she hadn't cut the vegetables at the right angle or length, he had made her wear a sheer white shirt and a length of sheer white material that didn't reach around her hips, held together with a safety pin, no panties or bra. Then he rented a television and invited four of his male friends over to watch football, making her act as maid.

There was always the constant unspoken threat of humiliation. Sometimes, if he was feeling bored, he would call one or more of his associates over. Just for something to do, and because she felt powerless to do otherwise, he would have her take off her clothes and pose in various positions for their entertainment.

The first time he had made that request, she had refused. He sent her to her room. An hour later he came in with four of his male friends. His friends held her down while he cut her clothes off her. Then he traded places with the man the holding her leg down. That man got on his knees between her legs, took a small electric razor from a pocket in his jacket and shaved part of her pussy. Then he took hold of that pussy lip and using some kind of a piercing gun, pinched her fold between the gun. She had blacked out from the pain. When she gained consciousness again, there was a hoop ring on her pussy lip and Stephen warned her against taking it out. He also informed her that the next time she refused him, her clit would be pierced.

On another occasion, he had made her dress in different types of lingerie, posing for him while he took pictures. That same afternoon he had videotaped her masturbating for him. A week later he invited some associates over and made her sit with them while they watched the tape.

Other times they would go to social functions that didn't involve any of his associates, usually work related. He would dress her conservatively, coach her on what to say, and always warn her that if she talked without permission there would be a consequence.

No one who saw her would have guessed at the shame she hid.

For years, that was her life. She cooked, she cleaned, she did the laundry. She spoke only when answering Stephen or when given permission. She left the house only in his company. On the fifteenth of every month they either hosted a party or went to someone's home for the party. Her husband never touched her in a sexual way and there was never an opportunity for her to find anyone else to either.

She often fantasized what her life would be like if he died. She'd buy a television! That was her one solace when they were at the parties at other peoples houses; she could turn the television on and see what life was supposed to be like for the three or four hours Stephen was busy elsewhere.

She'd buy a car and learn to drive it, taking long road trips to places she had only seen in magazines. She'd talk to every person she saw. She'd never acknowledge any of Stephen's associates. She'd become that other version of herself.

Sometimes, while tending her gardens, she'd fantasize about how he'd die. It was always gruesome. He'd be in his car with the radio playing loudly, not see the train coming, and be hit; the impact would rip him to shreds.