Chapter Seven
The house was prime.
Palatial.
Luxurious.
And Brian Fordham hated it with every fibre of his being. The mere fact it existed let alone the more pressing consideration of being forced to spend time inside it on a regular if, thankfully, not daily basis adding a bricks and mortar location to the more ethereal and metaphysical nature of his emasculation. The sense of self-loathing he felt for the weakness and sense of powerlessness that ensured he chauffeured Elaine to it twice monthly was always with him. Chauffeuring made that she might enjoy the thrill of experiencing the more substantial c***s of one or other of the eight husbands who, unlike him and the two other husbands forced to share more menial duties about the house.
The above humiliation in no way reduced or mit
