Most Prized Of Possessions

You can own a great many things. Possessions are always beautiful, they are always taken out of jealousy. A Mercedes is comfortable, it’s power is unquestionable; the way that the leather feels on skin, the way the seats embrace the occupants, the radio sings as beautifully as a siren; but the car isn’t owned for it’s creature comforts. Its owned out of jealousy that someone else may own it if you don’t buy it first. You pay sixty thousand dollars for a car to ease your jealousy and to convey it to someone else, the one who has to watch you slide into the supple seats, the one who has to sit stupefied at the power that you control and the power that you must have to have achieved ownership of such a specimen of what civilization is capable of creating.

A woman is no different. You do not love a woman, you possess her, you keep her from others; you make her the idol of your jealousy. You certainly can come to love a woman, but you cannot love her until you know her, the biological mechanism of endorphins flooding the blood stream like cocaine attacking the heart and making it rush with excitement cannot be achieved if you do not initially desire the woman. The desire is jealousy, the ancient and deeply embedded desire to horde the beautiful, to possess, to control. If you are not jealous for something, then you didn’t want it in the first place, it has no value to you unless you want to keep it from others.

Such was my feeling toward Jessica. I saw her for the first time when she was but a woman-child of 13. Already developed, already bursting with sensuality at a time when I did not know what sensuality was. Instantly, I was jealous for her attention, jealous to own her. That was easily achieved; as anyone who has ever felt the pain of desire knows, if that pain is acute enough, you will either achieve the object of your desire or destroy yourself pursuing it. That could have been the end, ownership could have created happiness and the story would have went into its end in the same fashion as other love stories; this one was different, though. Not all objects of ones desire wish to be owned, but will only concede to their possession temporarily.

Jealousy and possession, possession and jealousy; the two, we know, are interminably linked together. The object of ones jealousy, the possessed, often concedes to their position as object because they are, in fact, jealous to be desired. Like the perfect song, which is so remarkably written that it seems to seek ears to reside in, so some objects of desire seek to be desired; base their value on their demand, rather than on the extent to which they are guarded.

Jessica and I had married, she had bore my children. She was owned by me completely. Five years in to happily ever after, she grew melancholy, inexplicably, she was unhappy. There were many possible reasons for her condition; maybe post-partum depression, maybe boredom from being kept at home to raise small children, possibly the natural process of getting older and losing touch with the friends and excitement of youth. The truth came in the form of letters. She had found suitors, new men who were jealous for her attention, who would possess her. My most valued object was being eyed by would-be thieves.

Chapter 2.

A common metaphor for the onslaught of emotions which rocks one’s being is to simply call the emotion a “ping”, which is quite insufficient, but conventions are meant to be adhered to. So, at the realization that my favorite item was in jeopardy from those who would attempt to remove her from me, I was surprised by the unmistakable ping of excitement. These are two conflicting emotions, angry jealousy and eager excitement; foretelling an interesting, if destructive, story which would unfold regardless of any attempts to stop it.

Jessica’s need to be desired became more prevalent and unmistakable, seemingly, each day. My jealousy was pleased by the events. Like the driver of the Mercedes must see the desire in other driver’s eyes and feel empowered by knowledge that he has what other men cannot have; I too experienced the euphoria of having what others wanted. But, though the owner of the beautiful car may savor the wanton appreciation of others for his vehicle, it would be quite another thing indeed to allow the onlookers to borrow the vehicle for the weekend.

The car can be truly owned, though; it makes no choices in it’s condition of ownership. A woman, however, does make choices. Her choices are no more easy than those of he who possesses her. She loves her man, she pleases him and works hard to do so, she does not want to see where his jealousy for her may lead him. She also wants to be appreciated, by more than he whom she already knows appreciates her well. Her man is not the only one who basis her value on how desirable she is to the onlookers.

Jessica’s choice was made, she could have both. She could both be true to her husband, she could remain his exclusive property in heart, mind and soul, while also giving herself to others physically. She believed whole heartedly that a separation could be made, that love and sex were different things.

