tagBDSMTormented Trophy Wife Ch. 01

Tormented Trophy Wife Ch. 01


Author's Note: Like most of my stories, this one will start slow with a long back story developing the main characters. If you are impatient, I suggest skipping ahead to chapter two. I tried to make it so you will not be too lost if you take that path. There is some sex in chapter one, but not too much. I classified this story as BDSM because Literotica allows only one category and the story will evolve to fit that group. This chapter has foreshadowing to that effect, but really should be classified something else. You've been warned.


To look at me you would never guess how my life has changed over the past 12 months. Or maybe you would. Maybe it is obvious what I have become. Certainly in some groups of people who know me my secret desires are know. Celebrated even. But to most people, hopefully I appear normal.

Today is New Years Day and I am documenting the last year partially as a confession and partially as a New Years' resolution to continue down the path I have started. Last year's New Years' Day found me tired and hung over from a night of drinking and dancing with my friends from college. We rarely get together since graduating five years ago, but we managed that year and had a great time. I didn't get my kiss at midnight as I wasn't seeing anybody at the time and failed to find a suitable candidate at the bar. Not that I didn't have plenty of offers. A woman who looks like I do is only lonely by choice. I just wasn't feeling it that night.

This year, New Years' Eve was a bit different. I still spent the night with friends, but they were new friends. Actually they all friends of either my new husband or his son or daughter. Yes, I went from without a boyfriend to married in less than a year. Even more amazing was I woke up New Years' Day in torn lingerie, sore from being fucked in my pussy and ass, my jaws tight from the oral sex I performed and covered in dried cum. Oh my backside was purple and bruised from the paddling I received counting down to midnight.

You might think how I spent New Years' Eve was strange but once you understand the events of the last six months before that glorious night I think you'll understand. I invite you to continue and read my story.

Chapter One: The Backstory

My name is Heather Ridge. I am 28 years old and I am a trophy wife. Before I became one I always hated that moniker. Then I met Sam. Sam is a few years past being twice my age. His hair is gray and distinguished. He is a venture capitalist. I first met him five years ago when he gave a guest lecture at my Kellogg School of Management MBA program. But I am getting ahead of myself.

I was born to an upper middle class family in Northbrook, IL. I was blessed (or cursed) to develop well before most of my classmates. I went through puberty early which made me very popular. I started dating in eight grade and soon learned that boys would do most anything to be seen with a pretty girl. As I advanced through school I began dating boys progressively older than myself. I had discovered older boys had better jobs and could spend more money on me. In high school I always dated boys two years older than me. When I was a junior I graduated to dating college boys. By the time I went to college (UW Madison, go Badgers) I didn't even bother with college boys anymore preferring men who were out on their own. I was also here that I really began to understand the power a woman has over a man.

As I alluded to earlier, I was blessed with beauty. Sure I was smart enough to work out every day, but in all modestly I know my smile lights up a room and I can wrap any man around my little finger. College flew by. I studied hard during the week, but weekends were for parties and sex. I worked my way through a steady diet of men during those years. Some were good lovers, some bad and some actually cared enough to make sure I came. Mostly I would finish myself later using my favorite vibrator.

I also learned the quickest way to a man's heart was through a nice sloppy blowjob. I know there are girls out there who hate sucking cock, but I am not one of them. Actually I would estimate I blew three or four times as many guys as I fucked. To get in my panties you had to be either very special or extremely athletic and good looking. I know that is shallow but it is the standard guys use so why should I be any different. But if you didn't meet my bedroom standards, I'd still get you off with my hand or mouth as long as you were nice to me.

Before you ask, I never got drunk and got it on with my roommate in my first lesbian encounter. We did get drunk and fuck the same guy once, but she didn't touch me while I rode him first and then I worked myself over good with my vibrator while he fucked her. I must admit her moans of pleasure worked wonders in triggering my repeated orgasms while watching them. I must also admit I did think about seducing her on more than one occasion while I masturbated, but nothing ever happened.

After college I immediately went grad school in Chicago. I knew an MBA was essential these days and didn't want to waste any time. I was working full time and going to school so there was precious little time for men. I dated occasionally, mainly when I got the itch for some attention between my legs and my daily masturbation routine was getting stale, but it was nothing like college. Real life can be a drag and for the first time I started to realize just how much hard work it would take to claw to the top of the business world.

It was just before graduation when Sam gave his talk. As I said he was distinguished and handsome. Sam's firm was headquartered in San Diego and also had a branch in Los Angeles. They invested in startup companies and also bought distressed companies to either try to turn around or to break up. Although I always dated older guys, this man was older than my dad and I never had considered someone that old. As his speech went on about his life as a venture capitalist I began to daydream about the life of luxury he must enjoy given the financial rewards of his chosen career. I actually found myself tuning out from his words are fantasizing about being with him. It was weird. I'd always pictured myself as the corporate raider type, but suddenly I could see myself spending some other titan of industry's money.

