The Taming of Jessica (2 page)

Consequences? What could Max be talking about? Cutting up her credit cards, or worse? Sensing her husband’s increasing impatience and deciding it might be wiser not to push him any further, Jessica clambered into the back of the Bentley.

Chapter Two

‘So tell me, Jessica, just why did you think it would be a good idea to tell me you were going to have a mug of hot chocolate and an early night tonight?’ Max buckled his seat belt with a decisive flourish, waiting for Jessica to answer.

What could she tell him? When he’d rung her from his hotel on the Galleria del Corso, waiting in the bar for his business associates to join him for cocktails and inter-company gossip, that had been her plan. But somewhere in the intervening hours, she’d felt the need for adventure build, just like an itch, impossible to ignore. From past experience, she knew the only place to scratch it was in the arms of some hot, young stud.

‘I’m waiting, darling.’ Her husband sounded weary, in no mood to listen to excuses. Mickey had steered the car smoothly away from the kerb, and was waiting at a red light to turn right into what little traffic passed along Oxford Street.

‘Isn’t it a woman’s prerogative to change her mind?’ she asked, hoping to divert the conversation into safer waters.

‘Only if it’s a man’s prerogative to chastise her if changing it makes him look a fool in front of his friends.’

‘But Max …’ She didn’t know what alarmed her more; the fact Max refused to be mollified, or his use of the word “chastised”. It held implications she wasn’t entirely comfortable with.

Jessica shifted against the cool leather seat, aware that her short skirt had ridden up when she’d sat down, threatening to expose her bare pussy. Given the filthy mood Max was in already, revealing her knickerless state to him might only rile him further. She made a surreptitious attempt to tug her skirt down, as close as it could pass for a respectable level, but he must have spotted the movement out of the corner of his eye, because he snapped, ‘Stop fidgeting, Jessica. And sit up straight.’

Where had this change in his attitude come from? She couldn’t help but wonder. Her husband never addressed her in less than indulgent tones, and he certainly didn’t bark out instructions like some fearsome parade ground sergeant major. Still, she did as he requested, her skirt rising even higher, till its hem rested on the crease at the tops of her thighs.

Mickey’s eyes, reflected in the driver’s mirror, shifted downward, then quickly back to the road ahead. In that moment, she knew he’d caught a glimpse up her skirt. How much had he seen? Her legs were close together, but she kept her pussy as good as hairless, visiting one of the best salons in West London for regular waxings. And though Mickey was far too professional to give any obvious reaction, she suspected he’d seen her bare, slick lips, still plump and swollen from that swift but delicious coupling in the cloakroom.

Max must have spotted Mickey taking a sneaky peek too, because he said sweetly, ‘Open your legs, Jessica.’

Alarm hit her. It was as though she’d stumbled into some game whose rules she didn’t quite understand, but at which her husband was an expert. ‘But you told me to sit straight. I mean, it’s not very decorous to –’

‘Darling, when I issue an order I don’t expect it to be disobeyed. If I want you to open your legs, you’ll open them.’

She should keep resisting, whatever Max said about some unspecified punishment if she did, she knew that. But the part of her that thrived on public exposure, that had allowed her to be stripped as good as bare on the dance floor at Envied by a complete stranger one hot summer night, had other ideas. Almost of their own volition, her thighs lolled apart. Jessica could swear she felt her pussy lips peel apart, revealing the luscious pink cleft between them, and she caught a breath of her own arousal, musky-hot in the air conditioned car. At least her lover had worn a condom, or his seed might by now have been leaking out on to the expensive leather, unmistakable evidence that she’d recently been fucked.

This time, Mickey took a good, long look at what she was so blatantly displaying to him, all pretence of discretion forgotten. His eyes only snapped forward once more when he realised just how close he’d come to rear-ending a big, black 4x4 waiting at the junction ahead of him.

Max reached for her handbag where it lay between the two of them on the seat, unclasped it and extracted her panties. Shaking his head sorrowfully, he asked, ‘Who was he?’

‘I don’t know what you’re talking about.’ Despite herself, Jessica felt compelled to keep up the charade that she’d gone out for nothing more than a few drinks and a few dances for as long as she could.

‘Well, I’m assuming you had them on when you left the house. Unless you intended to flash the taxi driver, that is?’

