Message-ID: <54579asstr$1159096202@assm.asstr.org>
From: "rache" <rache696@yahoo.com>
Mime-Version: 1.0
NNTP-Posting-Date: Sun, 24 Sep 2006 04:43:53 +0000 (UTC)
User-Agent: G2/1.0
Complaints-To: groups-abuse@google.com
Injection-Info: e3g2000cwe.googlegroups.com; posting-host=203.177.185.97;
   posting-account=qBK25Q0AAACTpvYY3RGCixMIsuvRRKwm
Subject: {ASSM} Respect (Revised) chapter 2 of 4 by rache (M/F, Cheat, Pregnant, BDSM)
Lines: 1066
Date: Sun, 24 Sep 2006 07:10:02 -0400
Path: assm.asstr.org!not-for-mail
Approved: <assm@asstr.org>
Newsgroups: alt.sex.stories.moderated,alt.sex.stories
Followup-To: alt.sex.stories.d

Respect - Chapter 2
by Rachael Ross

I stood in front of the mirror in the bathroom, wiping the fog away so
that small beads of water ran down my reflection. I touched myself,
moving my hands lightly over my stomach, turning slightly to profile. I
was large now, and round, swollen with the life inside me. I could feel
my skin tight and smooth and firm, almost hard, and it was difficult to
remember when my tummy had been flat and taut and impossibly soft by
comparison.

My breasts were different too, now that I was eight months pregnant
almost to the day. They seemed swollen and heavy, still firm enough but
pulled down slightly so that my puffy brown nipples appeared to point
upward even more than they had before. They ached sometimes, my
nipples, and grew hard for no reason at all with small drops of clear
liquid appearing occasionally. My milk was starting already, my body
getting ready to nurse the restless child within my womb.

I didn't know what I had, a boy or a girl, and it didn't matter
anyway. I wasn't keeping it. I'd really had three choices, none of
which were fair, or designed to please me in any way. But they were
mine alone, my husband Jack had made that clear enough. I'd been the
one cheating on him, for no real reason at all except that I'd been
foolish, and so it was up to me to make things right.

I could have left him. He wouldn't have tried to stop me. Or, I could
have gotten an abortion, which was what he wanted I think, although
Jack had done nothing more than suggest the possibility. He'd given
me no real opinion on the subject and neither of us were particularly
religious, or morally bound against it, so it had been a thought
already in my head anyway. Or finally, I could carry the child to term
and give it up. I couldn't keep it and him both; my husband had made
that plain to me several times over.

He didn't blame the child. Jack bore it no particular grudge other
than the fact that it wasn't his and was sleeping in his wife's
belly, changing the woman he'd married irrevocably, and in not always
predictable ways. My husband blamed me, quite simply, and it was right
and proper that he should. And that he should punish me for what I'd
done, and for what I'd tried to do. I was lucky to have him, I
thought, because I was quite sure that many men in his position would
have simply sent me away with little more than a suitcase and
dissolution of marriage to keep me and my unborn child warm.

He'd largely ignored me in the beginning, since that night when I'd
told Jack about my infidelity. If he was surprised when I told him I
was pregnant with another man's baby, he gave no indication of it. I
could understand his reaction, and I even appreciated it to some
extent. Of everything he might have said or done with me, I thought his
distant silence to be almost kind. At least I could see him; I could
still care for him and try to demonstrate my love. Perhaps earn
forgiveness eventually.

The only thing I was truly surprised at, and the aspect of our new
relationship I found most disturbing, was my husband's increased sex
drive. Prior to cheating on him, my husband had very little interest in
sex and I'd been left frustrated and insecure perhaps, feeling that
there was some failing in him. That was what had driven me into Dr.
Prescott's arms, indirectly, and so it was with no small sense of
irony that I found myself yielding to my husband's newfound sexual
desires very nearly every night.

I'd even learned to enjoy it, which surprised me more than a little.
My husband's pleasure was only taken from my anus, or occasionally my
mouth, neither of which I'd ever done before. It had been painful at
first, physically and emotionally. Humiliating and degrading,
especially since there was no love in the acts we performed. He
wouldn't speak to me, except in the most vulgar terms, calling me a
slut, or a whore, or worse. I would never reply, never try to defend
myself from his accusations, or refuse his attentions. He was merely
using me for masturbation, I knew, or trying to punish me, but it was
the only part of him that I had left.

I didn't know how I felt about my baby, and that was a term that had
taken me some time to become accustomed to. My baby. For the first
month I'd hated it, the reason it was inside me was still too fresh
then. And fresh still, really; every time I saw myself, or touched
myself, or felt that fetus move I was reminded of my betrayal. But
I'd been changing. It was my baby inside me. It was a part of me,
half mine and half someone else's; a stranger's child. I tried not
to think about that. It was inside me, growing and sharing my blood. It
had made me ill with morning sickness and the emotional equivalent,
feeling sad and happy and a thousand different emotions in between, and
sometimes all at once.

I'd craved strange things as well, like applesauce with pepper on it.
Just black pepper, but a lot of it. I could eat a whole jar of
applesauce and use half the shaker of pepper on it. Part of me enjoyed
that, enjoyed all of it, but only secretly, only when my husband was at
work. We didn't sleep together then of course, he'd left me with
the master bedroom and taken one of the spares, the one we'd once
thought of turning into a nursery. But that had been so long ago,
almost a year before when we'd bought the house. Anything was
possible for us then and a nursery...

The time for abortion had passed, not physically, not quite yet, but
for all practical purposes, once people knew I was pregnant there
really was no going back. I thought I might have stayed home then, or
at least avoided going out in public as much as possible. Jack
wouldn't let me, however. We'd become somewhat close once more, or
at least civil, despite my swelling stomach. It had taken three months,
but now he was talking to me at least, even smiling on occasion, and it
filled me with hope for our future.

