Becoming Mrs. Pleasure

Cuddling into bed with her husband, Lynsey knew she was the most fortunate of women. Having Richard was worth any price she needed to pay. He was more than a trophy. He was the love of her life. She had it all and would never have believed how things would change. Just before she fell asleep, she wondered again who this Rick was.

_____________________________________

The email was brief and to the point, "Does Richard know?" it read.

The video clip that came with it showed her and Todd performing a series of disgusting sexual acts. Lynsey wondered if the video had been altered in some way. She remembered the activities but did they, "really look like that?"

She had no idea what to do. There was no demand for money. Only the email with the attachment with no sender address. This video could ruin her marriage and career. Her first thought was to find out what Todd knew about this.

"He's not here," his supervisor said. "Called in sick, may lose the rest of the summer. He's in the hospital. Someone attacked him in a bar."

Lynsey determined what hospital Todd was in and then set out to visit him. When she arrived, he was glad to see her.

"What's happened?" she asked after the nurse left the room.

"Broken ribs, broken tibia, and ... well, some damage to my testicles," he replied.

"Oh my God, how?"

"Not sure. My buds and I were just talking in this bar. This older guy sort of bumped into us. Call me a ball-less asshole and challenged me to step outside."

Todd didn't mention he was bragging about fucking his hot boss to his buddies. The three boys were laughing and exchanging stories when the guy plowed right into them. The fellow seemed pretty drunk, and when he kept insulting them, they were more than willing to step outside and teach him a lesson.

Todd took the opening swing with his right and received a staggering blow to the kidneys that put him down. His two companions tried to step in, but they were half-drunk and no match for their very sober opponent. After that, the fight was basically the stranger methodically beating a prone Todd.

"Did you call the police?"

"Yeah, the people at the bar did when they found us in the parking lot, but he was gone then and in the dim light we didn't get much of a look at him. He was tall, and I think he had dark hair. He was certainly older.

"The police think he may have had military training from the way he fought us, but they can't be sure, and no one remembers him prior to the fight."

Lynsey spent some time commiserating with her lover. Fortunately, Todd had not mentioned to the police his relationship with her. When they asked if he had anyone who might want to hurt him he had not thought of his fuck buddy's wimpy husband.

Finally, Lynsey got to what had started her looking for Todd,

"Do you know anything about a video of us in the motel room."

"No, we were taped?"

"Yes," she said showing a copy of part of the video that she had placed on her phone.

"Do you think this is connected to what happened to me?"

"I don't know?" she said.

Back at the office, Sara had a message.

"Someone named Rick called and said to ask you how you liked the film he sent."

Two weeks went by with Lynsey waiting for the other shoe to drop. Richard was perfectly normally. In fact, better than usual. Apparently, he won a lot of money at golf and wanted to celebrate.

"I'm sorry I didn't tell you in advance, but I was sure you would not approve, and it certainly isn't the nicest thing I ever did."

"Oh, enjoy your win and stop worrying about it," Lynsey said.

She was secretly glad that golf was the concern on his mind. Her problem was to keep what was in the video from him.

"Richard, do you know someone named Rick?" she asked.

"Why do you ask?" he said suddenly tensing.

"Well I received rather a strange message from a Rick and I thought that maybe he was an acquaintance of yours," she said.

Richard seemed to sag visibly.

Turning to her with concern on his face, he said, "Lynsey, under no circumstances are you to have anything to do with Rick. He's a dangerous person and if he contacts you it is imperative you tell me at once."

"Alright," she said, but if this Rick had the video, she must get it from him without letting Richard know.

Then the emails started. This Rick character kept sending little threatening notes.

"Does your husband know you are a slut?"

"Should I tell Richard his wife has a friend?" and

"What would you do to keep your husband ignorant?"

It was only the last she answered, "Anything," she wrote back.

"Meet me are 1008 Henry Johnston Ave. 12:00 p.m. Thursday. Come alone."

The address was in the worst part of town. It was a seedy bar and grill. Arriving alone as instructed, she sat in a booth watching the door. The dirt and filth of the place made her skin crawl. The other patrons looked like derelicts. He arrived from behind her.