Chapter 3

I had also made a choice. My jealousy would carry me to dangerous territory, too dangerous for me to allow for my excitement, my titillation, to carry me into that unknown land of division of my most valued possession.

To make up for my lack of ability to give her the sexual promiscuity that she desired, I attempted to fulfill her need to be desired on my own. I used her in every way possible, degraded her perfectly. She was an eager subject of my objectification, eagerly submitting to urine showers, come facials, fisting, violence. But, as with anyone who owns something which they believe to be of value, I could not keep up with her desire to be used without worrying that I might destroy the very thing that had become my idol.

Constant tension erupted, between my desire to possess her and my desire to please her. Tension developed in her as well, between her desire to please me and her desire to please everyone who admired her. Emotional arguments ensued, positions changed from acceptance of the status quo, to eagerness for a complete about-face. This tension simmered for years, sometimes forcefully and sometimes deep in the background of everyday life. In the meantime, I satisfied myself with the fact that though my possession wanted to be shared and for that reason alone was no longer truly mine, the act had not actually occurred and so my position of ownership and domination was undisturbed to any great measure.

Chapter 4

After 12 years of marriage, Jessica and I were both 30, the entire discussion seemed to have dissipated. There had not been talk for years on the subject, and in truth, the matter had escaped my consciousness completely. Jessica had completed her work at the university, both of our children were in school, and so Jessica had been able to take a career as a teacher and was busy with work and family and had grown seemingly content with her life.

Perhaps unfortunately I had also pursued my career as I had from a very young age and had achieved a great deal of success in my field. With success came more and more possessions, more and more objects for me to appreciate, to be jealous for. When you’re poor, you have a limited number of possessions, and so those which you have are extremely important and seemingly irreplaceable and priceless. I wasn’t poor any longer. I had my own Mercedes, I had a home which required filling, and time which needed things to be spent on. What I chose to spend my time on was the unending pursuit of the next thing which my heart could not be still without.

I only had so much attention to spread around and though every man loves everything which he owns, you cannot give everything in your life the necessary attention at all times. I realized this was the case with Jessica and I attempted to replace time and emotion that I used to devote to her with items of desire which she could be jealous for herself. Such was the case during one summer vacation the year Jessica turned 31. Being a teacher, she of course had summers off. As a gesture of kindness, and a demonstration of my guilt, I offered to send her on a month’s vacation to the location of her choice. I also insisted that she take this vacation alone. One reason being that I couldn’t have went had I wanted to because I had far too much responsibility at work to take a month off, and the other being that I thought that everyone needed time to themselves. Jessica seemed reluctant to leave me and the children behind, but eventually conceded that a vacation all to herself may be a pleasure, and accepted my offer. Inexplicably she chose the State of Texas as her vacation destination.

Chapter 5.

Jessica had been gone for two weeks on the evening that I got onto our family computer. I was working on an important presentation, and when I went to find it in the documents file, I couldn’t. I tore through the files, searching for this presentation which represented the last three months of my life and a multi-million dollar deal for my employer. At a moment when I thought nothing could have distracted my attention, something did. There was a document file titled “Sadness” that was in a directory with the nonsensical name, “alt.files”. I opened the document and what I found shocked me.

“I am less important than his cars, his job, his possessions. There is something missing which wasn’t before. He doesn’t look at me the way he once did; I did see him look at his new yacht that way, though. I’m sure that he’s cheating on me; he doesn’t come home until after midnight, he’s gone from home by six in the morning. He hasn’t made love to me in 3 months.”

The document, which seemed like a letter to no one, went on like that for five pages. It was full of pain and a sense of loss that broke my heart to know I had been the cause of. I was offended at the notion that I would be cheating on her. She obviously didn’t know what I did, how important I was; I wouldn’t have had the time to cheat on her even if I had the inclination. I hadn’t done anything to prevent her suspicions from being roused, though, and I knew that.

I, of course, couldn’t read this letter and do nothing. The sense of loss struck me deeply, though I had no reason to believe I had lost anything. I simply had to show her that she was still my most prized possession and all would be well. I reluctantly turned my project over to a subordinate, after finding the necessary documents. I called the nanny that Jessica and I had often used to take care of the children when we vacationed without them and paid her double to come to the house on short notice so that I could find my wife in Texas.

