The Novelist Pt. 07

Author's note: This story contains themes of incest, BDSM and Dominant-submissive relationships. If these themes offend you, please stop reading now!

Please read this story from Part 1 to understand the story progression. This can't be read as a stand-alone story.

All characters are fictional. Any similarities to actual people are purely coincidental.

I encourage all readers to comment and vote. There is no better way to hone your writing skills than feedback—good or bad.

******

Angie left the hotel suite a few minutes after John. She peeked out of the door to make sure he was gone. Then she hurried down the hallway and summoned the elevator pressing the button for the lobby level. The back of the elevator car was mirrored glass and she caught a glimpse of herself looking panicked and frenzied. She shook off the irksome feeling and very stealthily slipped into the large lobby.

John was moving through the revolving door at the entrance. She scurried up closer to the door and ducked behind a large potted palm tree. She watched him carefully waiting for him to get in a taxi. She wanted to be certain he was gone. Despite her need to see Tom, she still felt guilty. Mostly, she was just afraid of getting caught. She watched him get into a car and pull away knowing that she'd have a few hours. She ran back through the lobby to her room.

She looked at the e-mail one more time. If she was going to watch him train his submissive women, then it was apparently his intention to make her feel like a slut. She pulled out a loose fitting sundress and set it on the bathroom counter. Then she glanced in the mirror doing a turn to get a final look at herself. She picked up her lipstick and took a deep breath. She brought the red lipstick to her chest and wrote 'Train Me' across her breasts. She looked at the backwards words in the mirror as her heart beat fast in her chest. She brought the lipstick to her stomach and wrote 'Sir's Pussy' with an arrow pointing down. As objectifying as it seemed, her pussy had never felt so wet.

She pulled on the loose dress. Then she grabbed her purse and went down to catch a taxi to his house. She was filled with excitement, nerves and fear. This was happening, she told herself. She was actually following through on one of the stupidest and hottest things she had ever done. She climbed into the cab wondering if any of the people she passed could imagine the naughty words written on her body.

******

The drive was uncomfortably quiet as Tom wove back through West Hollywood toward his home. John looked upset when he got into the car at the hotel. Tom just kept his cool and reminded himself that this would be over soon.

"New car?" John finally said equally uncomfortable with the awkwardness.

"New since the last time you were out here." Tom replied.

"Oh. It's... uh... nice."

"It's a good vehicle for pansy, faggoty writers." He snipped.

He wanted his father to realize he hadn't forgotten his recent insults.

John just sneered a little. "Jesus. Are you gonna cry now? You know the last few weeks haven't been easy for me."

"Like they've been any better for me?" Tom shot back. "She landed on my doorstep with no warning and uprooted my entire life. I've been doing you a favor arranging this meeting to get this settled. What've you been doing? Fucking some masseuse and wondering who's going to cook your dinner? How about looking at me and just saying thank you? 'Thank you, Tom.' Is that so hard?"

"Why should I? You're on her side. She was going to have to do this meeting eventually."

He wasn't willing to give his son the pleasure of his gratitude.

Tom looked over at his father with a sad, exhausted expression. His hope that this would be settled amicably was fading away.

"I guess I thought you might want to say it because it's the right thing to do." He replied looking forward with his eyes on the road. "I'm not on anyone's side." He took a breath. "Thank you by the way. Thank you for going to work every day and putting a roof over my head for eighteen years. Thank you for putting me through school. I've always appreciated it. I assumed you knew that. I just want you to try and give her the respect she deserves tonight. She ran a household. Maybe she didn't work much, but that's still a big job. You know that's true."

John just snorted at the last part. In his mind, his son's thank you was just a confirmation that he busted his ass for the family. As far as respect, he thought that he should be the one getting some. He remained silent and looked out the passenger window unwilling to make eye contact until they parked on the street in front of a large, expansive house.

"Whose house is this?" He asked taking in the property. "I thought she was staying with you."

"Does it matter?" Tom replied. "You're here. She's here. Do you really give a shit whose place it is?"

