What We Say in the Dark Ch. 06

[Author's note: Cassie's husband is cheating on her with a younger woman, Lily. Instead of confronting him, Cassie has been blackmailed by his lover into doing what she she's told. Cassie needs to work out a way to win her husband back, so she's going to get in shape and upgrade her image. However, she finds herself exploring unorthodox therapies in her day job as a relationship counsellor, taking control in other people's lives even as Lily takes control of hers.

Also, look out for where this story crosses over with All Under Control Ch. 07]

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MORE THAN ONE WAY OF WINNING

Cassie sat nervously in the food court, toying with her phone as she waited. She checked her watch: one o'clock. Lily was twenty minutes late.

"Hi sweetie."

Startled, Cassie turned in her seat. Behind, a willowy blonde woman sauntered towards her, bare legs and high heels on display beneath a short, grey pencil skirt. Without waiting for a response, Lily slid into the chair alongside, smiling sweetly with no hint of an apology for keeping Cassie waiting.

Lily crossed her legs slowly, clenching her thighs together.

"I make that twelve to two now," she laughed. "I didn't think I could fit one in before meeting you. Turns out I could."

Lily leaned forward, her green eyes sparkling with mischief.

"In the car park in his lunchbreak. In the back of his car. I can still feel him inside me."

Cassie's stomach churned, caught in the merciless, mocking gaze of her tormentor.

"It's important to me that you believe it. I could show you if you want. There was such a lot," Lily murmured, then gestured at the people surrounding them, "But I guess not. Just take my word for it."

Again, like the last time they'd met, Lily had taken control effortlessly, putting Cassie in her place. She was left mute, unable to fight back or do anything other than absorb the younger blonde woman's barbs.

"He always performs so well when he's with me. Even if it's a quickie in the car at lunchtime. He's just so desperate to slip that gorgeous, thick cock of his into someone who deserves to feel it. He says he loves making me scream."

Lily laid a manicured hand on Cassie's.

"I guess it's been a while since he's wanted to make that much effort with you."

Cassie gritted her teeth against a surge of anger and jealousy as Lily made a show of uncrossing her long, slender legs and recrossing them, wriggling her pert bottom as if to adjust herself.

"Now, what shall we have for lunch?" Lily asked.

They got lunch, a salad bowl for Cassie and sushi for Lily. Cassie was told to pay. Lily then began to relate her weekend, what she and Cassie's husband had gotten up to while Cassie was running her boys to football practice and back. Lily spared none of the details, describing it like a porn film.

For her part, Cassie listened in silence, utterly miserable, as her husband's infidelities were relayed to her. Finally, Lily's stories drew to a close. She sat opposite Cassie with her chin cupped in her hand, watching Cassie's reaction.

"You know, I almost feel sorry for you now, Cassie. I mean, look at you. You've spent a fortune on that hair, those nails. You're battling to keep in shape in your designer activewear. I can see that you've even trimmed some of the fat. All that effort you've gone to, making yourself desirable. But he's not interested in you at all is he?"

Lily leaned back, a mocking smile on her lips.

"I just have to send two words in a message, and he's between my legs. Two words: fuck now. He forgets all about you. Frankly, given how you compare, I think he's probably glad to forget all about you for a while," Lily said, then grinned, "Oh Cassie, it must be so hard for you to see how easy it was for me to take your husband away from you. Poor thing."

Lily finished her speech and waited. Cassie didn't respond beyond glaring sullenly at the younger, prettier woman. Inside, however, she squirmed with the humiliation of being under Lily's control.

"Really?" Lily smirked, "After all I've said, you've got nothing to say. Really?"

Lily leaned forward again, reaching out to stroke the hair away from Cassie's face, a casually intimate gesture that made Cassie shiver.

"I'm disappointed, honestly. I thought you might at least put up a fight."

Cassie could feel Lily's fingers toying with her hair, building into a sudden, sharp pain as Lily pulled. Cassie resisted the urge to cry out, to deepen her humiliation in public in the middle of the crowd. She clenched her jaws together, staring into Lily's eyes.

"Oh there we are. There's the anger. You are human after all, Cassidy Hayes."

Lily released her hair and stood, gathering her phone and her purse from the table, tucking them into her handbag. She leaned over Cassie, and began to speak in a low, even tone, a pleasant smile on her face that belied the venom in her words.

