The Fantasy List Ch. 03

Hey everyone - Thanks to folks who said they wanted more from this series! Here's my shot at it; I'm not sure how successful it is, to be honest, but I tried to change it up some. Please read "The Fantasy List, Ch. 01" and "Ch. 02" for the plot to make sense - I don't think the kink will come across here if you don't have the context of those two stories. All characters are older than 18 years old, as always. And again, we're going really heavy on the cuckold kink here, in a harsh, humiliating way that is much more fantasy than reality, so please just keep that in mind! That said, even though it is fantasy...let's hope it's filthy fucking hot fantasy.

***

The bedroom smelled like sex, although not any sex Clyde had taken part in. It smelled like Marcus's cologne and Abria's arousal and Marcus's cum and a mix of sweat and the duct tape Marcus must have used to bind her wrists.

Not that Clyde would have known how that had actually played out. He'd been downstairs cleaning the kitchen up after breakfast while he'd listened to them fuck: her moans and his deeper, lower grunts; the protests of his and Abria's marital bed as they shook it; the sharp smack of his hand against her ass.

He winced at the thought as he stripped the blankets and sweaty top-sheet from the bed. He still had the video footage of Marcus spanking Abria -- putting her over his knee and ripping down those hot denim shorts -- seared onto the surface of his mind. He doubted he'd ever forget it. His penis strained against its stainless steel chastity prison at the memory alone.

But none of it changed the fact that Abria had made clear she wanted him to clean up the bedroom once she and Marcus were done fucking, and once they'd stepped into the shower. She wanted new sheets on the bed too. And she also wanted him to answer the door if anyone stopped by. Play everything off as normal; no sense in the neighbors knowing about the crazy shit going on in this house before noon on a Sunday.

And he could hear the shower going now; he could hear their muffled laughter and conversation and the slap of the water on the tile between those sounds.

He started with the used condoms, tossed without a care onto the bed's fitted sheet, already dark with stains. He tossed the condoms in the decorative metal trashcan in the corner, then looked back at the bed. Then he reached for the lacy panties Abria had worn last night, and this morning at breakfast, and during this most recent fucking. They were still damp, but also just the slightest bit stiff with her fluids. He glanced back at the door of the master bathroom to make sure it was closed -- it was -- and then he raised the panties to his nose for a sniff.

Like everything else, they smelled more like Marcus than just Abria. He tossed them in the laundry basket at his feet.

He reached across the bed and loosed one of the fitted sheet's corners, and his senses again filled with the musky scent of Abria and Marcus's union as he did. He winced, felt a short jolt to his aching blue balls as he pulled the sheet off and scooped it up with the other bedclothes. He dumped it in the basket then took it by the handles and headed downstairs as Abria laughed -- especially loud -- at something Marcus had said he couldn't hear.

He made his way back downstairs and into the small laundry room off the front entrance of the house. He dropped the laundry into the washing machine, threw in a healthy dollop of detergent, and started the load. Then he reached into the linen cabinet above the washing machine and dryer for a fresh set of bedsheets. Abria had made clear she expected fresh sheets on the bed after the shower.

For, Clyde had to assume, the next round of sex.

He made it to the living room and was headed for the stairs when he heard the doorbell.

He froze, then scowled.

Of course this would happen. Of course Abria and Marcus had planned something out. He just didn't know what.

He paused, waited for whoever it was to leave. The room was quiet enough that he could hear the muffled, faraway sounds of the shower still ongoing above the slow tick of the clock on the mantlepiece. If the person rang again...

The person rang again.

"Fuck," Clyde whispered, and set the new sheets on the couch. He crossed the living room and put a hand on the door handle. He closed his eyes, took a breath, and opened the door.

Selena Carnes stood on the front doorstep, looking for all the world like she'd just come form church on a spring Sunday morning. Or, rather, Clyde reminded himself, Selena *Monroe* stood on his front doorstep looking for all the world like she'd just come from church on a spring Sunday morning. She'd finally divorced her husband a few months ago, if social media was any indication.

And, he also realized, maybe Selena really *had* just arrived from church. He didn't know if she was the church type, but the whole time he'd known her and worked with her at his last job she was, maybe, one of the quietest, most careful and conservative-speaking people in the office. Even the asshole architects who hadn't left their frat bro roots far behind when they moved into professional life felt uncomfortable talking about her to each other.

