Juliana Ch. 06

"About my husband?" she asked, stepping up to him. He nodded.

"Please come in. Coffee?"

She walked past him, declining the offer, and sat down in a little club chair. He pulled another chair closer and sat down right across from her. He reached forward, placing his hands on her bare knees. They felt dry and warm. They also were a déja vu.

"Mrs. Austin," he began, searching her eyes. "May I call you Juliana?" He had put his cock in every hole of her body and showered her with his spunk – and now he asked if he could call her by her first name? She nodded, very aware of his hands. They distracted her.

"What about my husband?" she asked, trying to ignore the distraction. It seemed to be creeping into every contact she had with men, lately. Remind him that you're married, she thought; distract him. But she recalled last night and saw how futile everything was.

He sat up straight, withdrawing his hands, leaving phantom spots of warmth on her skin. Smiling he watched her in silence.

"Please?" she asked. He just smiled wider.

"Ah well, yes, your husband," he said. Then he looked down into his lap. Bringing his fingers to his fly, he pulled down the zipper. He laid both hands on the armrests, looking back at her.

Juliana refused to understand.

"What about my husband?" she repeated. He sighed, slowly moving his head left and right.

"Dear Juliana," he said. "Dr. Charrier and I, we have our doubts about you. We wonder if you really love your husband." A hot flash of anger hit Juliana.

"I do love my husband," she almost growled. The knuckles of her hands whitened as she grabbed the armrests of her chair. "What on earth do you know about it?" He shrugged; the annoying smile never left his face. Nor did the gapping fly loose its maddening distraction.

"What we think, dear Juliana, the doctor and I," he said, "is that you want to have your cake and eat it too." She just stared at him, waiting.

"You are a farmer's daughter," he went on. "You should know that life doesn't hand out free presents. Life is hard; lucky breaks are few and far apart – you take them whenever they present themselves. You grab them or you starve." Another minute of silence went by. There were his eyes, and there was the gapping fly.

"What will it be, Juliana?" he asked at last, spreading his knees just a bit more.

Recently, Juliana's world had this way of getting smaller ¬– each day a bit smaller. It seemed to close around her, pushing out things that were important only yesterday. There had been the city, work, people, even the reassuring drone of chores. All gone, it seemed. There had been her husband, the things they did – going out, being together.

Now there only was this place, this villa. There was this relentless focus on sex, pleasure, men, cocks; and the overwhelming response of her body.

Juliana rose from her chair and knelt between Dr. Fleming's knees. Her perfectly manicured fingers went to the open fly. She undid the buckle of his belt and a button before pulling his pants down. His blue shorts tented with his erection. There even was a moist spot. She reached inside, feeling the now familiar softness of the skin, and the hardness below. Pulling the cock out, she contemplated the paleness of her hand against the flushed meat. She also wondered about its primitive wildness beside the cultivated elegance of her fingers. It was ugly, really, she thought, while pulling down the foreskin and exposing the purple helmet. But if it was, why did it arouse her so? The trembling of her hand annoyed her as she closed her fingers around the shaft. Her breath stuck as her mouth reached for the weeping head.

Hands cupped her skull, pushing her down on the cock. She heard him gasp when her lips closed around it.

"Ah, Juliana," he said as she dashed her tongue around his penis. "You're perfect. You're so wonderfully tight. Deeper, honey, you can do deeper." She could, but it made her gag. His chuckle vibrated through his lower belly. She gasped when he at last let her breath. Looking up at him, she inhaled deeply.

"Yesterday we woke your husband up, honey," he said, and pushed her down on his cock again before she could answer. Over the wet sounds of her sucking he went on:

"Last night, while you were so wonderfully busy, he woke up and asked for you. It was the first thing he did. I bet your thoughts were elsewhere." He chuckled again, holding her down for a minute. Juliana coughed and gagged when he finally released her. Tears ran down her cheeks; strands of saliva and snot leaked off her chin.

"I... I want to..." she gasped, but he put her down again, muffling her protest with his hard meat and cruel hands.

"You know," he went on. "He might be wondering where you are right now. He'll go under the knife in a few hours. I bet he'll keep asking where you are, Juliana – why you don't visit him."

With a roar Juliana pulled herself free from the cock and the hands, rising on wobbling legs. She panted and croaked, her eyes wide, her lipstick smeared and her mascara ruined.

"Take me to him!" she cried out. "Where is he? Take me to him!"

The doctor sat back, gazing up at her with his infuriating smile. The monstrous penis in his lap looked obscene. Juliana fell back into the chair and broke down, crying. A hand touched her shoulder.

