Delilah

Some part of Delilah wanted to be angry at Tom, or at least annoyed that he was clearly enjoying himself and not even trying to appear otherwise, but she couldn’t seem to dredge up the energy. She was more focused on pulling her skirt back down and straightening up her dress, anyway. At least until Dearborne called Lydia to heel. He little more than waved his hand and she returned to him, dropping to her knees with her hands behind her back. Something about the pair was inherently frightening, threatening in a way Delilah couldn’t pin down.

Her mind was yanked away from that by her husband, and she gawked at him in stunned disbelief. ”BDSM and all that?” she aped him, her voice unsteady, but clear. ”What do you know about it?”

Dearborne stole her attention back when Delilah felt the weight of his gaze. He answered her husband’s question, and a little light bulb clicked on for her. He means me, she thought, horrified at the realization. He was calling her a sex slave, not just Lydia. Did Tom even realize? Had he even noticed the way Dearborne was looking at her, or were his eyes glued to Lydia’s ass again?

A few seconds later, none of that mattered. Her frayed nerves were rubbed just a little more raw by the announcement that she had tried to seduce Dearborne, and then a damn, candid camera review of the embarrassingly lacking attempt. Delilah’s stomach twisted while she watched herself blunder the attempt. She’d left his office looking like a frightened doe, not a single ounce the confident woman of influence she imagined herself to be. Lydia, at least, seemed to have had some metal in her when she’d failed.

Delilah kept her eyes down and locked on the document that had been placed before her. It read like a standard contract for the most part, at least the first page. Which she had read over twice by the time the things Dearborne was saying really started to sink in. He liked Tom, liked his work… which may have meant her ridiculous scheme had been as pointless as it was foolhardy. What she had done had put Dearborne in the position of either firing Tom, or wrapping them up on some society… to what, make sure they held their tongues?

She was glaring at the man when he turned to look at her, startling her with the bold and blatant lust in his eyes. It drained all the bolstering outrage right out of Delilah. Her heart jumped up into her throat and tried to stutter to a dead stop. He was speaking to Tom… but he was talking to her. Telling her exactly what he wanted, and what was going to happen once he got what he wanted. He was going to make her into a slave. Shape her to be like Lydia. Make her into his play thing for five years. And barter and loan her body at his will? She pressed a had to her stomach, thinking for a moment that she felt like she was going to be sick. The churning in her belly was a maelstrom of emotions she couldn’t name. Her body was just as conflicted. She was hot and cold, thrilled and repulsed, and she couldn’t seem to make the room stop spinning.

What have I gotten us into?...

Delilah was snapped out of the quagmire of her own mind when she noticed movement. And just in time for Dearborne to shamelessly cover her breasts with his hands. She regretted not wearing a bra, or more layers in general. Anything to have put a better defense between her body and his touch. Her hands grabbed at his wrists and pushed uselessly, hating herself when his grip on her nipples made her gasp and whine. An echo of sensation flared between her legs and she pressed her thighs more tightly together.

Her eyes met his again as he spoke and his voice worked its magic on her yet again, but it was his hand closing around her neck that made her go suddenly very quiet and very still. Something primal and unknown uncurled somewhere in the back of her mind, to lift up its head and pay attention to what was happening. It snarled, and the sound that left Delilah’s throat startled her so much that she snapped out of it. Whatever had come over her had left, and that sense of panic and confusion came back.

Dearborne turned his attention away and Delilah followed his gaze… to Tom, and Lydia. She sat astride his lap, one hand cupping his crotch while her lips where at his ear. Deli could see the blonde was whispering something – something Tom very obviously liked hearing. The sense of betrayal that hit her made her feel ashamed of herself. She was being a hypocrite, wasn’t she? It didn’t matter why she’d decided to try to seduce Dearborne, she’d been stepping out on Tom. Could she fault him for acting like a rutting teenager with Lydia literally petting his balls?