Our coming out, if you wanted to call it that, was at the party of a
friend of ours. It was a large barbecue with a lot of people we knew.
Jack's friends and coworkers, normal average people who knew nothing
about how I'd wanted to cut off my husband's balls and cuckold him
with another, more ardent lover. They could only see us as the
successful and happy young couple we were, beautiful people living the
American dream, and now almost obviously pregnant. Just showing enough
so that people would wonder and closer friends would ask, quietly in
case they were wrong. That would have been embarrassment that no one
needed. Thankfully for them I wasn't fat, although I silently wished
I were.

"Congratulations!" I could hear one of my husband's friends
saying, and the group of men around them echoed the sentiment. They
smiled and nodded and patted Jack on the back for a baby that wasn't
even his. I felt my cheeks flushing, but I blushed all the time for no
good account, and people assumed it was just part of my healthy
motherly glow.

"It isn't mine." Jack shrugged and he turned his head just
slightly to look at me. There was silence for a second, and then
laughter, of the nervous sort, when people hear a joke they don't
really understand. "She was fucking around, I don't know whose it
is. I'm not even sure if Lisa knows."

I stood there feeling all eyes drawn to me, staring and judging me. It
made me an instant imposter, a fraud and a fake. I'd been accepting
my own congratulations and smiles and hugs and kisses on the cheek. All
my friends, old and new, were so happy for us. For my husband and I,
and I'd smiled and thanked them for it, pretending that we were
blessed and happy with our good fortune. I had nothing I could say,
nothing I could do but stand there as tears filled my eyes, and then my
instincts kicked in...fight or flight, and I was running.

We left shortly after that. I'd been waiting in the car, crying and
hitting my stomach occasionally with weak and frustrated fists. I hated
myself, the thing inside me, my husband for being so cruel, my friends
and neighbors for their concern. I forgot what love was for those long
minutes I was alone. It ceased to exist.

"Maybe you should have gotten the abortion." My husband shrugged,
as if he didn't really care one way or the other. We were driving
home and I just stared out the window.

At least I knew now that I was totally alone in this. My husband
wasn't going to lie for me; he wasn't part of my infidelity and
wouldn't be in a conspiracy to cover it up. He wasn't my
accomplice, Dr. Prescott was, but I couldn't bear the thought of even
speaking to him, let alone seeing him again. I was alone with my child
and I'd set myself on a path. I'd decided to cheat, I'd
confessed, I'd stayed with Jack, and I'd decided to carry the child
to term. It was all one long road and I hoped it was the right one.

As soon as we were in the house Jack was turning me around, kissing me
hard. He hadn't kissed me in 12 weeks, not once in three months, but
he kissed me now. He'd just told the world that his wife was a
cheating slut and pregnant with a stranger's baby. I felt his tongue
pushing into my mouth, finding mine and wriggling against it. I was
moaning, clutching at him as I began crying again. I felt hot and
confused and desperate that he never let me go.

Jack's hands were under my skirt, moving up my thighs and I felt his
thumbs hooking my panties, pulling them down. He went lower with them,
kissing my neck, and breast through my blouse. I cradled his head,
breathing hard and lifting my legs as my panties fell down around my
ankles. I wanted to speak to him, to tell my husband how much I loved
him, how sorry I truly was. I wanted to beg him to make love to me,
real love for the first time since my confession.

My sex was on fire, quivering inside and I was radiating heat and
desire. I could feel my juices starting, the butterflies in my stomach.
He was going to do it, finally he'd forgiven me. He'd given me one
last punishment, telling everyone about the bastard in my belly, but
that was enough. He could forgive me now and I loved him for it. I
would have confessed myself, told everyone a thousand times if this
were the result. I couldn't bear any longer the awful separation from
my husband's love.

"Turn around...here...give me your ass..." My husband breathed,
standing behind me, pushing me so I was bent over the back of the sofa.

He wasn't going to make love to me. He was going to fuck me again,
that was all, and my heart sank and I felt a distant chill overcome the
fire inside. He hadn't forgiven me at all, I thought, this was just
another form of punishment. He'd kissed me like we were lovers once
more and I'd returned it with all of my heart, promising him anything
in return. He rejected it, or so it seemed to me at that moment,
pressing his penis against my anus and driving inside me easily.

I was well used to it, as he fucked me regularly there now. Where
before, when we'd been happily married, he would make love to my
vagina perhaps twice a month, three times if I was lucky, now we did it
in my ass everyday. Sometimes twice a day. But always in my ass,
although once in awhile he'd start or finish in my mouth. I groaned
as I felt my ass warming up, my muscles stretching and taking his
thickness easily. I fucked myself back against him, because it did feel
good for me. In the beginning it had hurt terribly and disgusted me,
and I'd found no pleasure in it, but as time went by I'd begun to
accept it and enjoy it as I said.

"Everybody knows..." Jack was telling me, grunting to punctuate his
words. "Everyone knows you're a slut...and a whore..."

"I'm sorry...Please..." I said the same things I always said,
reaching down to rub my clit. I hated his words, but I loved his touch.
Even like that, fucking my ass and saying the worst things I could
imagine, I loved him for it. I was going to cum and we both knew it. He
didn't care, or maybe he even liked that part of it now, I didn't
know. But he wouldn't stop me, he'd let me get off while he
punished me.

"You bitch...fuck me...harder...push it, Lisa...fuck me like you
fucked him, you cunt..." He slapped my ass hard, spanking me and that
was something new, only recently added to the experience and I found
myself enjoying that as well.

I rubbed myself furiously, feeling the blood rushing to my head as I
was pushed further over the soft cushioned back of the couch. My feet
came off the floor and I could feel the pressure on my stomach, on my
baby, but I didn't care. I was so close so quickly, his cock was
rubbing my pussy through the thin wall that separated them. His balls
slapped my sex and I was cumming, my body going rigid and my legs
coming up. I pressed my thighs together and tried to pull at him
awkwardly with my legs, bending my knees. I was lost to it when my
husband's cock began to spasm in my rectum, spilling his hot seed
into my ass.