"You know what I think?" she mused in a quiet voice, "I think you've realised it already, how worthless you are. You don't fight back because you already know what I'll do. You think that if you play along, make nice, I'm going to leave you alone, leave you with enough of your life intact that you can pretend you still actually have a life."

Lily straightened up, brushing her long, straight blonde hair over her shoulder with an elegant hand gesture.

"Pathetic," she murmured and walked away.

Cassie watched her leave, high heels clacking on the concrete, her pert bottom moving sensually beneath the fabric of her tight skirt, blonde hair glowing in the sunshine. Lily didn't look back.

---

Cassie studied the figure reflected in the shop window. Lily was right: expensive hair, manicures, skin creams, personal training, none of it mattered. Over a decade of marriage, bearing two sons, organising lovely holidays, picking up and dropping off, keeping a nice house, all of it counted for nothing. Did Damian love Lily? Did he no longer love his wife? Was Cassie brave enough to ask that awful question, knowing what it would mean if he said no?

Lily was going to win their little contest. By the time Damian got home, he was usually way past the point that he wanted to spend romantic time with Cassie. On the two occasions she had coaxed him into making love with her, it had been a routine event without any of the fireworks Cassie was sure he was becoming used to between Lily's thighs. At the end of the month, Lily would announce the final score with that same, self-satisfied smirk Cassie had seen at lunch, and then Lily would remind her of the prize: exclusive access to Damian in bed. Lily was going to enjoy making Cassie lie next to her husband night after night, with Damian sated by his lithe blonde lover and Cassie denied any release ever again, shipped out of her own life by Lily's cunning.

Deep inside, Cassie burned with shame at how easily she, a trained psychologist and mother, had been bested by a twenty-something girl. But every time Cassie got a handle on the situation, Lily would send her a message, asking to meet up or for Cassie to make sure Damian was home alone for a couple of hours, and suddenly Cassie was back to the start again. It had to stop. Cassie looked at the displays in the window and took a deep breath. There was another way to win.

She pushed through the door into the shop, feeling out of place. Surrounding her, mannequins posed in skimpy outfits made of lace and rubber and leather. Cassie approached one, her eyes trailing over the detailed stitchwork of a lace bodice. Cinched around the dummy's waist was a matching corset, pulled tight around the flesh-coloured plastic torso. She heard the door open, but didn't look up from the display, embarrassed to be seen in an exotic clothing store.

This was Cassie's plan to win back her husband. Lily's only mistake was that she had prioritised quantity over quality; Cassie was planning a very special night for her husband, one that he would remember for a long time. She had lived with him for long enough now that she knew the way his mind worked. It was time that she showed him what she could do. After all, if Damian chose his wife it didn't matter who won the stupid bet. Who he slept with was his choice and not Lily's.

"Hmm."

Cassie became very still. The voice behind was female, bringing thoughts of Lily flashing back into her mind, paralysing her. Lily discovering her in this store would be the end of the world.

"It's always so hard to decide, isn't it?"

The voice was rich, deep with a melodious tone that seemed to match the clothing in front of her perfectly. Cassie turned.

A woman stood next to her, late forties or early fifties in age, but a slim, toned body. Her face was elegant with high cheekbones that framed her finely detailed features. Her eyes were blue, but pale like glacial ice. She turned to Cassie as smiled.

"Just a word of warning. They'll sell you anything in here if you're not careful. In my experience, a lady is either lace or leather, but rarely both."

The pale blue eyes scanned the display but dismissed it, locking onto Cassie.

"And what are you?" Cassie asked, more timidly than she expected.

The smile returned, lighting up the stranger's beautiful face.

"Oh, that would be telling," she murmured, conspiratorially. "Not lace."

The woman laughed, and Cassie felt herself begin to relax a little as some of the awkwardness of being discovered searching for exotic lingerie began to evaporate. Whoever she was, this woman was here for the same reason as Cassie.

"I really don't know, myself," Cassie confided.

"Ah, then we should compare and contrast."

The woman arched an eyebrow suggestively, but there was humour behind it. Not mocking, as Lily would have done; the woman was treating Cassie as a partner in crime. Cassie found that she liked it. They began to wander around the shop together, filtering past the displays.

"Now, this," the woman announced, "This is designed by a man, for men. The woman just gets put inside. Stunning to look at, but a complete nightmare to wear. The chafing alone...," she tutted.

