Biggest Risk of My Life Ch. 08

As always, in order to make sense of what follows, you will need to have read all the previous 7 Chapters. Or, at very least, Chapters one and two. Otherwise you will have no context in which to understand what happens.

The end is neigh.

LS

...

Steve continues

I had phoned and left a message on our home landline, giving Christina my arrival time.

As I pulled into our garage, I wondered which Christina I would meet. The same old, same old... or a new, modified version. Strange, her car was missing from her half of the garage.

Neither, apparently. She didn't appear to be home. This was confirmed as I entered through the linking doorway and was greeted by... silence.

Oh well, she might be out getting something for a special dinner, or something.

As I moved into the upstairs bedroom, I saw it. An A4 page placed on the freshly made bed... with what looked like her engagement and wedding rings on top.

Baffled and with rising fear... I picked it up and commenced reading the typed note.

"My darling Husband,

I cannot go on any longer, denying the truth. You have a right to know.

The truth is... I have discovered that I am a slut. Yes, I know I hid this from you but recent circumstances have brought her out to the surface. I hadn't even known this myself.

I have met someone else... and he knows and understands me like no other. He knows and accepts who and what I am. I know you never could.

I am so sorry... but I have been unfaithful. You deserve a better wife than I have been and you certainly don't deserve an unfaithful slut for a wife.

You are a kind and gentle man... and I'm sure you will find someone to replace me.

Please don't try and find me. I am going to my new man. He loves me and will protect and look after me. My family don't know about him and I can't bring myself to tell them I've left you. They will hate me even more if I leave the sanctity of marriage.

I hate myself for what I've done to you... but you are a good man and deserve better than I can give."

She hadn't signed it, I strangely noted. Is that what I took from her message? That she hadn't signed it? How fucked up am I?

I think I was in shock. I staggered over to a chair and sat down. A part of me realised this was the same chair I... or her Master... had spanked her in, earlier in the day.

This was all my fault. I did this to myself. By wanting to bring out a more physically loving wife... I had fucked myself completely. The irony of it.

My wife... had left me... for ME! Or at least, my alter ego; her mystery Master.

I'm not sure how long I sat there, in a stupefied daze... totally blown away by what had happened. An awareness that the room was now dark, came upon me. That night had set in... and I was still sitting there, not doing anything. I shook my head, trying to clear the cobwebs.

Call her. Yes, why the fuck hadn't I called her earlier. I quickly grabbed my cell phone and pressed the appropriate buttons. It began to ring... and I also heard a ringing in the bedroom. Her phone was sitting on her dressing table. She hadn't taken it with her. Underneath it were her credit cards and driving licence, cut up. She had left them all behind.

What had she taken? I wondered. Galvanised into action, I quickly inventoried her belongings. Her phone was here... but missing was her laptop. Also missing were her toiletries, her casual clothes and smarter, business outfits she always wore to work. Work! I could get her at work tomorrow, I suddenly realised.

She's probably staying in a hotel or motel somewhere tonight, needing some space to think through some things... and will go to work tomorrow. At least I knew she wasn't with her lover, I grimaced, feeling sick to my stomach.

How could I have been so stupid? I had a sweet, loving wife... and threw her away because I wanted a willing, wild, sex loving wife. I had not been satisfied with what I had.

...

Steve again

The next few days were a blur as I did everything I could to find my wife. Of course I had contacted her place of work... but they hadn't heard from her... and she never showed up again. I even bit my tongue... and called her father. He was blunt but convinced me he and his wife hadn't heard from her. I told him she had left me... and he just called her a jezebel and good riddance to her... and hung up on me. That was mighty Christian of him, I thought.

After I checked all the local hospitals... even the morgue, just in case... I visited the police to report her missing. I'd seen the television shows... and knew I had to wait for 48 hours before I could report a missing person.

