Striding into the car dealership, Barbara Stanfield Holden, Barbie to her friends, carried herself with an air of high authority. The heels of her Louboutins click-clacking on the gleaming white floor; the tall, gorgeous blonde's huge breasts bounced slightly with each step in her loose Gucci print blouse. Those breasts. Those expensive, bought and paid for globes of sexual inspiration. The 40-year old's massive 36DDDs were absolutely perfect, and immediately drew the gaze of most any man that saw them jiggle and shudder as she walked. She looked like a Barbie doll, and the nickname she'd earned as a young girl had stuck.
Any man who saw her would think she was a sophisticated and wealthy kept-woman, she had that look. Wearing all designer brands and looking the part of a well to-do trophy wife meant that she'd never had problems getting the attention of a sales person. The truth though, was that everything she wore, from her black Valentino pencil skirt, to the Louis Vuitton bag she carried, was as fake as her massive tits. She was an imposter playing a part that she knew well. Still, looks can be deceiving, and salesmen throughout the dealership saw her and clamored towards her to help her with whatever she wanted.
Barbie really wasn't a rich housewife, though she had been. Once one of the wealthiest women in the state, in the months since her divorce she'd had to sell off every designer thing she'd owned just to make ends meet. Fate is a cruel bastard, and so was her ex-husband, but she'd learned early into her separation and subsequent divorce that to get by she would have to rely on her assets and get creative. The fury and rage Barbie had when she first caught Richard, her ex in bed with another woman was long passed now. She'd had months of alone time with reality to deaden that pain. She'd won the house in the divorce; a sprawling mansion in the hills outside of town, but hadn't secured the means to pay any of the ginormous monthly bills a home that size generated. As a result, Barbie had to sell off most of the contents inside her formerly well-appointed home with the exception of a few rooms, leaving a mostly barren and cavernous mansion on the hill.
Of course, knowing that his ex-wife was left spinning in the wind made Richard chuckle. He'd always enjoyed making Barbie suffer, especially in bed, and now she would learn that the bill-payer of any household wants, he should get. He wouldn't have turned to outside women had she taken care of all of his demands, and now she was reaping the rewards of her stubbornness and pride. He'd bought that house with his own money, money that he'd worked hard for, and here the court had seen fit to give it part and parcel to his blonde bimbo ex.
The court fight over the divorce had been expensively long and hard, but it was worth every penny. It cost him tens of thousands, but had assured that even with the loss of his house it was a completely clean break. No alimony or monthly payments, he was able to secure a promise of zero additional monies as long as the bitch got their house. It was worth it.
So with that one symbol of their marriage, their gorgeous mansion on the hill, he bought her off once and for all. He'd fucked his gorgeously pornographic looking, fake-titted ex-wife in the throat, pussy and ass thousands of time in that house, spread his seed all over the place. He cheated on her in there too, so leaving her to live in it seemed fitting. He knew she had no idea of how to get a job, and it made it extra delicious to him that with this final act of their marriage, he'd get to teach her a lesson about respecting her place.
There was one final disgrace for Barbie though that she hadn't thought of. The car. The big posh Mercedes convertible that was Barbie's car, that she'd earned, that she'd worked hard for. Her daily driver, her grocery getter, her freedom. Richard had purchased the car for her to replace the Lexus SUV she'd had, after much pleading and debasement on Barbie's part. It was her pride and joy and now, nearly 6 months after the divorce had ended, after everything else but the house was gone, and after months of silence, it was gone. A tow truck had pulled up to the gate in the middle of the night and took away her car. Richard had never actually signed it over to her, the title was still technically in his name. Because of that he was able to reclaim it to give to another woman, a young secretary at work who was "handling" most of Barbie's previous wifely duties.
The convertible hadn't been without strings, and she truly felt she had earned it after all she had gone through to get it. He'd agreed to the idea of getting her a replacement for the gas guzzling SUV she'd had at the time, but told her that she'd need to convince him and that he expected her to work for it in a way that showed him just how much she really loved him. Barbie knew what this meant, or at least had some idea; Richard had an enormous sex drive and wasn't afraid to demand what he wanted from her when his lust consumed him. Sometimes her jaw and throat would ache the next morning after a particularly rough session. Often times she'd see his eyes glaze over with lust and knew that things were going to get really intense quick. She'd learned to not think too much about what was going through his head when these things would happen; the choking or grunting or the name calling only meant he was really enjoying it. Calling her a fuckpig or slut or whore was just his way of getting closer to climax. As long as he was fucking her anything he'd say in the moment was ok. She'd found early on that by letting him just use her tight body however he wanted she would eventually reap rewards for it.