Not that they didn't want to. Selena Monroe was drop-dead gorgeous, with her trademark hairbands (today a blue plaid piece) and those big dark eyes you physically felt on you when you made eye contact with her. And she knew it too -- her blouses and dresses always came up to the neck, and her skirts always fell below the knee; every outfit she wore she topped with a necklace her asshole fiancé had given her. She brought him up all the time too, talked about waiting for marriage to have sex and everything else.

And today, Clyde noted, although she did have another necklace at her throat, it wasn't the one from her now-ex-husband.

Back when they'd worked together, crasser men would only sigh in frustration that someone as beautiful as Selena would have the temerity to cover up the way she did, as if they were entitled to her body. The same guys, though, also thought Clyde was a pussy because of his soft negotiation style, something they never had an answer for when he closed big deals. Selana wasn't a negotiator by title -- she was a contracts lawyer -- but that meant that she and Clyde probably worked closer together than anyone else, and, he sensed, they knew each other better than anyone else had in that toxic office.

"Your work wife," Abria had jokingly called her once, but Abria and Selena were friends too, different was they were.

And maybe that tracked. Maybe given how dominant Abria was -- even in her friendships -- and how submissive Selena was (at least on the surface) it worked.

And maybe it explained why she was on their doorstep this morning.

Clyde swallowed hard.

"S-Selena," Clyde said. "God, it's been so long. What...what are you doing here?"

She smiled. "Hey Clyde," she said, and stepped over the threshold to embrace him. It wasn't the first time -- Selena hugged her friends from time to time -- but it *was* the first time he'd hugged her in chastity. He shifted his weight, tried to make sure she couldn't feel the cage, but at the same time that cage grew incredibly tight. "You look so good. It's great to see you."

Same perfume, same shampoo, even. Clyde felt like a creep for knowing that, but they'd spent so much time together finalizing deals in the back rooms of office buildings after hours and locking in the precise wording on settlement agreements and contracts that he recognized it. And even though he hadn't thought about it -- hadn't thought much about Selena Monroe at all -- for years, the smell still took him back. He could see the same coffee-stained hardwood table they'd had in the back conference room, could still hear the buzz of the aging light above them.

And yeah, maybe he *had* had a bit of a crush on her back then too, OK? But if you had a pulse and you were even mildly into women (maybe even if you weren't), you probably had a crush on Selena Monroe.

"It's great to see you too," Clyde said. "You look great as well. How long's it been? And sorry...please come in."

He stepped aside and let her into the entryway,

"I don't think we've seen each other in person since you took the new job," she said. "I don't think I've been to you and Abria's house before either, but it's beautiful. You made it to West Galina City, like you were always saying you and Abria wanted to do."

"We did, yeah," Clyde said, and stepped into the kitchen. "More because of Abria's salary than because of mine."

"I doubt that," Selena said. "I wish you could have heard how much they talked about how hard it would be to fill your spot after you left. Chaz and Keith and all those jerks who were so mean to you -- they were scrambling."

Clyde grinned into the pint glass as he filled it first with ice and then water. He hadn't known that at all. Nor was he someone who generally indulged in schadenfreude much.

But this was fucking delicious.

He brought her the glass of water.

"But you got out not too long after I did, right?" He asked.

"I did," she said, and took the glass from him. "Thanks so much for the water. I'm...parched."

She took a sip.

"I got a job at Galina City Hall," she said. "I'm going to be their head attorney, starting in about a week."

Clyde just about dropped the glass he'd wanted to fill with water for himself.

"Holy *fuck* Selena," he said, and then paused. "Sorry. I know you don't cuss."

She giggled, blushing at his reaction. "You're fine."

"You're going to be the head attorney for the entire city," he said. "The government that represents all six million of us?"

She nodded. "Yeah. I mean, I had to work my way up and --"

"But it didn't take long," he said. "I mean, we were working together five years ago, and you left after me."

She shrugged. "I...I got lucky. A lot of people helped me. And --"

"Stop it," Clyde said, and filled his own glass. "You're a badass, Selena, and I'm stoked for you. I propose a toast."

"I actually was wondering if you had something stronger," Selena said.

Clyde blinked, unable to register this.

