Do The Dots Connect?

"Ooh, Sven, they want you to go down on me." She said it uncomfortably, but still trying to be sexy. "I've never had a naked sub man go down on me before. Why don't you tip the camera down so they can watch you start by licking my feet, then work your way up to the promised land. If you do a good enough job, I may give you a taste." She giggled with a teasing wink at the camera, and slapped at his cock with the end of the leash. "Do it now!"

She pulled on the leash, then pulled his head down. He reached back to adjust the camera, then got onto all fours and began to lick her feet like a dog. He sucked on each toe, then began to work his way up her leg, switching back and forth between left and right, and licking with the flat of his tongue. "Are those legs smooth enough, Sven?" she asked. He made a grunting noise while nodding his head, tongue still lapping. Then she looked at the camera and said, "I made him shave me this morning, just like a good slave. I made him go very slow and be very careful. If he pressed too hard or made me sting, I slapped him in the balls with my riding crop. Didn't I, Sven?" Again Sven nodded.

BEEP. "Show us how you slapped his balls."

She jerked on the leash and pulled him up until his cock and balls came into view. His cock was hard as steel. She smacked him in the nuts with the end of the leash and he recoiled in pain.

BEEP. "Harder!"

"Come on Sven," she tugged up on the leash, "Get up and give them a better view." He half stood and she really hauled off and popped him, square in the scrotum. He reeled in real pain this time, and went down to a knee. He looked at her with a shocked expression, as if he couldn't believe she would really hurt him that way. His hard-on immediately began to wilt.

Beep. "Harder," she read. He looked at her with fear in his eyes, then looked at the camera and shook his head.

"No, please," he said.

"I'll tell you what. I know I really only hit the right one last time. So this time I'll go for the left one, and then we'll be done with this. Before he could react the stiff leather handle on the leash connected solidly with his left ball. He fell on the floor in a heap, moaning.

"Oh dear, I think I've done it this time," she said, with a worried look in her eye. "You know, I'm not a dom, and he's not really a sub, this was a game we were playing for you guys. I'm afraid you got me to go too far. I have to send Sven home to his wife when we're done here, you know," she said, bending over his huddled form on the floor. She unclipped the leash. "Go on, Dave, go take care of yourself, we're done here."

He crawled off stage left, and she looked straight into the camera. "Well, we won't be trying that stunt any more. I'm sorry boys, we're done here." And the screen went black.

I tried to take another sip of my drink, and realized the glass was empty. Looking at the clock, I saw that it was nearly time for her to be returning from her seminar. If that's really where she was. I was almost as shaken as Sven at this point, although it was my heart that was aching and not my balls.

I sat for a minute trying to figure out what to do. I went back to the previous session, sped to the end, where he was spewing semen on my wife's face at tits, then I hit "Print Screen." The printer beside my desk came to life, and an 8-and-a-half by 11 print soon emerged.

I exited the website, shut down the computer, then went and put the photo on the kitchen table. I went into the bedroom and packed myself an overnight bag, turned off the lights, and left.

There was a Hampton Inn about a mile from the apartment. I drove there, got myself a room, and went up to ponder my future and try to sleep. As I rode the elevator to the third floor, I started to see those dots in my head, and started connecting them. Those dots that hadn't meant anything at the time, but now coalesced to form a picture.

First there was the high-end computer. Then the video camera. Then the lingerie modeling. Shit, I had even helped her to create the "studio" in our bedroom for her venture. That lingerie business was legit, as far as I could tell. How could I have foreseen where it might lead? If it wasn't part of her plan from the start. Shit shit shit. When I went back to working in the office downtown, that cleared the way for her to get going with this side deal. Had she been putting the pieces into place even before I went back so she'd be ready?

Then I had a thought. I grabbed my laptop out of my overnight bag and booted it up. I bypassed the house WiFi because it probably would block porn, and used my cell as a hot spot. I went to her porn site and logged in. At the side of the screen was information about the site, including the "live" hours. She went live Mondays and Thursdays from 3:00 to 4:00 in the afternoon. That seemed like an odd hour to be streaming porn. Then I looked at a couple of the recorded sessions and checked the names of the pervs who were logging in. Most of them had foreign-sounding names - Eastern European and even some Arab names. She was doing her live bit in the afternoon our time, but her audience was watching late at night where they were.

