The experience I'm about to relate is admittedly implausible...unless you're a woman with sublimated submissive needs and desires, as I am. If so, you'll understand far better than anyone else how things like this can happen and how easily they can overwhelm your life once they are indulged. It's a peculiar and demanding addiction, I've discovered. Judge for yourself.
For me, the seed of this addiction was planted when I was much younger. I can't go into the details of that affair here but suffice it to say that I willingly became the property of a much older man, and I understand now that if he had not gone to prison for embezzlement, I would likely never have escaped.
But he did and I did, and shortly after I found myself free but adrift, I met Giles. Giles was the direct opposite of Derrick, the man who I was referring to above, and the happy and necessary correction to my life. Giles was kind and solicitous, caring and tender. I eventually convinced myself I was in love with him.
I got pregnant almost as soon as we became intimate. It was my fault for not telling Giles I wasn't on the pill (I'm allergic), and not asking him to use a condom. I was willing to get an abortion, but Giles wouldn't hear of it. He said we should get married. I was surprised and grateful that he cared enough to not only forgive me, but also to make it all legal.
But his family was certainly not happy! Giles' kin are old money, and all they could see in me was gold digging trash trying to lure their precious son into my den of iniquity by my pregnancy. Giles wouldn't budge, though, and neither would they. And so his mother and father disinherited him on the very the day we were married.
Life was difficult after the twins were born. I had been poor all of my life so scrimping to make ends meet was nothing new to me, but it was totally foreign to Giles. His anger at his parents consequently morphed into a driving need to succeed financially to prove his independence, but though he worked very hard and learned much about markets and money, he never was able to achieve the success that was promised to him before he met me.
Then when the twins were four, Giles' grandparents were killed in a boating accident in Bermuda, leaving Giles a substantial portion of their wealth. His parents tried to nullify the will, insisting the grandparents had intended to remove him as a beneficiary, but fortunately they never succeeded.
Giles now had the seed money to pursue his goals. Things will be better now, I thought then, and certainly this will dampen his anger and slow his drive, but instead it only fed his intensity. That was good for the family financially, but honestly, our sex life paid the price. And that's where this story picks up fourteen years later.
The twins, Jason and Candice, had just turned eighteen. They had both turned into the kind of kids that people who don't understand how they were raised might find to be obnoxious, see them as spoiled, privileged, and arrogant in the way only the rich can be. But truthfully, I am okay with it. At least in Jason's case. Candice is a little more of a problem, though her arrogance should be perfectly understandable. She is, first of all, stunning! Like me, she's a thin blonde with big boobs, but she's also, I'll agree, horribly conceited. The kind of girl who is hated by all whom she excludes from her circle. She's a "mean girl" as well and terribly competitive with everyone, especially her friends. And unfortunately, I'm the object of far too much of that competition.
When Giles has clients over for drinks or cocktails or whatever, for example, he expects me to be very "friendly" with them to make them feel special. He's asking me to flirt with them, of course and I do it willingly to help out. I know that sounds like he's pimping me more or less, but I don't see it that way. It's just a business practice. I'm attractive and I have a very, very good body and am not at all reluctant to show it off. Men like it. I like it. So what's the harm? I can make guys feel they're the only one in the room. Old guys especially like that. It might seem to someone watching who doesn't know me that I'm just a cock tease, and maybe it's true that some of the men get the idea that they can bed me, but so far, up to this time, it hadn't ever gone beyond some feeling up and the one time a French kiss accompanied the groping. That's all.
But that's not why I'm telling you this. If you were here for one of these events and watching, you'd also see what I see: my own daughter competing with me for attention. If you see me in a low-cut blouse or dress, you'll also see Candice in one cut even lower. If I'm say in a mini, she'll be in a micro mini. If we're at the pool and I'm in a bikini, she'll be in a string bikini. It's just ridiculous. She flirts outrageously with Giles' clients, usually focusing her attention on some guy that she knows I've more or less seduced. Then she'll look over and smile at me once she's got him in her talons. When Jason's friends come around, she tries to push me totally out of the picture, especially if, as they often do, they start flirting with me. She wants to be called "Candy." I won't do it. It seems cheap and vulgar.