John gave a shit. He didn't ask any more questions though. He thought it would seem weak. It never occurred to him that Marie may have been staying somewhere other than their son's apartment. He hadn't seen any credit card charges or cash withdrawals since she left. He'd been monitoring it closely. It bothered him that she found some way to sustain herself. He looked at the house as they walked up to the front door. He figured that this was intentional. She probably wanted to meet him in a fancy house to make it seem like she was doing perfectly fine on her own. He wasn't going to be snookered by these petty tricks.

Tom stopped him briefly on the doorstep. "Listen. You figure this out. I'll try to give you some privacy even though I told her I'd be there. I have an important call coming in at 8pm. So hopefully this won't take too long."

"Fine." He replied.

******

Marie had waited for nearly an hour at the dining room table. She wished she was wearing her collar. It made her feel so much more secure. She knew she couldn't though. She tried to imagine what her husband would say seeing her in it. She concentrated on the garter and stockings under her dress. It was the fanciest set of lingerie she had ever worn. It felt sexy and she noticed her nipples pushing at the fabric of her new Stella McCartney dress. She thought about her conversation with Sir this morning. Somehow, she thought, this would end badly for her husband.

She heard the front door open, and her nerves acted up in alarm at the reality of seeing him. She took a deep, audible breath and then stood from her chair, smoothed her dress and turned around. Tom led his father down the short hallway to the dining room. His other guests knew to keep out of sight for the moment. John just stared at the surroundings as he followed.

John stopped when he saw his wife standing quietly next to a chair at the long table. He would never admit it, but there was a cycle of emotions that tore through him in a matter of seconds -- sadness, guilt, confusion and then anger. He noticed all the details -- her shoes, her dress, a new hairstyle, manicured nails. He wasn't used to seeing her so put together. Even he had to admit that she looked better than she had in a long time. She was smiling.

It was the anger that swelled inside him. What right did she have getting a makeover in the middle of their marital collapse, he thought. The smile bothered him most of all. Little did he know she wasn't smiling at him, but rather at the confident man standing just behind him.

"Hello, John." She said softly.

"Hi." It was the only thing that he could say at the moment.

Tom led his father into the room and offered him at seat in the armed dining chair at the head of the table. Marie sat back down in her chair at the other end. There was a long distance across the length of the table. It felt strangely similar to the emotional distance between them. Tom's heart broke guessing how this would end.

He cleared his throat. "Excuse me for a moment. Why don't you two take some time to yourselves."

Tom stepped out of the room into the kitchen.

******

Stephen and Frank were in the middle of a heated discussion about the lifestyle. They had only met once before when Tom brought Frank to the store to buy some equipment.

"Nah. You're misunderstanding. I'm not saying you aren't a good Dom. I'm just saying if you don't know good rope bondage technique then you're limiting her potential." Stephen huffed as he pointed to Anne who was on her knees licking Frank's balls. "I mean you're robbing this subby of a whole layer of submission."

"But I use restraints." Frank replied a little defensively.

"Please don't tell me you use that stupid shit from some sex shop. You know what I mean... those premade restraints with the little plastic clips or the furry handcuffs. That's amateur hour."

"I have some rope." Frank jumped in defending himself again.

"What kind?"

"I don't know. It's rope."

Stephen sighed. "Look I know you work one of those busy 'important jobs'..." He said making the quote marks in the air to emphasize his point. "... But you have to find the time to know your stuff. The kind of rope affects how you tie someone up. Tom likes the nylon ropes. That's never been my thing. I like hemp rope. You can buy it pretreated, but I like to treat it myself. It's a bit rougher on the skin than the nylon crap."

"Oh." Frank replied a bit flustered.

He wasn't nearly as capable as either Tom or Stephen.

"Damnit." Stephen barked looking down. Abby was between his legs with his cock lodged in her throat.

"If I feel a tooth on me one more time I'm going to have your owner whip you raw."

"Sawwy, Suh." Abby mumbled through his erection. She wasn't bothered. She just took his instruction and improved.

Tom stepped into the living room amused by his friends.

"I see you've made yourself at home." He said slapping Stephen on the back. "How is she?"

"Toothy." He replied annoyed. "Can I borrow some rope? Frank has gotta learn some basic rope techniques. I know you work with her, but you can't do all the heavy lifting, man. He needs to broaden himself."

"Alexis," Tom said looking down where she had dropped to her knees. "Go grab the spare toy box and a set of ropes for Stephen."

