“Maybe we could see each other secretly on weekends?” she said.
Thomas said, “Ah! You mean like a clandestine love affair! The prize-winning journalist’s beautiful, but bored, wife, sneaking off once a week for a bit of hard cock from the police captain! Just like a romance novel! I could see how that might work for you, Charlotte, but what about my feelings? You already know how much I care about you, and you have just declared that you feel the same way about me. It would surely be unbearable for the both of us to be separated for a week at a time, snatching just a few hours of passionate love together, while you go through the motions of a loveless marriage.”
“But that would just be at the beginning!” Charlotte said frantically. “Until I can find a way to let Peter down gently.”
“You mean you would divorce him for me?” Thomas grinned.
Now there was a long pause from within the standing cell as Charlotte realized that she had been cornered. But she was after all a woman, and therefore quite capable of saying anything to get herself out of a fix.
And she did.
“Yes, Thomas. I’ll divorce Peter–as soon as the time is right.”
Thomas drained his glass and filled it again. He was thoroughly enjoying this!
“You promise?”
“I promise!”
“You are in love with me, and only me?”
“I only love you, Thomas!”
Thomas said, “If I unlock the door and let you out, would you be willing to say that to the camera? To Peter?”
He waited for her response. The moment of truth.
“Yes,” Charlotte said in a choking voice.
“Very well, then.”
Thomas knocked back his third drink and turned on the camcorder. Then he crossed the basement, unlocked the door, and pulled it open. Charlotte looked up at him, sweaty, musky, and smelling of chocolate milk. Her cheeks were rosy, her eyes alight, her nipples erect, and her pussy lips inflamed as the aphrodisiac pumped through her veins.
He offered her his hand and Charlotte hesitatingly took it as he led her over to the camcorder. Thomas sat in his chair and said, “You know what to do by now.”
She most certainly did, and she deftly freed his erect cock.
“Now sit on my lap, facing the camera–and impale yourself,” Thomas said huskily.
Charlotte turned around and reached between her open legs to grip his shaft and guide it into her wet cunt. Thomas slipped his hands under her arms and toyed with her nipples as he rested his chin on her shoulder and they both looked up at the camera.
“The stage is all yours,” Thomas said.
Chapter Ten
There were three of them, big, muscular football jocks. They pushed him into the girls’ locker room, roughed him up a little first. He knew who they were–Jadon, Richie, and Wesley. Dumb fucks, but he was helpless to stop them as they stripped him naked.
“Time for you to stop following Charlotte, dick weed!” Jadon said.
They tied his wrists to coat pegs and taped a mop to his ankles keeping his legs spread wide.
“Dude! Is that it?” Richie laughed. “Hey Charlotte, you’ve got nothing to worry about here!”
Through his terror, Thomas looked around for her. Was she in here watching this?
Richie flicked Thomas’s limp dick with his thumb.
“Nothing happening down there at all! A two-inch weener!”
Wesley held up Charlotte’s red panties.
“See these? Charlotte doesn’t want them anymore. Not after you soiled them with your pathetic mess! So you get to keep them, loser!”
Richie squeezed Thomas’s cheeks, forcing his jaw open, and then Wesley pushed the panties into his mouth. Jadon had a roll of duct tape and he wound it around Thomas’s head, gagging him and keeping Charlotte’s panties securely jammed in his throat.
“Now, I want you to remember this while you suck on her panties,” Jadon said. “You will never, ever go near Charlotte Dray again. Forget about being reported to campus security. If you even walk in the same corridor as her, we will find out, and next time it won’t be this easy.”
He reached down and grabbed Thomas’s balls, making him cry out through his pantie gag.
“Because we will cut off your dick and your balls,” Richie said. “Then Charlotte won’t ever have to worry about you again. Are we clear?”
Jadon squeezed and Thomas squealed and nodded.
“Good,” Wesley said. “Now this is to make sure you don’t forget.”
They wrote on him with indelible markers. Freak. Weirdo. Stalker. Loser. An arrow on his belly pointing to his crotch with the word masturbator.
Then they took photos.
“This was the easy lesson,” Richie said. “You don’t want the hard one.”
The bullies stood back and that was when Thomas saw Peter and Charlotte in the doorway, holding onto each other, not laughing or sneering, just watching from afar like they were afraid of him. And when Thomas pissed himself with embarrassment, Charlotte averted her eyes.
***
Peter lay on his cot staring in horror at the video of his wife asking him for a divorce while she bounced up and down on Mosley’s cock. He knew she didn’t mean it. How could she? Just a week ago, everything had been fine between them. She doted on Peter, she always had. He knew that she was being forced to say these hurtful things. Mosley was a captain in the Civic Police–he could make her say or do anything he wanted. Charlotte wasn’t a fool. She already knew from the college incidents that Mosley was unhinged, but a switch must have tripped in his head at some point–most likely after the sports jocks had tied him up naked in the women’s locker room.
Mosley’s sick obsession with Charlotte had become public knowledge around campus after that. Photographs of him, trussed up, naked and covered in graffiti, had circulated on the internet. He had become a pariah, friendless except for that other weirdo, Luke, and although Peter hadn’t intended for the boys to go as far as they did, it had certainly done the trick. Charlotte hadn’t heard from Mosley again–until the beginning of this terrible week, of course.
Peter rolled over and placed his hands over his ears. They hadn’t provided him with a means to turn off the new video screen on the wall–no way to shut out his wife’s moans of pleasure as she ground her way to orgasm. And that was the part of it that cut him like a knife. Yes, Mosley wielded the power to compel Charlotte to behave in this deeply upsetting way, but there could be no denying the rapture on her face as she came to her shuddering climax. After so many intimate years together, Peter knew his wife very well indeed–and she definitely wasn’t faking it. So as much as he tried to dismiss them, the doubts crept stealthily into his mind. What else had been going on in Mosley’s house beyond these explicit sex sessions? Had he been torturing her? Gradually reshaping her mind to turn her away from Peter? He simply couldn’t allow himself to contemplate that devastating possibility.
No, he had to keep faith with his wife, because for all his emotional suffering, Charlotte’s ordeal was surely far worse. She was being pressurized into a sexual relationship with her stalker from college, a person she thought had been consigned to history forever–and the worst of it was she was being manipulated into chasing after him! The shame of it had to be soul-crushing for her!