But is it Immoral? Ch. 01

Prologue:

Since the request for a sequel to, "It's Against the Law," was so overwhelming, I decided to go for it. I know from your emails, some of you will be disappointed as to how this story unfolds but I have to stay true to the characters as I created them.

Also, where its predecessor dabbled with bondage as a light, underlining theme, this first chapter deals with the subject in a much more violent manner; it is not my usual style but I felt it was necessary for the development of the story.

I do hope everyone enjoys this story as much as they did the original. Although I believe this story will stand on its own, if you haven't read the original I would encourage you do so. It might help you understand this one a little better.

Thanks again.

*

As they left Dalton looked over his shoulder at Jean who still had a shocked look on her face. "You should have asked, Jean; you should have asked," he told her.

Suddenly her stomach twisted in knots; she felt her gastric acids forcing their way up her esophagus; she leaned over and the foul tasting yellow and green slime spewed from her mouth and nose, burning her senses as it splattered with disgust, soaking into the concrete sidewalk.

Terrified that they heard the repulsive sounds of her retching Jean looked in their direction, but they had already walked far enough away that she was saved from humiliation. She stood while grabbing a tissue from her purse and made a hasty retreat in the direction of her apartment.

Never, in the four years since their divorce, had Jean felt such a sense of loss; all this time the only thing that had kept her from losing it entirely was the knowledge, that had she and Dalton stayed together, she would have never been able to explore her sexually submissive nature; at least that's what she kept telling herself. It was a tiny consolation for losing the man she loved but she needed it, it was all she had left.

She ran toward the sanctuary of her flat, almost hysterical in her grief since seeing her ex-husband with his new wife...his new, 'submissive' wife! 'You should have asked,' he told her, shattering the myth to which she clung.

How; how could she ask? Dalton was her white knight, her King Arthur, her Robin Hood, and she was his Maid Marian. How could she have taken a chance on destroying that image; at the time she tried to bring herself to talk to him but just couldn't. When Irv, a co-worker, suggested they try a few little bondage games together it seemed like the perfect solution; what could it hurt, they weren't really going to do anything and there was no way Dalton would ever find out.

It started out so innocent, the first few times they didn't even take their clothes off; it was fun, she felt so naughty. Then they got a little more daring and the next thing Jean knew she was tied up in just her bra and panties while Irv was feeling her up and fingering her to an orgasm. She was helpless to stop him; that was the point; it was thrilling and oh so erotic. As time went on Irv became more aggressive, and she let him.

Then came the day her life stopped. For the first time since starting their innocent bondage games she'd agreed to be blindfolded and tied to the bed naked; she reveled in her vulnerability as clamps were tightly attached to her nipples; she writhed with wicked delight as the phallic shaped vibrator was pushed into her defenseless pussy. On top of that she was going to allow Irv to, 'force' himself in her mouth. That's when all hell broke loose; until her dying day, her heart will break all over again whenever she remembers the two words Irv spoke that day in the motel room; the two words that ended her world...'It's Dalton.'

Jean rushed inside slamming the door behind her then slumped to the floor hugging her knees to her chest and cried.

***

What; what was happening? Jean was in a fog, her mind was groggy; where was she; what time was it? What was that noise, that ringing...her phone; she realized the ringing noise must be her phone.

She swung her legs over the side of the bed and noticed she was still in her clothes from the day before; she blinked trying to clear the dried remnants of tears from her eyes, that's when things started coming back to her. The last thing she remembered was sitting with her back against the door and crying but she must have flopped down on the bed then cried herself to sleep.

Oh shit, did she sleep all night; what day was it, she wondered? She searched for her cell and found it still in her jean's pocket, the same jeans she was wearing when she saw 'them.'

"Hello," she uttered weakly.

"Jean, are you okay?" came a worried voice from the other end.

"Yeah, I...I think so, who..." her mind still wasn't working to capacity yet.

"Jean, it's Bel, are you sure you're okay; you don't sound good."

"Ah, yeah, I'm okay, I think I must have fallen asleep, what time is it?"