"Yes, Sir."

******

"So?" John asked looking at Marie sitting quietly at the other end of the table.

"So what?" She said softly. "You wanted to meet. What did you want to talk about?"

"You skipped out of town!" he cried out frustrated. "We haven't talked at all. You just left. And... and look at you! What are you doing, Marie?"

"I'm figuring out my life." She said. "What would you have preferred? Should I have stayed at our house? You were cheating on me. Worse, you lied to me. You even tried to turn it around on me. I had to catch you, John. I had to put evidence in front of you before you admitted it. You didn't expect me to just forgive you, did you?"

"So you're just going to end our marriage? That's it?"

Those were the words that inevitably had to be discussed. Marie let them sink in as she sat there looking at the man she'd spent her life with. She wasn't panicked. She wasn't anxious. She wasn't even angry. She was struck by a sudden calmness.

"You ended our marriage, John. I didn't have to. I... I'd just like to move on."

Those simple words were the final recognition for Marie that she would never go back to Saratoga Springs. This was her home now. It was a serene moment for her. But those words had the exact opposite effect on John. She hadn't crumbled and begged. She didn't really seem interested in hearing what he had to say. She could see the anger boiling inside him. At home, she would have been scared, but she was safe here.

"I didn't end shit!" He spat suddenly. "This is all your fault. Look at you sitting there on your high horse playing the victim. It's pathetic."

"Of course you ended it, John." She said in the most calm, quiet voice. "You ended it the second you put your dick in that little girl. You ended it when you lied to me. I'm not playing the victim. My husband cheated. The man who I married and raised a family with decided I wasn't enough anymore. I think I was a good wife. I don't want to waste the rest of my life with someone that doesn't think I'm good enough."

"Waste!" That word infuriated him and poked at his delicate ego. "You were a prude! What was I supposed to do? I couldn't fuck my wife. So, I found someone that would fuck me!"

Marie knew that was intended to make her feel bad, and maybe even feel culpable. Two things struck her in that moment. One, it just wasn't a true statement at all. She always wished they had been more adventurous. Secondly, her view of her own sexuality was drastically changed in the last week. So much so that the word 'prude' just sounded funny to her. She couldn't help herself as she began to laugh. It wasn't uproarious laughter; rather it was a childish fit of giggles. She brought her hand up to her mouth trying to contain it.

"Are you laughing? You think that's fucking funny?" He spat across the table.

It wasn't the reaction he wanted. He couldn't understand why she wasn't angry or defensive.

"It's a little funny." She said finally getting a handle on her laughter. "Well I guess it's sad mostly. But it's funny that you thought I was a prude."

"We never had sex! Of course you were!"

Marie had trouble watching him act so immaturely. She wondered if he was always this way. Sometimes people don't see things when they are blinded by love and devotion. She wasn't devoted to him any longer though, and it gave her a clearer image of his person. She decided to give him a shock since he was so intent on getting a rise out of her.

"That's true." She said. "We barely had sex..."

"You see!" He broke in reveling in her response. "So I didn't have much choice!"

Marie just continued without acknowledging him. "... and I wished you'd shown more interest. But you'd go to bed and I'd sneak into the bathroom and pump my fingers into my pussy until I came."

His mouth dropped open at those words. "W-what?"

As long as he'd known her, his wife had never spoken so openly or brazenly about sex in any fashion.

"... Sometimes I fantasized that you'd come through the front door after work and tear my clothes off and fuck me over the couch. God, I fantasized so much about a life that I didn't get to live. So I'm not sure prude is the right word. Deprived? Yes. Horny? Definitely. Prude? Not really. But your clothes were clean, John. They were washed and folded and put away in your dresser. Dinner was on the table and hot almost every day for thirty two years. The house was always clean. I raised our son. You never had to worry about those things."

"So what?" he asked shocked by this change in her vocabulary. "I was just supposed to know that? How was I supposed to know? This isn't my fault!"

"Well you could have asked. You could have paid attention to me instead of looking for someone else." She said. "But... it doesn't matter anymore. This," she said gesturing with her hand between the both of them, "is over now. I'd just like the divorce to be finalized."