"Richard," she said as her husband took the seat opposite and then, "I can explain."

"No you can't, and it's Rick never Richard. He's weak. I'm strong. Can't you see the difference?

In some ways, she could see it. The man across from her looked enough like her husband to be his identical twin but also very different. He had cold dead eyes in a stern, unforgiving face. His dress was dark. He wore a plain black tee shirt beneath a worn black leather jacket. This man needed a shave, and she could have sworn she had seen Richard shaving that morning.

"Who are you?" she asked trying to keep the fear from her voice.

She had not succeeded, and she saw it in his smile. He seemed to relish her fear.

"It's not who I am but what," he said.

"Please, just tell me what you want," she said.

"You said anything, but I don't believe you. You don't love Richard. How could you? He's a good decent man. A slut and corporate whore like you doesn't deserve such a man. As to love, women like you don't love anyone but themselves."

His words cut through her. Was this Richard testing her? Was he pretending to be someone else to tell her how he truly felt? Her fear sharpened and widened. What was she to do?

"It's not true. I love Richard with all my heart. I might not be a little chaste house frau, but I love my husband. It's fine if a man is a player. Well, I claim the same privilege."

"Fine I'll send the video clip to Richard, and he can decide whether he wants a playgirl."

"No please, I said I would do anything and I will. Name it."

Either this was Richard or his evil twin but in either case, Lynsey would do whatever it took to retain her husband.

He reached out took her chin in his vice like grip. He turned her head, so her eyes were looking directly into his.

"I'll give you one chance to earn your way back to Richard. It won't be easy. But if you do everything I say, without hesitation, I won't tell Richard he is married to a cheap whore."

There was something about this man that was compelling. She realized she was slightly aroused and completely attracted to him.

Letting go of her, he said, "You are a disgusting slut."

He stood as if preparing to leave.

"Wait! What do you want for the video?"

"You will come to me when I call and accept your punishment," he said and walked out.

Her tears began to fall as the door closed behind him. She was frightened, aroused, and confused. She needed help.

_________________________________________________

Cate Copelin was the Director of Mental Health Services at Chester Health Care. Cate was working at Chester when Lynsey was hired. A physiatrist, she was in her fifties and a leading member of her profession.

"Sounds to me like you are describing Dissociative Identity Disorder," Cate said.

"You mean like multiple personalities?" Lynsey asked.

"Not like in the movies, but yes. We all do it to some extent. In extreme circumstances, it can be very real. I have had any number of rape victims tell me they felt like the violence was happening to someone else.

"In the right circumstances, we are all capable of using the defense mechanism of dissociation. From what I know of your husband he is an exceptionally sensitive and caring person. It is possible that he developed a different persona to protect himself from the violence of war."

"But he's home now."

"The problem comes when the defense mechanism continues beyond the point needed. However, there may be an aggravating circumstance," Cate conjectured.

"But what? We lead a peaceful life."

Cate frowned. "Emotional pain can be just as severe a causation as a physical threat or injury."

"But—"

"A spouse's infidelity is very painful," Cate said.

"You know?"

"I think most of your friends do. It's a cliché, but the husband is usually the last to know. But, I believe it is possible that your husband is at least subconsciously aware of your behavior. Perhaps he has called up his defense personality to handle the situation."

Lynsey was now distraught and desperate, "What should I do?"

Cate thought the problem over.

"First, let's get Richard into therapy. Determine the problem and get him treatment. If I arrange a consult can you get him to go?"

"I don't know, but I'll try."

"In the interim, humor him by going along with the personality he presents at the moment," Cate said.

"I don't know. This Rick character is frightening."

"The dissociative personality is simply a different manifestation of the original psyche. It's still Richard. He's just hiding from the unpleasant reality. If you love him, let him hide until we can address the problem."

At that point, Lynsey should have addressed her other concern. She found Rick exciting. Beneath her fear was a physical attraction. Lynsey was a risk taker and Rick represented an attractive risk.

"So I should humor him until we can start therapy?" Lynsey asked.