Yes I can, she decided. I wasn’t doing it for fun. I wasn’t there for me. I was there for him! And when Dearborne seduced me instead… At least I had the grace to resist, at least I tried not to want him!

A few final words, and the pair of hell spawn set loose upon humanity finally left the room. Delilah was up and out of her chair almost as soon as the door closed. She didn’t even glance at the documents. One hand ran through her hair, upsetting the understated up-do and making her wince when some of the pins pulled and stabbed her scalp. Cussing, she started to pace, working out all the anxiety, fear, and desire that was driving her crazy.

“Of our own free will and not under duress,” she muttered to herself, ”the pompous ass. What is this if not duress? He’s holding your job hostage!” Delilah shivered and wrapped her arms around her waist. Parts of Dearborne’s speech were replaying themselves in her mind. She’d been right, he’d started with his final offer, and he’d left before she had a chance to get a single word in edgewise.

” I like you Tom, I like your work, but now, if they were o ever leak, say you were drunk and you told the story, it would put me in a compromising situation..”

Guilt welled up hard and fast, the sudden intensity of it making her eyes burn with the threat of tears. She blinked quickly to kill them, and then swallowed as she pushed the emotion back down. She wasn’t going to be ruled by them, not now. Still, she felt awful as she turned to face Tom. ”Honey, I… I’m so sorry. I got us into this mess. I wanted to help… God, it was so stupid. I was so stupid. I’m sorry you worked so hard just for it to end like this. I- I’ll take extra shifts, there’s always overtime. If I push over 60hrs a week I’ll make almost what you were. It can keep us afloat for a while. I think we… Tom?” He wasn’t looking at her. He was reading the document. Something colder than ice slid down her spine. “Tom, are you listening to me?”

Tom

Tom was not thinking clearly he knew. He might even regret what might happen in the future. He had no idea how he had been set up by Dearborne. How the wine had been more potent than the taste. How he dangled Lydia before him light a tempting treat, and planted the idea he could have her, tonight in fact, if he were to agree. Lastly was both the implication if it had not been for his wife he might have had a shot at the position. In reality he had not. His performance reviews were not outstanding. Now instead the blame was shifted from his own lack of performance to his wife's attempt to seduce Dearborne. All of it pressure to get Tom to agree and sign the agreement.

Just as Marcus designed.

Tom did not give an ugly look towards his wife, but it was not one of sympathy either. He went through the document and started to read it. He would ignore her for the moment as he took in the document in detail. It was thorough he had to admit. The sections did detail what all would be expected of them both. For Tom it listed his professional duties and salary which did not change, but he heard tales of others who lost about ten percent of their pay with the merger. Still even if he had lost some salary, it beat not having a job at all.

He went through the sections detailing out what his wife's terms of service would be. There would never be any public exposure outside of this...Society. Nothing which would jeopardize her own social standing. Her healthcare would be fully covered and would be on birth control. There would even be a process to harvest her eggs and store them in the event of unforeseen medical issues which would prevent her from having children after her contract was up.

They also detailed out as far as what they would consider punishments and what was allowed and not allowed. All was done to be certain harm was not done to her person. They did specify the difference between harm and hurt. He supposed he should feel some sympathy for her about enduring pain, but with a seed of anger inside of him, he was not opposed to her suffering a bit of pain. He was being unfair, he knew. She might not be able to help her reaction to Dearborne any more than he could to Sewell, but in his mind the difference was he had Sewell's tits and ass thrust in his face, while his wife had been the one to try to seduce the man himself.

He finally could not put off his wife anymore. His speech was not longer slurred, but if one would put him to a breathalyzer test, he likely would have failed. His tone was flat, almost calm as he did not want his anger to break through. "He might not have been before, but your actions made certain he is now. I did not ask you to do this, and would have liked for you to have more faith in me. Tell me, was it me keeping my job which was going through your mind, or the fact we would have had to sell the house, your memberships to your charity boards, looking bad to your high society friends who always thought you were not one of them because you married me and my job wealth."