The next mannequin caught Cassie's eye and she stopped. Opaque stockings were matched with a leather microskirt. The torso was clad in a patterned leather bustier that fastened via a set of hook-and-eye arrangements in the back.

"There you go," the woman laughed, "Seems you're not a lace girl either."

---

They left the shop together, Cassie with her outfit in a discreet shopping bag, her accomplice with nothing.

"That was a bit of a let-down," the older woman complained. "The only piece that took my eye is the one you walked out with."

"Oh, I'm sorry. You should have said."

"No. First in, best dressed."

Cassie laughed, enjoying the feeling of easy camaraderie with this stranger, after the awfulness of lunch with Lily. She still had over an hour to kill before school pick up.

"Do you want to get a coffee?" Cassie ventured.

The woman hesitated, scrutinising Cassie for a moment before nodding.

"Great idea. I could do with some refreshment after wading through all that awful lacework."

Cassie grinned and on impulse, she held out her hand. "I'm Cassidy. Cassidy Hayes."

The other woman took her hand and shook it. "Pleased to meet you, Cassidy. I'm Cynthia."

They walked together down the block until they found a coffee shop. Cassie ordered while her new friend found them a table. Cassie carried the drinks over and sat down.

"What do you do for a living, Cassidy?" Cynthia enquired, sipping her coffee and watching Cassie over the rim, fixing her with the pale blue eyes.

"I'm a psychologist. I specialise in relationship counselling."

"Ah, a burgeoning field these days."

"I keep busy."

"Married too, I see."

Cassie looked down at her wedding ring.

"Yes. One husband, two boys. You?"

Cynthia shook her head. "No, none for me."

"Well, I can tell you they're both a blessing and a burden. Twins."

"Ah."

The conversation seemed to stall. "And you, what do you do?" Cassie asked, to fill the silence.

"Oh, this and that."

"Shopping for exotic outfits."

"Yes."

Cynthia was more reserved now, as if less comfortable at the intrusion into her private life.

"I imagine you'd look better in them than me," Cassie continued, "You've got the figure for it. Your, um, partner must be impressed."

Cynthia shook her head, smiling politely.

"I don't have a partner. I just like to collect pieces."

"Don't you wear them? That seems a shame."

"Oh, yes, they get worn. I can't just leave them in a wardrobe. But I have, uh, quite the collection. My husband delighted in buying me all manner of things."

"Your husband? I thought...?"

"He died, a few years ago now. It's nice sometimes to take an item out of the collection and dress up. It brings back the memories."

Cynthia's expression changed and she looked off into the distance, thinking. Cassie remained silent for fear of interrupting her.

"I have a gorgeous red dress. The finest silk, the colour of shiraz. It drapes me all the way from the neck to the ankles. Simply stunning, but only for those very rare occasions."

Her eyes came back to Cassie's face.

"For the special memories."

Cynthia looked down at her phone and frowned.

"Sorry, I need to take this," she said, "I'm in the middle of building works."

"Sure, no problem."

Cynthia turned away slightly, and spoke in a low voice. "Cameron, how are you?" she said, then nodded, listening. "Okay, that's fine. How about after six, if that's good for you?"

Cassie watched her nod again and then smile.

"Thank you. Yes. See you then."

She ended the call and switched her attention back to Cassie.

"Sorry, I had to take it. He's doing some work for me. He's very good. It's so hard to get a decent skillset these days."

"Oh, are you doing renovations?"

"Sort of, I'm updating an area of the club."

Cassie must have looked puzzled, because Cynthia patted her arm.

"My husband's club. So now it's mine. I took over the running after he died."

"What kind of club is it?"

"It's a nightclub."

"Sounds like fun. Would I have been there, do you think?"

Cynthia laughed, a warm alto sound, "I suspect not. It's called the Lost and Found."

Cynthia stood and Cassie joined her. "I might look it up," she said, brightly.

The older woman regarded her carefully before placing a kiss goodbye on her cheek.

"You just might at that, Cassidy Hayes. Maybe I'll see you around."

---

Cassie strode towards the reception area purposefully. Seeing her approach, Brett rose from his chair, followed by Kiko. They both looked nervous. Cassie greeted them warmly, shaking hands and smiling. Kiko smiled back, but Brett remained aloof.

"Shall we?"

Cassie led them both to the corner of the floor, down a short corridor to a wide wooden door.

"I thought I should book a different space for today's session. The meditation room should be perfect."

