Retreat

He gives no reply other than continuing to stare her in the eyes.

"I have another copy of the standard questionnaire here, but I am still failing to see any sign of compliance, perhaps I should leave it in the folder and send you back to your lodgings."

He gives a snort, the woman is unsure whether it is a snort of mirth or disgust and gives him a look of disdain.

"So are you going to complete the questionnaire?"

He knows he needs to stay in the office for longer, if only to give some respite the the loneliness and the cold and he allows his eyes to drop and gives a small nod."

"Was that a yes? I could not hear you."

"Yes goddamnit, yes bring out your fucking quiz.

"Question one, on a scale of 1-10 how much would you say you love your wife?"

If I'd been asked that on Friday before we left home I would have given it an unreserved ten, that dropped to two on the way here, quickly became zero on arrival and is now minus a thousand.

"Answers like that will not help your case, however it may provoke your wife into reconsidering waiting for your compliance."

"I couldn't give a fuck."

"Next question, on a scale of 1-10 how much would you say you trust your wife?"

"To be honest, I'd have to give the same answer."

She gives him a look that is not dissimilar from a tiger getting ready to dispatch wounded prey. And starts and reads the next question..."

"I can read damn it and you can put down whatever numbers that will equate to her being a beguiling untrustworthy traitorous cunt."

A brief satisfied smirk flashes over the woman's face and with a patronising stare, says, "Come now, are you really being fair to the woman that cherishes you so much that she has asked for our help, rather than just disposing of you?"

"Dispose of me eh? What's that then divorce? No, from the way I've been treated I'm guessing it's either buckle down or I'll be killed?"

Shaking her head, "Really? I do not think anybody would wish that, after all there are many ways other than something so final, that a woman can find uses for unwanted... chattel." She removes her glasses and stares at him. Putting them back on, she speaks, "No, no, we would never offer such a service, although my late sister's company, offer an infidelity insurance that the retreat has a... shall we say a group cover for all our members. It seems that Michelle is so besotted with you, she will not accept the possibility that you have ever, nor will ever lapse in that manner."

"What the fuck does that mean?"

She removes her glasses and lets them hang from a string around her neck. Looking thoughtfully, she says, "When I was a child, we, my sisters and I, were given a puppy, we were children you understand and our mothers husband decided we should be the ones to train it. House training was easy, rub it's nose in its mess a few times, job done. Teaching it to heel, come when called, not quite so easy. Thinking back now, I am fairly sure the three of us calling it in different directions confused it and so it came when it wanted to, not always when called."

"It also would run away almost anytime it had the chance. It would always return, but only when it was good and ready, usually when it was hungry, rather like the way you treat Michelle, is it not?

I digress, anyway, one such day, when it came home we noticed blood around its mouth and a short while later the police came to our house. Apparently a neighbour had seen it worrying sheep and so it was taken away and euthanised. I realised then, that it would have been better, not only for the dog, but also us girls, if we had put in the effort to make sure that the dog had been properly trained."

"Unfortunately, my sisters being younger did not view it the same and did not learn the lesson I did. I learned that if you wish to keep your dog, you should ensure it behaves appropriately. In the proper manner for each, and every situation and not be permitted to run wild or do anything that may be contrary to its owner's wishes. They on the other hand thought it best to let their dogs know they would be punished, if they misbehaved." She puts her glasses back onto her face, "Take that insight into my childhood in any manner you wish"

"What you're saying is, you're not going to let me walk without a leash until I will walk to heel and come when called, is that right?"

She looks at him, he thinks to himself, if aloof was a smell, then she would fucking stink. Instead, he says, "Well there you are."

"There I am, what?"

"There you are, until I see and talk to the... her, there is no way on this earth we have any chance of me giving her any love or any respect. As it is, this shite is going to take a lot of grovelling for me to even think of beginning to try and forgive her and the likelihood of that you old cow, diminishes more every second I am stuck in my kennel."

"As I have already informed you, until you have a major attitude change, until you are willing to accept the criteria."