We kissed often after that, at least during our sex. It was another
small step towards reconciliation, another proof of life that love
still existed for him. I longed for the day when he'd make love to me
face to face, kissing me as he entered my vagina. I should have gotten
the abortion, I knew, it would have changed everything, I thought. It
was just another mistake, and I'd made so many. I apologized to him
every time he fucked me, but he never said anything about it, never
accepted them or offered words of forgiveness. But he would, someday, I
was certain.

A few weeks after the party, my husband brought a friend home. A man he
worked with apparently and we'd been introduced at the party, but I
remembered little of that except my husband telling everyone I was
pregnant with another man's baby. I'd spent my time since then
avoiding my friends, although it wasn't entirely possible and our
chance meetings at the supermarket or the mall, or wherever, were
always awkward and humiliating for us. They were avoiding me as well,
and that helped.

We'd had dinner, my husband, his friend and I, and it had been
largely a solemn affair. My husband and I rarely spoke anyway, and then
only about the most practical things. His friend, Gary, spent much of
the meal looking at me, and I was red faced, looking down and wishing I
could make some excuse to leave the table. I was uncomfortable and
surprised that my husband would bring someone home like that. He had
friends, of course, but since I'd cheated on him, they had rarely
came around the house.

"Leave the dishes." My husband said after we'd finished eating.

"What? Why?" I stood there, clearing the table, holding plates in
my hands.

"I think Gary wants to fuck you now." My husband said
matter-of-factly, glancing at his friend who was smiling at me.

I almost dropped the dishes I was holding. My mouth opened and I stared
at my husband. He couldn't be serious. I must have heard him wrong,
or something. But I hadn't.

"Go on, take him upstairs. Might as well do it in our bed, right?"
My husband chuckled and I couldn't move.

"W-Why?" I asked him quietly, barely managing to get even that one
simple word out.

"Why what?" Jack narrowed his eyes. "You should know why, Lisa.
You of all people. It isn't like you haven't fucked a stranger
before, is it? So you tell me why, and then we'll both know."

"Uh, we drew straws." Gary said, looking a little apologetic
actually, and I sensed that this wasn't what he'd expected at all.

"What?" I stared at the man and my husband laughed.

"She probably didn't need to know that, buddy." But my husband
didn't seem to mind either; I just wish I knew exactly what Gary had
meant. I thought I had a pretty good idea though.

"Oh, uh...well. Maybe I should get going." Gary got up. "That was
a good dinner, Lisa." He was embarrassed and I was humiliated as
well, frightened and angry and utterly confused.

"Last chance, Lisa." My husband tilted his head. "Don't let him
get away, you know you want it."

Gary was leaving and my husband didn't bother showing him out. He
just sat there looking at me.

"Why would you do that?" I asked plaintively, my eyes wet with
tears and my bottom lip trembling. "Why?" I dropped the dishes,
letting them break on the hard kitchen floor and ran from the room, up
the stairs and into our bedroom. I fell into the bed sobbing, not
wanting to believe my husband could be that cruel, or that callous. He
didn't love me, not at all. He hated me. He'd offered me to his
friends and they'd drawn straws to see who would fuck me.

I was worthless to him.

My husband was in the room a few minutes later, grabbing me, pushing me
flat on my stomach and I didn't resist him. If he wanted to fuck me,
he could. I wasn't going to stop him, I never did. I even helped him
in fact, lifting my hips as he pulled my new maternity pants down my
legs and my panties with them. He'd hurt me bad, as bad as I'd hurt
him maybe, or perhaps not. I didn't know anymore what was fair and
what wasn't. I didn't know what I deserved for what I'd done. How
much was enough, I wondered, at what point did the scales of justice
balance? I had no idea and so I'd given that decision over to my
husband, for better or worse.

"Give me your hands...Give them to me!" Jack was pulling my wrists
and it took me a second to realize he was tying my hands together
behind my back.

"J-Jack...Wha...?"

"Shut-up. You don't wanna fuck, okay. How about this then?"
He'd tied my wrists tightly and now he was tying my ankles to the
foot of the bed, using curtain cord like he had on my wrists. I spread
my legs, not resisting him at all, but just exploring the new sensation
of having my hands bound together.

It was a little exciting, I admit, frightening too. I was still angry,
with both if us. Me for the same reasons as always, and with Jack for
not forgiving me, for tormenting me with that ludicrous scene in the
kitchen. It was juvenile, I thought, and unworthy of him. But it had
been a good punishment, a small voice reminded me. Another step closer
to redemption and maybe I should have...But I couldn't think like
that. It had been a test, nothing more. My husband testing me, trying
to see if I'd cheat on him maybe, or something else. I didn't know.

"I don't know about this BDSM stuff, Lisa." Jack had finished
with my legs and the cords were tight and biting into my flesh. I tried
pulling with my legs, but it was useless. Like my wrists, he'd tied
them well and I was not going to free myself, no matter how much I
struggled.

"I trust you." I said, turning my head to look at him and that
stopped him. I hadn't meant to say that, really. I don't know where
the words had come from, but as soon as I said them I knew they were
true. I did trust him, and even though he'd been cruel downstairs and
I was still angry with him for it, I was still in love with him as
well.

Jack didn't know what to say to me, so he said nothing at all. He
used a belt, one of his old ones, all brown leather and supple. I'd
never experienced anything like it before, not as a child or any other
time in my life. Jack whipped my bare ass with that belt hard, bringing
it down over his head with a faint whoosh that filled me with panic the
first time I heard it. And then the explosion of pain on my sensitive
skin. I screamed at that first touch of Jack's belt, and again at the
second, weaker with the third and then by the fifth or sixth lash I was
out of breath, only gasping sharply with every stroke.

It seemed my body was on fire and my skin felt wet somehow, so that I
was sure I was bleeding, but then that sensation would go away and I
felt something more like needles for a moment...The pain was changing
and I couldn't get a handle on it. I was writhing, twisting my body
as if I might avoid it somehow, but I couldn't. My legs were bound
tightly and my shoulders strained uselessly against the cords around my
wrists.