"It's after ten; everybody's wondering where you are; you didn't even call in, what's going on?"

Jean was starting to emerge from her daze, she recognized the concern in Bel's voice; she also realized it was Monday morning and she was supposed to have been at work an hour ago.

"Oh shit," she blurted out now aware of her predicament. "Bel, do me a favor, tell Mr. Jacobson I wasn't feeling well this morning but I'm better now and I'll be there by noon, will you please."

"Well, you're in luck there, girl," said Bel, "Mr. Jacobson is out of the office and won't be in until two, so hurry up and get your ass in here."

"I have to grab a shower then I'll be there as quickly as I can," she responded. As Jean disconnected the call the rumbling in her stomach told her she should have something to eat before taking that shower. As she plodded out to the kitchen she recalled more and more from the previous day. She remembered seeing her ex-husband, his new wife, and their newborn daughter as they walked by the park bench where she was sitting. She thought back to their conversation and then she remembered the source of her grief; she remembered seeing the silver choker and recognizing it as a slave collar, a sardonic symbol of the life she could have shared with her loving husband.

New tears started to form as she scrambled a couple eggs. She condemned herself for being such a fool; she could have had it all if she only had the faith in her husband she should have had and told him of her submissive fantasies. Even if he wasn't interested in participating, she should have known he wouldn't have stopped loving her; only the pain of finding her with another man could do that.

As the week progressed, Jean tried to find some solace; at least some. For the last couple of years she hadn't been dating at all; not within the BD/SM community or out. She decided she needed to start socializing again. Jean never used her computer at work for anything that wasn't business connected, so she waited until she was home alone before visiting some of the bondage related networking sites she discovered after their divorce; there were two in particular, they were supposedly the best and the only two where she had registered a profile.

As usual with most females, she found in excess of three hundred emails; most from horny old men looking for an easy lay, but there were also some she felt were legitimate. When she checked the other site she found about the same situation.

This is going to take a while, she thought, so before wading through the sea of messages in an attempt to select her perfect partner, Jean decided to grab something to eat, and maybe have some wine beforehand.

After an hour or so later she was feeling more content with a full stomach and a slight buzz. She sat down and started to muddle through her daunting task. Most of the messages were quickly eliminated but there were a few that stood out. She wasn't looking for a one night stand or to just play, she was looking for a relationship, or at least a reasonable fact simile. She needed something or someone to take her mind off of Dalton and his new family.

She had singled out four such candidates and took a look at their profiles. One lived over an hour's drive from her but the other three were from the surrounding suburbs. She decided on a little test. On another website she was looking at earlier, she noticed a local 'Slosh,' being held a week from that Friday night. These were usually small, informal, social events for those in the BD/SM life-style, and a good place to meet new people. She wrote the three men she had separated from the pack and told each one she would be there; let's see if they show, she thought. It would be a safe environment and she could get to know them a little before lining up any dates.

The following Sunday she went to her parents for dinner and mentioned seeing Dalton and his wife, Tracy. Her eyes teared up again as she told them how they let her hold their baby. She tried so hard to put on a happy face, but even after all the time that had elapsed, the pain of her loss was written clearly across her face.

"Honey," her mom said as she reached over and laid her hand on top of Jean's, "You're still young, you'll find someone again; someone who will grab your heart and hold on for dear life."

"I don't know, mom; it's already been four years and I haven't found anyone even in the same league as Dalton; I still love him, I think I always will."

"Jean, honey," her dad chimed in, "I love Dalton like a son, but he's not the only fish in the sea; there are others out there, you just have to reel one in, that's all."

Jean nodded her head in agreement, but she knew it wasn't as easy as her dad seemed to think. Maybe she'd find someone next week, she thought; well, hoped really.

As each day of the following week ticked by, Jean found herself getting more excited about Friday night's, 'Slosh.' Toward the middle of the week she again reviewed the profiles of the three men she asked to meet her there.

She had a good feeling, maybe it was false hope, but it was hope. Thursday, after work, she went shopping for the right outfit to wear. She found a sheer, but not too sheer, black blouse and a short, tight black skirt that asked the question, 'can you handle me?'

