After they left, I just sat down on the floor and cried. Finally, I stood up, kicked my heels off; and headed for the bathroom. Thank goodness none of their smelly cum got in my hair. I knew I would have to put fresh makeup on after I finished scrubbing my face. My husband Greg had strict rules about how I was to look and dress around the house. And after seven years it was like second nature.
I married Greg when I was eighteen and he was fifty-five years old. I was living with my mother in a trailer park in a bad part of town. At the time marrying money was my only way out.
The summer after graduation, I had taken a job as a bottle girl in a downtown nightclub. The outfits were very sexy; it consisted of a full corset, black stockings, and high heels plus a large black bow in my hair. And that was it. Nothing was left to the imagination, most of my tits were exposed, with the cups barely covering my nipples. The panties were nylon and had a way of riding up in the crack of my ass. It was my first-time wearing stockings and finding out the effect they had on customers. Men, especially married ones, would call me to their tables for drinks and would just stare at my nylons, especially the garter clasps. If I acted "cutesy" and giggled after they commented on my body, I would get bigger tips.
Greg came in one night with some friends. He sat down and motioned me over. He bought shots for the table and tipped me one hundred dollars. I thanked him and with a big smile said I would be back. I had to circulate, but out of the corner of my eye, I caught him watching me. It wasn't unusual for older guys to hit on the girls. So, I wasn't surprised, but he was different than the usual crowd, most of the time guys would think if they tipped you good, they got to fuck you. Greg never acted that way, he had some respect for the girls.
He caught my eye and waved me over. He introduced himself; and wanted me to sit down, but it wasn't allowed, so I just stood next to him. Just then the owner of the bar called me over, as I bent down to hear him, he said "do whatever Greg Dawson wants."
I said, "He wants me to sit with him."
"That's fine, tonight you're his, just make him happy."
What power this guy must have. I hurried to Greg's table and as I bent down to give Greg a kiss on the cheek and thank him, my boobs were almost out of the corset, and my stocking clad legs were on full display. I didn't care, and hoped he liked what he saw. He looked rich, so I hoped he might be my ticket out of poverty. I knew how to flirt, I giggled at everything he said that was remotely funny. Plus, I put my hand on his thigh and let it linger there, giving him a little squeeze.
I didn't hesitate for a minute when he asked for my number. After that we went out almost every night after I got off work. He was divorced and extraordinarily rich, so we ate at only the most expensive places. I loved how everyone kissed his ass and pretty soon I had the power that comes with being rich. In two weeks, I quit my job and moved in with him and left the trailer park forever. He proposed one month later, and we were married two months after that.
Greg was very controlling; but very generous. I got a new Corvette, unlimited credit cards and the ability just to be able to buy anything without worrying. Of course, there was a catch, the dress code.
In the house I had to wear stockings, four-inch heels, and garter belts or corsets. When I went out with him or even alone, I had to wear skirts or dresses that hugged my body. I was the true trophy wife, and I loved it.
As far as sex, once a week was about it. Greg had a small dick, and it really didn't do much for me, plus he finished too quickly. Oddly enough I got more pleasure giving him a blowjob while fingering myself; I found out just the right spot to get me off.
His main obsession was garter belts and nylons; and it was my job to indulge him. It was good I loved wearing something sexy and having my husband show me off.
Greg traveled a lot and sometimes when he was gone; I dressed up, in frilly underwear anyway. It makes me feel like a real woman, and at the same time a "sex object," which are about the same thing.
Don't get me wrong it wasn't all good times.
One night we went to a party. I had never seen Greg get that drunk. When we got home, he ripped my dress off and screwed me on the couch with no foreplay. It seemed like forever before he finally came, then he turned nasty.
He pushed me on the floor and made me crawl into the family room on my hands, and knees; dressed in only a garter belt, nylons, and heels, slapping my ass as I crawled in front of him. The louder I cried the harder he slapped my ass. I like spanking games, but this was different, he was really trying to hurt me.
When we got to the family room, Greg told me to get a beer and sit on the floor in front of him. I couldn't get up until he said so. He almost finished his beer, when he gave me the long neck bottle and told me to set it up on the floor and go down on it, without spilling or drinking it. I was scared, kneeling on the floor with my ass in the air, Deep throating a beer bottle, I felt like a whore. After five minutes he got bored and said its time my "friend" the bottle wanted to cum. He told me to get on my knees and smile, he then sprayed the rest of the beer on my face. My humiliation was complete, as he made me crawl on all fours up the stairs. I had to sleep on the floor next to the bed in just my nylons, garter belt and heels, with beer drying on my face and hair. I knew my place after that, my sore ass and raw pussy reminded me for a week.
