Tom and Gabby Ch. 05 - Life Plans

*Hi guys! Thanks for all the upvotes/comments and messages for the last instalment. Sorry it's been a while. Ch. 06 is currently being penned and I promise it won't be a wait like the last one.

As always, I remind readers that this is a work of fiction. This one touches on the topic of kidnap/unlawful holding, so if this doesn't sound like your cup of tea, advance warning has been given.

I've been thinking about doing a complementary series, told from Linda's point of view. The long-term plan is to have all three perspectives but I'm rubbish at writing from a male viewpoint. Let me know in the comments if this is something anyone might enjoy.*

*

On awakening from my earthmoving orgasm, I look over to my bed and see Linda artfully arranged between Tom's legs. She's sucking his cock diligently, and I can hear the vulgar slapping noises of her lips around his shaft.

The ordeal I've just endured seems to be of no consequence to either of them.

They're both utterly absorbed in each other, ignoring the inert lump across the room from them, being forced to bear witness to their passions.

Occasional moans sound; some Tom's, some Linda's.

I have little choice but to watch them; studying as she gradually leads him through the stages of pleasure and finishes him skilfully, receiving another load of his cum, this time in her mouth.

She swallows it down hungrily, licking her lips to lap up any overflow, and lifts her head to grin widely at him.

The smug bitch.

"Mm," she murmurs, savouring the taste. "I bet your wife didn't do it like that yesterday?" she enquires, determined to best me in every matter.

Tom chuckles. "No Lind. Gabby's blowjob skills are...amateur," he confirms. "Gagging on anything more than the tip and never managing to not leave teeth marks. Nothing like the way you just did it."

I stay quiet, not wanting to bring any attention to myself, subtly listening to Tom ridicule me.

"Don't worry baby," Linda assures him. "You'll never have to suffer her amateur attempts again. Mine is the only mouth your cock will be sliding into now. And maybe, watching me sucking you off will show Gabrielle how it's meant to be done? Not that she's going to apply what she learns."

They snigger cruelly together.

I'm trying to determine whether their shared dominance over me played any part in their continued arousal. Tom's lasting virility for Linda offends me greatly.

Even in the early days of our relationship, he'd always needed a 'cooldown period' after cumming. He'd been happy to pleasure me while we'd waited, but short of using blue pills recreationally, Tom's cock had always needed a recovery period before being ready to cum again.

Now, on seeing how soon after his first climax Linda has managed to pleasure him, I mournfully wonder if I'd been the problem, not Tom's cock?

After a brief period of talking together, their attentions fall back to me.

Noticing the sadistic expressions they're wearing as they smile over, I feel more humiliated than I'd felt as they'd watched me orgasming.

I'd been trying to resist orgasming for more than just a fear of humiliation.

In truth, I'd fought so hard because I'd known what message an inability to stop myself from cumming would send.

Tom had explicitly said as much while he'd been taunting me. 'By letting it happen' I was 'submitting to them'. Succumbing to orgasm was the equivalent to me dropping onto my knees and pleading for them to control me. It had made every moment of involuntary pleasure torturous for me.

Linda speaks.

"Welcome back!" she crows. "I thought about coming over to check if you were still breathing, but Tom got hard again, and I got distracted."

I look coldly over at them.

As much as Linda is the aggressor, delightedly mocking me with her words, Tom is complicit in allowing her to do it.

"We were actually just talking about you," Linda continues. "We've come up with a little theory about your orgasms and your prolonged 'afterglows'. We think that the amount of time you spend 'passed out' depends on how intense your orgasm is," she hypothesises.

"I mean the one you just had looked pretty gruelling from where we were sitting. Your face was all..." she screws up her own face. "And you were twitching all over the place, making those weird gasping noises. Its lucky Tom had tied you so securely. Was it more powerful than the ones you had on my desk?" she interrogates.

I want to shout abuse at her, but I know it won't achieve anything, so remain quiet.

She clears her throat, trying to prompt me to speak. I choose not to.

"That's got to have been humiliating for you. Failing so miserably when you'd fought so hard to stop it? Ouch," she pokes. "You might as well accept it, Gabrielle. Tom and I set the rules now. When we tell you to do something, no amount of arguing, struggling or resisting is going to make a difference. It'll just feel worse when you do lose. Things are going to be confusing enough for you, without adding a power struggle to the mix." Linda taunts.