"And I'm telling you, I don't bark for no man or woman, I will however, happily shit in your slippers."

The woman opens a drawer in her desk and presses a button on the console held within. "Put him back in his room."

A man comes and walks him out, after the door closes, she pushes the button again, "Have Michelle meet me in the lounge in an hour."

She then retreats to her rooms to clean up and change her clothes.

The man there stops polishing the coffee table and drops to his knees as soon as she slams the door angrily behind her. Sensing her mood, he opens his legs readying himself for his mistresses need.

Without a word to him she stomps in front of him and kicks him hard between the legs, his legs buckle a little, but he resumes his pose and say's, "Thank you mistress," he gasps.

"Run a shower for me and then fetch me some clean clothes."

"Yes mistress," he replies as he weakly struggles to his feet to obey her commands.

3

Friday: Arrival

Michelle drives them through the gates, she is so excited, not only excited excited, but sexually excited, she is sure that Michael must be able to smell the moistness in her panties.

She has spent much of the journey going over in her mind the things the woman on the telephone had insisted, "all part of the process," she had answered to almost every question she had asked her. She has already resolved to not mention the stop on the way there that he had tricked her into, and even if pressed there was no way she could mention that he had managed a call to his sister, she was sure that would invoke the broken contract clause. Michael is getting increasingly difficult, he is now pushing her to leave, citing the agreement he had blackmailed her into at the service station.

She watches a large attractive man come out of the house and walk to the car; he does not interrupt their discussion and stands by her door, seemingly patiently waiting for them to exit the vehicle.

Michael takes some persuading but she manages to get him out of the car, as soon as their shoes touch the gravel I have to get into character, the character or persona they insist that I play.

I have to pretend to start ordering Michael around, I know he won't like that. I know he will fight back, the fiasco on the way proves that, I told the woman this, but like everything else, all she says is, "it's all part of the process."

Following instructions, she orders Michael to get the bags. Her heart pounds in anticipation, knowing this to be his first real clue that they are staying longer than just the weekend. Of course, as she expects, Michael begins to object, he mocks the big man and states, contrary to her directions that he will take one now, and get the other later. The big man leans in to her and whispers that she must keep up the act and insist he take them now. She restates her her order and loudly, almost aggressively, he objects and demands that they leave. The big man again leans in to her and tells her to follow the plan and that she now needs to go into the house. Forcing herself to stick to the planned scenario, she walks to the house, every step becoming more difficult, only the threat of the penalties for breach of contract give her the resolution to carry on.

She neither sees nor hears the short scuffle by the car, if she had, and seen her husband easily overcome and injected with something that knocks him out. If she had seen the altercation, regardless of any consequences, she would have called it all off, but the door closes behind her before her husband is laid on the ground.

Inside, the woman, a diminutive, yet confident woman wearing a tweed suit and too much perfume greets her. Instantly Michelle recognises her voice, the woman she has been speaking to on the telephone, a woman that so far has avoided revealing her name.

Seeing the reticence in Michelle's demeanour, the woman tries to reassure her, to convince her that this is indeed the best thing for their marriage, after two welcoming sherry's and feeling a nice gentle buzz, Michelle finds she is relaxing and accepts what the woman is telling her.

She is given a room with a king size bed, the mattress is soft with an underlying firmness that seems to beg for physical forceful coupling and high count linen covers the bed, pillows and a thick warm duvet. The bed and all other furniture give as far as her limited knowledge allows the impression of subdued opulence, tastefully brought together with carpet and curtains by subtle decor. She bounces on the bed with glee and begins to fantasise about what she will do with Michael when he gets to the room.

The door opens and a man, larger than the one she met outside, brings in and sets the two suitcases on the floor. She does not notice, but he looks at her with a hungry, leering expression. He stands looking at her, drinking in her beauty for longer than is polite before he says, "If you require anything, please push the call button on the left hand side of the bed." The emphasis he puts on the word, "anything" goes unnoticed, as does the continuing absence of her husband.

An hour later, the same man returns and leads her to another room for her supper.