This gave me two bits of information. First, it was unlikely that anybody I knew would be logging on for porn at that hour, so maybe she hadn't been seen by my friends. And second, for her to have been doing business overseas, she had not set this deal up by herself. As smart and handy with the Internet business as she had shown herself to be, I could not imagine that she'd have had the connections or the knowhow to set up this porn site. Incidentally, it also explained why she was so hot to trot when I came home Mondays and Thursdays. Her porno sessions had turned her on just as much as they had her audience.

As I logged out and shut down the computer I decided I would just lie down in bed and try to sleep. I'd had enough booze that I was a little downed out anyway, although my agitation over the situation countered that. I was a fucking mess. Then I realized that it would be easy for somebody I know to have stumbled across her saved sessions on the website just like I had. Shit.

Oh well, nothing to be done about it now. I laid back and closed my eyes. The room swam a little. I held onto the bedcovers. Then my phone rang. Damn, I had intended to turn it off. I wasn't ready to talk to her. I really didn't know what I would say. I let it go to voicemail, then I turned it off. I would call the office in the morning and take a personal day off. In the meantime, I stared holes into the ceiling.

CHAPTER TWO

About 5:00 a.m. I got up to pee. I brushed my teeth and tried to get rid of the Scotch aftertaste with some of the Hampton Inn mouthwash. I chugged a couple glasses of water, then went back into the bedroom. With the lights out in the room I could see that every light on the phone was lit.

I picked it up and opened the voicemail. There were 11 calls from Ginger. I decided to listen. Maybe I would learn something. I took them in chronological order (it's what accountants do).

In the first one I could hear her getting out of her car, closing the door, then fumbling with the door to the building. "Hi honey, I'm home and I'm coming up the elevator. I just didn't want to startle you coming in."

Then the next message: "Honey where are you? I just got in the door and the apartment is dark and you don't seem to be here. There, I've turned on the lights. Where are you, sweetie? Oh God! Oh no! Oh damn! Fuck! I knew this would happen. Paul, where are you?" Then sobbing. The phone hits the floor and the line goes dead.

"Paul, please call me," says the next message. Four more just like that. "Paul, I can't stand it. I have to talk to you. Please call me. You can call me anything you want, but please call me."

Now she was getting worried about me. "Paul, are you safe? Are you alright? I see an almost empty Scotch bottle here. I'm worried about you. Are you driving drunk? Please just let me know you're safe."

The rest were just attempts where she calls my name and then hangs up when I don't respond. She was crying. So was I. I'd never been in a situation like this - never contemplated a situation like this, and I don't know what I was supposed to do.

I decided to send her a text message. "I'm safe. Don't call anymore." Checkout time was 11 a.m. I crawled under the covers and closed my eyes. Somehow I got to sleep. I had set my watch to wake me up at 8:00 a.m. so I could call work. I might be losing my wife, I didn't want to lose my job too. After telling my boss I was sick I hung up and went back to sleep until 10:45. I managed to climb out of bed and make it to the bathroom. I peed a torrent, then looked in the mirror. Needless to say, I looked like shit. I had slept in my clothes, and I had dried tears on my cheeks and spittle on my chin. I washed my face, tried to comb my hair over with my fingers, then packed up my stuff and checked out.

I really wasn't ready to go home, but I didn't have anyplace else I wanted to go, and I figured I was going to have to deal with it sometime, so I pointed the car toward what until a few hours before I had thought of as home sweet home.

I parked, grabbed my bag and walked into the building. I took the elevator up and let myself into the apartment. Ginger sprang up from a kitchen chair and ran at me. She threw her arms around me and tried to hug and kiss me. "I'm so sorry, I'm such an idiot, I'm so sorry," she kept repeating. At least I think that was what she was saying. I was staring in disbelief at what I saw in the kitchen. Dave, AKA Sven, was sitting at my kitchen table - had been sitting there with my wife. I shrugged her off and made for him. I wasn't sure just what I was going to do but he wasn't going to survive it.

