Paula awoke after a nearly sleepless night and almost immediately wanted to cry. In a few short days she had gone from the role of loving and devoted wife to that of slut. "How could she have gotten to this point?" she wondered. When it started, she had only wanted to save her marriage, to keep her life from being ruined. She had been terrified at the thought that someone might see the photos Oren had of her. Now, though she tried not to think about it, some part of her knew that her life might already be ruined.
John would be coming home today. Scenes of their life together, the handholding, the laughs, the embraces, came unbidden to the surface of Paula's mind. "Should she tell him what had happened?" Paula wondered. She saw images of his face, images of the hurt and anger her actions might cause. The images brought forth still more tears. She didn't want to think about it. She couldn't think about. She didn't have time.
Paula looked over at the clock. Oren would be here at nine. Then, she was supposed to be meeting her husband at the train station at ten-twenty. With a feeling of dread, Paula forced herself to rise from the bed. She went to the bathroom, took a shower, threw on a dress, all the while trying not to think.
When she heard Oren call her name from the front hall, she was startled. It was a moment before she remembered giving him a key. She went to him in a haze, her mind churning with emotional conflict. Paula could acknowledge the fact that she desperately wanted to save her marriage. She didn't want to hurt her husband, to shatter his faith in her. The moral ambiguity lay in what she couldn't acknowledge.
What Paula was afraid to admit, even to herself, was that she had enjoyed giving up control. With Oren, she had reached climaxes of an intensity she hadn't felt in years. Even now, as she walked toward Oren's voice, her body was beginning to respond. For that reason, Paula simply refused to think. She made no attempt to look for a way out of her predicament. She refused to admit to herself that a part of her that liked being a slut and a whore. She simply moved forward toward the inevitable.
"Come in the kitchen," Oren told her. "Lift your dress and get up on the counter."
Paula did as she was told. She was now beyond embarrassment or shock when it came to Oren's commands.
"Lay down," he told her as he pushed her down on her back, pulling her dress up further. Oren now had Paula lying along the length of her kitchen counter. She had been instructed to wear no underwear and was completely exposed - except for her face. Her dress was covering that.
Paula lay blind and unmoving, her back, ass, and legs felt the chill of the countertop. She could feel Oren's hands brush across her breasts. His hands tickled her, dancing down the length of her body. They were touching her lightly and bringing goosebumps to the surface of her skin. One hand moved back to her nipples. Then the other, just as lightly, began touching her between the legs.
Paula tensed slightly when she felt Oren's hand make contact with her pussy. She felt his fingers softly stroke her tender flesh and she could feel her lips begin to tingle. As her cunt swelled, her lips began to part. She knew it when she felt Oren's fingers coating her with her own wetness.