The Devil and the Sea Ch. 01

[Recap: This is the start of Book 2, following on from The Monogamists, if you want more back-story. Henry, Jen and Anya are now married, but Anya has unfinished business from the honeymoon. Will Henry keep his promise to help Anya take control of Jen? Will Jen like the surprise they have planned for her? Or will a little harmless fun lead to unimaginable consequences?]

INVENTING THE DEVIL

Anya looked at me doubtfully, and for good reason. It was a crazy idea.

"This is pretty out there," she said, "Even for you."

"But what do you think?" I asked.

We were on the balcony with glasses of red wine, taking in the warmth of the summer breeze as the sun went down. Jen was still at work, battling the end of financial year mayhem that always besieged her team at this time.

"Look," I continued, "Jen's been massively stressed over work and that stuff with her Dad. What better time?"

Anya took a careful sip of the wine, mulling it over, before asking, "She mentioned anything about her Dad to you?"

"No. Not a word."

"Yeah. Shit."

I looked out across the trees. This was the elephant in the corner of the room, ever since we'd gotten back from the honeymoon, the fact that Jen's parents hadn't even called.

"It's almost like she expected to call their bluff with the wedding, that they'd crack," I said.

"Maybe. But he stuck to his principles, regardless of what it's doing to his daughter. At least we know where she gets it from, the bloody-mindedness."

"That's not fair," I countered, "She's a lot better than that. She's just suffering, and she's trying to hide it."

Anya winced, rolling the red liquid around in the glass.

"What do you think?" I continued, "This might be just what she needs."

"I'm not sure I could do it," Anya answered, doubtfully. "It's a lot. I mean, really a lot."

"Well, you asked me for help, and I really think this is it," I smiled reassuringly.

Anya took a long sip of wine. "It's really crazy," she said at last, "Jen would see through it in a moment."

I grinned. "Oh, I've thought about that too. It's all planned out," I said.

"Of course you have. Of course you fucking have," Anya replied. "So how do we set it up? Do we get a burner phone?"

"Jesus Anya," I said, genuinely surprised at where her thoughts had gone, "It's a bit of fun, not the bloody Cold War."

"We'll use mine then," she said.

"Why not mine?" I asked.

"Jen knows your unlock code," Anya replied. "Hell, I know your unlock code."

My mouth dropped open.

"Lived with two women all this time, and still don't know the first thing," she mocked.

"She wouldn't go through my phone, would she?" I asked.

"Oh hell yeah. She'd go through mine too, in a heartbeat," Anya replied. "There's no way I'm giving her my unlock code. Not with my search history."

She swilled the red liquid around in her glass. I knew her well enough by now to know she was slowly coming around to the idea. She raised the glass and took a big sip.

"Okay," she said, "What's first?"

"How's your French?"

Anya's eyes widened.

---

The conversation had started after an episode the previous Friday. I had been out with my team after work which had extended until much later than usual. I expected a roasting when I got home, if not from one woman, then the other, or possibly both. It wouldn't necessarily have been because I hadn't reported in but because Jen knew that Lily would have been there. I wasn't looking forward to having to confirm that Lily had been, being how she was in my team. It was unavoidable, but Jen wouldn't have been impressed at all.

However, I opened the door to the apartment at eleven thirty to silence. I found Anya in the living room, bundled up in a blanket on the couch watching some documentary about otters. She barely acknowledged me as I came in, and I could see that my bedroom door was closed. I guessed where Jen was, and a closed door in our house usually meant that someone wanted to be left alone.

"Sorry I'm late," I began, "But there were a few of us, and..."

It didn't matter what I was saying, Anya wasn't paying the least bit of attention, either to me, or the antics of the otters. I flopped down on the couch next to her, observing her in profile as she remained fixated on the screen. She was beautiful: dark brown eyes framed by delicate eyebrows and lustrous shoulder-length hair so dark it was nearly black. Her face was small, tapering down to a cute chin, giving the effect that her eyes were large and wide when she fixed them on you. She was small but could be feisty and in the time since we'd first met at work drinks a couple of years back, I had seen her stand up to people twice her size. And when she did it always came as a shock to them, as they realised acutely that they had grossly misjudged her usual shy, mild temperament.

Tonight though, I could tell she was distraught.

"Hey," I began, "What's up?"