Jack gave me perhaps 2 dozen strokes, although I think we both lost
count very quickly after he started. I was bathed with pain and my
heart was pounding in my chest. I was breathing fire and when I felt my
husband's hand on my skin I yelped sharply, my body jerking against
the sensation. I had my eyes shut and they were wet, my nose was
running and my mouth was open. I felt weak and tired and I worried
briefly at the pressure on my tummy, but there was nothing to be done
for it.

"You liked it, huh?" Jack pressed his hand between my widespread
thighs, and I shuddered as we both realized I was soaked down there. My
pussy was excited, as much as it had ever been in my life. Jack slipped
a finger inside my sex and immediately my soft vaginal walls were
clasping him like a tender mouth, giving little spasms of pleasure at
his intrusion and begging for more.

"Ohhhh..." I moaned and lifted my pelvis, wishing he'd find my
clit as well. It was hard and throbbing. I'd never experienced
anything like what we'd just done and I was surprised when I realized
I'd never asked him to stop. Not once, I'd never even thought of
it. I'd enjoyed it, just as I was enjoying the way my ass burned now.
I could imagine the welts rising and I wished I could see them, or at
least feel them. I arched my back, twisting my head and then trying to
reach down further with my arms, but I got neither the view nor the
touch I desired.

"I like it too." Jack whispered and I hadn't noticed that he'd
undressed.

He brought his stiff cock to my ass again, like always, ignoring my
desperate longing to feel his penis in my cunt. He wasn't prepared to
give me that yet, but it was still good. Especially the way his body
felt against my tortured flesh. I must have had blisters at least,
perhaps I really had been cut somehow, I didn't know. I had no idea
what twenty-some lashes with a leather belt could do to my body. All I
knew was that I was cumming like crazy while he fucked me, riding my
burning ass slow and deep while he kissed my neck and cheeks and
shoulders.

It was very much like making love and I came for the first time in my
life without someone or something touching my pussy. There was a slight
bit of contact with the bed, but that was all, and not nearly enough to
bring me off by itself. My orgasm was coming from the pain of my
whipping, the feeling of my husband's cock moving gently in my ass,
and the sensation of his lips against my skin. He lasted a good long
time and by the end of it I felt closer to him then I'd ever felt
before. It made no sense to me; none whatsoever and I fell asleep with
him still inside me, refusing to go soft even after filling my ass with
his sperm. He was still there, covering me like a blanket, and moving
his hips so slowly it was like rocking me to sleep.

That was the first night we slept together since before I'd cheated
on him and it took me a moment to wake up to that knowledge. He'd
untied me at some point, and woken me up in the dark to fuck my ass
again; I remembered that like it was a dream. And now, waking up in the
soft morning light, I could feel him against my back, his morning
erection pressed between the tops of my thighs as we spooned. The tip,
the head of his cock was so close to my pussy. I moved slightly and
even reached down, wanting to put him inside me.

But I stopped. I couldn't do that. His cock wasn't mine to have,
not until he was ready to give it back to me. It was both frustrating
and thrilling to come to that decision. I knew it could be a long time,
perhaps not until after the baby was born, or even longer, before
he'd make real love to me again. But that was something I had to
accept, and my decision was the only one I could make if I truly
respected him.

"What are you doing?" Jack smiled at me as he opened the bathroom
door. He knew exactly what I was doing.

"Do you think I'm fat?" I said, as if that were my fascination
with the mirror.

"Nope." He shook his head. "I think you're slow."

"What about my ass?" I turned a little, sticking it out for him. I
might have gained some weight, I was 7 months pregnant and my tummy was
huge, but my ass was still perfect.

"Yeah, your ass is slow too." He chuckled and then ducked as I
reached for the little basket holding decorative designer soap.

"Alright, alright..." I sighed, taking one last look at my body in
the mirror.

Jack was waiting for me in our bedroom. "Here it is." He was
smiling, almost triumphantly.

"Hey, I thought I was supposed to open that!" I pursed my lips,
pouting slightly. He'd gotten the package three days before, but
wouldn't open it, telling me I could have the honors Friday night.
This night.

"You snooze you lose, baby." He shrugged and he had a point. I'd
been playing with my tummy for a long time after my bath. "Put it
on."

I looked at it, black and shiny, reflecting the bedroom lights like a
dark mirror, distorted and beautiful with its odd shape and contours.
It was a Latex body suit, designed to cover the body completely, except
for the hands and head.

"How?" I was holding it in my hands, turning it this way and that.

"There's a zipper, there along the back. And it stretches too,
see?" He pulled the material in his hands.

"I'm seven months pregnant, Jack." I giggled. "Nothing
stretches that much."

"This will, it's called Maternity Fetishwear." He grinned. "Try
it." He was holding up the little brochure catalogue the company had
included with the package. It had a picture of a very pregnant woman
encased in red, but I still had my doubts.

"Maternity Fetishwear?" I rolled my eyes. "Were they selling
bridges too?"

"Heh. Why, do you want one? Come on, I want to see you in it."

"Okay." I nodded. "You're gonna have to help me." And that
was no lie. The zipper was very fine and very well hidden, but didn't
open the body suit completely. Just from about the bottom of my
shoulder blades down along my spine to the small of my back. It
wasn't all that large of an opening, but thankfully it was extremely
elastic, much like a large balloon.

It was a little puzzle for us at first, and sort of a fun one as we
tried to figure out the best way to get me into the thing. I went feet
first, through the back, and that forked well except for my tummy. We
had to do some tugging to get the latex straight and even. "I'm
stuck."

I was standing there with my legs in the right places, but everything
else bunched around my much too big tummy.

"Hold on..." Jack got a good grip and started tugging at the
rubbery material, working it up slowly as I more or less wiggled and
giggled, shaking my head at the silliness of it all. It wasn't so
difficult, not as I'd imagined on first seeing it. I put my arms in
next and then my head. The material around my neck was tight, but not
constricting. The whole thing was rather pleasant actually after Jack
zipped me up. I was aware of it at first, naturally, but it soon felt
as if I were wearing nothing at all, with just a constant gentle
pressure on my skin that I enjoyed.