I heard the sound of a car in the drive. I guessed it was Billy. Most of the house lights were off, so maybe he would just go to sleep.
Making sure I couldn't be seen, I peeked out the window, it wasn't Billy, it was the kid next door. I thought he was away at college. I knew I wasn't going to answer the door dressed like I was. He didn't act like he was in trouble, so I ignored him, and he left after a few minutes.
Billy finally got home at two, and went straight to bed, thank god.
Billy's flight was at ten, so he had to be out by seven. I was up at six to shower and dress, I was starting to feel good knowing he would be gone soon. I chose a white sleeveless dress, and dark taupe stockings, with my favorite white lacy bra and panty set, with matching garter belt. The bra was my favorite it was lacy and barely contained my tits.
I slipped on brown four-inch heels and went down to the kitchen.
Billy said he would eat at the airport and said we had to get going, which was news to me. He said he didn't want to drop the car off and I should do it for him. I didn't feel like it and what's more I had chosen this dress because I didn't think I was going anywhere. The dress was skintight tee shirt material with a scoop neckline, it came to a couple of inches above my knees, which was fine for inside the house. But It left no doubt what kind of underwear I had on. My bra and panties were clearly visible, but the worst part was my garter belt and nylons. The garter strap clasp and stocking tops were clearly visible thru the material.
When we got to the car, "He said, you drive I feel like enjoying the scenery."
I opened the door and realized the dress was too tight, I couldn't bend my legs fearing the thin material would rip, or ride up to my crotch.
Billy looked over and said
"Trouble my dear?"
I couldn't hate him anymore than I did at that moment.
I said to myself "What the hell,"and pulled the bottom of my dress up almost to my waist, exposing my stocking tops. I settled behind the wheel and realized how mad I was.
"I hope Greg realizes how lucky he is, when he gets home tonight, are you going to blow him?"
I frowned "I'm sure we will have a good time."
"Be sure to tell him you like cum on your face, especially your forehead so it can drip down to your tits, I've got some pictures on my phone of you dripping so to speak, but we don't have time now."
I wasn't going to let him get to me, I just scowled.
And said, "I'll let him know."
As I pulled up to the door and stopped, he called for some help with his bags. When a skycap came over, he held the door open and gestured for him to look at me.
"Some good-looking driver huh? just look at those legs."
The skycap was a leering middle-aged man and he just stared at my stockings as I struggled to tug my dress down, but to no avail.
"See you soon." Billy laughed closing the door. He never missed a chance to mortify me.
There was no way I was going to return the car, dressed like I was. So, I headed home, wishing Billy would get run over.
We live on a private drive with only two houses on it and there a good quarter mile apart.
Ours was the last house and as I passed the other there was no sign of life, I guess they were away.
As I pulled into the covered section of our driveway, I could see the neighbor kid standing there, at the last minute I remembered his name, Eric.
He walked up to the passenger side; I realized how much leg was exposed but there was little I could do, but I did drop my hand trying to cover my garter clasps.
"What can I do for you, Eric."
He turned beet red; I think because I remembered his name.
"I just stopped over to say hi to you and Greg, Mrs. Dawson."
"Please call me Brooke, and Greg is out of town, but will be back later today."
I could always manipulate men with a smile, and this twenty-year-old guy didn't stand a chance.
"Could you pick me up at the car rental office, I have to return this car, and I would be eternally grateful," and with a flutter of my false eye lashes he was mine.
"Take the SUV in the garage and follow me."
When he was going for the car; I laughed to myself, how easy men are, I didn't realize then what chain of events I started by doing that.
When we got there, I gave him the papers and keys and he went inside while I walked to the SUV, I tried to get in, I couldn't believe he locked it. I wondered what was taking so long, finally Eric came back with a smirk on his face and unlocked the doors.
I got a few whistles from the workers in the garage as I walked around to the passenger side, I hiked my dress and tried to slide in modestly, but no luck; Eric was already behind the wheel, so he got quite a leg show, as I fought to keep a little modesty which wasn't possible. I didn't want him to have an accident, so I told him I was cold, throwing a sweater over my exposed legs.