"Nothing." Anya's eyes didn't move from the screen. Clearly there had been a falling out. If I left it and went to bed, there would be Jen laid out in the sheets, probably in a similar mood. I had the suspicion this was going to be a long night. I got up to go boil the kettle.

"Do you want a cup of tea or something?", I asked, "I'm going to make myself one."

"Chamomile."

I left her on the couch and began to assemble the cups and tea strainers in the kitchen. The kettle boiled and I poured the steaming water into the cups as Anya came into the kitchen. The blanket was still gathered around her, tucked over her breasts like a towel, her shoulders bare. It covered most of the way to her feet, but I realised that she was naked underneath. I offered a cup to her.

"What happened?" I asked.

Anya regarded the hot liquid but didn't drink.

"So, you two had a fight?"

She cocked her head to the side. "I guess you could call it that."

"Want to tell me about it?"

In the brighter light of the kitchen, I noticed that she was wearing lipstick and had applied mascara and smoky eyeshadow. She had brushed blusher across her cheeks, highlighting her delicate cheekbones. It would have taken time for her to prepare, and the effect would have been stunning were it not for the smudges at the corners of her eyes. It was clearly meant to have been a special night. Finally, she seemed to make a decision and her eyes flicked up from the untouched tea, to me.

"You said you were going out for drinks, so I got the idea that maybe we could have a girls' night in," Anya said.

"I had it all planned. I dressed up, I..." she waved at her face, "And then I cooked a nice meal. We were having such a good time."

Anya continued, "I took her to bed and we started, y'know, kissing and stuff, and then I suggested that I saw how she liked being kinky with you, and that I could do that for her too."

I was still partially inebriated, and the thought of Anya getting kinky was quite unexpected. I probably should have masked my expression better than I did.

"See? There!" Anya said, point at me. "Same reaction!"

"I'm sorry," I stammered, "It's just...."

"Just so out of character?" Anya's tone had an edge to it now. I knew I'd better get my shit together because this was a proper discussion that she had probably been mulling over for hours and I had walked right into it, drunk. Like a deer in car headlights.

"I didn't think you were interested in that," I managed to say. "You hadn't said a word about it since the honeymoon. I thought you'd changed your mind."

"Well maybe I changed my mind again. Maybe I was feeling left out." Anya slammed the cup down on the breakfast counter, spilling some of the hot liquid, and turned to leave.

"Anya, wait," I called. I caught her by the door, took her shoulders in my hands.

She stiffened for a moment, but then relented.

"I really want to hear," I said.

"That's the trouble, that's pretty much it. Jen said almost the exact same thing. I said I knew what I was doing and brought out one of your ropes. She laid there and went along with it. I kissed her all the way down and she was making little noises, like she does. But when I got down to... y'know, in there, I could tell she wasn't into it at all. Vagina don't lie."

I realised that it must have been humiliating for her.

"I really wanted to do it, for her, because I've seen the way she loves it. I wanted to be able to be... that. I'd planned it out and everything."

I knew she would have. Anya was meticulous in the details, which made her such a rockstar Executive Assistant to Jen's nightmare of a boss. Anya would have prepared everything: taking ages to get the perfect make-up that would make her irresistible; stashing the rope within reach for when the time was right; scented candles to set the mood. All the details covered.

"I just don't get it," she continued. "Our wedding night, she was so hot for it. I unlocked the chastity belt and it was... wild. She did everything I asked."

The corners of her mouth turned down and I knew she was about to cry. I waited patiently for the rest of the story to emerge.

"It was because you locked her in it, though, wasn't it," Anya said. "I see the way that you use a certain tone and her body stiffens. She just knows when you're you and when you're... playing."

She sniffed.

"Or not playing. That's the point. She knows when it's serious. She looks at me and she can't get that I could be serious too. I think I could take control, but she won't let me."

"Maybe in the end she just needs different things from the both of us," I ventured. "I mean, we're in this situation exactly because one of us needs more than what either of us can provide on our own."

It was all making sense to me, in my alcohol-fuelled state. I should have been more cautious but in my head, I was on a roll.

"Tell the truth," I said, "You don't really need me, do you? If Jen wasn't in your life you'd have some gorgeous girl on speed dial and never having to worry about a man leaving the toilet seat up."

She looked at me then, long and hard. "I do need you," she said quietly, "I love you. And fuck you for not seeing that."