"I better not go into labor in this thing." I told my husband as I
worked my arms in. "You sure it's safe?"

"Yeah. Seven months, right?" He was teasing me; we knew how
pregnant I was down to the hour. "Wow." He stepped back, nodding at
me.

"If I have to go to the bathroom..." I made a little face.

I had to go a lot, usually, at least once an hour it seemed, but I
hadn't had a lot of water recently and if I held off at the club, I
might be good for a couple hours at a time. Maybe.

"Here..." Jack unzipped me. "Try getting out."

Taking the outfit off, at least enough so I'd be able to pee, was
easier than putting it back on. I just pulled my head out, then my
arms, and then just pulled the whole thing down. It was quite
surprising really; I'd imagined it being sticky or something.

"Oh, that's not bad. Ten seconds?" I smiled, feeling a little
relieved. But then I had to get back into it, and that was easier too,
now that I knew how it was supposed to go. I'd just need someone to
zip me up again.

I was encased in skintight black latex, all 5'4" of me, with my
swollen tummy and my perfect ass. My 34C breasts plump and aching,
pressing out and up nicely in the molded breast forms that stretched
around them. Add to that my gleaming boots, black leather with 4 inch
heels, and the black leather gloves that Jack laced up my forearms and
I was ready.

"These heels are going to kill me." I told my husband, standing up
cautiously. My back hurt bad enough just walking around barefoot. My
feet tended to swell a little too, but the boots still fit. I'd just
have to stay off my feet and I'd be fine. Mostly it was a morning
thing, although I didn't know why my feet would swell while I slept,
my hands too sometimes.

"Don't worry, you can sit down all night, nobody will mind." He
obviously liked the way my pregnant body looked as I stood there. I
could see the bulge in his trousers.

The heels arched my back even more than normal, pushing my pert round
ass out invitingly behind me, and my big round tummy and breasts out in
front of me. If I wasn't already pregnant, I thought, going around in
this outfit would soon get me that way. It just screamed for sex.

"What are you wearing?" I asked him; it had just then occurred to
me that he was still wearing the suit he'd come home from work in.

"Just this." He smiled at me. "It's only a Gathering, remember?
Not a Conventicle or anything."

"Gathering. Conventicle..." I rolled my eyes a little. "I don't
even know what that word means."

Jack just smiled patiently. "Yes you do."

"Then why am I getting all dressed up just for a Gathering?" I put
my hands on my hips and he laughed at me.

"Because, I want to show you off." He gave me a little sigh,
bringing a gentle hand to my face. "Your almost perfect, Lisa."

"Almost?" I gave him a look, trying not to smile.

"Put on some lipstick. I'll get your collar." He kissed my
forehead. "Then you'll be perfect.

We'd started playing with BDSM mostly just to punish me, I think.
After I'd found out I was pregnant, my husband had looked for ways to
hurt me, both physically and emotionally. Perhaps he'd been trying to
drive me away, I think so sometimes, but I couldn't be sure. He'd
never explained himself to me and I was afraid to ask. It had begun
with spanking during sex, and then progressed to whipping me with a
belt, and then a cane. He used clamps on my breasts and labia, dripped
wax on my body, especially my stomach as it grew ever larger, and we
practiced various forms of bondage.

It was perfect for us. He had Dominant desires that he'd never
expressed or explored, and in me he found a true submissive, although
we were still learning. We'd been 'active' with the local BDSM
club for just 2 months and we weren't even full members yet. We spent
Friday and Saturday nights attending the club's events, introducing
ourselves and meeting the regular members. We seemed to be popular,
being young and attractive and eager to learn. Eventually we'd become
full members and then we'd be able to go to what were called the
Canticles, which were for members only and selected guests. Jack and I
had been to a few of those, and they should have been called orgies,
probably, because it was all about the sex. Even when there wasn't
any sex, which sounds strange, but true.

Jack had come around slowly, and he hadn't actually told me I was
forgiven yet for plotting to cut off his balls and cheating on him. And
actually, 'plotting' to castrate him is overstating it. I was just
curious about it really, but my curiosity had led me into the waiting
arms of Dr. Prescott. I'd had just that one moment of weakness, but
it had been enough to get me pregnant with his baby, and that was a
harsh betrayal of everything I loved. Most especially my husband. So, I
didn't blame Jack for taking his time with me, and even for pushing
me away the way he had. I was just glad he was taking me back, slowly
but surely.

For a time there, the first few months, he'd been almost cruel the
way he distanced himself from me and we'd only grown close again once
we discovered BDSM and how much we both loved it when he punished me.
It was incredible the way our sex life had changed, the one part of our
life together that I'd been unhappy with. Ever since the night I'd
confessed my infidelity, the night I gave Jack a reason to treat me as
something less than equal, he'd been as lustful and ardent as anyone
I could imagine. We had sex almost daily, sometimes several times a
day, but he refused to make love to me vaginally. He told me my cunt
was dirty, another man had been there, and so he'd only fuck my ass
or mouth.

I was hoping that would change soon.

I sat down at my vanity, rather enjoying the way that rubbery material
seemed to be a part of me. It was cool too, I was afraid I'd start
sweating inside it, but I guess whoever designed such things knew what
they were doing, it breathed amazingly well. I suppose they put
millions of little microscopic holes in it or something, too small to
see, but able to let the air reach my skin. I don't know how they do
stuff like that. They charged enough for it though, that was for sure.

Jack sat on the bed watching me as I pinned my hair up first, pulling
it back severely from my face. That seemed to look best with my new
gleaming black skin. Then mascara and eye shadow, a lot of eye shadow,
which I normally avoid. But for some reason the club people loved that
stuff, and it was fun to get really painted up once in awhile. I
reached for my lipstick, digging through a dozen of them for the
reddest red I could find, something called 'Emphatic Cerise' and I
paused for a second before putting it on my lips, catching Jack's
reflection in my mirror.

"Do you want me to..." I looked pointedly at my husband's crotch.