"Something *stronger*?" He asked. "You mean, stronger than water? Like...iced tea?"

"Like...something alcoholic," Selena said, and pulled out a chair at the dining room table, set her glass down.

A slow smile spread across Clyde's face. "Selena, it's 1:30 p.m. on a Sunday afternoon and last I heard you didn't drink."

"I still don't," she said. "I'm nervous."

She pursed her lips, and bit her lower lip in a way that made Clyde want to burst into flames with desire.

"We only have this old bottle of whiskey," Clyde said.

"That'll work," Selena said.

Clyde blinked, unsure how to take this.

"Why are you nervous?"

She kept her eyes on the table, turned her water glass in slow, widening rings on the wooden surface.

"Has...has Abria told you anything about...why she invited me here?" She asked, without looking up.

Clyde took the whiskey down from the cabinet and poured out two shots, resisted the urge to pinch himself because Selena Monroe was in his dining room asking for shots this early on a fucking Sunday afternoon.

"I was going to ask," Clyde said, as he carried the shot glasses to the dining room table and set them down in front of her. He pulled out a chair and sat down.

Selena pursed her lips.

"I wasn't sure how much I was allowed to say," she said. "According to her."

"Allowed?" Clyde asked. "I didn't know you were in the business of taking orders from Abria."

"I am now," Selena said, and downed the whiskey.

She coughed and reached for her water, then took a long swallow.

"Fuck it," Clyde whispered, and knocked back his own.

"Damn," Selena said. "Do you have any more of that? I...I might need it."

"Yeah," Clyde said, and stood, returned to the kitchen.

It's where he was when Abria and Marcus came downstairs, hair still wet from the shower.

"Well, well," Abria said. "What have we here? Selena Carnes -- or, rather, Selena *Monroe* - just sitting here in my dining room, looking cute as anything. It's good to see you, Selena."

"Good to see you too," Abria," Selena said, but kept her eyes on the table between them.

"Have you told Clyde here about why you're here?" Abria asked.

"Um...you...you told me...you said not to," Selena said, and paused as Clyde handed her the second shot. "Mistress."

Clyde's gut went cold.

*Mistress.*

No. Oh no. Oh no, no, no. There was no way in fucking *hell* Abria was topping Selena now. Never in six thousand lifetimes would Clyde have ever predicted this could have happened. His feelings for Selena -- fuck it, their feelings for *each other*, because he was 99% sure Selena felt the same way -- had never been anything more than a silly work crush. They'd never even talked about it, much less acted on it. He'd been with Abria the entirety of that time, and Selena had been with her shitty fiancé. Maybe in another time and another place, they would have dated. But that wasn't this timeline or this universe. And both Clyde and Selena had been OK with that.

And now here she was ready to play girl-on-girl submissive to his wife, apparently, with Marcus holding sway over all.

"Good girl," Abria said, and stepped closer to Selena, stroked her dark brown hair just below that cute-as-hell ribbon hairband. "Selena, this is my lover and my dom, Marcus. I think I've mentioned him to you before."

Selena nodded, and took the hand Marcus offered.

"Great to meet you, Selena," he said.

"And of course, you know my husband," Abria said. "Your work husband too, I suppose."

"I'd say so," Selena said, and did the second shot of whiskey. Again she coughed -- although not as much as the first time -- and smiled. "I'd say he was better to me than my actual husband of five years."

"I think I'd agree with that," Abria said, and took a seat at the table; Marcus did the same.

Then she reached across and turned Selena's face toward her, gave her a soft, quick kiss on the lips.

Clyde just about dropped the bottle of whiskey. Never in his entire life had a lightning bolt shot to his groin faster, or had the cage on his penis ever felt tighter, more constraining.

He really was going to need that second shot too.

Abria broke off the kiss. "Why don't you tell Clyde why you're here today?" She said.

Selena bit her lip again, in that cosmically cute way of hers, and nodded, eyes locked with Abria's.

"I will, Mistress," she whispered. "But...I...I want to ask something. For...for Clyde."

A slow smile spread across Abria's face; Marcus full-on grinned. Clyde was numb. He was no longer an intelligent species; the sight of his wife kissing Selena Monroe had broken his brain. Whatever happened next, good or bad...just might as well happen.

