My husband’s parents have always hated me, and they aren’t shy about saying so. Ethan and Cynthia Carrington have never thought I am good enough for their only son. They’ve called me white trash simply because I grew up poor (though, not in a trailer, I might add), and a gold digger because the Carringtons are billionaires going back generations. They think I’m using Rob for his money, and site the fact that he put me through college, is an investor in my clothing store, and the 11 year age difference as evidence. Of course, it couldn’t be further from the truth. Rob and I are very much in love, and have been since we married six years ago.
I met Rob when I was 18. I was just out of high school, and working as a waitress in a diner downtown so I could save up for college. I hadn’t worked there a month when this incredibly handsome guy in a dark suit came in and sat in my section.
We didn’t really exchange much more than waitress/customer conversation during that first encounter, but then he started coming in everyday just after the lunch rush, and we began talking. It got so that he requested to be seated in my section, and, because we were usually dead by then, I really got to know and like him. Rob was 29, and said he worked in finance, which he hated, but it allowed him time to go sailing, which he loved. In addition to being Beatles fans, we also shared a love of Toulouse-Lautrec paintings, Steven Spielberg movies, and for some inexplicable reason, blue Jell-O.
It wasn’t until six months later that we started going out. He accidentally left his wallet at the table, and when I called to tell him I had it, he offered to take me out to dinner to thank me.
We went to a very upscale place, much nicer than the diner—not to mention more expensive, and all night I kept saying how weird it was to be sitting at the table with Rob and not serving him. After dinner we went to the beach, and lay on the sand just looking up at the stars, wrapped in each others arms. Just as our faces tilted towards each other and we were about to kiss, Rob confessed that he had left his wallet there on purpose, hoping I would call him, and he could use that as an excuse to go on a date with me. He was surprised when I told him I knew, and asked me why I agreed to go out with him. I said that if he hadn’t asked me, I would have asked him, and then he leaned in and pressed our lips together.
That night we made love for the first time, and from there our relationship became a whirlwind. Six months after our first date we were engaged. My parents were a bit surprised, since I was only 19 at the time and Rob was 30, but they loved Rob, and gave us their blessing. Then it was time to tell Rob’s parents, and it was then that I found out who he was, who his parents were, and just what kind of family I was marrying into. When Rob said he worked in finance, he meant that he was the vice president of several large banks, second only to his father the president and CEO. I knew that he was well off, but I didn’t know until that point just how well off he actually was, which was good for both of us, because we both knew I was in love with Rob and not his money.
The Carringtons had been out of the country during most of the six months we dated. Rob had told them about me, but I had yet to meet them. Admittedly I was nervous about the whole ordeal, and when we finally broke the news of our engagement to Ethan and Cynthia, of course, they were upset. With me in the next room, Rob’s parents told him what a mistake he was making by marrying a poor girl half his age who was probably only after his money anyway. Rob was so upset that he stormed out of the house and three months later we drove to Las Vegas and tied the knot, sans parents.
I actually worked at the diner for a while after the wedding, and Rob still came in to eat, but then one day he surprised me with a college application and a blank check. I told him I didn’t want to take advantage of him, but he insisted that I was his wife, and he knew going to college would make me happy, which is all he wanted. Naturally, this sent the Carringtons over the edge, assuming this is what I had hoped to achieve by marrying their son. The fact that I graduated Summa Cum Laude and managed to start up my own clothing store did nothing to dissuade them. I thought perhaps over time things would get better, but unfortunately they just got worse. I was never invited over to their home for holidays, Sunday dinners, or, well, any reason, really. Whenever they called and I answered the phone, they would immediately hang up, and to this day they still try to set Rob up with other women. Ethan and Cynthia have each come to me on separate occasions and offered me obscene amounts of money to divorce Rob, an offer that is of course immediately rejected. Rob and I have told them a hundred times that we love each other and if they don’t like it, then that’s too bad, but as anyone in the business world will tell you, Ethan Carrington is a hard man to tell no.