They took her details... but when I explained that she had left me, telling me in a note... that there was no issue of her being kidnapped... and that she was over 18... they just told me she was an adult and could do whatever she wanted. They even began looking suspiciously at me when I tried to force their hands, asking if she had large insurance policies on her life. They thought I was angling for a life insurance pay out. The pricks. I knew I would get no help there.

So here I sat in my kitchen, completely out of ideas on how to find her... and feeling very sorry for myself. No, I hadn't turned to drink or drugs to deaden the pain of her missing. Only fools and idiots tried to blot out life that way and, I was no idiot. Well, perhaps that isn't strictly true, given my current circumstances, I finally had to admit.

Our joint Bank accounts had not been touched, I was surprised to learn. The only account that had been emptied, had been her own account. The one her wages were paid into. All the funds had been withdrawn late Monday afternoon.

A few days after her disappearance, I had been forced to return to work. Apparently I was now just a statistic, adding to the list of those whose marriage had failed. Nothing out of the ordinary. Get back to work... or stay away permanently, so the thinly veiled threat had been presented, even though surrounded by vows of undying support. Yeah, right.

I held out for about 5 days before I tried to make a skype call, using my guise as her Master. All I really knew was that she wasn't with her Master. If she had left me... for me... why had I not received an email from her? Or a skype call. It just didn't make sense.

Immediately there was a problem. She had gone. Her contact name was no longer valid. Effectively, she was no longer listed as a contact in my skype list. I was completely helpless.

...

Time and Tide waits for no man, or so it is said. Well, time certainly marched on for me. Days turned into weeks... and weeks turned into months. Still no word.

The only strange piece of information I learned... although I wasn't sure what it meant... was when her mother had called, about a month after Christina's disappearance, quietly asking if I had heard anything about her daughter. It quickly became apparent that she hadn't heard anything new either. Somehow, our talking got on to the subject of her work. I was surprised to learn that she had only ever worked three days a week: Thursday, Friday and Saturday. Her mother just assumed I knew and I didn't want to admit it was news to me.

What had she been doing the other four days, from Sunday through to Wednesday? She had definitely told me her "weekend" was Sunday and Monday. Where did she go... and what did she do... on the other two days? Well, even including Mondays, since I was always working so never questioned what she did on those three week days.

Following the strange news from her mother I actually contracted a private investigator to see if he was able to dig up anything else that might lead to her whereabouts. Surely a professional, with access either legally of slightly illegally, to other data bases, could track her down. Nothing. Not a bean of additional information was discovered. After a month my available funds were exhausted and I had to stop their investigation.

The months increased. I managed to fight off a guilt-based depression but was feeling empty, numbed by life. Until, about 10 months after she'd disappeared, I accepted a blind date put together by my friends. They were sick of seeing me moping around like a hang dog.

Christina had gone from my life. I had to accept it... and move on.

So I went on the date... and had fun... and slowly re-emerged into the dating scene. However, I had now hardened my resolve.

If ever I get married again, it will only be after a trial period of living together, with a full physical relationship tested for our total compatibility. I'm not going through anything even remotely similar to my marriage with Christina, ever again.

They will either make love/fuck after a respectful period of time... or they can fuck off. That was my new mantra.

Life goes on.

Fin.

...

Hi Guys. LS here again.

This was where I had originally finished my tale of woe. I should have quickly posted this finish and said "Goodbye" to Steve and Christina. But I didn't. Instead, I showed a small handful of friends.

However, some people to whom I had shown the story... insisted that they wanted to know what happened to Christina.

I tried smiling mysteriously, telling them it was best left to their imagination.

My audience, predominantly female, threatened dire attacks on my genitalia in my sleep. Even hinting at severing my manhood with their teeth... should they ever allow my cock entry to their hot mouths again... unless I provided a believable ending.

Mind you, being backed into a corner of the room, surrounded by wild females, did influence my decision slightly. I took one look at their razor sharp gnashers and... being the staunch, macho male that I am... I immediately capitulated.

