Trophy Wife Ch 02 2

Victoria found her room, opened the door, and collapsed on the bed. A lingering horniness permeated her body; she was determined to address that issue despite John's stern warning otherwise.

I'll rest for five minutes--then I'll buzz off. In my present state that shouldn't take more than a minute or two. He'll never know.

Sleep overtook Victoria, depriving her of an opportunity to act on her urges. When she awoke she checked her watch and found that she had just enough time to rinse the sweat and grime off her body before her massage, hair, and nails appointments in the hotel spa.

I could skip the massage. That would give me an extra hour. Fuck that! There's no way I'm missing my massage after the hell I've gone through today.

Four hours later, Victoria returned to her room coiffed, made up, and fully refreshed.

All I have to do now is to slip into my dress--and I've got almost an hour to do it. Hmm, should I?

Victoria dropped her robe on a chair, applied her perfume, and then removed a small vibrator from her suitcase. She propped some pillows against the headboard and then sat on the bed with her knees up and her legs spread apart. She dipped a finger into her slit, and then caressed her clit with two fingers. Within seconds her juices were flowing. She dipped a finger inside her warm tunnel a second time, and then reached for the vibrator. Just as she switched it on, there was a knock at the door.

God damn it!

She was tempted to ignore the knocking, but she was afraid that John may have arrived early. The person knocked a second time.

"Who is it?" Victoria called.

"It's the concierge," a voice answered. "I have a delivery for Mrs. Wellingford."

"I'll be right there," she answered.

What the hell could that be?

Victoria put on robe and opened the door. A hotel employee was standing in the hallway with a vase containing two dozen orange roses.

"Mrs. Wellingford?" the concierge asked.

"Yes."

"These are for you."

"How lovely."

Victoria stepped back so the concierge could enter the room. He set the vase on a table in front of the window, then turned toward the door. He paused for a second when he saw the vibrator on the bed sitting next to the stack of pillows.

"I hope I'm not interrupting anything," the concierge smirked as he reached for the door handle. "And enjoy your evening, Mrs. Wellingford. If there's anything I can do for you, please let me know. I'm happy to be of service."

"Thank you." Victoria blushed as she closed the door behind him.

So much for that idea. I had best finish getting ready before John arrives.

Victoria located the small envelope attached to the bouquet of roses. She opened it and pulled out the card.

"Be amazing."

Aww, Lincoln is so sweet. He must be planning to be really bad tonight, if he's encouraging me to have a good time. Wait a second, this can't be from Lincoln. He doesn't know where I am. He won't know until I get home tomorrow and I tell him. But if not Lincoln, then who? John?

Victoria put on dress, stepped into her shoes, touched up her make-up, and then sat in a chair near the flowers. She sat for twenty minutes, checking and rechecking her make up while she counted down the time. At 7:58 she felt her heartbeat getting louder. At 7:59 it felt like a bass drum was beating in her chest. At 8:00 her mouth was dry and she was having trouble breathing. She stood up, walked to the door and peered through the peephole.

Nothing.

She paced back and forth, her anxiety rising with every second.

At five after eight there was a knock. Victoria hurried to the door and threw it open. John was standing in the hallway wearing a black tuxedo and carrying a wrapped package. He whistled his approval when he saw Victoria standing in her black gown. The floor-length dress was slit to her hips on both sides. The sheer bodice was practically see-through, revealing her breasts and nipples to anyone who looked for more than a second.

"Come in," Victoria said. "I've been waiting."

John stepped through the doorway, kissed Victoria on the forehead, and then handed her the package.

"This is for you."

"First flowers, and now a present," Victoria said as she took the package. "Aren't you the gentleman?"

"You might want to reserve judgement until you've seen what's inside."

Victoria untied the ribbon and tore off the paper. She lifted the lid from the box and looked inside. Her brow creased and her face flushed as she removed the contents of the package.

"What the hell is this for?" she asked, holding up a clamshell package similar to the one she opened in the woods earlier.

"That, my dear, is the final piece of your wardrobe. Let's put that in you."

John took the contents from her and tore open the plastic packaging. He went to the bathroom, ran some water, and returned a few seconds later.

"Bend over," he commanded.

Resigned to her fate, Victoria walked to the bed, spread her feet, and bent at the waist.