The food provided is far better than she had expected and for a second thinks about Michael and hopes he is enjoying himself as much as she is. She washes the food down with a sparkling wine, which may or may not have been champagne. After her meal, they walk back to her room, chatting and gently flirting, nothing blatant, mostly mildly suggestive jokes, nothing to cause her anxiety.

His words may have been practiced often, they follow a pattern designed to subtly ingratiate him into her affections. Not to try to talk her immediately into adultery, but suggestive enough to make sure sex is constantly on her mind. He continues to chat to her after they get to her room; he is now looking at her with desire in his eyes. A look, coupled with the effect of the wine, is a look she is unconsciously returning.

She pushes her hair back as she listens to him, his voice seems to be resonating within her, somehow connecting to her sex. She feels herself moisten and is finding his words losing her attention, she finds herself saying pardon and feeling embarrassed because she knows that she cannot concentrate on what he is saying because her body is reacting to him. Unwanted imaginings of his nearness, his touch and passion creep to the fore, increasing her heart rate, her arousal, she wants to move her underwear, her panties suddenly feeling hot and constricting.

He steps forwards and takes her in his arms, leaning down he kisses her, gently at first, but as her lips press back his kisses become lustful and his hands begin to explore her body.

She responds and kisses him back, her hands reach around, sliding over the tailored shirt, under his jacket. The kiss breaks, she says, "Ooh? Mike I..." she freezes as she realises the man kissing her, touching her and filling her with desire is not Michael, not her husband. Michael, the thought of him flashes sudden images of him. She feels her cheeks flush red as she realises what is happening. Feelings of guilt rush over her and bring her back to her senses, suddenly full of anger and self-loathing, she pushes herself away from him shouting, "Get out, you bastard, what do you think you are doing? I'm a married woman, get out and don't come back."

Shock is written on his face, no woman has ever turned him down, especially when he has her so near to the point of no return. Recovering quickly from the setback, he gives her a seductive smile, and begins flirting again.

"Get out get out get out," she screams angrily, "I don't want you in here, I don't want to see you and I am not going to sleep with you, get out."

Pulling of a shoe she tries to swipe the man across the face with it, as much as he wants to retaliate, rip her clothes off and take her, he knows that he must not. He fights the urge and blocking most of her flailing blows, walks backward to the door and leaves.

One question, if it had been on her questionnaire is one, although she could not have answered truthfully, Michael would have answered it easily, the nonexistent question is, is she a violent drunk?

She moves the dressing table chair, to the door and wedges it closed before stripping off, jumping into bed and furiously bringing herself to orgasm. Her orgasm does lessen her anger, but not her desire and she continues to pleasure herself. Again and again, she achieves her peak, but the need for satisfaction stays, urging her on to climax after climax. Only when she falls asleep do her hands stop rubbing and stroking, her now tender intimate areas.

When she awakens the next morning, she is warm and very comfortable and snuggles down into the luxurious bedding and begins to think about her husband and again her hand drifts down between her legs and then finding soreness, she winces with comfort.

A faint memory of closeness with the man she had dinner with last night flickers through her mind. She reels with the thought and runs to the shower and begins scrubbing herself. Moments from the dinner show themselves, flashes of togetherness, laughing and arousal, fuel the rising guilt within her. Inwardly she knows she had not crossed the line, she knows she had not shared her bed and yet, although she is unsure of the details or the chronological order of these fleeting shadows.

Soap is stinging her nether regions, inspection reveals a few small scratches and patches of redness inviting memories of frenzied rubbing and an unbelievable number of enraptured orgasms giving her the solace of innocence and yet knowing it was lust for the man and not Michael, further adding to her guilt.

She is still drying herself, gingerly patting her soreness when a knock on her door disturbs her, it is only then she notices the chair wedged under the door handle. She walks over to the closed door and asks, "Who is it?"

"Mark, you know the man you had dinner with last night."

Instantly annoyed by the audacity of the man, she shouts angrily, "What do you want?"