So, solely due to the pressure exerted and because enough of them thought it warranted, I agreed to provide an "Ending Story" for Christina. To get back at them, I decided to write this particular version of an alternate finish... and to give it a little "twist" just to tickle my lovely blackmailers for their attempts to control me.

Naturally, I posted this before they had a chance to see it... and immediately packed my bags and "headed for the hills", as the saying goes. A couple of weeks while I relaxed on a beach should give them enough time to let their steam die down.

Actually, once I decided to provide an alternate ending, I realised that there could have been two or three different finishes. Oh well. Maybe they will enjoy this: maybe not.

We shall see.

LS

...

Christina

When I married Steve, I really was a virgin. My life was uncomplicated. I lived at home with my parents and never went out socialising.

It was my friend Julie that encouraged me to meet with that good looking runner who went past our work place every day. Meeting Steve was the best thing I ever did.

After our courtship, where I stayed pure, we married and settled down to married life. Sex initially was painful and scary but I did my duty, just as a good wife should. Or so my mother always told me. She also said that I should never allow my husband to see that I enjoyed sex. It was the only way a wife could control her husband, she always said.

Believing it to be true, I tried to follow her lead. By now I had to really close down my body's reactions because I found myself enjoying the act more and more. When fighting off my enjoyment, as Steve was making love to me, I had to squeeze my eyes shut and concentrate hard.

Things were going smoothly for the first 18 months of our marriage. For some reason, Steve thought I worked 5 days per week when all the time it had only been three. I just never corrected him. This meant four straight days of holiday every week. He earned good money so our finances were never a problem.

Six months before I left Steve, a new neighbour moved three apartments over from us. David worked from home. I didn't know what he did, work wise but he always had plenty of money and was good looking. Black hair, tanned complexion, well-groomed and well dressed. His 1.87m (6'2") frame was slim and had a fit, athletic look. I had seen him occasionally on my early week days, Monday, Tuesday or Wednesday.

We became nodding acquaintances first. Then he would stop for a chat. Finally, we would drop in at each other's place for coffee. Well, coffee for him, a soda for me. He had wonderful stories to tell and it seemed he had led an exciting life.

So much different to my Steve. Good, kind, dependable Steve. I loved Steve, I truly did... but... David was so much more exciting to be around.

Our "coffee" meetings were now regular meetings, for those three days. I know I wasn't very experienced but even I could tell he was flirting with me. Now, when we met up, I would kiss him on the cheek. Also again, a departure kiss on the cheek when we left. No one was being hurt... so I thought it would be ok.

Slowly we began to confide in each other: him about some girlfriends he had and me about Steve. I felt I could tell him anything, he was so understanding. As good friends often do, we even exchanged keys, in case one of us needed the other to... water plants or feed pets... he had a cute little dog.

Somehow our greeting and departure kisses changed to full on kisses and also got longer and longer. However, as strange as it may seem, we never took things further during our visits. That's because he respected me, he said and didn't want to overstep our boundaries. It was like having a gay friend... without him being gay. My bonding with him just grew stronger.

By the two months before leaving Steve, I would have agreed that David would have been my BFF. We were so in tune with each other. I'm still not sure why I never told Steve about my BFF. I didn't even tell anyone I worked with either. My BFF was MY secret... and the simple fact he was a secret made him somehow more... exciting. Something only I knew about. When the first instance with the burglar happened, it was to David that I turned. I told him what had happened, in an overview manner, not too specific. He was horrified and said he would keep a closer eye out for strangers during the day.

It was after I admitted that parts of it had actually turned me on... that David took a more active interest in the details. In fact, it was my daily retelling of the actions to David that help keep me aroused constantly. He was a good friend. He was so concerned about me.

He also started saying that he had always admired me. That he wanted to be a close friend. That it was only because I was married that he hadn't done anything... because he respected me too much. My heart melted for him.

Often when we hugged, I could feel his thing... his cock, I could safely say now... poking my belly. He would say that I had caused this... but this was just what good friends did to one another. It was a complement to our friendship, he said.