"Nice," John said as he flipped the sheer skirt over her waist. "You aren't wearing panties."

"In prior years I found that it's a waste of time. They don't stay with me very long, and I usually end up losing them. Why bother?"

"Good point."

John pulled a tube of silicon lube from his pocket, squirted some into the crack of Victoria's ass, and then smeared some more onto the surface of the butt plug. He placed the tip against Victoria's asshole and pushed.

Victoria felt a familiar pressure in her backside. She relaxed and allowed the tip to enter her. She soon felt her asshole stretching to accommodate the invading presence. Fullness gave way to discomfort as the plug continued to push the limits of her anus.

"Ungh. Hey! That feels..."

"Bigger? The smaller one was just to loosen you up a little without making you too uncomfortable. You're going to be aware of this one."

Great. That's all I need--my asshole stretched so wide I can't even fart.

John twisted and pushed. Victoria took a deep breath and then let it out slowly as the fat end of the plug reshaped her rectum. She put her head down and willed her sphincter to relax while the last inch of soft plastic stretched her open more than she had ever been stretched before. She gasped when the notched end slid into place.

"Whew. That's...there. Can you help me up?"

John helped Victoria to her feet, and then led her to the door.

"Got your card key?" he asked.

"It's right here," she answered. "Do you want to hold it for me? We're probably going to end up back here before the night is over."

John took the card key from her and placed it inside his jacket pocket. He closed the door, held out his arm, and escorted Victoria to the elevator.

"You're going to have to walk a little slower," Victoria said. "Between these heels and that thing you put in my ass, I can't move too quickly."

"As you wish, my lady."

John and Victoria took the elevator to the Mezzanine level where they found the ballroom. Upon entering the room, they were greeted by a regiment of club officers, senior members, invited guests, and the other Hunters. Each year the forty newest members participated in the Great Hunt, but the entire Chapter membership attended the Huntsman's Ball. It was easy enough to tell which were the Hunters and which were the senior members--the senior members were escorting women dressed in elegant ball gowns, while each Hunter wore on his arm the scantily clad trophy he bagged that morning. The honored guests were advised to leave their wives at home and to bring a date; some attended with their mistresses, others used the services of an escort agency. The Huntsman's Ball was no place to bring an uninitiated wife.

This was Victoria's fifth Huntsman's Ball, and she had grown accustomed to the affair. She surveyed the room, admiring the dresses of the other women, and noting with surprise the rugged handsomeness of the Chicago men.

They don't seem to be quite as well-mannered as the Atlanta or Dallas men, nor as smooth and sophisticated as the Florida or New York men, but they are every bit as good looking. We could be in for quite an evening.

An orchestra in the front of the room played swing music while the guests mingled. John guided Victoria to one of two bars set up at opposite ends of the room. Before they reached it, however, a waiter came by with a bottle of champagne and a tray of flutes.

"I'll have champagne, if you don't mind," Victoria said.

"By all means," John replied.

John stopped the waiter and removed two flutes from the tray. He held them while the waiter poured from a chilled bottle of

Dom Perignon.

"What shall we drink to, mighty hunter?" Victoria asked.

"To a night of surprises," John answered.

"That certainly sounds ominous."

"This is going to be a night that neither of us will ever forget."

"I don't know whether I should be excited or afraid." Victoria looked up into John's dark eyes.

"I would say...both."

John tilted his head and smirked. He touched his glass against Victoria's, then drained it in one long swallow. Victoria took a sip from her glass, paused to savor the taste, and then took another small sip.

John led Victoria around the room, introducing her to the club officers and some of the honored guests. After the second circuit they took a seat at one of the round tables ringing the dance floor. They were soon joined by another Hunter and his scantily-clad trophy.

"Is anyone sitting here?" the man asked.

"Just the two of you," John answered. "Calvin, I want you to meet my trophy, Victoria. Victoria, this is Calvin."

"Pleased to meet you," Calvin said as he took Victoria's hand and gave it a kiss.

"I'm charmed," Victoria replied.

"John, this sexy little slut is Rochelle. Rochelle, this is my good friend, John."

"My pleasure," John said as he bent in a deep bow.

"Well, well," Rochelle giggled. "The two of you are such dashing gentlemen."