He looked at her now. There was a look of intensity in his eyes, both pain, a bit of anger, and resignation. "You could work overtime, but how long will your company pay for that? One month, two at most and then where would we be? Worse off than now. More so as if we throw this in his face, who is to say he will not take it personally? How many doors will be slammed in my face because he put in the word to one of his "friends". As part of my exit from the company I might have to sign a non-compete contract, meaning I would need to change industries from communications to something else. We would be ruined."

Their savings account was nothing to write home about as they did at times live slightly above their means. They had some IRA's but those would go fairly fast. Two to three years at most. Deliliah was aware of their finances as he was. "What he is offering us is a lifeline. If you read the details of the contract you do get paid for each public Society event you attend, and paid well, a grand a night. If we cut our spending and start putting away money in the five years we can be better set up for us to leave this job behind. Less than five years even."

He again stuck his finger to the contract. "I can possibly reduce your time served by months for every company business goal they meet every year. My work can be traced back to being the reason for achieving said goal. I can rededicate myself to my work, and we finish this faster than the five years." There was a flaw there somewhere. If such was possible then why was Lydia still a slave to Marcus? Had not her husband had the same contract? How come he did not fight for his wife through his work.

Tom either did not notice or did not care as he turned to Delilah as he said. "Its only sex Del. Besides, it is not like you would not enjoy it. If he has a woman like Lydia Sewell gagging for it from him then he must be good in bed. I know you think so." He made a motion towards the screen and towards her chair. "I know you Del. I know your body language. You wanted him to take you in his office, and not because you were only trying to save my job. The sound you made when he was touching you there in the chair."

He let it drop there, and knew what was about to come from her about his actions with Lydia. He raised his hands defensively. "Yes I know I have been staring at Lydia all night, but you did the same with Dearborne. I noticed it when you did not think he was looking. As far as touching her, it was a reaction, much like how you did when he touched you. Now, I am going to sign this. Are you going to or not?

Delilah

It was that tone. That disappointed, disgusted tone in Tom’s voice, that made Delilah’s blood turn suddenly cold. An ache built in her chest as he spoke, guilt and shame constricting around her heart even as shock, outrage, and denial warred within her. He wasn’t wrong that she didn’t want to lose those things – their home, her hobbies – but that wasn’t why she’d done what she had. And it wasn’t because she hadn’t had faith in him. He’d had no faith in himself and she’d wanted to help. It had been stupid. And reckless. She could admit that. And she wished she’d never done it. But he had her reasoning all wrong.

Delilah meant to say as much, but Tom looked at her and her words died in her throat. The hurt and anger that was coiling up in her own belly was reflected back at her in his eyes. He kept talking, and as she did, she began to realize her husband had already made up his mind. He’d already decided what he was going to do, and he didn’t plan on discussing it. Tom was laying out his arguments for exactly why he thought she should shut up and sign the damn contract.

His diatribe only picked up momentum and fervor as he went. The more animated and earnest Tom became, the colder and more distant Delilah felt. He did bring up some fine arguments along the way. He was right, there was no telling how long she would be allowed to pull doubles or more, even if they were always begging for people to volunteer for overtime. Dearborne could take the rejection personally and go out of his way to ruin Tom’s reputation. It was possible, although she realized that she doubted he would. It didn’t seem like the man’s style. He wasn’t small and petty. Why would he bother wasting his energy like that? Tom would, she realized with a guilty kind of horror at herself. Her husband was a small man that wore perceived slights as life-long grudges, so he expected it of others.

