Chapter 11

ELEVEN

ASHLEY

T he hum of the refrigerator met with Jerry's loud chewing, each sloppy mouthful grating against my nerves.

Since the… incident… I'd been on edge. Fighting against the guilt that bit at my insides. I hadn't asked for the man to make me come, but I'd fallen apart at his touch, anyway. I'd cheated on Jerry. I'd gone against the vows I'd made.

But had he honoured his? Did he love me and cherish me?

It had been years since I felt anything close to love from Jerry. We'd promised exclusion to all others. That promise came with an unspoken other promise. You exclude others to fulfil each other's needs. He left me without the promised partner, without someone who would support me in the good and the bad. Who would love me through the ages, hold me through the wrinkles and the life changes. He was supposed to be my everything. I'd tried so hard to be everything he needed.

Going to the police was the right thing to do.

But it would only make me more tarnished in Jerry's eyes if he knew. He wouldn't be on my side.

No.

I also harboured a secret, insidious desire to see the masked man again. To see what else he could do to me. The need to feel trumped my loyalty to my husband. My marriage was rotting me at a glacial page from the inside out. Eroding me with the lack of what it means to be human. Jerry may not have abandoned me matrimonially, but the emotional and physical chasm he'd created left me empty.

A part of me broke as I came over the stranger's fingers, but the cracks had freed me from the suffocation of my marriage.

I couldn't hide from the guilt that still wormed its way through my gut, but I could ignore it.

Seeking him out would be wrong.

But I wouldn't close the door if he did.

‘Mom's asked me to go round to hers this weekend. She needs me to have a look at her drainage system as something's backing it up.' Jerry didn't even look at me as he spoke, his words sticking to the half chewed food in his mouth.

Going to his mother's house was the last way I wanted to spend my weekend.

‘I was going to get a start on painting the pantry this weekend…' I said, willing to find any excuse to avoid being stuck under her constant jibes.

‘Oh, she didn't invite you. Said she wants some time with just her and me.' Jerry took a sloppy mouthful of milk, leaving a white, drippy moustache.

Relief swept through me, my shoulders dropping. Yet my stomach knotted. I didn't want to go, but I didn't want to be excluded, either.

Still, it was better than being stuck with her for two days. I'd take my rejection and live with it, adding it to the pile that stood behind me, shadowing my day-to-day life.

What if he's watching me? The man who called me pet. I'd be alone.

My thighs clenched beneath the table, and I couldn't help but grin. The slice of danger was the closest thing I'd had to excitement since his visit.

‘No problem, have a great time with your mother.'

If all else failed, I'd put back on my collar and touch myself in front of the mirror looking at the picture of those big arms and imagine being wrapped in them.

S weet cherry pie blasted through the house as I danced with the vacuum. Spending my free morning cleaning may have seemed odd to an outside observer, but boogying through the house in a T-shirt and underpants with a glass of wine in one hand and the vacuum in the other was only the start to my day.

A clean house meant I could relax all afternoon with no-one coming to mess it up. I could curl up in a blanket cocoon on the sofa with my bottle of wine and some takeout and binge watch old early noughties sitcoms without Jerry's opinions.

I could fetch my collar and lay out on the couch touching myself while imagining unspeakable things about my leather working man.

Freedom.

Even if only for a day or two.

By the time I'd finished cleaning, a knock at the door set my heart thumping against my ribcage. Panting, I ran to grab a pair of tracksuit bottoms, tearing them on before catching myself in the mirror. My curls were wild around my sweat forehead, frizzing up, my cheeks flushed from exertion.

I had red wine drips on my oversized white t-shirt.

A fucking mess.

Running to the door, a more persistent knocking met me. I peeked through the side window, expectation coiling in my stomach.

A courier stood there, impatience clear in every movement. He pulled out a pad and started writing a missed package slip.