Most girls were disgusted with the salty taste of semen, but not Barbie. She'd had to swallow so many gallons of her husband's baby juice that it didn't bother her at all anymore. Load after load would go into Barbie's belly, up her smoothly shaved pussy, or on her face and she'd feel confident that he was hers and no one else's. She knew that as long as his fat load went in or on her, it wasn't going to go on or in anyone else. So she was fine with having sex with her husband any time he wanted it, and had learned long ago how to efficiently get him off. She also knew though, that if she truly wanted that brand new shiny convertible, she'd need to really impress her husband with some new tricks. Hand jobs, facials, and the roughest throat fucking might not be enough to win him over for something this expensive. He'd want to be truly surprised. He'd want to know she really wanted it. He'd want to see her debase herself in a way that showed him she understood the true meaning of her worth. Barbie not-so secretly loved the challenge, this was in her DNA. In her eyes this was totally fair and not in any way a degradation.
Some women may have seen some of the expectations her husband placed on her as an inequality in their marriage, but the beautiful blonde didn't feel that way. She felt empowered. She could be the perfect princess in public, or the brazen fucktoy in private so long as she got what she wanted after he got what he wanted. These were their pre-agreed upon assigned roles, and because of that, their family was successful. So because of that, Barbie was ok with what was expected from her in her role as the pretty blonde housewife to this powerful man who was a top executive at one of the biggest coal and energy firms on the east coast. Her presence at the office when she'd meet her husband for lunch or to drop off items would generate talk among the underlings as they'd see her strut past them, catch a whiff of her designer perfume, and dream of the day they could earn enough money to earn someone like her.
Barbie knew fashion, and had a great style but could work it in a way that accentuated her body. Thousand dollar dresses, blouses, and skirts would hug or enhance her tight body and massive assets to really show off what it was about her that made her special. Gold pendulum necklaces that hung deep between her cleavage or thin bracelets wrapped around her slender wrists only enhance the beauty of this stunning blonde even more. Her wedding ring of gold and the massive 3 carat diamond on her engagement ring sparkled in any light and was designed to not only showcase her husband's love, but to generate envy in any woman that saw it.
Showing off his trophy wife out on the town or at business dinners was a way that Richard could gain the upper hand in negotiations and life. His counterparts saw that this guy had what any man would truly think was a prize, and would immediately feel envious and a little less powerful than him. Barbie would often dress in sharp outfits when out and about running errands, but could really turn it on for nights out alone with Richard. Dates out at the steakhouses and occasional private executive clubs downtown were chances for Barbie to really show off and she enjoyed making the men of her surroundings uncomfortable as they sat with their own, less enviable dates. The stunner would flaunt her boobs and body in skimpy, slutty outfits with high heels and stockings, glossed lips and sexy jewelry, the teasing manner of dress that was what her husband liked.
So that was Barbie Holden's past, but not her present. Today she was the image, but not the reality. Today Barbie was only an imposter of a rich bitch. Today, despite her appearance of being cool and collected, she was more than a little bit desperate, and today she had to make something happen or she was going to be in far worse shape than yesterday. Barbie had just lost her car a week prior to the repo man and her ex-husband, and had decided on a plan to wheel and deal to get a new one. She picked out some of her finest-looking clothes, worked on getting her makeup absolutely perfect, and set out to play the part of someone who knew what she wanted. From the uber at the front of her stately home to the dealership, she'd walked into this place to make a deal one way or another and wouldn't take no for an answer.
The first thought the lead salesman had was "HOLY FUCK.". Selling cars and managing a sales team at the local luxury car dealer was usually a boring, tepid experience involving paperwork and making small talk with middle class suburbanites with aspirations of social climbing. The truly wealthy had underlings that would shop for them. Occasionally some yuppie would stroll in with a nice-looking woman on his arm, but it was usually either bland looking families, or snotty foreigners with delusions of grandeur. The blonde bombshell with the big tits who had just strolled into his showroom floor was completely unexpected. She didn't look like the typical boring housewife, she looked like sex on a stick.