With that, she twisted out of my reach and walked off towards her bedroom. Moments later, I heard her door close, heavily.

I was left alone in the silent house, both bedroom doors closed to me. Having two beautiful women in my life should have made me the happiest man alive. Tonight, though, I would be sleeping on the couch and tomorrow I would be putting the broken pieces back together.

---

It took me a few days to gather the things we would need. Anya baulked at some of it, but I assured her that it was all necessary if the plan was going to work. First, we would have to come up with a disguise for Anya that was good enough that Jen wouldn't see through it. Then we needed a page on the socials.

"And a name," I said.

Anya looked puzzled. "Oh," she said, "I guess we do. I'm really bad at names, hang on, I'll google some."

She searched for French girls' names, but we soon agreed that was a terrible idea.

"How about Mistress XXX?" I suggested.

Anya smiled. "I like the single X. Three X's would be way too much and two X's seems like I couldn't make my mind up. Mistress X."

"Like Agent X," I said, "Deep cover operative."

Anya was enjoying this, I could tell. Now that the plan was rolling, she seemed to become more and more excited. She laid a hand on my arm.

"Thank you."

"For what?"

"For helping. I know this is your thing with Jen. I want you to know that I'm not trying to take that over."

Her expression had become serious, earnest.

"I want to help," I said, "If this is something you think you need to do, then I'll give you all the help I can."

Anya patted my arm.

"And I'll do the same."

I didn't expect the offer. "Oh. How?"

"There are things you should know."

"Like?"

"Let's start with cunnilingus."

I huffed. "I thought I was pretty good at that."

Anya pursed her lips. "Meh. About a six out of ten, sometimes a seven."

"What? How do...? You guys talked about it?"

Anya smiled, innocently.

"You've been sitting on the couch giving me star ratings?"

"Babe, that's four stars, right? Well, technically three-and-a-half to four."

"So how do I get to five?"

"Have you ever read the instruction manual?"

A small smile played on her soft lips, and I rolled my eyes. She was baiting me now.

"I would love to see that," I retorted, "An instruction manual for women."

"Cunnilingus would be in volume three, somewhere around chapter twenty," she teased, "It's a lot of reading to get through."

She squeezed my arm playfully.

"Not that you'd ever read it," she continued, "That's the thing about men... you always skip the manual."

Her face was close to mine, dark eyes shining.

"You all just dive straight in and just start pressing the buttons."

I frowned in mock outrage, saying, "And is there one for men as well?"

Anya laughed. "It's more of a pamphlet. A quick start guide, really. It all fits on one page."

I broke free of her grip and nudged her in the ribs. Anya squealed, laughing.

"It's got the word 'beer' on one side," she managed, between giggles, "And the word 'naked' on the other."

Anya chuckled away to herself, clearly finding her comments hilarious. She saw my mock sour expression and ruffled my hair.

"Stick with Anya and I'm gonna tell you all about pussy. Guaranteed five stars."

Her mirth began to subside, and she gave me a long look.

"We make a great team," she said, smiling.

I sat up straighter and changed subject.

"We need some shots of you," I said, "For your page."

Anya smiled. "Sure, where do you want me?"

"Uh, to be clear I mean shots of Mistress X," I paused for effect, "In full dress."

Anya's expression became more sober, and she wriggled nervously. "Yeah, I suppose. I mean, it's her account, right?" I could see she was struggling with what was about to happen. The idea was becoming a reality.

"Do you want me to leave you to get dressed?" I asked.

"Could you dress me?" Anya decided at last. "I'm not sure what to do."

I took her into her bedroom and asked her to have a seat on the bed while I fetched the bag from where I had carefully stashed it at the very top of the kitchen cupboards. When I returned, she was exactly where I'd left her, legs crossed and wary.

"You need to undress," I told her.

Silently, she pulled her t-shirt over her head and then shuffled her jeans down her legs. After a moment's hesitation she reached behind her back and popped the clasp of her bra and shook her breasts free. She stood there in front of me in a creamy white lace g-string. Even though we'd seen each other naked many times, I could see she was nervous.

"All of it," I said.

"We're not going to be taking pictures of my vagina, are we?" she asked.

I reassured her. "No, no pictures, but you need to feel what it feels like when you're her. You need to be able to do it without feeling awkward or embarrassed."

"Yeah, I get it."

