Price of Betrayal 1 - Sex Stories

Price of Betrayal 1

"What the fuck!" I stared across the street and actually rubbed my eyes once to see if the image burned into my brain would disappear. It didn't. She stood there beneath a weeping willow on the banks of the river, his arms around her, and, unless I missed my mark, his tongue down her throat. I waited for what seemed an eternity to see if she fought him off, in which case I would relish beating him to a bloody pulp. She didn't, and when they broke the kiss and she rested her head on his chest, fury as I had only known once before boiled my blood until I thought I just might spontaneously combust. My fists clenched, and I instantly wondered what she saw in the bastard. I was just under six feet tall, weighing about one eighty, and I prided myself in keeping myself in prime physical condition. Lots of guys said they had a six-pack, but I actually did, and the last time I went to the gym, I benched two hundred, which had been my current goal. The prick she was kissing looked to be no more than an inch or two taller than her, which would put him at about five seven, five eight at the most, and he was soft. Pudgy, even. "What's wrong?" My coworker had no idea who I was, really; no one did. Only a chosen few knew about my inclinations, and I could count on one hand with four fingers left over how many had ever been witness to one of my rages. Most who knew what went on behind the closed doors of my home left with only the knowledge that I was a strict but fair Master. Later ...

... tonight, she would find out that there was another side of me, a side I rarely let anyone see. "Nothing," I said mechanically as I turned back to him and we walked back to the office. "What were you saying?" The rest of the day dragged on. I texted her to tell her that I would be home at six and for her to be ready by the front door. I'm sure she thought she knew what I meant by that, but she didn't. Sure, she'd be waiting for me where she should, with the proper level of submission. She was very good at that. As a matter of fact, if I hadn't seen it with my own eyes, I never would have thought it possible for her to cross me in any way. The thing that kept the rage alive throughout the day was that if she'd wanted out, all she had to do was say so. If she'd fallen in love with someone else, she damn well should have had the decency to just tell me, and I would have let her go. That's the way it went, but the fact that she was kissing another man while still under my roof was in no way acceptable, and she would find that out soon after I stepped foot into my house. Finally, it was time to go home. I was glad I had taken the train that morning because I wasn't at all sure that I was in a fit condition to drive the thirty miles to my home in Hempstead. As I sat on the train, quiet conversations going on all around me, I seethed silently, my mind conjuring up all sorts of scenarios. Once I reached the station, I only had about a mile to drive to my house. I keyed in the code for the ...