At his use of the word “flash”, Jessica once more became aware of the show she was putting on for Mickey. In the mirror, she could see his gaze flicker constantly between her bare, wet sex and back to the road. Was the sight turning him on? Was he hard in those neat, black trousers he always wore? Would he go home tonight and wank as he thought about what he’d seen, tugging his dick as he dreamt of sticking his cock between her pouting lips?

She shook her head, unsure where these thoughts were coming from. Never had she thought of Mickey in this way. The chauffeur wasn’t bad looking, even if his cheeks bore the pitted scars that followed teenage acne. His brown eyes held an appealing hint of mischief, and though their relationship had been born out of the stiff formality between the boss’s wife and his most trusted employee, Mickey wasn’t shy about making comments to Jessica that bordered on the flirtatious. He might have been a good ten years too old to suit her extra-curricular tastes, and a bit on the rough side, but that didn’t mean she couldn’t, given the right circumstances, see the two of them getting more intimate …

What was she thinking? Already in obvious trouble with Max thanks to her antics in the club tonight, now she was fantasising about sleeping with his chauffeur. The sooner they arrived home and she could free herself from this weird, sexually charged atmosphere, the better.

Max let his warm palm rest on Jessica’s thigh, dangerously close to her pussy. If he moved it just a fraction to the right, the pad of his index finger would brush against her clit. She wiggled, trying to bring his fingertips close enough to make contact, her lust at simmering point from being made to display herself to Mickey and needing someone, anyone to bring it to the boil.

The moment Max realised what she was doing, he pulled his hand away.

‘Oh no you don’t. Though I shouldn’t be surprised you’re still trying to give yourself more pleasure, even after everything you appear to have done already.’ He sighed. ‘I can’t believe it’s taken me so long to realise just what a wanton slut you are.’

Jessica made to protest, before conceding Max wasn’t too far off the mark. She never thought of herself as a slut, but how else could she describe her behaviour? Not that she regretted a moment of it. She’d long ago decided that, much as she loved her husband, if he was too tied up with his business affairs to give her the satisfaction she craved, she’d find it somewhere else. The plan had always been that she’d do everything in her power to make sure he never found out. A plan that had worked like a charm – until tonight.

The Bentley pulled to a halt. Jessica glanced out of the window and realised they were home.

Max released her seat belt before doing the same to his own. ‘Come on, out you get.’

It took some considerable effort for Jessica to bring her legs together and ease herself out of the car. She didn’t attempt to pull her skirt down, even though most of her bottom was on display behind, and her pussy in front. At this time of night – more like early morning, she supposed – no one was awake to witness her blatant exposure. More importantly, Max hadn’t told her she could cover herself, and she didn’t want to incur any more of his already considerable wrath.

Her husband didn’t follow her immediately up the path to their front door. When she turned back, she saw him leaning in at the driver’s window, conferring with Mickey. Their voices were too low for her to hear what they were saying, and she supposed they were discussing Max’s arrangements for the coming day – what meetings he had planned, and where he needed the chauffeur to take him. She noticed that once he’d finished his conversation and came striding up the path to join her, Mickey didn’t immediately drive away, but she didn’t find that in any way significant. The man was probably just tuning the car radio to a station he liked, rather than the smooth jazz Max insisted on listening to.

Once inside the house, Jessica made to slip off her shoes, trying to stifle a yawn. Her body ached in the pleasurable ways that follow good, energetic sex, and the thought of a hot bath before bed appealed. ‘I’m going to go upstairs,’ she told Max.

‘Not yet you’re not,’ he replied. ‘Not while we still have unfinished business.’

‘What business? Max, I’m tired. Can’t this wait till tomorrow?’

‘No, it can’t.’ He slammed his fist against the wall, the force of his action causing Jessica to jump. She couldn’t remember the last time she’d seen him so rattled; even the failure to land a potentially lucrative business contract hadn’t caused him to lose his cool like this. ‘You never told me who had you tonight.’

‘Please, Max. Don’t let’s get into this.’

‘Who was he, Jess? And don’t tell me you don’t know what I’m talking about. You leave a club with your underwear in your handbag, and that freshly fucked look on your face, and you expect me to believe you just went to dance? Tell me his name.’

