Far as I was concerned I was making 48,000 tax free dollars a year to be a wife, hostess and arm candy and beard. Did that translate into mistress, go...d-digger, or whore? Ask me if I care. I had a husband my parents could brag to their friends about, a huge house, new car, a growing bank account in my name and all the hard cock I wanted. Life... Didn't... Suck... I also had, thanks to the friend I'd made while working in hubby's office, all the evidence I'd ever need of my hubby's infidelities. Neither could I move my cuffed hands."Out of my way, you creep!"My aunty? I must be hallucinating. I tried to rise to my knees just to notice that they hurt, too. But not as much as my ass and head. Maybe that was a good thing. Or maybe not. I still could not focus my eyes."Eric, don't try to move."It was my aunty! Well, it was easy to not move. Except that my hands hurt, too. But maybe that was less hurt than what it would be if I'd try to stand. Why was it so hard even to think sensible. More

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