"Paul, stop!" she cried, and ran to get in front of me. I stopped so I wouldn't run over her.

"What is he doing in my house?" I demanded. "What could possibly have made you imagine that I would want his face to be in front of me when I walked in the door? What the fuck is wrong with you? What have you done with the smart, loving woman I married? Are you on drugs?"

"Please, honey, let's slow down. I asked Dave to help me explain how I got into this mess. He's going to take the blame for a lot of it, but I can't blame him for the fact that I went along. Please, let's sit down. You have questions, I have answers. They may not be good answers, but they are what I have. You look like you could use some strong coffee - sit down here at the table and I'll get you some."

I sat down, heavily. She put a mug of coffee in front of me. I just looked back and forth between the two of them. "So, what do you have to tell me? Are you two having an affair?"

"Well, the first and probably most important thing is that there is nothing going on between Dave and me, and there never has been. What you saw in those videos was theatrical performance plain and simple. I love you and Dave loves his wife, and there's been no hanky panky."

"She said, as she wiped the cum off her chin." I muttered. They both hung their heads. "Paul..." Dave said, trying to get into the conversation. I raised my hand to stop him.

"I don't want to hear peep one from you until I ask for it, and I won't be asking for it until the blonde bombshell here has answered some questions. When, why, and what the fuck? That ought to cover it. As I've been lying on my back in a motel room I've been thinking over the past year, connecting dots. Did I buy you that expensive video camera just so you could become an international porn Slut? Was this lingerie business just a trick to get me to buy into what you've been doing? Is there actually somebody named Ashley in the lingerie business. And when did this asshole stick his nose under my tent? Oh and what else has he stuck where?"

Ginger wisely took a moment to collect her thoughts before answering. When Dave looked like he wanted to talk, she waved her hand at him and shot him a look that would kill. "Last things first. You saw on those videos everything physical that has taken place between Dave and me. There isn't anything else. There isn't any affair, there isn't any feeling, there isn't any romance and there sure as hell isn't any love. There isn't even any particular attraction. What you saw was acting. The only other thing that has transpired between us is conversations about business, and that's where I got my head up my ass and fucked up."

"What about him shaving your legs?"

"Story telling. Never happened. Next: You are connecting dots that aren't dots. I can see how you might think so, but no. The lingerie business is totally legit. Ashley is a real person, and was my friend in high school, just like I told you. She reached out to me because she thought I was pretty enough to be able to sell her line by modeling it. The video presentation format was her idea, and she sold me on it. Now I may be in trouble with her for using her beautiful creations on a cheesy porn site. We'll see about that. But that's not the immediate problem.

"Dave is a webmaster. He runs websites for a number of businesses - most of them legitimate businesses but he also has a couple of porn sites, as he has explained it to me. We got to talking one day in the lobby as we waited for the elevator, and I told him about my lingerie site, and how the live modeling was really boosting sales. He said he might have some ideas to help me, and asked if we could have lunch and discuss it. I agreed, and we had lunch a couple of days later. I had no reason to suppose that his intentions were any less honorable than mine - two business people talking business.

"His idea was that since we already had the lingerie and I was already modeling, why not launch a soft core erotic interactive streaming site. Men like to buy lingerie for their women, and maybe we could generate some sales. And even if we didn't these streaming sites can turn a lot of cash. He never used the word pornography, and I wasn't sophisticated enough to recognize that this is what he was steering me toward. I imagined that I'd be doing some sexy poses and a bit of dirty talk.

"He persuaded me that this could be a good sales channel. So that's how I got into it. He set up the deal to get me the tie to the porn advertising people and to get me onto the porn sites. He set up the domain and did all the contracts. And he has business associates in Europe and the Middle East and he got them on board to support. Remember, as far as I knew all this was supposed to be was a tarted-up sales channel for Ashley's lingerie."

I looked at Dave. "Any comment on what she has told me so far?"