"Don't you worry, sweet thing," Fleming said. "I'll take you to him. But first there is a bit of unfinished business."

***

She sucked him until he came and he gave her no choice but to drink down his sperm. The taste of it still lingered in her mouth when the two of them walked down a corridor. She'd cleaned her face and applied just a hint of make up from her clutch. She wondered what Alec might say about her flimsy dress.

The corridor led to a modern extension of the villa – the part Fleming called the clinic. She'd never been past the doors to it; they always seemed to be closed. They were open now, and led into a different world altogether.

Daylight streamed in through tall windows. All walls and ceilings were white. Quiet nurses moved around, too occupied to give them more than a fleeting smile or a nod.

When they arrived at the room where her husband stayed, a pretty redheaded nurse stopped them. She handed them both shrubs to wear over their clothes, a cap for their hair and a mouth mask. There were also latex gloves and plastic covers for their shoes.

"Sorry for this," the nurse said, "but any contamination can cause complications."

Juliana chuckled when she saw herself in a mirror. She looked ready to enter a disaster zone.

The room itself was as white as everything else. Alec sat up in his bed, looking better than the last time she saw him. At first he didn't recognize her in her disguise. Then he smiled a radiant smile.

"Jules," he said, his voice hoarse.

"Alec!" she cried out, running forward to hug him. But a hand held her back.

"I'm sorry, but you can't," Fleming said, his voice muffled by the mask. Juliana stopped. She stared at her husband as if trying to make her eyes do what her body couldn't.

"Are you all right?" she asked. He shrugged.

"I still feel weak," he said. "I'm so sorry I scared you."

"Don't be," she said. "Just get better." She laughed.

"Don't worry; I'll be better – as good as new!" He reached out. Juliana turned to Fleming. He nodded. She took Alec's hand in her gloved ones.

They were close now. Juliana felt frustrated by the presence of the man who had filled her throat with his sperm only minutes ago. She thanked the mouth- piece for masking her breath.

"Is everything okay at home?" he asked. "Do you have enough money? Are things all right at work?"

Juliana had feared these questions. And she'd decided to lie.

Before Fleming brought her here, he had advised her to "spare him the truth for his own protection." It had irritated her, but she knew he was right. Why risk everything she'd already sacrificed?

"They are all right, honey," she said. "They send you greetings and wish you well." She felt his hands squeeze hers. "And I'm fine too," she added.

"Thank you so much for being here," he said.

"Don't be afraid," Juliana said, returning the squeeze. "Dr. Charrier is the best." She turned towards Fleming.

"Could we be alone?" she asked. "Only for a minute?" He hesitated.

"Don't upset him," he then said and turned to leave.

When Juliana was alone with her husband, a wave of guilt swept over her. Her hands trembled in his grip.

"It will all be fine," he said, misunderstanding her tremor. She brought her brow to his, their noses almost touching.

"I love you, Alec," she whispered. "Always know that you are the one I love." She felt tears trickle down her face.

"I know that," he answered, reaching up and holding her shoulders. "And I love you. Be strong, darling, everything will end up fine and we'll have our wonderful life back."

Breathing inside the mouth mask, she smelled Fleming's scent. A faint nausea lurched up to choke her.

They stood for a while holding each other without a word. Then the door opened and Fleming stepped in with the red headed nurse.

"Time to say goodbye, Mrs. Austin," he said. Being called that brought memories of a sickening kind.

"Yes," she murmured. "Yes – just another minute."

***

Back in her room Juliana cried. Her grief was a desperate mix of pain, loss, guilt and treason. She felt totally alone and believed it was all her fault. Maybe lying to Alec had been the merciful thing to do – and the wisest decision in his circumstances. Giving in to the blackmail was just as forgivable. She had no choice. One might even call it rape. But... but there were too many 'buts.'

There had been stretches of time she hadn't thought of him at all. Last night he woke up all alone, no doubt scared and lonely – while she fucked and sucked and climaxed in the arms of five men. She had loved it and that was the wrong thing, even in these crazy circumstances. Wasn't it?

She kept telling herself that she'd been forced, but there had never really been any force, had there? She kept telling herself she was offering a sacrifice, but hadn't she been far too eager offering it? Someone had called her a whore. Was he right? Was she a prostitute?

There was a knock on the door. She cried out to please wait before running to the bathroom. She splashed water into her face and dried it with a towel. Looking into the mirror she saw blotched skin and red eyes. She also felt a distant unease that her face wasn't made up. Her eyes were naked, her lips pale – nothing between her and the world.

A second knocking tore her away from her image and sent her to the door. It was Mei, carrying an armful of clothes.

"You awful look," she said with a smile.

***