1. Other Colors -- Ch.16


    Date: 12/23/2014, Categories: BDSM, Author: mascodagama, Rating: 3, Source: LushStories

    Being an Asshole 101...’ I spoke through his finger, showing my teeth. “I’ve had chlamydia, Mr. Caine.” He let the air out, watched the dial dance down to zero, and smirked. “You’re in good company,” he stripped off the cuff. “I’ve had it twice.” Twice? I jaw fell open. I’d thought for certain my confession would shock and appall him. Yet, as was our invariable custom, his managed to shock me more. He shined a light into my eyes, and told me not to blink. “Of course, you were horrified when you found out,” he peered in one eye, and then the other. “An infected angel. It’s scandalous, isn’t it?” I glowered at him, “I wish you’d stop calling me an angel. I’m really not.” “Eyes open, little girl…” he swapped out the tip on his instrument. “Are you telling me you weren’t horrified?” I didn’t answer. He was right, of course. I was horrified, but not because it extinguished some ignis fatuus of my innocence. I was horrified because, at the time, the only man I’d been going to bed with was the one I intended to marry. Granted, I’d had my grim inklings for some time. I ignored them. And in the end, it took a blood-tinted urine test, the snide derision of a nurse practitioner to convince me he was cheating. I rolled my eyes. Whatever… It wasn’t the worst thing he ever did to me. Although at times, it still haunted me that I never confronted him on filthy little betrayal. I was too timid, too afraid. I’m not convinced I was afraid of losing him. For a successful surgeon’s daughter at ...
    Wake Forest, his breed was about a dime a dozen. But I think I was terrified of losing that serene and effortless life that so many people had painstakingly plotted out for me. ‘You know the insurance attorney’s quiet, little wife? Did you know she paints seascapes? Isn’t it darling? And I swear some of them aren’t awful! Well, she simply must do something for the charity auction this fall. Oh, my dear, she simply must…’ At least, that’s how I imagined it. So I swallowed my horse pill at the student clinic, and handed his number to a nurse at the desk so she could call him in for a check-up. He was careless, but he wasn’t stupid. He must’ve guessed what had happened. It’s possible he cut off his infidelities thereafter, or perhaps he just took better precautions. Either way, it never happened again. But I still got myself checked every eight weeks, right up until the night I left him. As I sat there stewing, Dmitri went on with his exam. He peered once more into each of my eyes; into my nose, and ears, and mouth. He checked my reflexes with a silver hammer, and struck a shrill tuning fork against a chair leg before planting its quivering handle on my forehead. I suffered through all of it in silent, simmering indignation. But my fortitude faltered, and I shrank away as he ran his hand along my spine, invasively feeling out its curves. He paused a moment, and brushed my cheek with his fingertips. “I understand you’re uncomfortable,” he tucked a strand of hair behind my ear. ...