Chapter 6

I arrived in Houston in the morning, and decided to see some of the sites before going to Jessica’s hotel. She didn’t know that I was coming, so there was no hurry and I’d never been to Houston before. It was late in the afternoon before I had made my way to the hotel, bearing gifts and speeches for my wife whom I was intent upon pleasing completely.

The clerk at the desk gave me Jessica’s room number and I found that she was out when I got to her door. I was very agitated by this development; I was sure that she wouldn’t be coming back until late, probably out enjoying the town. I had no choice but to go out myself. I treated myself to dinner at what the clerk assured me was the finest restaurant in Houston and then returned to the hotel and spent a couple of hours in the hotel bar after checking again to see if Jessica had returned to her room and finding that she had not.

The bartender confirmed for me that bars in Houston close at 4:00 am. I didn’t think that Jessica could make it quite that late, so I decided to go to the room and surprise her when she returned. I requested the key from the clerk, who was resistant to the tune of four hundred dollars to the idea of giving me a key to a room which hadn’t been reserved under my name, regardless of whose name was on the credit card, he said.

I got into the suite, tired and four hundred dollars poorer, at two o’clock in the morning. I was sure Jessica would be coming in at any moment, so I decided that the best way to surprise my wife would be to hide in the closet until she arrived, that way I could playfully scare her when she arrived, lend levity to the important discussion that we would have to have which would ensure that neither of us were going to get to sleep that night.

Unfortunately I was more tired than I had counted on, the flight from Kansas City to Houston and the subsequent day on the town had ground me down and I fell asleep on the floor of the closet shortly after sitting down to wait for my wife. I probably would have slept through my wife’s arrival, had her voice not been heavy and loud with alcohol.

“I’m so glad we took that nap today! I would have never made it if we hadn’t.” Her voice woke me with a start. Not quite awake, I started to rise to greet her, when I stopped, wondering who it was she could be talking to.

“I told you it was a good idea. All that talk about you not being able to sleep during the day! Ha! Getting you to take a nap is worse that talking a kid into it.” It was unmistakably a man’s voice, replete with deep southern drawl, his voice, too, heavy with alcohol.

“Yeah, you were right and I was wrong. For the first time since I got here I’ve made it to closing time, with energy to spare! Closing time in Kansas City is 2:30, I’m not used to staying out so late!”

“It’s good that you have extra energy, Jessi, because you’ve got work to do, to pay me back for the good time I showed you tonight.”

“Yes, sir. What can I do to show my appreciation?”

The tone of this conversation was unmistakably sexual. I was lucid, not stunned, almost intrigued to know how far this innuendo would go. A kiss? “ha!”, I thought, “a kiss?”, my intrigue increasingly became irrational anger very quickly. This couldn’t be playful banter between two new friends, not at almost five in the morning, not in a hotel suite fifteen hundred miles from home.

“You know how you pay me, bitch. Get on your knees.”

“ Thank you, sir. I know it’s where I belong.” I heard the shuffling of my wife dropping to her knees. I heard the sound of a zipper being worked, I heard overly loud sucking sounds emanating from somewhere in a room that I was blind to.

“Spit on my cock, slut. That’s it, rub that wet cock all over your face, cunt. I’m going to fuck your throat, you’re going to choke on that cock, do you understand?”

“Yes, sir, I under….” Her affirmation was cut off, apparently by the cock of her lover being thrust down her throat. A choking sound followed, and then more.

Chapter 7

“Cuckold.” The charge echoed in my mind. The accusation emanated from within my mind, I was both the accuser and the accused. Violent anger sprung like blood from the wound in my pride. My wife, likely only feet from my hiding spot, was sharing herself with another man. Not only sharing her body, but submitting completely to his domination. Nothing entered my mind except one word, “Cuckold.” Thoughtlessly, I threw the closet door open, stepping forcefully into the room, almost hitting the man in the his ass with the door as he completed a slap against my wife’s face.