Rob’s parents aside, we actually do have a wonderful marriage. Rob is the kindest, sweetest, most generous man I could have ever asked for, not to mention an animal in the sack. Aside from the occasional squabble over which movie to see or where to go on vacation, we rarely ever argue. I guess that’s because we have no secrets from each other…or at least we didn’t, until that fateful day…
It all began on the Friday of a three day weekend. Rob was going to go out on his boat for the weekend, and as usual when he was gone, I was going to use the time to veg out on John Hughes movies, make an avocado face mask, and eat an entire pepperoni pizza by myself. This weekend I was adding “work on the spring line” to the agenda, something I had been meaning to do all season, but couldn’t because of a problem with suppliers. Whatever, I work better under pressure anyway.
I came home from my studio and immediately settled into a nice hot bath with a glass of wine. Then I put on my comfy sweats and an old T-shirt of Rob’s that I loved and ordered the pizza. I was on my third glass of wine when I spread myself out on the couch in front of my drawing pencils and sketch book and pressed play on the DVD, hoping that the god-awful fashions of the eighties would inspire me to come up with some great designs. I was all set to work when the doorbell rang.
“Damn,” I muttered, and went to answer it. Thinking it was the pizza guy, I grabbed my purse, hoping I had enough cash for a good tip, since it was a whole fifteen minutes sooner than they’d told me on the phone.
I swung open the door and was shocked to see my father-in-law.
“Ethan!” I cried. “T-this is a surprise.” That was an understatement. I could literally count on one hand the number of times Ethan had come to our townhouse in the six years Rob and I had been married, and it occurred to me that in all that time, I had never been alone with him.
“Yes, I imagine it is, may I come in?” Ethan stepped inside the house without waiting for my answer, and my heart began to pound. Even after all these years he still made me nervous. The way he spoke always reminded me of Hannibal Lector, very prim and proper and terrifying.
“Rob isn’t here,” I said, still holding the door open, hoping this would make him leave.
“Yes, I know, he’s going to be away the entire weekend, isn’t he? But no matter, it’s actually you I’ve come to see, Laura.” That struck me. He never called me Laura—always young lady or Miss Roth, my maiden name, and as I reluctantly closed the door I was filled with an impending sense of doom.
“I hope I haven’t interrupted something,” Ethan said, gazing at my drawings.
“Oh, um, no, not-not really,” I stammered. “I-I was just working on…”
“I see you’ve had some wine, perhaps you need another glass,” Ethan said, gesturing to the half-empty glass on the table. “I’ll have one, as well.”
“Yes, uh-of course, I should have offered. I’ll just go in the kitchen a-and get you some.” I hurried off into our kitchen and grabbed a wine glass. I realized I was shaking, and, worried it would break, I set it down on the counter. I needed to get a grip. I couldn’t let Ethan shake me, I wouldn’t. He was probably just here to offer me another bribe to divorce Rob, and the sooner I told him no, the better. I took a deep breath and counted to ten, then grabbed both the glass and bottle and returned to the living room where Ethan had placed himself on the couch. I handed him the glass and poured until he signaled me to stop, then set the bottle down on the coffee table. Ethan took a sip and smiled.
“Ah, the seventy-five,” he said, admiring the wine bottle. “Truly an excellent year, don’t you agree?”
“Yes, I suppose,” I said.
“Well, it isn’t as if you would know. You weren’t even born then were you? You’ll join me of course,” Ethan said, topping off my glass and handing it to me. I took it reluctantly. “Cheers.”
I took a gulp, then set it down.
“Ethan,” I said as calmly as I could manage. “My guess is you didn’t come here to drink with me, so, if you don’t mind, why don’t you just offer me whatever it is you’ve come to bribe me with so that I can tell you no. I really do need to get back to work.”
Ethan turned to me and smiled. “And here I thought I made you nervous. The cat has some claws after all. Very well then, Laura I will get right to the point. I’m sure it comes as no surprise to you that my wife and I have not always looked on you in the kindest regard. You have no family background, no social standing, and quite frankly, you are not the spouse we would have chosen for our son.”
Harsh as this was, it wasn’t the first time I’d heard it, and I didn’t even flinch.
“And yet, despite our numerous efforts, it appears we are stuck with you, as my son is quite taken with you, or so he claims. Pity that. I suspect it has everything to do with what you have on under those ghastly rags.”
I was suddenly very aware that I was not wearing a bra, and that the breeze from the fan was making my nipples hard and quite visible through the nearly threadbare fabric. Ethan didn’t even try to hide his gaze, but I wasn’t going to give him the satisfaction of embarrassing me. My blood began to boil and I gripped the arms of the chair as Ethan calmly took another sip.