They would pay her for public events, he made sure to say, mentioning just how much she could make per night. Even told her what they could do with the money if they saved it. Another part of her heart was chipped off, a chunk of red ice that hit the floor at her feet. He wanted to take the money she made from having her body loaned out and save it up as insurance against losing his job in the future? Oh, but wait, if he performed well, he could reduce her sentence. If he performed well. If he actually promoted growth and advancement for the company. Those very things he’d been failing to do to save his own skin. Delilah found herself wondering if she really believed he’d put everything he had into his career, or if he’d just complained loudly and she’d taken it on faith. If he hadn’t been motivated enough to perform well to save himself, should she trust he’d do it to save her?

”It’s only sex, Del.”

Another crack tore through her heart, her chest tightening so much she felt like she couldn’t breathe through the ache of it. More frozen chunks fell away, and she was shattered. Again, she opened her mouth to defend herself. Again, Tom silenced her and marched on, cutting off the arguments he thought she meant to make. Finally, he reached the point of his little speech. He was going to sign, and he wanted her to sign it, too.

How had this happened? Deli stood there looking at her husband as if she’d never seen him before. She couldn’t understand it. Couldn’t understand him. For his job, and a chance to enjoy Lydia and any number of other women, and maybe have some kind of revenge, he was going to sell her to Dearborne, and through him, anyone else that wanted to use her. How had this happened? Had she hurt him that terribly, or was this just another example of his smallness. Was this how a man in love reacted, with a callous disregard of the depravity his woman would be subjected to?

It’s only sex.

A silent sob lodged in her throat, and Delilah swallowed to murder it before it could escape. The pain in her chest was awful, a mirror of the twisting nausea in her gut, but she refused to let an ounce of it show. Tom wasn’t going to see her weakness, she refused to give him that. Instead, she latched on to her anguish and ruthlessly strangled it into silence.

“If that’s what you want… I’ll sign it.” She said, as calmly as if he’d asked her to cook chicken instead of beef for dinner. As she spoke, her hands moved, reaching behind herself for the hidden zipper at the back of her dress to glide it down. The soft fabric peeled back from her skin as it loosened, and then she let it slide to the floor in a heap. Naked apart from the simple silver necklace and earrings she wore, Delilah felt something so odd it nearly broke her resolve – something like freedom, she thought. Or very close to it. She didn’t understand it, and in that moment, didn’t have the time to try.

Picking up a pen, she walked back to her seat and leaned over the table. She was almost too aware of her breasts and the way they swayed, the cool air helping to darken that honey color that tipped them into a darker brown around the cherry red of her nipples. “I won’t even hold up your evening with Lydia by reading it. I am sure, being the doting husband that you are, that you’ve already made sure I’ll be perfectly safe, right?” She flipped to the back page as she spoke, found the spot for her signature, and had finished signing it before she’d finished speaking.

“There,” she said, picking up the contract to throw it to Tom’s side of the table. “If that’s what you want. Then that’s what we’ll do.”

For a moment, one heartbreakingly hopeful moment, she thought he just might change his mind… and then Tom bent down and hurriedly signed his copy. Delilah shut her eyes tight, her breath hitching, and commanded herself again to keep her tears in check. She absolutely was NOT going to cry.

The door opened and the notary came in. He spared a glance in her direction, but seemed unbothered by Deli’s nakedness. While he did his work, Delilah awkwardly found a spot by Dearborne’s chair that seemed appropriate, and kneeled down beside it. She did her best to mimic the pose Lydia had taken, kneeling with her arms crossed behind her back. It felt… awful. She was painfully exposed, and vulnerable, and she felt fragile, and so very breakable – as if she might start sobbing and wailing if anyone laid a finger on her.

The Notary finished, said something Delilah didn’t really hear, and then he left. The next five minutes were the longest and most tense of her life. While she sat there, she didn’t look at Tom. She didn’t speak to him, either. Her wedding ring felt heavier than usual on her finger, and then she distantly realized that she was spinning it again.

When the door opened to allow Dearborne and Lydia back into the room, she made herself stop by pushing the little ring off. The soft tinkling ping of it hitting the floor was a delicate sound, barely audible. Too Delilah, it might as well have been a gunshot.