Four inch, black heels she already had; her biggest decision left was whether to wear comfortable underwear or buy something sexy. Who was going to see it, she thought originally, I'll just wear my normal black lace undies; but as she passed by the display window of Victoria's Secret, she changed her mind. I want to feel sexy, I want to feel irresistible, she told herself...sexy it is. Now she was getting wet just thinking about it as she looked for something that would put her in the right mood. She found a pair of black thong panties and a matching half bra. Perfect, she muttered under her breath.

In spite of her excitement, she waited in the parking lot until several people had entered and she knew the party was in full swing before making her entrance. She had only been to one or two of these get-togethers in the past but had a pretty good idea of the kind of competition she would have.

Unfortunately, most of those lingering around and competing for her attentions, were the same people she had ruled out on the websites. She kept looking, hoping to see at least one of the three stand-outs she selected but after the first hour she was giving up hope; Jean decided she would finish her drink and leave.

Just as she drained the last of her white wine she felt someone gently bump her arm, "Here, take this," said the masculine voice from her left. Jean looked over and saw one of the men from the website standing next to her with new glass of wine. Jean hesitated; she always liked getting her own drinks when she was out; in this day and age date rape drugs were just too easily available. She looked up at him but made no move for the drink.

"You're Jean, right?" he asked.

"That's right, and if I remember correctly, you go by Sir Kevin?"

He smiled in a way that told her she had it right. "Here," he said pushing the drink in front of her, "Take this, it's safe; there's nothing in it except wine," he told her. She cautiously took it from him. "Come on, let's find a place to sit and talk."

Out of the guys she picked out, he was the one she really hoped would show up; he was certainly the most handsome of the three. She learned his real name was Kevin McMichaels and he worked as a service manager for auto dealership. Jean became a little more comfortable as they talked and finally felt confident enough to take her first sip of wine.

He appeared to be everything she'd hoped for, at least as far as she knew so far. He was tall, probably six-two, and well built; he had thick, sandy blond hair and blue eyes. Once they got the basics out of the way he asked her what she was looking for in a Dom.

"I'm not really looking for anything full time; ah, wait, let me clarify that, I don't mean I'm not looking for a full-time relationship, I'm just not a full-time slave or anything like that. I just like to feel helpless sometimes, I guess you could call it a rape fantasy, with the emphasis on fantasy," she said with a smile. "I'm not really into pain either, although maybe just a little now and then would be okay."

Kevin sat across the table nodding his head at times and paying close attention as Jean explained her desires. "Have you had any long-term relationships; I mean as far as an alternative life-style kind of thing?" he asked.

"No, well...when I first started experimenting but that turned out to be a disaster," she said with a sad expression. "Years ago I started experimenting with someone; we played bondage games for several months but it ended badly."

"Who ended it; you or him?"

"My husband, actually; he caught us together." Jean wasn't sure why she was being so open with a perfect stranger, maybe it was because she was hoping so badly that something would develop and she didn't want a new relationship to start with secrets between them.

"I see," he said sternly, "so I'm guessing you're divorced then?"

"Yes, for the last four years," she confirmed.

"Jean, if we did get together for any kind of relationship I wouldn't tolerate any cheating..."

"Oh no," she interjected, "Believe me, I've learned my lesson; I would never do that again," she stated.

There was a slight lull in the conversation; Kevin stared at her while thinking over what she said. "You're an extremely pretty woman, Jean," he said finally.

"Thank you, Kevin," she replied blushing just a little.

"Do you have any tattoos or piercings?"

"No, I don't really go in for that," responded Jean.

"Good, there's nothing worse than getting a woman's clothes off only to find a tattoo on her ass saying, 'property of mad max,' he told her with a chuckle.

Jean was really getting to like him. So many guys at those functions would try to get into a woman's pants right away, or try to impress her with how dominant they could be, but Kevin seemed confident, sure of himself, but not overbearing; he was obviously intelligent and had a good sense of humor.

"Excuse me, Kevin, I have to visit the little girls room," she said standing up with a smile.