She almost broke down and sobbed, knowing how much he would be hurt by what she was about to say. But he’d left her no choice. ‘I can’t, because I don’t know it. He’s just the guy who works in the cloakroom there. And yes, what we did might have been meaningless, and sordid, and all the other things you’re probably going to call it, but he gave me what I haven’t had from you in longer than I can remember.’

Max remained silent for so long she wondered if he would ever speak to her again. Maybe he didn’t trust himself to say anything without descending into tears and abuse. For all she knew, she’d just called time on their marriage with her confession. She’d admitted to fucking a total stranger, after all; how did she expect her husband to respond?

At last, Max let out a long, weary sigh. ‘I should be a hell of a lot angrier with you than I am. I’m getting the feeling he wasn’t even your first, was he?’

Jessica shook her head, still not sure where any of this was leading. She hadn’t expected Max’s reaction to be so calm, so measured. What was he going to do; ask her to tell him how many there’d been? And what would he say when she told him she wasn’t sure she could recall them all? Those hard young bodies; so willing, so delicious and, in the end, all so utterly forgettable.

‘Oh darling, why didn’t you tell me you needed more in the way of excitement? Maybe I could have done something about it before now. But then again, if you hadn’t behaved so badly, it wouldn’t have brought us to this place, would it?’

Unable to stop the words slipping from her lips, she said, ‘And what place might that be, exactly?’

‘Why, the one where you’re going to be spanked to teach you what happens when you fuck other men behind my back, of course.’

Spanked? The very idea was preposterous. She was a grown woman, not some silly little brat in need of punishment. So why did the thought of being over Max’s knee, bottom up, waiting for him to bring his palm down on her backside send heat rushing through her belly and cause her pussy lips to plump and swell? Even as she shook her head and took a step back from him, part of her knew she needed this.

He grasped her wrist, pulling her to him. Jessica made a half-hearted attempt to break free, but inside, she’d already accepted her fate. More than that, she looked forward to it.

Max dragged her through into the living room, and pulled the piano stool out from beneath the instrument he’d bought purely for show, since neither of them could play a note. She’d been thinking of taking piano lessons for a while – it might have been a better use of her time than chasing anonymous studs, she reflected, given where that path of action had led – but if she proposed such a thing now, her husband would no doubt assume she was looking for a young, male teacher who would offer more than music tuition.

He sat on the stool, spreading his thighs a little distance apart. As he never broke his grip on her wrist, Jessica was pulled down with him, finding herself being hauled into his lap. Having tucked the hem of her skirt into its own waistband, Max ran his palm over her bare bottom in a gentle caress.

‘Max, please don’t do this,’ she begged, though it was only a token protest. He had her where he wanted her, and she couldn’t help but feel she deserved to be there.

‘Before we go any further, I need to know that you understand why you’re about to be spanked.’

‘Yes, I do, sir.’ She didn’t know why she’d added that last word. Somehow it felt right to address her husband in that way, as though he was her lord and master in every sense of the phrase.

‘And do you regret the behaviour that has merited this punishment?’

Jessica thought back to all her wild nights in Envied; allowing herself to be stripped and fondled on the dance floor, seeking her pleasure with whomever she chose. She had loved every minute of it, but did she regret where it had led? ‘Yes, sir,’ she replied.

‘Now, why am I not entirely sure I  believe you? Jessica, if you’re holding back on me, I can always bring Mickey inside to witness your punishment.’

So that was why he’d been conferring with his driver. Was the man really still sitting outside in the car, waiting for Max to call him inside? Being spanked by her own husband would be embarrassing enough, but to have Mickey standing by, close enough to see everything as she squealed and kicked on Max’s lap, her bottom turning an ever deeper shade of crimson, would be shameful beyond endurance. Still, she was almost tempted to call his bluff, just to see how he would react.

In the end, she shook her head and said, ‘No, I’ll never do it again, I promise. And I really can’t apologise enough for sneaking around behind your back, honestly, Max.’

He fumbled in his trouser pocket, brought out his phone, and stabbed at the touch screen with a blunt fingertip. Putting the phone to his ear, he waited for the call to be answered. ‘Hello, Mickey … No, that will be all for tonight. You can go home now, and I’ll see you in the morning.’ He ended the call, and stuffed the phone back in his pocket.