"We're trying our best," John said. "We know that you Southern ladies are always so proper."

"You must have us confused with the Atlanta wives," Rochelle laughed. "Us South Florida women are a little more spicy. We've got that hot Caribbean blood flowing through our veins."

"Good to know," Calvin grinned. "Good to know."

Victoria did not know Rochelle well, but she did know her husband. Carl Jackson was a former professional football player who was forced to retire due to injuries. He got a large signing bonus the year before his retirement, and he invested the money in an auto dealership. He and Rochelle were all over television, blanketing the local programming with their commercials. One dealership became two, and then two became four. The last time Victoria counted, they had six locations between Homestead and West Palm Beach.

Not too bad for a girl who illegally entered the country on a raft almost 20 years ago. Not bad at all.

The banter and small tank continued as the guests took their seats at the tables. Victoria looked around the room and took note of her friends. Maya Garcia, a short chubby Cubana with huge breasts spilling out of her dress was seated at the next table. She spotted her best friend, Elaine Covington-Bridgeford, seated with a large black man two tables away. His hands were all over her, but she sat stoically and endured his pawing. On the other side of the room she saw Belkys in a pink strapless and backless dress that wasn't going to last long once the dancing started. Her Hunter was a large, handsome man with a broad chest, long golden hair, and a perfect smile.

You owe me for that one, Belkys. I better not hear you complaining on the flight back to Miami.

The orchestra continued playing while the servers delivered bread and salads to the tables. Victoria was buttering a roll when she heard a disturbance behind her. She turned in her seat and saw Maya on the floor, naked, kneeling on her dress. Tears were streaming down her face as the hunter used Maya's lipstick to write a message on her forehead.

Pig.

"That's terrible," Victoria said to John. "Why is he doing that to her?"

John and Calvin exchanged glances.

"Everyone knows Terry hates fat chicks," Calvin explained. "His wife is stunning--Lena's five foot ten, weighs one hundred eighteen pounds. Fitness instructor...former swimsuit model...not an ounce of fat. He thinks all women should look like her, and any who don't are worthless pigs with no self-control."

"Most women don't look anything like that," Victoria bristled.

"That's not Terry's fault," Calvin chuckled. He and John high fived one another.

"That's terrible," Rochelle said.

"Hey, you ladies know the rules," John replied. "They're stuck with each other until morning. If she didn't want to be treated that way, she should have run a little faster. It's not Terry's fault she couldn't get her fat ass out of the way of his paintball."

"That one couldn't get out of the way of a box of doughnuts," Calvin smirked.

Victoria started to respond, but John glared at her. The words froze in her mouth.

Why am I letting him silence me? Not even my husband does that.

"Victoria," Rochelle asked, "would you like to join me in the ladies room?"

"Of course," Victoria answered, "I was just getting ready to go myself."

The two women pushed their chairs backward and started to stand.

"Not so fast, Victoria," John said. "There's something I need to get from you, first."

"Oh?" a wide-eyed Victoria asked. "What would that be?"

"Bend over," he said as he rose to his feet. "I'll get it."

John pushed Victoria's salad plate to the side and then pushed her face-down against the table. He lifted her skirt above her waist, gripped the base of her butt plug, and pulled. Rochelle gasped at the sight of the large plastic toy emerging from Victoria's butt. Calvin cackled with laughter while all around heads turned in his direction to see what was causing the commotion.

"Ungh," Victoria groaned. Her face flushed and moisture collected in the corners of her eyes. "Do we have to do this now? Really?"

Instead of removing the toy in one quick tug, John pulled it with a slow and deliberate motion. The pressure on Victoria's anal ring exceeded any feeling she had ever experienced. The lead surface of the toy was gently sloped--almost like a torpedo--for relative ease of insertion. That slope was almost non-existent on the back side--there, it was almost flat, like the underside of a mushroom cap.

"Uhnnnnnn--just pull it out," Victoria moaned. "Please."

More heads turned as the guests investigated the commotion. John took his time pulling the base of the plug. He seemed to be enjoying Victoria's physical discomfort almost as much as he enjoyed her emotional distress. Victoria felt as though she were being turned inside out; the pressure the flat side of the plug placed on her anus was far more intense than the pressure it caused during insertion. The sensation was not entirely painful; there was an undercurrent of pleasure existing alongside the pain--not enough that she would ever wish to do it again, but just enough so that the experience was not entirely unbearable.