On the day of my Master's second visit, I was still laying on the bed, waiting for the few minutes Master had instructed me to wait... when I heard a voice loudly gasp in the room.

I was still naked, of course, one hand still cuffed to the headboard... the other released but waiting for me to begin releasing myself. My balaclava and sleeping mask still on my head.

Naturally, I thought Master had returned... perhaps to check if I had followed his instructions. It wasn't him... it was David.

"Christina... what has happened to you?" I heard. Next thing I felt were his hands removing the head gear... and then I could see my David, looking down at my abused body, a look of grave concern on his face.

He unhooked my other wrist... and then hugged me, still naked, to his chest. All the time asking things like, "Are you ok? Have you been hurt? Should I call an ambulance?"

I just replied, "Hold me, David." I couldn't really say much else: I was still mentally processing what had taken place with my Master... and my massive physical reaction to his attentions.

After a few minutes, I managed to ask, "David, why are you here?" I had previously told him that I couldn't meet today because I had things to do. So I didn't expect him over.

"Christina... we have to talk. Who did this to you? Your Master?" Yes, I had told him all about what had happened to me previously. He had understood.

"Yes," I said. "He's just left."

Weirdly, he just said, "Christina, there's something you need to know. But first... let's get you cleaned up and a bit more presentable."

It was only then I fully realised I was still naked... hugging a man in my bedroom. I felt no embarrassment; after all it was my BFF.

He led me through to my shower... I was still feeling weak after my Master session. He even helped wash me down. His touch... the warm water... the soap suds... all making me feel wonderful again.

While I was drying and getting dressed, he disappeared downstairs; returning with a hot cup of coffee. "I know you don't really drink coffee... but you need this right now... as he thrust the cup into my hands and made me sip the hot drink.

Now I was dressed and feeling much more recovered from my ordeal. As I continued to sip on the coffee, David asked me if I wanted the police or any authorities. I told him no: that it was all consensual. That I had just experienced to most amazing, boundary extending day of my life. That... I loved it. That... I had had so many extreme orgasms... I couldn't even begin to count them. My Master had delivered, I said.

"There's something you need to see," he said. "Over at my place." He was most insistent.

So I finished my coffee... it made me feel warm and cosy inside... and followed him to his Condo.

"Christina... do you know who your Master is?" he asked.

I told him no, I didn't have a clue.

"Ever since you told me about your burglar visit, I've kept an eye on my outside security tapes," he said, leading me into his home office. "Today I saw something suspicious, just before the time you said you had an appointment. Watch this."

On his monitor I could clearly see my Steve walk on to our property but instead of walking to our front door, he headed alongside the line of garages. He was carrying two bags... and looked decidedly furtive as he quickly disappeared around the side of our apartment building. The only thing back there was our patio, I realised.

The penny finally dropped. I looked at David... and he was nodding his head.

"That means... Steve is... Steve is my Master?" The shock of it was beginning to hit me.

"It was him... doing all those things to me? My husband... who spanked me... and abused my body in all those different ways? He did this?" I could hardly believe my eyes.

David simply nodded his head. "I'll fast forward," he said, "to about 30 minutes ago... when I saw him leave by the same route. Watch this."

My still disbelieving eyes now saw Steve leaving, carrying those same bagsy.

"I knew you were still home... but Steve's actions seemed so suspicious... that I just had to investigate. I hoped you wouldn't mind... I just didn't expect to see you... err... as you were," he diplomatically stated, wanting to spare me further embarrassing pain.

My HUSBAND had done all this to me. He was my mysterious Master. No, no, no... I had trusted him. Why would he do this to me, his wife? The shock had stunned me.

I couldn't face him again. This was too much. My love for Steve turned into a hate so quickly... it left me speechless. Steve had raped me. My own husband. I had to get away from him. He was a monster. I didn't want to see him... ever again. This was unforgivable.

David said he would help me. He would protect me. That he had always loved me... and that Steve was an unfit husband.

David was my salvation. My real hero.