"He...he doesn't know about this yet," Selena said. "So please don't...don't punish him for this. But I was wondering if he could be...more...more involved."

Marcus raised his eyebrows, but he was still smiling. "How so?"

"I..." Selena paused, took a deep breath, and went on. "I'm sorry. I don't have any experience with this and I...I've only ever had terrible vanilla sex with one man my whole life, so this is all new. And it's...the thought of being a sex slave to both of you for the afternoon is...I don't think I've ever been more afraid or more excited."

Abria reached out and stroked her cheek.

"But I...I know you wanted Clyde to have to sit outside and listen as Marcus steals his fantasy of being with...both Abria and me," Selena said.

Clyde swallowed hard.

So that was what they wanted to cross off the Fantasy List today. He'd suspected it, of course, as soon as he'd seen Selena on the front porch. Or as soon as he'd heard the doorbell. Or maybe as soon as Abria had told him to *listen* for the doorbell.

"If I...if we...could we...would it be possible to let him be in the room?" Selena asked.

"I was thinking, maybe you could punish me more, or something. Like I could pay the price for him. Like I could do something more humiliating or degrading or really painful so that he could be a part of this. I just...I was wondering if he could...watch."

Abria laughed.

"You want him to see you," she said.

"I mean...that's part of it, but I..." Selena paused, and Clyde could see the blush in her cheeks as she did. "But I just...I don't want Clyde to feel *too* left out. Even though..."

She blinked, and the faintest of faint smiles crossed her lips.

"Even though that's kind of the point, I know."

It was Marcus's turn to laugh.

"You don't want Clyde to feel too left out," he said. "You hear that, bitch boy? Your work crush is standing up for you over here."

Abria had crossed her arms over her chest and was still smiling.

"You say you'd be willing to take more punishment or more pain, if Clyde is allowed to watch," she said.

"Yes...yes Mistress," Selena said.

Clyde recognized well the wicked gleam in Abria's eye. He could only imagine the things she was thinking about doing to Selena.

"I think we can arrange that," Abria said at last, and glanced at Marcus.

"I think so," he said.

"Would you be willing to handcuff him to a chair naked so he could watch?" Abria asked. "Or...gag him with...something...so he doesn't interrupt us?"

Selena blinked and again the color rushed to her cheeks. She glanced in Clyde's direction, but her eyes turned to the floor before long.

"I...I guess so," Selena said. "I've never done anything like that before."

"But you've thought about it," Abria said, and leaned forward now. "Remember when I made you write out your fantasies, how embarrassed you were? How fucking filthy they were?"

Selena was blushing more than Clyde had ever seen.

Not that Clyde was thinking about much anymore beside the fact that Abria and Selena had apparently talked about this at some length beforehand.

Again, the cage tightened around his penis.

The one time he'd mentioned the idea of having a threesome with another woman seemed hot, Abria had giggled, patted him on the head, and told him he didn't have the right equipment (or the stamina) to participate. He hadn't stopped thinking about it though. And he knew Abria knew that.

Of course Marcus wanted to cross this off the Fantasy List. And of course the most agonizing way to do that would have been to have it happen with the only other woman he'd had feelings for since meeting Abria. Selena wasn't just someone he'd had a small crush on though -- she was also a friend. Maybe one of his best friends. Certainly the only real friend he'd had at that first awful job.

They'd watched out for each other. And now here she still was, watching out for him, trying to get him in the room with them. Signing herself up for more punishment and humiliation and pain just to do it.

Clyde's stomach turned over. The thought of Selena handcuffing him to a chair and gagging him was more pleasant than he wanted to admit. And the thought of watching Selena get punished and humiliated was way, *way* hotter than he *ever* wanted to admit.

And here she was practically throwing herself at Abria's feet? Abria, probably the smartest, most sadistic person Clyde had ever met?

Fuck.

"Well," Abria said, and stood. "What do you think, Clyde? How do you feel about being in the room while Marcus and I get to enjoy our new little captive?"

She toyed with a lock of Selena's dark hair as she said it.

"I'd...I'd appreciate that," Clyde said.

Abria glanced at Marcus, who shrugged.

"It wasn't what we had planned," he said, and grinned an evil grin. "But I think it'll be interesting. Certainly give you a little more to blog about."

"Do you have the clean sheets for the bed Clyde?" Abria asked.