“What is it you want, Ethan?” I asked suddenly bursting out of my chair and placing myself in front of him.
Ethan held the stem of the glass between his thumb and index finger, twirling it thoughtfully, admiring the way the light played with the redness of the liquid inside.
“What is it I want?” Ethan repeated. He turned to face me. “Why, I want what any man wants my dear, and that is to make his wife happy. And of course nothing would make my Cynthia happier than to be rid of you.”
Ethan stood and walked toward me, backing me against the wall. He reached in his coat and for a moment I was worried he was going to pull out a gun. Instead he pulled out a handkerchief and blew his nose. But it occurred to me that this just might be something Ethan would do as a last resort, and I began to tremble nervously.
“Y-you’re not going to kill me, are you?” I asked.
Ethan looked at me sharply.
“Kill you!” Ethan exclaimed. His eyes burned, but then he laughed, a hard cackle that made my skin crawl. “Well, perhaps that is common practice in the trailer you crawled out from under. My dear, if I were going to kill you, believe me, no one would know, least of all you, silly thing. Killing is so barbaric, and I’d like to think I’m a bit more civilized than that, eh?”
Ethan walked over to our bookcase, where he picked up a picture of Rob and me on our wedding day. He traced the designs on the silver frame as he said, “Besides, it would put a kink in the plans I have for you. Oh yes, kink indeed.” He looked at me again, and if I didn’t know better, I could swear he had lust in his eyes.
“You see, Laura,” he continued, turning back to me. “The other thing that would make my wife happy is to have grandchildren.”
Grandchildren? I thought. That’s what this was about? Rob and I had agreed to hold off on having children until after I had finished college, but then the store took off, and we really hadn’t broached the subject again.
“Cynthia always wanted to have a big family, you know, but unfortunately there was a complication with a miscarriage and she had to have a hysterectomy. And how she has eagerly awaited the day when her only son would present her with a grandchild, a legacy. But you have yet to provide a Carrington heir. You have been far too occupied with wasting Rob’s money to give him a child—wasting it on your silly education and your little rag store.”
I couldn’t hold it in any longer. I got right in his face, or as much as I could. I had to stand on my tip toes to bridge much of the gap between Ethan’s 6’0 frame and my 5’4.
“I’m sorry Ethan, but whether Rob and I have children or not is no concern of yours or Cynthia’s!”
“Oh, but I disagree. You see, Rob has told me he wants to have children, but he doesn’t want to push you because he loves you.” Suddenly the smile faded from Ethan’s face and he backed me against the wall, pinning my arms at my sides. I struggled a bit, but I was no match for Ethan physically. Besides having eight inches on me in height, he also had a good hundred pounds or so in weight, most of it muscle.
“Rubbish,” he spat. “There is only one reason for marrying a younger woman and that’s to breed her, to keep her belly full of your seed and her breasts full of milk as long as possible. And that’s just what’s going to happen to you, young lady.”
“Y-you want me and Rob to have a baby?” I squeaked.
“Well that would be ideal, but you see, Rob would never force you to get pregnant before you’re ready. At that rate I’d be dead before seeing my first grandchild. I, on the other hand, won’t afford you that same courtesy.”
My mouth went dry. I couldn’t believe what I was hearing.
“What are you saying?” I asked.
“I’m saying, Laura, that tonight you and I are going to conceive a child for both Rob and Cynthia. I am going to fuck you and knock you up, to borrow a phrase from the crude vernacular to which you’re accustomed, and once you’re pregnant I’m going to continue to fuck you silly and suckle the milk from your sweet breasts.” Looking into Ethan’s face I realized that he was actually serious about getting me pregnant against my will.
“You can’t do that,” I cried, horrified.
“Oh, I think you’ll find I can.” He removed his hand from my wrist and placed it on my breast, massaging it through the flimsy material of the shirt. Despite my hatred for him, Ethan’s touch excited me, and I felt myself start to get wet. It occurred to me that if I didn’t say something soon, this was really going to happen.
“I wouldn’t get pregnant if you fucked me tonight anyway,” I said brazenly. “I’m on the pill.”
“Or so Dr. Gilliam would have you believe.”
My eyes went wide. How did he know the name of my gynecologist?