So when "Candy" tries to edge me out of the picture, maybe I also get a little competitive sometimes. That's understandable, right? It's called pay back. I remember one time dancing with her then boyfriend Chris, for instance, and feeling him get hard. Well, I made sure Candice got to see it. She glared at me, and I just smiled at her. Tit for tat! Her current boyfriend, Mason, is a much older guy, late twenties, and he's made it clear that he wouldn't mind finding his way to my bed. Candice better be careful.
Jason is interesting in his own way, but not in an ugly way like Candice. He's a very good athlete, tall and handsome, though like his sister, a consummate flirt. Jason is what was once called a "player," as I've learned from some conversations I've overheard, some remarks from some of his friends (while they were flirting with me), and from things Candice has told me.
Apparently, Jason and one of his good friends kept a complicated "score sheet" throughout high school. Of the various ways of earning points, only one really interested me, and that was the big one. The home run, as they described it, was scoring on a senior girl and her mother within a week of first fucking the girl. Jason has three home runs, according to Candice. She tells me he'll "fuck anything," but I really doubt that. He's very discriminating in his tastes, I'm sure.
But I can understand why he finds it so easy to score. As I said, he's handsome, athletic, rich and popular. I doubt he has ever had to "settle." Maybe if you met him, you'd think he's stuck on himself, but frankly, that would be your problem. He's going to be very successful in life, I'm confident.
That basically was life then. But everything was about to change dramatically.
The summer after high school, to celebrate the twins graduation and my thirty-sixth birthday, we decided it would be a good time to take a longish vacation. I argued for a trip see the deep South where I grew up and ultimately, that's what we did. It was a an introspective trip for me, boring for the twins, and I'm not sure what for Giles, but still on the whole a relaxing couple of weeks.
The last week was especially nice. After nearly two weeks casually roaming the deep South (and as I said frankly boring the two kids to death), we took a week on the Gulf Coast in a luxurious resort. At least there, Jason and Candice, had met some interesting kids their age. Jason got to play some pick up basketball and show off his quite accomplished athletic skills...and I'm pretty sure bed a few of the girls he'd met. Giles got to rest, important for him because he had not taken a single day off since he founded his hedge fund four years ago. I guess it was good for me, too, though I tend too much to question decisions I've made and fret over choices that are contrary to my physical desires.
Don't get me wrong. I'm happy and I know we're all in a good place now. Giles' fund has been hugely successful lately (thanks in no small part to my ability to charm potential clients), and his reputation has grown enough to make him feel comfortable taking a few weeks away. Jason learned he'd been offered an athletic scholarship at a very decent division two university (where he can continue his pursuit of vulnerable women), and Candice has decided to take a gap year and tour Europe with a friend of hers, which I'm in favor of. So I'll be free of child rearing responsibilities next year...and very wealthy. Can't beat that. Can you?
Well then, why, I ask myself, this gnawing sense of something missing? Giles is a hardworking, dutiful and faithful husband. He's a good father and wonderful provider...and an adequate lover. He's gentle with me in the bedroom. Always solicitous about my comfort and satisfaction. So why then are climaxes so infrequent, and why do I so often fake orgasm, and why when I do climax am I fantasizing about that man who so terribly mistreated me when I was much, much younger? Those were the things that haunted me. But I'll just have to learn to put them out of my mind, I thought then. Sex isn't everything. Is it?
Such thoughts had been plaguing me for the past hour and a half as we drove through the church-ladened towns and burgs of red-neck Georgia where I grew up while listening to Candice complain endlessly about being bored. Bored to Candice means no one going gaga over her. She is very shallow. I was about to ask her stop being so ill-tempered when I felt the car slow and pull to the side of the road.
"How can you pay nearly 100K for a car and have it break down on you in the middle of nowhere?" I heard Giles muttered exasperatedly.