The two looked in shock at the form coming from the closet. They were motionless, my wife did not immediately remove the cock from her mouth. When she realized who she was looking at, she dropped the cock from her mouth, but remained on her knees.

“R. J.!” Was all that she said. The thief looked with surprise and understandable fearful when he heard my name, he apparently at least knew the name of the husband of the woman who he was using quite relentlessly. As my eyes adjusted from the darkness of the closet, I recognized the man, his name was Theron. I had seen his picture years before, one of those men who had coveted my most valued possession from afar, one of those I had allowed my wife to correspond with for the sake of fantasy and appeasement.

“Please, don’t stand. Theron, continue, please.” I realized that I had a number of options. Cuckold was not a title which I was willing to accept. I could have beaten Theron for his transgression of my property, but a beating of him would have made me physically superior to him, it would not have changed the fact that he had cuckolded me. I could simply have left, cut Jessica off from her means of support in the lifestyle she had grown accustomed while protecting my assets due to her obvious negligence, which also would not have changed the fact that I had been cuckolded. The only way that I could reason to avoid the title of cuckold, was to participate in the violation of my favorite toy. You cannot be a cuckold if you take part, so that is what I resolved to do.

Theron appeared confused, apprehensive. I certainly would have been afraid if I were him, there’s never any telling what an angry owner might do if he catches a thief in the act. Since he didn’t make a move, I ordered my wife to resume her engagement of his cock, which had grown soft.

“R. J., we can’t just keep going, we need to talk.”

“I don’t need to talk to you, bitch. What do I need to say to you? You get that fucking cock hard again like a good whore, or you’re going to be in a world of trouble.” Her eyes sunk in shame and submission, and she began to lick Theron’s dick gingerly.

“Bitch, I heard you sucking his cock from inside the closet a few minutes ago, now you’re going to try to act like you don’t know what the fuck to do? I told you to suck that fucking cock, and I meant it.” I pushed Theron back, and slapped my idol across her face. If she was going to submit to anyone, she would do so no more than she would to me.

As her face turned back from the blow, she did not look at me, but swallowed Theron’s semi-soft dick into her mouth. I could see that Theron was still not comfortable with the situation, I was afraid that I had destroyed his motivation, which I guessed may have been fucking other men’s wives behind their back. I hoped that he would come around. I was not happy with him, I was mad with anger, in fact, but he was nobody to me and it was not nearly as important that I seek revenge for his transgression as it was for me to give my wife what it was she obviously needed in order for her to once again understand what she meant to me as both a wife and an item.

As I watched Jessica suck Theron’s flaccid dick, I began to disrobe. Theron must have accepted then that I was not going to fight him, and he began to get back to the job at hand. He spoke to her, looking at me to gauge the extent to which I would accept his treatment of her.

“You fucking whore!” He said to her, as she began to again choke on his cock, “You told me that he had condoned this! Now you’ve got to pay for your lie, you’ve been a bad slut.”

“Oh, Jessica, you lied to Theron to get him to fuck you?”

“Yes, daddy, I lied. I needed his cock, daddy, and so I lied to both of you.”

“Put that cock back in your mouth, you fucking cunt. Nobody gives a fuck what a lying slut like you has to say.” I kneeled behind my wife, and bent to have a lick of her pussy. As I looked at her hole, gapping from what had obviously been two weeks of intense pounding, my mind went back to the first time I saw her nude. 18 years old, nipples pointing at the sky, her pussy like a brick wall against my young cock’s intrusion, her hip bones poking through her tight stomach, her ass was firm and perfectly round.

I licked her pussy, my tongue searched for the sides of her pussy wall, she was extremely stretched. I glanced up at Theron’s cock, it was big, but not enough to have caused this, I surmised that he must have fisted her in the course of their time together. I pulled my tongue back from her pussy, pulling with it thick clear cum which was coming forth as if from a fountain, and looked her over briefly. Her ass was still firm, and though she had bore two children and it could be seen, she was still very lovely. But she was not as she was the first time I had her, and the fact pleased me.