As much as I want to know what her statement means, I see that my silence is a better response than speaking back to her. I delude myself into thinking that I'm preserving some dignity in not responding, and chew on my tongue.

Linda starts to become irritated. She doesn't like to be ignored.

"What the hell is wrong with you Gabrielle?" she demands, sharper in tone. "Its basic manners to answer when you're spoken to."

I see Tom's hand stroke her arm, and she softens her demeanour again. "You've already lost your husband today; have you lost your voice too?" I cast her a dissociated stare.

"Just ignore her Lind," Tom says calmly. "She's trying to provoke you. Don't react to it. I've had eleven years' experience of her sulks."

I resent the way he reduces my carefully considered silence to a sulk, implying I'm immature.

Linda picks up on his implication, turns her back on me and kisses him, being as loud and obnoxious as she can as she does. She drapes her hand across his chest on purpose, to flaunt what she's taken from me.

When they've finished kissing, they speak between themselves quietly, looking over occasionally, but not involving me in their conversation.

"Shall I make us some coffee?" Tom's voice eventually sounds.

My mouth moves to answer before I can stop myself. "Yes please."

I'm so used to Tom asking me this question, I respond autonomously, though on hearing my own words, I realise my mistake.

Tom and Linda both spin their heads to face me, surprised and bemused at my choosing of this moment to break my silence. I immediately feel awkward.

Linda flounces from the bed and struts over to me. She's half smiling; it's unnerving.

When she reaches me, she pulls the wand from between my pussy lips, and I let out a loud sigh of relief.

Tom rises from the bed, smiling and shaking his head to himself, to put his clothes back on, letting Linda deal with me. When he's dressed, he calls over to her, interrupting her inspection of the wand. She's visibly exhilarated as she examines my secretions slathered across the head of it.

"I'm going to go and make these coffees Lind," he announces.

Linda turns to look at him. "Gorgeous! Yes please. You know how I take mine. There's no need to make Gabrielle one though. She's going to have water," she replies, speaking on my behalf.

I go to protest, favouring the idea of coffee over water, but she cuts me off and looks at me with a raised eyebrow, shaking her head.

"It's not open to debate Gabrielle," she asserts herself. "Can you not remember what you did before I arrived? Trying to throw a mug at Tom? You'll be drinking water until you can be trusted again," she informs me.

Tom agrees with her from across the room, amused by her belittling of me. He pulls a t-shirt from his drawer and hands it to her chivalrously, before fondling her arse and walking out of the bedroom door, leaving me alone with her.

I sit, waiting for whatever Linda decides to do next. She dresses herself in Tom's t-shirt and admires the way it looks on her in the standing mirror.

"It's like something out of a film," she remarks. "Like when the man gives the woman his coat. I think I'm going to get used to this," she sounds.

I roll my eyes. Her view of chivalry is perverted. Normally in films, when the man gives the woman his coat, his wife isn't tied to a chair, watching it happen. I continue to wait as she surveys the bedroom.

She strolls over to the double wardrobes on the far side and opens the doors, leafing through the contents of my side and turning her nose up at my clothes.

"Are these yours?" she asks.

How is this any of her business?

"I'll take your scowl as a yes," she states. "Don't get defensive, I just want to know which side will be mine."

I balk, open-mouthed at her audacity.

"I'll feel much more at home once I clear your crap out and get my clothes in there," she contemplates.

What is happening?

Linda closes the wardrobe doors and goes over to straighten the bedding before looking around the room again.

"Everywhere needs drastic redecorating. I hate this colour scheme. And I think," she starts. "When we've moved things around a bit in here, and made it habitable," she ponders to herself, and points. "We'll be able to fit a camp-bed in here for you. Maybe against that wall?"

My eyes widen. I'm not privy to what Tom and Linda have been discussing in their secret sordid meetings but this is insanity.

She turns towards me, now noticing my bewildered, confused expression.

"Well you can't share a bed with me and Tom, can you? That'd just be weird," she asks, as if it's blatantly obvious.

I wrack my mind, trying to understand what her thinking is. What has she been talking about with Tom?

