Page 149 of Ruined Vows

“You weren’t awake yet but you’d been having a good dream?—”

“I wasn’t dreaming at all and that’s what was so wonderful. I was just passed out all night happy as fuck pressed up against your hot little body. That’s all it takes for my johnson to stand at attention. Awake or asleep.”

He leans down and kisses me. Not a quick peck, but far shorter than I would prefer. It’s true though. He has been sleeping through the night more without disturbing dreams. He only had one the whole last month. And he’s been staying in our bed.

“But I was a little sleepy, so why don’t you remind me while we walk this way.” He leads me towards the other end of the club. Halfway there, he pauses to pull my black dress up and over my head, twisting it to bind my arms at my back and leave me otherwise completely naked.

I didn’t wear a bra or underwear, and I breathe out hard at seeing others in the club notice me.

Isaak’s realized just how much I enjoy eyes on me.

Turns out my voyeurism kink goes both ways. I don’t just like to watch. I like it when I’mbeingwatched while Isaak does the most debauched things to me. It turns everything up a notch—sometimes several notches, depending on what he’s doing.

And it turns out I love when he takes control during these sessions at the club.

In the rest of my life, I want to be in complete control. In my classroom at school with my students. When I’m doing my doctoral research and working with Dr. Ezra on his projects. Whenever I’m dealing with my parents. My dad’s actually been reaching out more lately. Trying to make amends even though he was such a shit at the wedding. He feels bad. Rightly so. Apparently my brother, Matthew, finally stood up to him and let him have it about not listening to me when I warned him who Drew was.

I was shocked on both accounts. Matthew ignored me his whole life, but he and I have spent some time on the phone lately, too. He wants to move back here sometime this year. He said he wants to get to know his niece or nephew and intends to take being an uncle seriously.

My whole life I tried so hard to fit in. With my family and with the strange plastic society they lived in—neither of which seemed to ever want me.

And right when I walk away, suddenly both are willing to embrace me.

There was a big outpouring from the community after Drew’s death. Okay, notrightat first, when his father was still trying to push a narrative that Isaak and I had murdered his son even though everyone had been in the church when Drew fired the first shotandthere was security footage backing up our story. But then it all came out that his father, the esteemed Senator, had been accepting bribes to vote on certain bills that came across his desk. That opened the pandora’s box on investigations that revealed all sorts of embezzlement, fraud, and outright theft of not only campaign funds, butstatefunds, too. Turned out he had a severe gambling problem.

That social community, I’m done with. Well, except for asking for donations for my mental health outreach centers. No need to fund it all myself when I can bleed other rich fucks like my parents to give back to those who need help far more than they ever could.

I haven’t told my parents or Isaak, but I donated half the inheritance money that was deposited in my account that terrible day to a variety of veterans’ programs.

There’s still plenty left to start my own center, but I just refuse to be part of a system that centers so much wealth in one person. I’m hoping after setting up my center to be able to give more. I want to work for what I make, and there’s no reason Isaak and I shouldn’t be able to live well off of our salaries. He’s not the kind to take a handout, though he has allowed me to invest in his company to help it get off the ground quicker.What could be a more solid investment than his future?I argued. The stubborn man still didn’t accept until we found out I was pregnant.

I only realize where Isaak’s taking me when he stops in front of the swing.

It’s obviously sanitized between every use, but he both sanitizes it again and puts one of the velvet casings over the seat you can purchase for an extra hundred bucks.

I just shake my head, knowing better than to protest. I learned that lesson a couple months ago, and had a red ass for days afterwards. Moira was so delighted when we went out for coffee the next day and I could barely sit down. She had a special pillow in her car she brought out for me—she always carries it around with her for just such occasions.

After covering the swing, Isaak guides me by my tied hands to sit down, then he straps my legs in.

“Be back in a minute,” he says and kisses me on the forehead.

It’d be a sweet gesture if I wasn’t squirming in a sex swing with on-lookers gathering. There are definitely some fetishists who get off on watching a pregnant woman in a BDSM club. I’m only starting to show, but still. I think I might be a very popular attraction the next few months. I feel giddy just thinking about it.

Lucky bitch. Everybody’s gonna watch you get creamed.

That’s right. They are. I grin, loving that I get to give into some of my dirtiest thoughts. What’s wrong gets to be so, so right when I’m with Isaak.

He keeps his word and returns within sixty seconds. And he’s holding the wireless microphone that’s usually at the front of the stage.

“Now,” he says in his low, growly sex voice, “what was it you did this morning before I was quite awake yet?” He glances around the crowd. “I’ve told her she’s welcome to wake me up this way any time she likes. Today she took me up on the offer.”

He puts the mic in my face as he tugs his shirt off with he other hand.

Appreciative comments sound across the club as people start to realize we’re about to put on a scene and that Isaak is a damn fine specimen.

My cheeks flame with heat as more and more folks wander over to watch as Isaak switches the mic to his other hand and slings his black shirt off into the crowd with a little, “Whoop!”

There are definitely audible cheers at this.

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