"Within limits, yes, but be insistent that Richard, as opposed to Rick, gets help." Cate then began looking for a therapist for Richard Pleasure

They selected doctor Allen Marks an experienced man who had extensive experience with returning veterans. Dr. Marks was very accommodating and assured the women that such cases were neither rare nor incurable.

"But the sooner we begin, the better," he said.

________________________________________

Lynsey was looking across the dinner table at her husband. It was Wednesday, and she had brought Chinese again, but she was not late. There had been no Todd today, and she swore to herself there would never be again. The chopsticks had strangely gone missing, but otherwise, everything seemed perfect. Richard was smiling and happy that she had come home on time. He had even suggested sex with that incredible wicked smile he could turn on that made her pussy clench.

"Before we eat and my sexy husband drags me off to bed can we discuss something serious?" Lynsey began.

"Sure love, what's bothering you? I've seen you've been a bit down lately."

"Well, actually I've been worried about my husband."

"Me! But why, I've been great?"

"Well, that's just it. We see a lot of returning service men at Chester Health and everything is fine right up until it is not. For my peace of mind, I'd like you to get checked out. It would be on my insurance," Lynsey said as routinely as she could make her words sound.

"Like a physical?"

"That and a mental health check just so we know there is no lingering problem."

Richard seemed to contemplate her request for a long moment and then he shrugged, "Sure why not if your company will pay for it? No reason not to use what you got.

Lynsey contained her relief and that night the sex was great, in no small part because of the sense of relief she felt. But next morning when she arrived at work there was another email from Rick.

"10 Everett Lane. Midnight Friday. Come alone or Richard will know everything."

She was at once deflated that it was not over and yet strangely excited to be meeting Rick again. All Friday she was on edge floating between fear and excitement until she was unable to work. Should she go? What would happen if she did? What would happen if she did not?

"Ok, give. What's wrong?" Sara said entering her office and closing the door.

The women moved to the small couch that Lynsey kept in her office.

"I'm not sure I know what you mean, "Lynsey lied.

"No good girl. You're talking to the lady that whored with you and put you to bed many a night when you were blind drunk. Something is eating you from the inside out. If you can't tell me who can you tell?"

So Lynsey leaned back into the corner of the small leather sofa and let it out.

"So you think you drove Richard crazy?" Sara said.

"Please, don't say that."

"I'm not, you are. The guilt is killing you."

"It's not just that. There is something about this Rick character—"

"That is your type," Sara finished for her friend.

"You think?"

"I know. You have a real thing for bad boys, and this Rick character seems as bad as they get. What I don't understand is Richard. He never struck me as the weak type. Laid back yes but not weak. Could he be playing you?"

"Never, my sweet dove would never play me false, and that is why I need to do whatever it takes to see him through this."

"I guess if you love him," Sara mused, but something told her there was more to this game than appeared on the surface.

_____________________________________

Friday at ten to midnight Lynsey pulled into the driveway of a dilapidated split level at the end of a deserted cul-de-sac. Some of the houses were half finished and the rest simply deserted. Everett Lane was a development abandoned in the housing crises of 2008 when the developer went broke. It had been stalled in the foreclosure process ever since.

Number 10 was showing the only light, a faint glow from the upper level. Lynsey knocked, but there was no answer. She tried the door and it opened. The foyer contained a set of stairs, one down the other up. She slowly took the ascending stairs toward the light. The upper floor was bare. It had been stripped of anything of value. Graffiti marked the walls.

He was seated in a battered upholstered armchair. The fabric had large tears with the stuffing showing. The room was lit by candles set on the bare floor. He was nude to the waist with a pair of tight black leather pants on his lower torso.

His grim face seemed only vaguely similar to the husband she had left only thirty minutes before sleeping in their bed.

Were there really two of them?

"So you came slut," he said.

"Yes," was all she could make herself say.

"Take off your clothes. I want to see your filthy body in its natural state."

She hesitated.

"Perhaps you would rather Richard heard this."

He pressed something in his hand, and the room was filled with her voice.

"I love your big cock. Fuck me with your BIG COCK."