After Jean had completed her business in the bathroom she stood in front of the mirror primping a little; a heavy set woman who was dressed in more traditional, 'slave's,' clothing walked up beside her to wash her hands. "Be careful of the guy you're sitting with," she said looking at Jean's reflection in the mirror.

"Who, you mean Kevin?"

"Yeah, Kevin; he can be a mean one, real mean," she replied.

"He seems pretty nice to me," Jean responded a little defensively.

"Okay, honey; don't say I didn't warn you." With that the heavy set woman with tattoos up and down her arm walked out, leaving Jean to think about what she said.

Jealously, Jean said to herself, it's everywhere. Still...now she was starting to wonder, a small shiver went up her spine. Damn she hated all this dating and socializing crap; she wasn't a kid anymore. Oh how she longed for Dalton.

Jean looked like she about to cry when sat back down. "Hey, what's going on; what's the matter?" Kevin asked.

"Nothing, I was just thinking about something that made me sad, that's all," she said taking a tissue and wiping her eyes.

"Well, maybe I can cheer you up a little. It's getting a little late to do anything tonight, but how about dinner tomorrow night, say seven o'clock; I'll pick you up," he told her with a smile.

Jean was apprehensive; she could still hear the words of that woman in the washroom. Did she have an agenda of some kind; why would she lie? Jean tried to study his eyes; they say they're the window to the soul; what kind of a soul did he have; she didn't know, he seemed nice but she just couldn't tell? She decided to error on the side of caution.

"Ah, that sounds like fun, I'd love it, but I have some things to do after work so why don't I meet you there," she responded. "Did you have a place in mind?"

Kevin's wide, friendly smile made her wonder if she was being too cautious; then she noticed the woman from the washroom looking her way and shaking her head, and once again she felt a small cringe in the pit of her stomach.

All day Saturday Jean spent her time wondering, worrying if she did the right thing; that woman's warning still rang in her head. Why would a stranger say something like that to her if it wasn't true? Was it as she originally thought...jealousy? Or maybe she had a grudge against him for some reason, it was too late now; nervously, Jean got ready for her date.

She picked out something sexy, but not overly so; certainly nothing like she wore to the, 'Slosh.' She thought she saw some disappointment in Kevin's face when he greeted her at the restaurant, tough, she thought, it's our first date, what did he expect?

As the night developed it appeared Kevin didn't really expect much; in fact he was a perfect gentleman and by the end of the evening Jean was thoroughly convinced the woman in the washroom was exactly as she expected...jealous; that was the only reason she could think of for her to make such an outlandish comment about Kevin.

After dinner they talked for a few minutes in the parking lot before he leaned in and gave her a soft, tender kiss goodbye. She felt her heart flutter and her expectations rose considerably as she drove home.

The next day he called to say what a wonderful time he'd had and asked if he could call back in a couple of days to arrange something for the end of the week; she gladly accepted.

Over the next two weeks Jean couldn't be happier; even though Kevin knew of her submissive tendencies he treated her with consideration and respect. She loved his attentive ways but was beginning to wonder if his gentleman-like qualities would carry through to the bedroom; she hoped they would not. Behind closed doors she wanted to be dominated; told what to do, not asked. She longed to be helplessly bound and forced to endure him ravaging her body, within limits of course. What will he do, she wondered, will he make love to me or will he fuck me hard, taking what is his? She was getting anxious to find out.

She had known Kevin a full month and during that time he had been nothing but courteous and polite so she had no reservations about having him meet her folks. It was their thirty-fifth anniversary in another week and Jean had a wonderful night planned for them with dinner and dancing; now she also had a date for herself.

As they sat and talked in the restaurant, jean could tell her dad and mom were also impressed with Kevin; only when the two ladies were alone did her mom express any hesitations.

"Kevin seems like a nice man, honey, where did you meet him?"

Both of Jean's parents knew of her fascination with bondage and that kind of life-style; they didn't approve but she was their daughter so they supported her while at the same time, prayed that she would lose interest in that kind of thing.