Cassie pulled on the heavy wooden door and ushered her clients through. The door closed behind them and a profound silence descended. Brett went over to the floor-to-ceiling windows, looking out from the corner of the high floor across the city, watching the roofs of the cars below glinting in the sun.

"Soundproofed," Cassie observed.

"It's lovely," Kiko replied, "So discreet."

Cassie's eyes went to Brett's back, hunched in his work shirt.

"I only have an hour for lunch," he muttered.

Cassie glanced at Kiko, saw her smile fade.

"Then we should begin," Cassie replied. "Brett, Kiko, have you discussed how you want to start?"

Brett turned around, looking at his wife, waiting for her to respond.

"Well," she began, "My thoughts were that I need to bend over. So maybe over a chair."

"Brett? Did you have any thoughts," Cassie asked.

"Besides the obvious?" Brett replied but then ducked his head. "Uh, yes. I was thinking a chair, or maybe over a table, to get the right height."

Neither moved. There were a set of foam cubes and a pair of armchairs.

"Why don't we all just take a seat, and talk this through?" Cassie suggested.

Brett nodded and took an armchair. Kiko perched on one of the cubes next to him, her expression becoming more withdrawn.

"First," Cassie said, "I see that you didn't bring anything with you."

"No," said Kiko, "We talked this through. I would prefer him to use his hand."

"Okay. And on your skirt, or would you prefer your bare bottom?"

"Bare, but Brett...."

"We can start with the skirt on," Brett interrupted.

"That sounds like a good idea. Shall I just bend over this?"

Kiko got up and made to kneel next to the foam cube she had been sitting on. Brett watched in silence, disengaged. Cassie could see that this clearly wasn't working.

"No. Stop."

Brett looked up. Cassie had an idea.

"What about if she laid across your lap, Brett?"

"Uh, yeah. Whatever."

Cassie nodded and Kiko went over to her husband. She sank to her knees in her business skirt and blouse and then leaned forward until her waist was supported on Brett's legs. Her straight, black hair fell around her face. Brett stared at his wife's perfect bottom as if he had never seen it before.

"Brett," Cassie began, "I wanted to try this because it's important that you feel the bond with your wife while you smack her. I want you to be conscious of the way her body moves with each stroke, how she feels in your lap, how she reacts."

Brett looked up, showing his concern.

"And what if I hurt her?"

"Brett, you're going to hurt her. It's what she wants."

"What if it's too much for her?"

"Then she'll tell you. She'll use a word that tells you to stop."

"Can't she just ask me to stop?"

"She's going to ask you to stop. She might beg you to stop. She may cry or yell. But she doesn't want you to stop. You only need to stop when she uses her word or when we reach the agreed number of strokes."

Kiko settled into Brett's lap.

"Kiko, what's your word?"

"I thought to use 'hinode'. Sunrise."

"Lovely. Okay. Let's begin. Brett, how many strikes does your wife require?"

Brett placed his hand on the firm curve of his wife's buttocks, caressing the fabric with his thumb. He drew in a deep breath, but didn't make a move.

"You don't have to do this," Cassie told him. "You have a choice too, if this is too much."

Brett's fingers gripped Kiko's bottom. Cassie could see he was working through it.

"My wife needs discipline, and it's her husband's duty to provide it. She deserves ten."

He raised his hand and Cassie watched Kiko's body tense up in his lap, her buttocks clenching in anticipation of the first blow. Brett's hand hung in the air for moments and Cassie began to think he was going to call it off. The seconds ticked by in silence. Kiko turned her head to look at her husband, her body relaxing, about to remonstrate with him. The blow came down hard on her buttocks, forcing a little scream from her lips, the whack echoing through the stillness of the room.

"One," he said.

Kiko caught her breath, squirming, her muscles taut with the unexpected agony. Brett's other hand descended to his wife's back, but not to comfort her. He pressed down, pinning her in place across his lap. Her body went limp.

Seeing this, Brett delivered the next blow, stinging across her other cheek, making her shriek and call out his name.

"Two."

Cassie realised what he was doing. He was waiting for his wife to relax and then delivering the next blow, alternating between buttocks, hitting a different part each time. Cassie nodded in appreciation: Brett had read the preparatory material. He had committed, landing the next set of blows in steady succession.

"Seven."

"Kiko, how do you feel? Do you want to stop?" Cassie asked.