Lynsey undressed. She hesitated no more. When she was down to her panties, she stopped with her thumbs in the elastic. When he nodded, she slipped her panties off. Stripping for him was exciting. By compelling her to do it, he added to the excitement. Her pussy was moist and her chest flushed with her arousal.

"What a slut you are," he said.

She flushed even more with her shame and looked away but only became more aroused.

"Come here," he ordered.

Slowly she complied until she stood nude and trembling before his seated form.

"Kneel," he said, and she fell at his feet.

He produced a length of smooth nylon cord. For a moment, she thought he meant to tie her hands, but instead, he wrapped it around her chest and then her breasts. He made this tight trapping her breasts in severe loops. It was immediately uncomfortable as the blood circulation to her breasts was restricted.

"This is for you," he said producing a pink leather dog collar. He placed it around her neck and latched it tight enough to be restrictive but not enough to choke her.

"You will wear the collar as a symbol of my ownership of you. It is only temporary. When you have paid your punishment, you will be released. Until then you wear the collar and obey my commands," he said.

"And if I won't?" she asked.

"Then you can explain this to Richard."

Once again her voice filled the room begging her lover to fuck her. She dropped her head without further comment.

When the first blow came, it was very quick. Chopsticks seized her right breast, their cruel points inflicting the maximum amount of pain on her exposed nipple. She pulled back. The rope binding had increased the sensitivity of her breasts. The pain was acute.

The blow from his hand was hard and without remorse. The back of his hand caught her left cheek and near took her head off.

"You don't ever pull away from me, slut. Understand?"

She began to cry, "Please don't hurt me," she begged.

"Why not? You hurt others. Is there something special about your filthy whore body?"

"Please, I'm sorry. I won't do it again."

"What? Whore yourself or pull away?"

"Neither."

The second set of chopsticks struck her left nipple, but she held her place. He began to twist the sticks. The pain was unbearable. She looked into his eyes and saw only the joy he felt in torturing her. Tears began to flow down her cheeks. She didn't know what hurt worse, the physical pain or the knowledge that her Richard could do such a thing to her. That's if it were Richard? More and more she saw this man as entirely separate from her husband.

She had left her husband in their bed at home yet arrived to find this man already here and waiting. How could Richard manage that?

"You don't deserve your husband, do you?" he said as if reading her mind.

"Yes, I do. I'm good to him, for him," she said defiantly.

He yanked down on the chopsticks sending a new wave of pain through her.

"So your husband is so weak, he deserves a slut for a wife. Any man's whore who reached her executive position by spreading her legs wide."

"That a lie," she said, but he yanked her breasts causing her to scream.

"So you didn't whore yourself to business men for the Chester Health Care contracts?"

This was true. It was how she got her start. The way she jumped ahead of her peers; the way she told herself a woman could move up. But it was long before she met Richard. There was no way for him to know unless someone had told him.

"Please, that was long ago. I'm not that person anymore."

"We are who we are," he said yanking down on the sticks, "But enough of this fun," he said.

He produced a leash and attached it to her collar. He stood up and walked toward the stairs. The leash snapped taught, and she was dragged after him. They descended to the lower level with her stumbling after him.

"Please my breasts hurt," she said

He paused for a moment at the bottom of the stairs. There was a click followed by light from a cigarette lighter. He began lighting candles as he dragged her into a large open room. As the candles lit the room, Lynsey's eyes adjusted to the light, she got her first glimpse of the fate that awaited her.

"NO!" she cried pulling back with both hands against the leash.

It was a dungeon complete with whips hanging on the walls and a large cross affixed to the long wall. The cross was a big X with red bindings on black leather.

He pulled her to him until their faces were together.

"Look at me, Bitch," he said.

The way he held her their eyes locked in a dreadful stare. There was fear in hers but nothing in his. All Lynsey could see was two cold blue eyes. They held no compassion, no mercy of any sort. She had no idea what was to become of her.

"Now listen," he began, "you are my property while you wear your pretty pink collar. You are my whore, my filthy slut, and my bitch to use as I please. Tell me you understand."