"We don't have time." My husband said, but he sounded unsure of
himself to me.

"It's just a Gathering, remember?" I licked my lips and my voice
was soft and husky. "We can be a little late."

"Yeah." Jack agreed, and that was surprisingly easy, but I didn't
mind. I knew he was very happy, like a child at Christmas.

He stood up, unzipping his pants as he walked over to me and I put my
lipstick down, feeling my heart picking up speed. Anything I could do
for him, anytime, anywhere, that was what I lived for now. It was what
I loved, and how I demonstrated my love. It had taken months to get to
the point where we were finally a husband and wife again, with only the
fetus in my womb, and Jack's unwillingness to take my pussy,
remaining between us. I prayed that when the one went away, the other
would soon follow. After I had my baby and I'd put it up for
adoption, I was sure Jack would forgive me completely. He'd fuck me
again, the way I really wanted him to, deep in my sweltering cunt.

"This won't take long..." Jack breathed with a rueful smile.
"You're so beautiful like that, Lisa."

Before my infidelity I'd never sucked a cock in my life. Jack had
never wanted anything more than intercourse, and that only once in
awhile. My previous boyfriends, of which there weren't many anyway,
had asked for head on occasion, but failed to persuade me to try it.
Jack had simply taken my mouth one night, without asking, just pulling
my mouth to his penis, and I'd been so desperate to please him any
way I could that I'd surrendered myself completely. I'd felt
humiliated by the experience, finding it degrading, especially when
Jack had finally ejaculated in my mouth, but looking back I realize
that I'd enjoyed that part of it as much, or maybe even more than any
other.

I sucked him off regularly now and I was good at it. I was even a
little proud of my newfound abilities. I knew what my husband liked and
it was a little game between us, Jack trying to hold out as long as
possible, while I did my very best to make him cum quickly. More often
than not we both won, as filling my hungry mouth with sperm, or
sometimes pulling out so he could shoot on my pretty face, was always
good for him. And for me as well.

Jack's penis wasn't overly large, certainly nothing like
Prescott's had been, but I rarely thought of the good doctor as
anything but the device that had put my baby in my tummy. He wasn't a
person to me, not anymore. I didn't like him or dislike him. My
husband was the only man I loved and his cock was perfect for me, even
average as it was. I could take all of him in my mouth, the head
entering my throat, and we both enjoyed that quite a lot. So far as I
was concerned he was the perfect size for me.

But before taking him in my throat, I just played with his smooth round
cockhead, taking it in my mouth and running my tongue around, tickling
the underside and sucking him gently. Then a little more, sliding my
lips down the thick hard shaft an inch and then back, slowly, looking
up at him so my husband could see the pleasure in my eyes as I serviced
him. I would go a little deeper, occasionally, pulling him from my
mouth so I could lick and kiss along the length of his penis, sliding
the warmth of him across my lips and face. I loved sucking my
husband's cock, and when I took him back in my mouth I went all the
way down.

I opened my throat, swallowing around the tip and taking him all the
way inside until my face was pressed to his trousers. My nose went into
the soft nest of his pubic hair, and I pushed my tongue out, underneath
his cock so I could lick the base of his penis with just the tip. He
always loved that and I could feel his gentle hands on my head. He was
murmuring to me, giving me soft words of encouragement, and moaning as
I worked my mouth up and down.

After just a few minutes he was fucking my mouth, holding my head still
and thrusting with his hips. The wet sound of his cock plunging into
the wet confines of my mouth filled the room and I had my hands on his
thighs, squeezing him as my heart raced. He was close now, and I
squirmed a little, feeling my sex growing moist. My baby gave me a
little kick, perhaps awoken by the excitement I was feeling inside. I
was so hungry for my husband's cum suddenly, I wanted to drink him
and feel his sperm warm in my stomach.

"Ohhh...fuck yeah..." Jack pushed his cock into my throat and
suddenly erupted with his orgasm. I could feel his penis between my
tight lips and over my tongue, pulsing and jerking slightly with every
spurt of semen, shooting straight into my tummy. I could taste him only
slightly, and that was the only thing I regretted. When he came like
that, with his entire cock inside me, I couldn't get his sperm in my
mouth. I couldn't play with it and savor the taste and texture before
swallowing it. All I would get would be the remnants, the last few
drops leaking from his penis as he reluctantly pulled away. That was
only enough to whet my appetite and I wished we'd had time for more.

I wore a long raincoat, wrapping it around my body, since walking
around in skintight rubber was probably not the best thing to do, even
for that city. The club was called the 'Pacific Northwest Power
Exchange' or just 'The PX' since that was much easier to say, and
members came from as far away as Vancouver, Spokane, and Portland. They
held meetings in an old warehouse, all red brick and mortar dating from
the Alaskan gold rush, when Seattle had really been booming. It was
downtown, just south of the Pike Street Market, and the street level
had been converted into stores. There was a Starbucks, a bookstore, and
an art gallery, all very eclectic and usual for trendy Seattle.

The upstairs of the building, however, more resembled a country club
than anything else, once you passed through the foyer. There were
half-a-dozen private rooms, a large socializing room, and a room that
looked like a corporate boardroom of all things, all leading from the
main area. Bathrooms, a changing area, there was even a combination
kitchen/bar to provide drinks and light refreshments. I didn't know
if the place was rented or owned by the club, but I suspected the
latter. Considering the cost of a membership, the club could certainly
afford it. Not everyone who belonged was rich, but I don't think
anyone was poor either, although I'd been told that dues could be
waived under certain circumstances.

The only bad thing about the place was the parking. There were a lot of
small clubs nearby, and the piers were just down the street, and
Seattle has always had a serious lack of space anyway.

"I'm not going to walk a mile in these shoes." I told my husband
and he was nodding, his lips compressed the way they get when he's
feeling frustrated.

"I could make you crawl." He suggested, and I wondered for a second
if he was serious, but of course he wasn't. It would ruin my new
expensive outfit.

"Next time we'll take a taxi." I said, knowing it wasn't
helping us this time, but I had little else to contribute.