"I thought if you would have breakfast with me, it might give me the chance to apologise for my behaviour last night. I know you are a married woman and I overstepped the mark, I should not have... but the wine had lowered my inhibitions, and well it cannot be something you are unaware of, it's just that, you... umm, you are just so damned attractive." She considers what he is saying and thinks he does sound genuinely apologetic, even humble and removing the chair, opens the door.

As soon as he sees her, his face colours and he looks away, further convincing her of his sincerity. He glances up at her and looks away again several times saying, "I had hoped that if you could find it within yourself, that... that if you would consent to us having breakfast together, we could talk, let me apologise properly and maybe you would consider letting me take you out of these cloistered walls for the day."

The thought of eating, tightens her stomach and a hint of nausea makes itself known as she replies hesitantly, "Umm ahhh, ummm, I don't know, ahhh, the only thing I really want to do is see my husband."

"Later, you can do that maybe, how about we get breakfast out of the way first."

Food, breakfast, lust, dinner, shame and guilt make connections in her mind and she screams, "no," surprising both of them.

"I am really sorry I have made you feel like that," he says, "Ummm, I know I have no right to ask, but please don't say anything about my mistake. I need this job, my ex wife deserted me and without this job, I wouldn't be able to pay maintenance for her and my four children... and no, we didn't divorce because I cheated, before you ask. I found out she was, she was having an affair with...

"No no, you don't have to tell me," she says, now feeling a little guilt for trying to think of an excuse to put him off, "ummm, I don't really feel like eating, don't worry about me, for now. In fact, until I can see Michael, I think I'll stay here and enjoy not having to do housework."

"Oh Michelle relax," he is almost singing the words, "You need something inside you to start the day."

Oh my god, is he trying it on again, is he still trying to get me into bed? She struggles with the thought as flashes of the dinner last night remind her of her desire and the knowledge how close she came to succumbing to her lust, repulse her and she shouts, "No, leave me alone unless you're going to take me to see Michael. I want him not you, go away."

Looking contrite, he says, "Sorry, that came out wrong, but okay then, I will see you later, but please, look after yourself, if you don't want to eat, at least have some juice or a cup of tea or coffee."

She cannot deny, a glass of orange juice and a cup of tea would definitely be welcome, but she is scared. Scared that she almost lost control last night, scared that she has made a mistake and brought them to a place they should never have come. Scared that she has not seen Michael and scared about what they may have planned for them both.

As she stands, pressing herself against the now closed door, she again goes over the dialogue, the communications between her and these people. The questions she had asked and the answers she had been given had reassured her at the time, but now, as she replays them in her mind she wonders whether her eagerness, her naivety, had driven her to begin playing a game in which only they knew the rules.

Her initial contact had been a short questionnaire, not much more than personal details, names, ages, length of time married, length of time as a couple and a strange one about exclusivity that she could not understand. To her, once a couple were a couple then they stayed a couple unless they broke up, you certainly do not see other people when you have a boyfriend. The end of the questionnaire asks her to say what she hoped to get from their program. She had put down, quite concisely in her opinion, that she just wanted the magic back, she wanted her husband to want her, emotionally and of course physically, show his love in all the ways that he had once upon a time,.

They replied with another quiz for her, this one much longer and much more detailed, prying into things that she thought, went too far in places. It asked about fantasies and sexual role-play, including bondage and other things that she did not really understand. However, she filled it in as best as she could. There were some in depth scenarios, none of which she wanted, nor could she imagine Michael would want to do. There were a couple, ones that did not disgust her outright, she had wondered about, if she was honest, even fantasised about occasionally, but knew she would never realise, never actually want to do.

She had answered questions about Michael, asking if he was dominant, abusive, whether he drank and took drugs, whether he was unfaithful, with men as well as women, whether he had any sexual proclivities she found disturbing and whether or not she indulged him and on a scale of 1-10. How welcome these were to her and then whether she thought he was open, or closed minded to all her wishes. Whom he put first when they had sex, she did find that overall many words or the way questions were phrased could be interpreted as ambiguous, but always, if she took the other meaning, in ways that would be odd coming from an organisation offering to reignite the love between them.