In all their schemes, do they really believe that I'll become an accessory to their affair?

I'm still reeling over Tom's deception. In our eleven years of marriage, I could never have believed he was capable of what he's done. But any eventuality that results in me sleeping in a camp bed as they sleep together is delusional.

I think more about Linda's insinuation as she sets to work unfastening my binds. She begins at my ankles and undoes the knots adeptly.

As she pulls the ropes away, I circle my feet, trying to ease the aches I'm experiencing from having been kept in position for so long.

Before freeing my arms and body, Linda pauses, seeming to consider if I'll become a threat to her when I am released. I have considered it, of course, but am convinced that if I resort to violence, Linda will call Tom for help, and I'll undoubtedly be restrained again. I don't think his loyalties are to me anymore.

"When I've untied you, we'll go downstairs and have a talk," she informs me.

I'm not opposed to the idea. A conversation needs to happen.

Whatever it is that she intends to talk about with my husband, it'll have to come second to my demands for a divorce. Tom has betrayed and humiliated me. Our eleven years of marriage, and my feelings for him are now buried beneath my disgust for what he has done and enabled Linda to do to me. I plan to make these things a legal matter.

Linda speaks again. "Tom and I have lots to discuss about how we want to move forward with things, and I want to make sure we're both on the same page. Everyone needs to understand their place, so we can avoid any confusion about how things are going to be. When he and I are done talking, we'll give you an opportunity to air your feelings about the situation," she offers.

I nod sombrely, despite disagreeing with her suggestion that Tom and herself will be doing most of the talking, and I'll be given the 'opportunity to talk' when they've concluded. I have plenty to say about things 'moving forward' and I'm determined to be heard.

Linda circles to the back of the chair, and I feel her undoing the knots that Tom had tied.

I wait until I can slip my hands out and bring them up, rubbing at the rope impressions in my skin.

"You're not going to try anything stupid are you Gabrielle?" she enquires as she unbinds my body.

I wait until I'm completely free and slowly stand up, my legs weak and fatigued. Even if I wanted to do something 'stupid', in my current condition I'd be unable to.

I take a few steps, steadying myself, looking over at my bed miserably. It will forever be sullied by what they just did on it.

Linda straightens, and I can feel her stalking me with her gaze, relishing the slow clumsiness of my movements.

She stretches, emitting a loud vocalisation. Its loud enough to startle me and when I turn, she stares back, unblinking.

"It's shaping up to be a lovely day. Don't you think, Gabrielle? Don't say anything to Tom, but I've been thinking about fucking him constantly over the past few days. It's been the only thing on my mind. Even when I should've been concentrating on other things like work and dealing with you. There's been more than one occasion when I've had to stop everything to slip my fingers into my pussy and rub myself off to the idea of me and him together." She looks at my bemused face, before proceeding to continue.

"Obviously I knew that we'd be amazing together, our chemistry is magic, but the way he just fucked me? It was better than I could have dreamed of," she tells me, happily.

"His body feels amazing, the way his muscles bulge as he's thrusting. And it's not just the physical side either. He's so attentive, so committed to giving pleasure. And do you know what makes it even better, something I didn't consider?" she asks.

I breathe hard, trying not to be incensed by her gloating.

"The feeling of Tom's cum inside me. It's delicious," she reveals, smiling widely.

I don't understand her fascination with Tom's cum. She'd mentioned it earlier, as Tom had been orchestrating my orgasm. Is she merely trying to remind me of the choice Tom made by fucking her?

"You must have noticed the lack of hesitation he showed before he decided to fill me up?" she excites. "Even as busy as you were with your own little performance, grinding and grunting on the chair, you can't have missed how he came? The way he held himself still, all the way in, nice and deep, as he squirted his load into me? He knew exactly what he was doing, there was no accident in it." Her face lights up, elated by something.

I analyse her words, determined to work out what she's hinting at, until I despairingly realise.

Tom and I never wanted to have children, but a relationship with Linda might change his perspective on the matter.

I was made to watch them fucking and at no point were their passions disturbed to put on a condom.

My eyebrows furl, harrowed by the thought and I see Linda enjoying my panic.