She slid the g-string down her legs and now stood before me completely naked.

"How does that feel?" I asked, walking slowly around her.

She shielded her breasts with her arms and clasped her hands together in front of her crotch.

"No," I said gently, moving her arms back to her sides. "Own it. Your body is your best tool. You're going to use it to make her beg."

Anya shifted a little. I could tell that this was turning her on. Seeing her petite, trim body completely naked and presented for my inspection was also turning me on. I realised I was slipping into character and stopped myself: that would be inappropriate.

"Here," I said, passing the first items of clothing from the bag, "Put these on first."

Anya took them from me and shook them out. Black and shiny, they were a pair of thigh-high latex stockings. While the contents of the bag were no surprise to her, I could see her trepidation as she began to dress. Anya rolled a stocking up and bent down to carefully slip her foot into it. She wiggled her toes and the black, reflective material twitched and undulated.

"They don't look like toes," she said, almost to herself.

"That's the idea," I replied as she carefully unrolled the latex stocking up her calf and tucked it around her knee. "To look like something else," I continued, "Something more than human."

She smoothed the top of the stocking out, pulling and adjusting it until it sat just below crotch level. She rolled up the other stocking and repeated the process.

"How do they feel?" I asked, "Are they comfortable?"

"They feel incredible," Anya replied, and her hands seemed to move on their own, stroking the glossy black latex. "I've never worn latex before. It feels so...."

"Sexy?"

Anya nodded.

"Ready for the next?" I asked.

Anya nodded absentmindedly, still preoccupied with the view of her legs enveloped in shiny latex.

"Now, from this point I want you to keep facing me. I don't want you to see yourself in the mirror before we're done," I said.

I brought out the second item, a once-piece black latex body, sleeveless, with an inbuilt corset. It had a high collar that would accentuate her neck, and the corset would pull tight to narrow Anya's waist deliciously, moulding her into an hourglass figure. The black latex then swept down into a boyleg brief that completely enveloped and sculpted her bottom. The front panel had two press studs that allowed the crotch section to be peeled back. There were a matching set of studs behind, just above the curve of her bottom, where the flap could be secured, giving full access to both her entrances.

I knelt in front of her and held the body out for her to step into, pulling it up over her shiny latex stockings. I stood up and moved behind her to pull the clothing up to her crotch, sliding the latex over the cheeks of her bottom, and watching the garment lift and shape them. I stopped for a moment to admire the view of her pert bottom now fully enclosed in black, shiny latex. I had to keep it together. She was trusting me. I was thankful that I was stood behind her so she couldn't see the growing bulge in my jeans.

She slipped her arms into the armholes and pulled the corset up around her waist, smoothing her front and guiding her ample breasts into their latex sheaths. I took hold of the zip, nestling in the small of her back and began to zip her into the corset.

"It's tight," Anya squeaked.

"That's the idea," I replied. "Breathe in while I do this."

She took a breath and I found slack around the zip, and was able to make progress, sliding it up to her shoulder-blades. Finally, I adjusted the neck piece and brought the zip all the way up to the top of her collar. I wanted to step back and admire my handiwork but that would be disastrous. I was already having trouble concentrating on keeping my cock from disgracing me.

"This next bit might need some adjustment. Let me know," I said. I brought out a latex hood, turning it over a few times in my hands. It had eye and nostril holes, plus a hole for the mouth, but would otherwise completely enclose Anya's head once the zip was fastened. The novelty though was the hole in the top for a ponytail. My plan called for a fake blonde ponytail to emerge, which would give Jen the impression that Mistress X was a blonde. Alongside the fake French accent, it would be a key part of the disguise.

Anya rolled her long, dark hair into a tight bun and I clipped the fake ponytail into the top.

"Ready for the mask now?" I asked, standing closely behind her.

Anya nodded.

I brought the mask around the front of her head and settled the latex against her face.

"Make sure it's comfortable," I advised.

Anya tugged it with her fingers for a few moments before saying, "Okay, done."

"One last thing," I said, and fished two small earbuds from my pocket. "Let's see how it feels with these too," as I gently pushed each bud into an ear. The earbuds would allow me to talk to Anya when she was Mistress X, giving her suggestions and advice based on what I knew about Jen's predilections and triggers. Jen would find that Mistress X had an uncanny knack of pressing her buttons.