DITW 12-10: Sweet Compliance (Patreon)

Josh’s heart pounded so hard he swore all his rivets would shake loose. The damn four-chamber thing shook his vision, and a steady boom-boom-boom thudded in his ears.

He’d flirted, teased, fantasized about this dreadful moment, and now it would happen before him. The closer it came to being, the more inexorable the moment felt. Like this thing had always been out of his hands; that he’d been misled, cajoled, brow-beaten, gaslit into this moment’s manifestation, and all at his own request.

But there was a beautiful, gold-edged frame around the picture; a submission-wrestled truth glimmering in the fog.

He could picture the scenario like the analogy of a pool hall trick shot from a rookie player: much glory could be memorialized if the right ball fell into a pocket, but if it failed, one could shrug off the endeavor as producing the anticipated result, setting the world and the player back in their rightful place. If he struggled and endured, he could be king. If he crashed and burned, well, what did you expect?

For now, he enjoyed the change in Kimmy’s demeanor. The trepidation, the unsureness, the guilt... And hopefully at some point, an expression of boundless shame would appear. For now, he savored Kimmy’s apprehension. A stark look in comparison to the haughty dominance that had swelled since the summer, and had come to define his wife’s character.

Kimmy didn’t know how to behave with Devlin. Didn’t know how familiar she was with him—at least from her watching husband’s perspective. So her movements were stiff, and her eyes on Devlin flickered between commanding and baleful. Seeing Kimmy this way drove down the pedal on his lust’s accelerator. As Devlin’s hands undid her shirt buttons, each passing second, Josh’s heart beat harder and harder. The thudding in his ears roared and whooshed.

He watched the smooth plain of Kimmy’s collar revealed. The room’s light shimmered on her flawless skin. Her nipples had hardened at this terrible proposition, and he loved it. She could fight this arrangement all she wanted, but he knew she’d been here before and her body betrayed her right now. Her terrific mind could turn him into knots, make him believe anything. But her body responded the only way it knew how. Her body wasn’t deceitful, wasn’t duplicitous.

Devlin turned her on. Devlin made her wet. He was sure of it. If he slipped his hands in her panties, they would come out with a gloss.

A tragic inertia sealed him to where he stood; the enormity of his lust for such depravity materialized before him. He was the spark that began this fire. If he were another man, this situation would not play out before his eyes and his throbbing cock.

Devlin’s movements came in short travels, tentative, as if awaiting an objection, his smile creeping wider as no admonishment came and his sensual act with Kimmy increased. Still, no one stopped him. This was Josh’s own doing. An inevitable destination.

As if now resigned, expecting no protestation, Devlin continued. He pushed Kimmy’s shirt open wider, exposing one breast in her bra, slipping a thumb under the strap and pulling it taut. The tautness highlighted the hardness of her nipple showing through the fabric. Kimmy showed defiance, mouth closed, chin up and jutting, allowing this other man to handle her sexually. Then Devlin’s thumb descended along the strap toward the cup, and when it met the point where cup and strap connected, he pushed out and down, revealing Kimmy’s brown nipple. It was thick and rubbery and aroused. He let the bra strap go, and the cup cinched under her small bosom, pushing the flesh upward. Devlin’s thumb caressed Kimmy’s nipple, and Kimmy’s eyes narrowed, that steely look she showed beginning to wane.

But now her eyes had averted, steering away from Devlin and looking his way. Looking at her husband. Her husband standing watching. Her husband standing and watching something so awful, and yet this strange man in the seven-thousand dollar suit his wife bought him believed the sin would be the penitence. He wanted her freed from what she’d done. It would free him, wouldn’t it? Kimmy would have to endure. He would have to endure. They both would, together—and then hope once it was all over, there was enough remaining to sweep up and rebuild.

He also raised his chin—and he figured the gesture could be as paper thin as hers. Kimmy hated losing control. Hated the way her body betrayed her. Her defiance would soon melt away—her mask as resilient as if made of sugar.

Trouble swirled in her eyes and for a moment, and he could picture himself calling the whole thing off. That one moment of Kimmy’s unsureness would halt these proceedings. He didn’t want to punish Kimmy, not the real Kimmy, not the one he knew and loved before the summer, he wanted to punish the other Kimmy, the one she’d created out of thin air. Maybe the one she’d created as some sort of histamine response to her own infidelity, the one who would take advantage of her husband’s erotic drive, hijack it to explain away all the bad she’d done. Neither of those women hated him. They both loved him. But each did it in an entirely different way.

Kimmy bit her lips, her brows tenting to the angle of worry. She lay a hand over Devlin’s, pausing his nipple teasing for a moment, saying now, “You want this, Josh, don’t you?”

Her sibilant voice, though whisper quiet, surprised him, shaking him from the reverie he’d sunk into like warm swamp water. And again, the urge to cancel the plan. To take her home and...

And do what?

Stick his head in the sand and pretend she’d always been faithful? Pretend that the guy who’d tormented his youth hadn’t shamed him, hadn’t got the better of him yet again? That his wife and his bully hadn’t worked in tandem to demean him more than anyone could ever do? That she’d helped his nemesis into an unfathomable victory, an impossibly complex and truly thorough humiliation?