"Calm down Gabrielle, I'm on the pill," she whispers, and I can't help but gawp at her in disbelief.

I struggle to understand what Linda would gain from playing mind games like that. Does she enjoy taunting me so much?

She laughs. "Give Tom and I a chance to enjoy our lives together for a while first," she tells me, as if the notion of Tom impregnating her was my idea. "Rest assured, one day, he'll get me pregnant. But not yet."

I look at her bitterly, considering her expectations that their relationship might develop into something serious; something in which their deciding to start a family might be feasible.

Until now, I'd assumed her designs on my husband were a short-term fixation. Something to amuse herself until she got bored and moved on to destroy another marriage in the same way she's ruined mine irreparably.

From the way she talks, this isn't the case. She appears to be planning a future with Tom.

Does he feel the same about her? Has the matter been the subject of one of their talks together?

Tom's voice sounds up the stairs, interrupting my thoughts. "Everything alright Lind?" he calls, expressing no care for his wife's condition.

"We're on our way down," Linda replies.

"And don't worry Gabrielle," she hisses into my ear, so only I can hear her. "When Tom does get me pregnant, you'll be strapped onto that chair, watching it happen. I'll tape your eyes open if I need to, so I can be sure you see the exact moment it happens. It'll thrill me to know that his ex is in the room, being made to witness as he knocks me up."

She pulls away and gestures at the door. I try to steady my breathing, troubled by her words.

"Come on then, let's go. I don't want to keep Tom waiting," she ushers me out of the room.

I walk first and Linda follows a few steps behind me. It occurs to me that she's never been inside my house before and is reliant on my leading the way.

As we make our way down the stairs, I see Tom standing at the bottom of them, his back pressed to the front door.

"Sorry about the delay," Linda calls down. "Me and Gabby were having a bit of girl talk."

I feel her behind me, hurrying me along.

When I reach the bottom step, I turn down the hall, walking to the living room.

Tom waits for Linda, his arm outstretched, and they follow behind me. I instinctively make to sit in my normal seat on the right side of the sofa. Tom usually sits on the left side.

As I bend to lower, Tom and Linda enter the room and Tom clears his throat.

"Not there," he says, and I straighten again.

"You can take that seat Lind," he tells her, and she sidles in and seats herself down arrogantly, preventing me from taking my normal place.

Tom moves round and sits down himself.

"Thank you for the coffee," Linda schmoozes, grinning widely.

"You're very welcome. Nice and strong, just the way you like it," Tom answers, demonstrating a familiarity with her preferences.

"Get yourself sat down Gabrielle," Linda instructs, picking her coffee cup up and taking a sip, making a pleasured purring noise as she swallows it.

I look around the room, completely displaced.

The only other seat in the room is an armchair in the far corner. Tom and I designate it for guests, on the rare occasions we have them. The idea of sitting in it myself, so far removed from normality, makes me uncomfortable. Linda observes my hesitation and speaks up.

"Just sit down on the floor," she orders and after appealing to Tom for help and receiving none, I slowly lower down.

It's utterly demeaning, being made to sit on the floor of my own house, while Linda enjoys comfort in my seat, probably sinking into the indentations of my arse. I'm disappointed by my unquestioning submission. I have no intention of letting them dominate me further.

Linda replaces her coffee cup onto the table and picks up the bottle of water that has assumedly been brought in for me. She throws it down to me, and despite trying, I fail to catch it. It thumps to the floor in front of me. I pick it up and take a drink. Despite not particularly liking water, I'm thirsty and gulp it down.

"What was going on upstairs?" Tom asks Linda.

"Gabrielle wanted to know if you'd enjoyed fucking me. I assured her that you did. Then I explained that we needed to come downstairs and have a discussion together," Linda informs him.

"Good thinking," Tom agrees. "There's a few things that need to be talked about, aren't there?"

"Absolutely. Some of us obviously have more to say than others," she comments pointedly.

"I must say Tom, I'm glad that we don't need to sneak around anymore," she smiles. "It was exciting, of course, but it's better that everything's all out in the open now. It means we can pay attention to more pressing matters."

Tom listens and nods.

"You can address your pressing matters somewhere else. I want you both out of my house right now," I blurt out.

Both turn to look at me, surprised by my interruption.