I could have put an end to this weekend's trip before it started, but I didn't have the balls to tell my wife that I knew she fucked a black man last ...eekend. Feeling defeated, I got ready for work and headed out the door. I spent the majority of my morning daydreaming about what kind of trouble my wife would be getting herself into. She always got a little wild anytime she went to the club. It was a given that Trish and my wife would spend their time at the club surrounded by drunk horny guys. The effort was too much. I was a soft, well-bred woman unused to making such hideous effort. How could I be expected to make it? It was unreasonable. Unfair. I wanted to shout and screech the unfairness. Did they not know I was a Lady of Barbaria? Had rights? Should be treated with respect? I wanted to leap up and hurl myself on that woman. Strangle her. At whatever the cost. Yet I was chained helpless. The futility of such a thing was obvious. Perhaps my mind was becoming deranged for even. More

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