He approached them, head cocked, calm expression, one meant to convey to Kimmy the reminder that they’d discussed this. There was no time for deeper vacillation. He said, “Do it or don’t.”

Devlin interjected, talking to Kimmy with his thumb pad rubbing her aroused and bursting nipple. “Give him what he wants, Kimmy. How many times does he have to ask you?”

Kimmy gave Devlin a fleeting glance, then returned her unsure gaze to Josh. He loved the conundrum she’d found herself in. Kimmy had woke this morning and could never have expected what he’d ask of her by lunch time. He showed her a weak but encouraging smile.

The words she wanted from him he would not utter before Devlin.

The moment bloomed large and expectant, the only motion was Devlin’s big thumb rolling Kimmy’s hardened nipple in circles, torturing that swollen part of her.

Josh closed his eyes, then opened them again, filling with the wisdom of Solomon. A test. A test would decide. Kimmy would abide by the test.

He said to her, “Are you wet? Are you wet for him?”

Kimmy scowled a look of indignity, disbelieving her loving and timid husband would speak such crassness. But her expression eased with the steady time-ticking realization of her place in this room, her lace in the marriage, her trail of indiscretion. As the furrows in her brow eased away, Devlin chuckled, staring at the side of Kimmy’s face. “That’s a great question. That is a great question, Josh.”

He steadied his amused gaze on Kimmy still and she rotated her face to regard him with a thinly veiled sneer.

Devlin said, “Are you wet, Miss Chang?”

Kimmy scoffed with disgust and rolled her eyes.

Devlin looked at Josh now. “Why don’t you come closer and find out, Josh? Put your hand down Kimmy’s panties.”

Josh stood immobile, frozen from action by racing thoughts. Bad thoughts, dirty thoughts. Lusty ones. They occluded the shame, though, and for that he welcomed them. Kimmy was dirty. Nasty. A sexual being in the way he could have never comprehended before this summer. She was wet. He knew it without even checking. Devlin made her pussy weep with urgent need. His cock throbbed between his legs. He stepped closer, and Devlin nodded encouragement.

“That’s it, Josh. Come closer, come and check for yourself. You wouldn’t take my word for it, anyway.”

Kimmy scoffed again, and Devlin added, “Or hers.” Kimmy shook her head with grave disdain.

Josh stepped closer, right next to them, Kimmy’s narrowed eyes on him, watching him with a comforting look of concern. She was breathing heavy. Her eyes were glossy. Her nipple looked rubbed raw; rosy and plump.

Then Devlin’s thumb-rubbing hand let her abused nipple alone, drifting lower to Kimmy’s waist. He unbuttoned the top of her high-waisted pants. “Check her for me, Josh.”

With his eyes on Kimmy’s face, he touched the waist of her pants, traced sensitive finger pads across the expensive fabric and located the tiny zipper pull, dragging it downward until her fly was open.

Kimmy seduced him with her eyes. Each passing second, his wife got closer to submitting to his insane request. Each passing moment, she gave herself greater permission to show her husband the nasty things she’d done behind his back.

Since he took too long, Devlin added commentary. “She wears satin panties with her suits because she likes the way the fabric slips against the wool. Isn’t that right, Kimmy?”

The intimate knowledge, and its uncomfortable implication, distracted her, but she managed to keep looking at Josh, even though the corners of her mouth tugged downward in anger.

Josh untucked her crisp white dress shirt and slipped his hand underneath. At the warmth of her smooth flat tummy, he had a surge of love for her; with the familiar touch came so many fond feelings for the woman he married. And sure enough, when he touched her panties, he found that Devlin was correct: they were satin. The acknowledgment passed in their gazes; yes, Devlin knew what panties she wore with what clothing.

His hand was shaking by the time he’d pulled forward the waist of her panties. A tidal wave of hot desire washed over him, and instead of watching her with Devlin right now, he wanted to get her on the bed, pull the pants and panties off and bury his face in her hot muff, run his tongue through her until she choked off his air supply with a trembling leg lock. Resolve seized his muscles, and he shoved his hand down the front of his wife’s panties. All Devlin had done was rub her nipple, but his wife was teeming with sexual lubrication. His fingers squelched through her slick and swollen folds. She closed her eyes and moaned a sound of sexual regret.

As he pleasured her wet pussy with his fingers, he asked her, “Aren’t you ashamed?”

Her eyes opened and scared away any confidence he’d felt when they were closed. His fingers stopped teasing.

Those hot black eyes of Kimmy’s drove into him and scoured his shadowy thoughts, striking like a feathered raptor through a mouse nest. His thoughts scattered. And he knew what she would say before she said it. Knew that her razor-like beak had snatched one particular furry little morsel out of the scattering mischief.

Her eyes narrowed, and she said in return, “Aren’t you? Aren’t you ashamed? Another man gets your wife wet, and your wife should be ashamed?”

Devlin chuckled, a long, low rumble. “That’s it, Kimmy, let him have his humiliation. Don’t hold it back from him.”

Josh’s hand slipped away from her pussy, withdrew from the warmth of her panties, and he stepped back. His heart pounded hard. But he loved it.

He said, “I never should have let you work for him.”

Kimmy reached between his legs and grabbed a rough handful of his genitals, injuring his tender balls for a brief second before finding the distinct shape of his iron shaft and squeezing it. She said to him now, “You’re not ashamed?”