"Here, I'll drop you off, you can go inside and I'll park the
car." My husband had been driving around in ever widening circles and
now we were back at the club's entrance, a smoked glass door up a few
steps between the art gallery and the bookstore.

"I don't want to go in by myself." I protested, but I wasn't
going to walk very far in those heels either. I should have worn flats
and changed once we got here, another lesson learned.

"It's okay, I'll be quick, I promise." He gave me a little
reassuring smile. "Don't be shy, go on..."

"We'll get in trouble." I said, frowning back at him.

"Not if you stay in the foyer." Owned slaves and submissives
weren't supposed to attend alone, or even be alone. The club believed
that girls like me required constant supervision, like we might get
into trouble or break something. That thought made me smile at least,
and Jack was right, so long as I remained outside the club proper we
weren't breaking any rules.

I stepped out of the car reluctantly and Jack waited until I'd
entered the building before driving off. Thankfully there was an
elevator inside, one of those large freight elevators originally, but
it had been redone so it was rather like stepping into a small
comfortable room. There was only one button to be pushed and a moment
later the doors opened to the foyer. A rather plain space with little
more than a leather bench, a fake potted plant and an unmarked door
with a magnetic card reader on the wall next to it. Jack had our card,
so I couldn't have gotten into the club anyway, although I suppose I
could have knocked, or waved at the security camera perched in one of
the corners near the ceiling. But I doubt anyone would have let me in.

So, I sat down to wait, feeling rather lonely and even a bit silly for
no particular reason. I had my hands in the pockets of my coat and I
hugged it around me, crossing my legs at the thighs, but that was
uncomfortable, pushing up on my tummy a little the way it did. It was
strange the way being pregnant changed even the little things.

A few minutes later the elevator was moving, I could hear it and I knew
it couldn't be my husband coming up already. He was going to park at
the garage up the hill, about 4 blocks away. It would take him about 15
minutes I thought, hopefully no longer than that.

There was some soft female laughter as the doors opened and I didn't
want to be looking at the elevator, but there was little else in the
room to occupy someone's attention, so I was inspecting the plant
when I heard a man's voice that sent chills up my spine.

"Well, what have we here?" He said.

"Maybe she's lost." The woman giggled.

"Quiet." The man said and I looked up at him in disbelief, unable
to help myself. "I know you." Dr. Prescott smiled, his eyes
narrowing slightly. He was wagging a finger at me, trying to remember
something. "Karen?"

I swallowed hard and I couldn't breathe. It seemed that rubber outfit
was suddenly much too tight for me; I was being squeezed inside it,
constricted and trapped. My heart was pounding and all I could do was
stare at the man I'd only met once, seven months ago. The father of
the baby growing inside me.

"Lisa." I whispered and I was blinking rapidly, hoping I wouldn't
cry.

"Lisa, yeah, sorry. You looked like a Karen for a second there." He
chuckled and was just as handsome as I remembered him to be, even more
so because I hadn't really wanted to remember him at all. His smile
was genuine and intoxicating and I swallowed nervously.

They were both dressed casual, much more so than I was. The doctor in
dark slacks and a mustard t-shirt with an open black sports coat, his
companion wearing an emerald blouse that matched her eyes, with a short
black leather skirt and low heels. She wore black stockings with red
garters that were plainly visible, and in the small gap between the
tops of her stockings and her skirt I could see her soft white skin. It
was a nice look, kind of sexy, but restrained too. At least compared to
me.

"She looks terrified." The woman said, no longer laughing, just
smiling. "First time?" She was a tall redhead with green cat-like
eyes, rather striking with her hair falling long and straight around
her pretty face.

"What are you doing here?" I asked him weakly; thinking this had to
be a dream, or some kind of a joke.

"Lisa, this is my wife and lower half, Angela..."

"Lower half?" She gave her husband a little frown and then smiled
at me, stepping closer to offer me her hand.

"...Lisa consulted with me about her husband." He smiled.
"Briefly."

"I'm Angie, totally sub, but don't let him fool you. He thinks
I've got 'owned and operated by Paul' tattooed on my ass."

"Paul?" I asked and then forgot about it as I pulled my gloved
right hand free of my pocket, shaking with the woman briefly.

"So, how is your husband these days?" Dr. Prescott was asking.

"Oh my, your pregnant?" Angela was staring at me. "I heard about
you."

"Heard about me?" I wasn't sure what that meant. I guess my
oversized coat had hidden my tummy well enough, being loose and sort of
bunched around me as I'd sat there. I'm sure they weren't looking
for me to be pregnant either, and people tend to see what they expect
to see at first.

"Pregnant?" Prescott nodded with another smile. "I guess that
answers the husband question."

"From some of the other members." Angela sat down next to me,
taking my hand. "That's so cool, can I see?"

I felt numb mostly, sitting there with Dr. Prescott and his beautiful
wife, pregnant with his child and they had no idea. The man had
forgotten all about me, even my name, and it would probably never occur
to him that the one time he'd fucked me I'd gotten pregnant. He
probably seduced a dozen women a week, for all I knew, and that would
make it a little hard to remember every frustrated housewife who fell
for his charm and looks. Not that I'd made it very hard for him
though, if the thought of refusing him had ever entered my mind, I
couldn't remember it.

Maybe the worst part of it was that I hadn't even known his first
name, which struck me very hard for some reason. I think it was just
the idea that I'd carried the man's baby for seven months already
and just now I was learning from his wife that his name was Paul. Paul
Prescott. My mind formed the words that I doubted my lips could ever
say. I was frightened and humiliated, blushing beneath his smile and
Angela's eager attention. There was confusion in my head as every
emotion you could imagine struggled to be heard. My body too was
struggling to maintain its composure. My tummy was doing somersaults,
my lungs refusing to work, and my heart just going as if I were in a
marathon.