When John noticed that all eyes in the vicinity were focused on Victoria's ass, he slipped his free hand under her leg and moved it toward her crotch. He extended his middle finger and wiggled it in the direction of Victoria's clit. Victoria felt a new sensation wash over her as John's fingertip flicked her seed while he continued to tug against her anus with the butt plug.

"Enough," Victoria hissed behind clenched teeth. "Just take it out."

"And deprive this crowd of an opportunity to watch you squirm? I don't think so."

John slipped his thumb into Victoria's pussy. Her slit was flooded.

"If I didn't know better, I'd say you're enjoying this."

"You would be wrong." Victoria hissed.

I am, actually.

John removed his thumb and finger, and returned his attention to the butt plug.

"I almost forgot." He gripped the plug and pulled. It made a popping noise as it exited Victoria's asshole.

"Uhnnnn!" Victoria groaned.

Victoria stood up and straightened her dress. She used her napkin to dab the tears from her eyes.

"I'm ready, Rochelle," she said. "Let's go."

"Wait," John said. "One more thing."

"What now?" Victoria glared.

"Throw this away."

John tossed the butt plug to Victoria. She caught it, and then the two ladies walked away from the table.

The servers cleared the salad plates, and returned a few minutes later with the main course. Victoria and Rochelle returned just as the servers finished refilling their wine glasses. Victoria pulled her chair from the table and noticed another wrapped package in her seat.

"What's this?" she asked, casting a wary eye toward John.

"Just a little something to look forward to later," John answered. "Go ahead and open it."

Victoria unwrapped the present and removed the contents. It was another clamshell package, containing a plug much larger than the two previous instruments.

"'Bear Plug?'" she read the label aloud. "Is this for you? Do you need help getting it in?"

"That's for you, honey."

"John, don't be ridiculous. That last one barely fit inside me, and this one is twice as big. There's no way I could ever get that inside me."

"Don't underestimate yourself," John said. "I think you can do anything you set your mind to doing."

"It's enormous--there's no way," she said, pushing the package toward John. "Put it away."

"Victoria," John said in a slow, deliberate manner. "You can do it. I know you can. With the proper motivation, you can do anything."

"So, that's your plan for the evening? You're going to keep giving me bigger and bigger things to stick up my ass until something won't fit, and then you're going to file a complaint against me for refusing to cooperate? "

"Don't be silly. I'm starting to wonder if you suffered a head injury out in the woods. Did you have your helmet on at all times?"

"So, I'm crazy. Is that it?"

"You're acting crazy."

John reached into his pocket and pulled out the tube of lube.

"Here," he said as he handed it to her. "You're going to need this."

Victoria stood up, bent at the waist, pulled her dress over her hips, and exposed her ass to the entire room. She squeezed some lube onto her hand and rubbed it into the crack of her ass. When she was finished, she tossed the tube back to John.

"OK. Do it. Get it over with."

"Cool your jets," John replied. "I'm busy."

John slowly and deliberately cut a piece of his steak. He brought the fork to his mouth, bit into the meat, and chewed. He swallowed, took a sip of wine, and then repeated the procedure. He continued until he had finished his meal. He set his knife and fork on the table and then finished his wine.

"Aren't you going to eat?" John asked.

"I thought you were going to shred my asshole with that plug."

"I will, if I find it necessary. Somehow, I think your ass can take it. In any event, I never said I was going to insert that into you right now."

"But you said, 'you're going to need this,' when you gave me the lube."

"I'm sure you will need it, unless you think you can take that without lubrication. But not yet. Enjoy your steak. It's delicious."

John leaned over and whispered into Victoria's ear.

"What I do need, is for you to reach over, pull down my zipper, and liberate my cock. Get it hard and keep it hard. If it goes soft, I'm going to shove that butt plug up your ass and out your mouth. If I cum, I'm going to go in from the other side--down your throat and out your ass. Are we clear?"

"Yes," Victoria hissed. "Crystal clear."

Victoria reached over with her right hand, unzipped John's pants, and pulled out his cock. It was already in a semi-aroused state, so it only took a few strokes for her to coax him to a full erection.