Hold on to your hat, it's gonna be a bumpy ride!
Yes I have to admit that mostly, I like to be the dominant partner under the sheets. So, you can imagine the exertion of retaining control when you get involved with, and live with, a partner that shares the same sexual drive and proclivities. On any one particular night; morning; afternoon; quickie before leaving for work; who was going to retain control? "Mmm, tis a beguiling sensual mystery!"
Never-the-less, that particular circumstance is another story. The saga that I am about to unfold brought out in me a hitherto unknown aspect of my sexuality. Although, I had on occasion fantasised about what it must be like to be the "Femme Fatal Dominante," it is nothing that I had ever given serious thought to. I am most certainly into a little spank, scratch and bite action on occasion, actually on most occasion, but I am most certainly not, nor could I ever be into BDSM; but, to have my very own "On Demand Pussy Pet," now that is the essence of a fabulously wet, orgasmic pussy dream. A dream that was, quite unexpectedly, to come about.
A couple of years ago, I and three of my closest friends became members of a local Golf, Tennis and Fitness Club. Not a great golfer but I love the sport and it's always a fun time with the girls. Having the availability of a gym has helped me maintain my fitness and when I added Tennis into the mix it not only added to my stamina, it didn't do my libido any harm either! I found that I really enjoyed it, so to improve my game I started taking Tennis lessons. Have to say, my female Tennis coach; yummy! Unfortunately married with a kid, so no doubt straight... Damn it! Anyway, this has nothing to do with her either, so by my count you're down stories to a score of either 'A bogie two, or, thirty love, depending on your choice of game.
The club was originally only a Golf Club, so the structure of the committee has retained the old titles of 'Chairman, Vice Chairman, Green's Superintendent etc. In our club the chairman is always referred to as 'Captain,' a throwback title going back to the days of yore! Actually his name is Sinjon, whose surname is double barreled and hyphenated, a really nice chap in his sixties, married to his bimbo toy bride Lucy who is forty-one, twenty-two years Captain Sinj's junior.
Lucy S-fucking-B, is a self-effaced bitch of the first order. A snooty nosed "must I really mingle with those people" upper class hopeful who came from the lowest form of garden worm feline prowlers of her era. A conniving wench who, at age twenty-seven, moved in on a very happily married Sinjon, reeled him in with her feminine wiles, bedded him and brought about his divorce all in order to marry into his lifestyle and money. It is indicative of their present relationship that 'Captain' now spends most of his time at the club... Enough said!
Shame of it is, Lucy has a body on her that men, and a lot of women, would love to get their hands all over! Myself included when I first met her two years ago. It didn't take long for my pals and me to realize why everyone here gave her a wide birth. Lucy S-fucking-B, with her fake silver-spoon accent, which frequently lapses into Hackney Carriage cockney, lets everyone know she is the Captain's wife, and as such, she has the same command over the membership as he... That misguided fact is of course: According to her!
My philosophy of this situation: "NO FUCKING WAY!"
Lucy S-fucking-B and I have had the odd skirmish here and there, nothing drastic, and certainly nothing worth getting one's knickers in a twist over. However, this situation was to change a few weeks back:
It's a snobby old rule of the club that members wearing golf spikes, coming in off the course, do not use the main front door access to the club. All perfectly reasonable, but on this particular Friday afternoon I was running late. Linda my partner in life, who does not play golf, had come to pick me up and in my haste, being the quickest route to the changing rooms, I snuck in through the main entrance...
Well; you would have thought Mount Vesuvius had just erupted!
This bellowing, fanatical screaming bitch let loose at me in the lobby:
"Aimie P______, just where do YOU think you're going, just what do you think you're doing coming in this way with spikes on! Kindly, go out and come back through the Pro Shop, as you know you are meant to!"
OK... I'm a nurse, in fact I'm a nurse manager; I know all about rules and such like, and yes, I know I was in breach of the "Snobby Rule," but it's not as if the bright, shiny parquet flooring was not protectively covered with deep pile carpet, it is!
But:
It was none of these things that gave me cause to stop in mid stride..!
It was none of these things that made me take in a sharp, deep breath of fine English country air.!!
It was none of these things that made the fingers of both of my hands, coil inward to tightly form into a pair of very firm fists!!
It was none of these things that caused my spine to t-i-n-g-l-e, commencing from my now tightly; puckered; arsehole; sending a shimmering sensation in a northerly direction throughout the entirety of my vertebral column; up and through the raised hackles of my neck; thence to traverse across my scalp, and down through my now furrowed brow giving cause to my eyes, nose and lips to tightly squeeze together in a grimace of absolute blood, toil, sweat and ANGER!!
NO: Twas none of these... It was the audacity of a screaming bitch, no body of consequence, daring to talk to me in that impolite, supercilious, washer woman (no offense to washer women intended) manner and tone!
Having paused long enough in this posture of crawling venom rising within me I slowly turned on my heels and glared at this bitch of a bitches bitch! A bitch now silent, and to my great inner satisfaction, a bitch with a look on her face that, I felt, was now expressing a growing realisation of inner turmoil; a recognition of the fact that was telling her: "Urg fucking oh! Maybe I should not have spoken!"
Walking slowly and very purposefully toward her, my eyes glared into her's, my mouth opened to express the depths of veracity toward this fucking whore of a bitch! As I moved to form my lips into the consonants and vowels of my opening word I suddenly felt a firm grasp to my right wrist in company with Linda's hand across my mouth... Pulling me to turn toward her, a calm and reflective Linda quietly spoke:
"Honey, let it go! She's not worth it, and even if she was, this is neither the time nor the place... OK‽"
I went to say something: Linda, the one person who knows me so well, interjected again to repeat herself: "OK... A-i-m-i-e..? OK‽"