I found myself standing up, at Angela's insistence and she helped me
with my coat, slipping it off my shoulders so they could see me fully.
It was like being naked, I suddenly realized, with another flash of
heat across my skin. The latex was so tight, so perfectly fitted that
every part of me was rendered in gleaming black. My hard puffy nipples
were outlined, my bellybutton, even my sex, my plump labia and the
cleft of my slit defined precisely. But obviously it was the round full
swell of my stomach that drew the eye and seemed so incongruous with my
small sexy body.

"You are so beautiful, my god. Look at her, Paul. Have you ever seen
anything like that?" She was serious and her husband nodded his
agreement, both of them drinking me in with their eyes.

"Thank you." I said, barely able to even whisper.

"I wish I could have a child." She was looking in my eyes. "Can I
touch you? Please?"

"Angela can't have children." Her husband explained, without
really explaining anything.

The woman touched my stomach tentatively, with just her fingertips at
first. Her eyes were focused on me, narrowed as her lips parted
slightly with anticipation. And then she was smiling as she pressed her
hand lightly to my body, smiling up at me suddenly.

"Is it moving? I felt it move...Didn't I?" She glanced over her
shoulder at Dr. Prescott for a second before I answered.

"Yeah. It's awake." I nodded and I couldn't help but smile too,
it was impossible not to.

"I had a miscarriage, when I was young..." Angela laughed
nervously, "...too young, and now..." She sighed wistfully, rubbing
my stomach with both hands. "You're so lucky. Take care of it. Take
really good care of it." Her green eyes were shining and so intense
that I thought she was close to tears.

How could I ever tell this woman that it was her husband's baby
inside me? I'd tried to forget him for so long, and when I couldn't
I wanted to hate him, and finally just felt nothing towards him. And
tonight, for a few seconds I'd felt hate, and I wanted to hate Angela
as well. But now I couldn't. I couldn't hate either of them, all I
felt was sympathy for the woman, and when I glanced at Dr. Prescott all
I could see was love and empathy for his wife on his handsome features.
I didn't understand what I was feeling or why. I didn't understand
how he could cheat on her the way he had. Sex with me had been nothing
to him, so why would he hurt her like that?

"So are you here with your husband?" Dr. Prescott asked me, feeling
impatient perhaps, although it was hard to tell.

"Jack." I licked my lips.

"Right." He nodded.

"He's parking the car." I took a ragged breath, feeling so
nervous I wanted to throw up talking to the man while his wife held me.
She'd put her right arm around my shoulder, hugging me a little,
while her left hand continued to rub my tummy.

"He sounds like a gentleman." Angela smiled at me. "A woman in
your condition shouldn't be walking too far. And those heels!" She
practically gasped, but the sparkle in her eyes told me she was teasing
me.

"He's nice." I agreed. "And these are a little hard on my back,
yeah." I laughed, feeling up and down all at once. Angela was doing
her best to relax me, just by being herself, and yet the presence of
her husband was like a shadow looming above me, making me cold all
over.

"You should let Angie give you a massage." Dr. Prescott was leaning
against the wall near the elevator. "She's a chiropractor, make you
feel like a new woman."

"Really?" I looked at her. "You're a doctor too?" She
didn't look like a doctor, but she wasn't exactly dressed for the
office either.

"Uh-huh, I do a lot of rehabilitation work at UMC, but I have my own
office in Renton." She moved slightly and then smiled, rolling her
eyes. "I was going to give you a card, but I left my purse in the
car."

"Me too, that's okay."

"Oops...going down." Dr. Prescott, Paul, said with a grin. There
was a distant bell and the elevator hummed to life. "Maybe that's
your husband now."

I felt my heart skip a beat, really finally realizing that my husband
was actually going to meet the man who had planted the child growing in
my womb. I wondered if I could dare tell Jack, or if I should try and
speak with Paul first. Or if I should keep all of this to myself and
pray it never came out.

The elevator stopped and a moment later it was moving again, rising
slowly. Coming closer and I closed my eyes, feeling like the absolute
coward I was.

I didn't want to hurt Angela, nor did I feel hatred, or even anger at
Paul. I didn't know what I felt about him. I respected my husband
though and I loved him too much, it would be impossible I thought to
hide me nervousness. He'd know something was wrong and he wasn't
blind or stupid, he'd figure it out probably, even if I didn't say
a word.

I was looking down. It seemed sometimes as if I were always looking
down, ever since that day seven months previously when I'd allowed
myself to be seduced so easily by Dr. Paul Prescott. It had felt good
at the time and that was really my only excuse, which was no excuse at
all. I'd suffered with guilt ever since, for cheating on my husband,
for betraying my family and my upbringing. For very nearly throwing
away everything that was truly important to me. Just for a few moments
of pleasure? It wasn't a very good deal.

The worst part, maybe, was the baby in my womb. It wasn't my
husband's child and he knew it. Telling him that I was pregnant had
been even more difficult than telling him that I'd cheated on him.
He'd punished me for it, as a real man should I think. As anyone
should. If I'd caught him making love to his secretary, or over
dinner he confessed that he'd gotten another woman pregnant, would I
have been so lenient as he'd been with me? He hadn't kicked me out,
afterall, he hadn't screamed, or broken anything. He hadn't slapped
my face. He'd just ignored me for awhile and perhaps that had been
worse.

But we were married, we were in love, and my guilt and remorse were
evident, so he'd begun to forgive me. Not completely, I thought, not
yet, but it was coming. The day when it would be alright again, when he
could really love me and trust me again. The day when he could respect
me, and then too would I be able to respect myself.

End Chapter 2

-- 
Pursuant to the Berne Convention, this work is copyright with all rights
reserved by its author unless explicitly indicated.
+---------------------------------------------------------------------------+
| alt.sex.stories.moderated ------ send stories to: <story-submit@asstr.org>|
| FAQ: <http://assm.asstr.org/faq.html> Moderators: <story-admin@asstr.org> |
+---------------------------------------------------------------------------+
|ASSM Archive at <http://assm.asstr.org>   Hosted by <http://www.asstr.org> |
|Discuss this story and others in alt.sex.stories.d; look for subject {ASSD}|
+---------------------------------------------------------------------------+