New readers might want to go start at the first chapter in this series for the background. And as usual, I beg for comments and votes.
Mark sat listlessly on the sofa in front of the television. Tonight's news was dull, he thought, and dull news made for a happy society—for everyone else. Mark was among the unhappy. His hot little wife, Marilyn, was at her mother's attending to the broken wrist mother-in-law had inadvertently acquired falling off a dirt bike. Mark sympathized and had driven Lynn to the airport the instant she could throw an overnight bag together but sympathy did not make up for loneliness. Worse yet, he was horny—really horny.
He was half-way through the bourbon and soda he'd made in an attempt to dull the feeling when the phone in his pocket buzzed insistently.
"Sylvester's."
"Marky, darling, Marilynn called and told us about her mother's accident and that you were alone for a week. You poor thing! Why don't you come on over to our place for some 'company'?"
Mark swallowed. Going to the mayor's residence for the evening would certainly cure his horniness but it would come at a cost. As a young journeyman stonemason, Mark had been sent by his employer to discuss a project with Her Honor, Shirley. Over the course of the next week she not only seduced but took possession of him, adding him to her informal harem of virile young lovers. Shirley was his mistress in every sense of the word. She had trained Mark to her satisfaction and then watched him 'escape' into marriage with Marilynn. That escape was but temporary. Over the last year both of them had become Shirley's playthings and had taken up part time prostitution as a hobby—with Shirley directing, of course. Playing with the mayor meant playing by her rules.
"Uh, thanks for the offer, Shirley, but . . ."
"Stud muffin, get your handsome, manly self up, out the door and over here. You've got an itch that needs scratchin' and so do I and so does Hercule. Move it."
Years of conditioning took over. Mark slipped on his loafers, donned a coat and cap and climbed into his pickup, driving on autopilot while his conscious brain kicked and screamed against the idea. It was going to be a long night and he would consider himself lucky if the mayor decided not to try out a new riding crop on him or something. If luck was against him—well, it wouldn't be the first time. Bondage, dominance, dildo harnesses and sex swings, Mark was only too familiar with all of them, from the receiving end! He frequently asked himself why he kept going back. The answer was that Shirley had him wrapped around her little finger—and she was a great lay!
People who went to the mayor's official residence on official or social business all rang the bell on the front door. If you went in the back door, you were there to get laid. There was a place for your clothing so you could enter naked and that's what Mark had learned to do. He was surprised, then, to find in the closet a well-shaped hanger bearing a silk smoking jacket and a pair of pajama bottoms. Pinned to them was a tag with his name. This was new. What was Shirley up to?
Changing into the provided garments, Mark took a deep breath, turned the knob entered. In the rear sitting room he found Shirley and her French husband, Hercule.
"Ah, there you are lover. We've been waiting impatiently." Shirley took a drag on the mouthpiece of the hookah and handed it to him. "Here, baby, get loosened up. It's going to be a long night."
Hercule rose and handed him large snifter of brandy, then motioned him to sit down on the sofa next to his wife.
Mark looked from one to the other. "So we're doing a threesome tonight? You're entertaining Hercule and me?" He took a deep draw of the smoke and began to feel the effects immediately. This was some strong stuff!