"That's not fair!" He yelled. "You can't just end this on your own. What are you going to do? Where are you going to live? You need me!"

"No, John, I don't need you at all." She said politely. "And I think I'm going to stay in California. I like it. I live here." She gestured to the house and her surroundings. "At least for the moment I do."

John was fuming and confused. "You live in this house? Are you fucking some other guy?" He shot the questions at her. "Is that it? You're seeing some rich fuck?"

"Tom didn't tell you?" She asked quietly.

"Tell me what?!" He roared back wondering if his son was withholding information about some affair she was having.

"It doesn't matter. You can talk to him about it." She replied. "Could we just finalize the divorce, please? I don't want to drag this out any longer."

"No!" John seethed. "This is stupid! Either you come home and be reasonable, or I'm not splitting anything with you. Nothing! I'm not giving you a fucking thing."

******

"This is it." The driver said pulling over to the side of the street. "That'll be $11.45."

Angie stared out the open window at the house.

"It's this one?" She said nervously.

"Yeah. That's the address you gave me. Is there a problem?"

"No. No problem." She said digging through her purse and pulling out a ten and a five. "Here. Keep the change."

She opened the door and stepped onto the driveway. She pulled out her cell phone again looking at the e-mail. She'd practically memorized it at this point, but she was worried about doing something wrong. She said that she would follow his instructions exactly.

"Okay, Angie. Up the driveway to the side gate." She muttered to herself. "This is stupid. This is stupid. This is the dumbest thing you've ever decided to do."

Angie had a habit of talking to herself when she got nervous.

The driveway was long and the house was large. It made sense, she thought. He was a successful novelist. Of course, he'd have a beautiful home. She came up to the detached garage and the tall fence leading into the backyard. She pulled the latch on the gate and poked her head through the opening.

"Whoa." She muttered. "Now that's a yard. Okay. Moment of truth."

Angie pulled the gate closed behind her and then reached down to pull off her dress. She stood there completely naked. She looked down to make sure the lipstick hadn't smeared on her skin. It still looked perfect. She stared at the phone again wondering if she was really going to follow through. She slowly knelt down and then texted the number he had given in the instructions. Angie placed her phone back in her purse zipping it closed. She folded her dress, and set both items on the ground in front of her.

She knelt nervously until she saw a woman approaching. Angie blinked. She thought that it would be Tom who greeted her, not a woman. A woman? More like a goddess, she thought. She saw the gentle, confident sway of her hips in the distance, and she watched in awe as the woman grew larger and more unreal as she got closer.

******

Alexis stood up and moved back through the kitchen and out onto the patio. She was fascinated when Sir told her who the additional guest would be. She had a million questions. Mostly she just wanted to know how he managed it.

She was feeling carefree as she stepped down the flagstone steps in her high heels and walked up the path toward the side gate. She could see the lone figure kneeling on the ground right where Sir said she'd be waiting. Alexis came to a stop just a few feet in front of her.

"So you must be Angie." Alexis stated.

"I must be?" Angie responded a little breathless. "I... I mean, yes. I am. I must be... and I am."

Alexis snorted and then laughed at the nervous girl's response.

"Take a deep breath and relax. There's nothing to be worried about." She reached out her hands. "Let me help you up and get a look at you."

She pulled the girl to her feet. "You certainly are beautiful. I see that Sir gave you some instructions." She said noting the words. "Is that true? Is that Sir's pussy?"

"Oh... well... I guess technically it's not his pussy... but..."

Alexis laughed again.

"It sure looks like his pussy. It's got his name on it."

"It does, doesn't it?" She rambled. "Yeah, I guess that makes it his. So... um... you're a... you know... a submissive... right?"

Alexis was amused with this girl.

"You're cute. I can see why he likes you." She said. "Yes, Angie, I'm a submissive. Sir has been my owner for a few years."

"Wow..." It just sort of slipped out as she took in the graceful blonde.

"Come on. He has very specific instructions for you." Alexis began as she took the girl's hand leading her to the guest house. "Now, you've come on an unusual night. There are a quite a few people here. Sir has six of his girls here. Seven including me. There are three Dominants including him. And we have another girl that came to watch that wants to find an owner. Oh! And one of the women will be collared tonight. It's very special."