“My dear, you are forgetting the Carrington’s have a wing named after them at the Freemont hospital, not to mention that my brother is on the board. One phone call from me and just like that I can obtain your medical records and turn your birth control pills into placebos. You’ve been taking nothing but sugar tablets for the past three months, and since it is two weeks until your next period, you should be quite fertile.” I gasped! He was right, and if he was telling the truth, I could get pregnant tonight.
“I’ll tell Rob,” I threatened.
“Tell him what? That his father, who for years has professed his extreme dislike for his wife, has actually been harboring a secret passion for her, so much so that he fucked her and made her pregnant? Though that may indeed be the case, my son will never believe it, even if it does come from that pretty little mouth of yours.” With that Ethan bent down and kissed me, tracing my lips with his tongue, then forcing them apart. He had my arms pinned, so try as I might, I couldn’t escape his kiss. It sent chills through my body, but in a very good way. I was still shaking when he pulled away and licked his lips.
“Mmm, so sweet,” he whispered as his hand returned to my breast.
“I’ll tell your wife!” I threatened as he began pinching and twisting the nub of my nipple.
“Who do you think came up with the idea?” Ethan asked, laughing. “A very good revenge plot, wouldn’t you agree? Making someone you detest carry the child of someone she detests, absolutely delicious. And you will carry this child,” Ethan said, turning suddenly serious. “Because if I find out that you had an abortion, you will truly find out what it means to cross Ethan Carrington.”
With my jaw clenched and tears streaming down my face, I asked, “What makes you think I’ll go along with this?”
“Oh, a number of reasons,” Ethan said smugly. “For one, if you’ll check your bank records, you’ll note that there have been several wire transfers from Rob’s own trust fund into a Cayman Islands bank account in your name. If you refuse, which I know you won’t, I would be forced to point out this little fact to Rob, surely breaking his heart, and ensuring that he will pull out as an investor of your little dress shop, not to mention divorce you and leave you with nothing. For another, I have slipped a drug into your wine glass. In a few minutes, not only will you be getting very horny, but your inhibitions will be lowered and you will be begging me to fuck you pregnant. So you see, my dearest Laura, it really is your choice. Either I impregnate you and you carry my child, or you can refuse and lose Rob, not to mention everything you’ve worked for.”
Looking into his eyes, I knew he meant what he said. I had to think of a way out of this, but my brain was numb. All I could think was how good Ethan’s hand felt kneading my breast. This was really going to happen. Defeated, I nodded.
“Excellent. Now, strip for me, my little slut.”
Tears flowing, I lifted the shirt up over my head, revealing my 36C breasts. The air hit my nipples, turning them into hard pink nubs.
“Yes, yes, lovely,” Ethan said as he gazed at my breasts. He reached out and cupped them, thumbing the nipples. He bent down and took one of the delicate nubs in his mouth, teasing it with his tongue and teeth before sucking it strongly. It felt so good in the warm wet heat of his mouth, and I moaned despite myself. Ethan switched his ministrations to the other breast, and I felt myself getting even wetter.
“Mmm,” he said as he pulled back. “My child will enjoy feeding from those breasts, I’ve no doubt.” Keeping one hand on my breast, with the other Ethan trailed his index finger down the center of my stomach, tracing my bellybutton before slipping inside my pants. He palmed my freshly shaven pussy before trailing his finger along my moist slit, making me quiver.
“Oh, my but you are wet, Laura, and I doubt the drugs have had their full effect on you. This is just you, you wicked girl, enjoying a man who is not your husband as he readies your tits for his baby. It has been so long since I’ve had a young thing like you, one who wets so easily. I must have a taste.” I was still trembling as Ethan pulled down my sweat pants and spread my legs. I felt a million things, naked and exposed before him—anger, shame, and yet, I was very excited. I could feel his hot breath on my tingling pussy, then gasped at the warmth of his tongue as it licked my nether lips. Using his fingers he spread me open, exposing my clit, which he then teased with his tongue, flickering over it, and using his teeth to nip before sucking on it.
I couldn’t help but moan as waves of pleasure washed over me and I felt my stomach tighten up. My knees felt as if they were going to give out and I gripped Ethan’s shoulders for support. My breathing became labored as he continued licking me, and when he stuck his tongue inside of me, I came hard and fast, trembling and moaning.