Tearing open the door, I apologised for the delay and took the package he held out. The box was identical to the one which had held my leather goods the previous week. A tremble shook my fingers as I closed the door, double locking it in place.

He hadn't come for me, but undoubtedly the package was from him.

Pouring another glass of wine, I downed it to steady the nerves tumbling around my stomach. The tape creaked as I tore it from the box, revealing the perfectly wrapped black paper within.

A note sat folded on the top, the word PET penned on the outside of the lined paper.

I unfurled the paper and read the words within.

Ashley,

I'm pleased to see you've not gone and told anyone about my visit. Such a good girl. Good girls get rewards.

You're an untrained pet. And I need to see that you are willing. Willingness is the number one greatest asset.

Show me you can follow directions, and I'll come visit you again.

If you ignore this message, then I'll assume our meeting will remain a one off.

My dick is in this box. An exact replica. Swallow it for me. All the way. Then fill your pretty cunt and cream all over me. Send my photos. You know where to reach me.

I'll be waiting.

B.

I stared at the note, reading the words over again and again. His dick? In the box? What the fuck?

Setting the note aside, I opened the inner packaging, revealing a hard, smooth dildo. It was made of something utterly solid, not the rubber types I hid away from Jerry. There was no give, no forgiveness in it.

I twirled it in my hand, wrapping my fingers around the girth and biting my lip when they couldn't fully close around it.

Fuck, was it a real casting of his dick? It's massive.

I preferred a medium-sized cock, something that did the job. A tongue had usually done more for me than the jack hammering of most of the men I'd dated. At least Jerry had been generous with his mouth for the first few years. It had been enough.

The end had a suction base attached to it. How the fuck was I going to swallow it all? Assuming I wanted to follow his instructions.

I didn't.

Liar .

Already my eyes were scouring the room for the perfect place to affix the stranger's cock.

So fucking desperate.

Goosebumps stole over my arms as I ran upstairs, pulling off my clothes and discarding them as I went. A rush of lust tore through my veins. That first overwhelming fireworks that desire made explode.

It didn't matter that there wasn't another set of footsteps following behind me, wrapping me in strong arms and pulling me to the floor for heated, animalistic sex. Yes, I wanted that, but this was my dirty little secret.

I chose the bathroom, one of the few rooms with a lockable door. Even being home alone didn't guarantee my privacy. Jerry or his mom could well use their key to burst in at any time. I could pretend to be bathing if someone were to find me behind a locked bathroom door.

The cock stuck to the tiled floor, and I placed my phone on timer mode to take a picture every ten seconds. Piling my hair on top of my head, I fixed it into a rough bun. My breath quivered as I pressed my tongue against the underside of the cock, following its solid veined ridges to the flared tip. A moan slipped from my mouth as I closed my eyes and pictured him there. I wish I knew what his face looked like. Would he smile at me as he pressed his cock into my throat? Would sweet, affirming words convince me to take it all?

I tried.

Pressing my tongue out flat against my chin, I pushed myself over the head. Inching forward, I choked, a long drip of saliva sputtering out of me. Tears sprung as I tried again and again, my phone snapping robotically as I struggled.

Kneeling up, I wiped off my chin as frustration built inside me.

I shouldn't care about pleasing the creep who's stalked me. But I did.

My throat burned as I worked at the cock again and again, the pool of saliva around the base growing by the minute. I needed him to see that I tried.

All I needed was one picture with lips to solid balls. Just one. Holding my breath, I forced my mouth over the rigid cock, my lips straining with its girth. Fighting the heaving, I pressed downward until my lips scraped the base for all of a second.

My chest heaving, I pulled off of the dildo, strings of split keeping me joined to him. Wet cheeks matched the growing wetness between my thighs. Kneeling on my floor and choking on a stranger's pretend dick at a scrawled note's behest was degrading.

The fact I enjoyed it was even more humiliating.

But I'd done it.

My thighs trembled as I knelt over the head, ready to feel him. To let him take me from afar.