"No, she has described things exactly as they happened. I'm afraid two things went wrong on my end. First, I trusted the wrong people to present this streaming webcam site correctly, and second I let my enthusiasm get ahead of my good sense. After we got started I was getting phone calls 'You need to turn up the heat, this is too tame,' they would say. So I encouraged Ginger to be bolder. You saw the progression. I am afraid I let them push me to push her. I take responsibility for that. The biggest mistake I made was that I did not tell Ginger that she was in control, and she could say 'no' if things were getting off track and off the rails. I'm afraid that when lurid and inappropriate requests started coming in from her fans, she did not feel confident enough to reject them, and I was too wrapped up in what I was hearing from the other side to back off."

"You made another mistake that was the worst of all," Ginger corrected him. "There was no way in the world that he was supposed to ejaculate in that scene - let alone ejaculate on my face on a live stream."

She evidently did not recognize what was wrong with that last sentence. I bit my tongue.

"She's right. If I had been able to control myself, we probably wouldn't be having this conversation."

"Oh, we'd be having a conversation," I shot back at him. "Your nuts just might not have been in as much jeopardy as they are now."

"And that's what got us to that last shoot," Ginger picked up. "I was so angry and embarrassed and upset that I told him the next episode would be my last, and that he was going to have to play the sub and feel some pain. We had gotten so far away from our original intentions that there was no way I was going to keep it up - but I wanted to sign off with a different bang than to have my face coated in jizz."

"If you hadn't hurt him, he was working his way up to eat you out. What a about that?"

"It was never going to happen. Those messages about hitting him in the nuts were fake. I planned to leave him on the floor."

Dave looked surprised at that.

"Speaking of which," I asked him, "how are your nuts."

"They're okay. The last shot was the only one that really landed. I was acting for the first two. That last one really nailed me, though."

We all sat silently for a few moments. Then Dave spoke. "I am sincerely sorry for my part in this, Paul and Ginger. I know you have things to talk about. If it makes this mess any easier to deal with, Ginger's take on 'Ginger's Bedroom' should be around half a million bucks. Because I feel so bad about the whole thing, I'm also signing over my share, minus expenses, which should be about another $100K. We'll have some expense buying out of the contracts, but I should be able to manage that from my take.

"With that, unless you have other questions, I'll leave you sort things out. I'm truly sorry."

He got up and left.

I looked at my pretty wife, the one I had called "Sweetheart," with tears in my eyes. Looking at me she teared-up as well.

"Thank you for that explanation. I think I have a clearer understanding of what went on. I only have one more question." My voice broke. "How could you? Really. How could you have gotten yourself into this and done these things?

"I will never be able to unsee that bastard's cum all over your face. I will never be able to unsee your mouth around that filthy pornographer's cock. I will never be able to unsee you masturbating and squirting for the pleasure of a bunch of Eastern European perverts. I will never be able to unsee another man fingering your shaved cunt. I will never be able to look at you without all those images rushing through my head. How could you!"

She broke down then. Her body was wracked by sobs. She tried to talk, but couldn't. I piled on.

"I have been so proud of the success you made for yourself - I thought for us. You created a successful business, learned how to market and how to sell. You were a rock star, and I was lucky enough to be your husband and your lover. I was the luckiest guy I know. I had it all! Now I have a cum-soaked porn star for a wife and she has half a million cum-soaked dollars to make a new life for herself without me."

Her head snapped up. "What do you mean without you? You mean you'd leave me over this mistake? It was theater! It was make-believe! Nothing real ever happened! You have to understand and forgive me! I told Dave I was done after that last shoot - before you caught me. I never wanted to be a porn star! I never wanted to be showing my body to perverts! I never wanted that bastard upstairs to cum on me!"

"And yet here we are. And here I sit with that image indelibly burned into my eyes. I have to go. I'll go to a short-term hotel for a while and try to get my head straight. You need to fly to wherever Ashley is and try to make amends to her, and see if she'll want to continue with you. You mean you actually thought she'd want her creations modeled on a porn site? Jesus, what a crock."

She tried to put on a brave face. "And then? Then what for us?"

"I don't know. Right now, for me there is no 'us.' Maybe that will change. Hell, maybe we'll laugh about this some day. But I'm not there right now. Right now I'm going to pack some clothes and go find someplace to squat for a while."