I came back to Earth when my roommate elbowed me that the lecture was over. The school was hosting a cocktail mixer for Sam. I guess he was an alumni and had donated a lot of money or something. I knew I had to meet him. I still thought he was too old for me, but I could at least flirt with him and try to get some more information about the social circles he moved in. Perhaps there was a much younger version of him who would be interested in a gorgeous, smart blonde who loved to suck cock. I couldn't put that on my resume, but befriending Sam surely would improve my job prospects after graduation.

Like most men, Sam was happy to have me standing next to him as everyone crowded around to hear his stories from the trenches. He was a great story teller. I didn't get to talk much, a rare event, but I chimed in as often as I could. I noticed Sam stealing glances at me as he worked the crowd. Although I never got him alone, he did give me his card and told me to call him closer to graduation. I wasn't sure if he was speaking business or personally, but I gladly accepted his card and made sure not to lose it.

The rest of the semester sailed by and soon I was graduating with my MBA with honors. Through the school placement office I had several quality job opening in Chicago's financial community. I had actually been so focused on my studies that I had forgotten about Sam until I happened across his card buried in my laptop bag. I was sure he didn't remember me, but I sent him an email anyway. To my surprise called me back. He said he did remember me and told me that the when the placement office had contacted him about openings he had asked about what other companies were interested in my services. In fact he had talked to my faculty advisor about me and although he didn't have a job opening for me at the moment, he had a friend who ran another company who was looking for someone just like me.

He asked if I was interested in moving to L.A. and although I probably should have had a red flag go up because there were several great business school in California, at the time my ego and self confidence was enough to accept his offer to fly me West for an interview. I had promised the company I was sure I was going to go with a decision on their offer on Monday. Today was Thursday. I asked Sam if I could meet his friend on Saturday and he said Friday would be better. He told me to dress professionally and he would call me back in 20 minutes with flight info out of O'Hare either tonight or early tomorrow morning. This was my first practical exposure to the pace of big business. I started packing. I had two classes on Friday, but I could skip them.

I packed a business suit plus a casual skirt/blouse combination plus my delicates into a carry-on bag. It didn't take long. I then sat down a tried to still my beating heart waiting for his call. True to his word, Sam called back in less than 20 minutes. He said he could have gotten me on the red eye but because of the time change it would have arrived in L.A. way to early. He wanted me to be better rested. Instead he had made a reservation in my name on the 6am American Airlines flight with the return being late in the afternoon. He apologized for how early I would have to get up but said that was how business worked sometimes. He said to dress professionally as I would have a late morning interview with the company's personnel director and then lunch with him as he was in the L.A. branch that week. If all went well with the interview his friend would interview me after lunch. Sam assured me that the trip would be worth my while. I said OK, I'd be there with bells on. After I hung up I cursed myself for using such a corny phrase. It was clearly not professional.

I quickly repacked my bag just keeping clothes to fly home in and quickly steaming out the wrinkles which seemed to attack my suit instantly in the bag. After I was done I sat down and for the first time realized what a pain in the ass flying that early would be. I live about 40 minutes from O'Hare and since I should be there an hour early to get through security that means... umm... damn, I was going to have to leave around 4:15 in the morning. Shit. That means I'd have to get up about 3:15 to shower, dress, do my makeup and eat a quick breakfast. How was this better than arriving in L.A. in the wee hours?

As I fell asleep I had to admit I really wasn't that interested in an L.A. job but I was intrigued by getting Sam alone for an hour at lunch. My mine began to drift back to the daydreams I had while he was speaking to our class and before long my hand found its way into my panties. I'd been so focused on finishing school that my pussy had been neglected for weeks. It responded like it always does to an intimate touch and was soon gushing. My orgasm was fast, not earth shattering but gave me the release I needed to fall asleep.

I woke with a start to the buzz of my soon to be slammed with my palm alarm clock and crawled out of bed. I was still mostly asleep as I staggered to the bathroom to brush my teeth and start getting ready. The bright lights in the bathroom began my wake up process and soon my eyes began to focus on the image in the mirror. The first thing I noticed was a dull listless look on my face. No job is worth this I thought to myself. Then I noticed my nipples were standing hard and proud under my nightshirt. This was unusual for me. Not that they would be hard, mind you. They are extremely sensitive and a source of great arousal and pleasure for me. I just never woke up like this before.

Intrigued, I pulled up the bottom of the shirt and saw a distinctive wet spot on the front of my panties. It was almost as if I peed the bed. My thighs looked dry though so I wiped my finger across the stain and then sniffed it to confirm my suspicions that it was actually pussy juice. I must have been having quite an erotic dream when I woke up. What didn't I remember my dreams?

I actually though about masturbating again because my body obviously needed it, but I didn't have time if I wanted to make the flight. I quickly showered and got dressed. Breakfast would have to wait for the airport and I dashed out of my apartment. Although I wasn't thinking sexy thoughts consciously, I could tell my pussy was still wet. I always wear lingerie under my suits because I like to feel like a woman even if I'm dressed like a man. The thong I was wearing would not hold much moisture and I'd only brought one change of underwear. I thought about tell the cab driver to stop as we passed a 24 hours Wal Mart, but as we were still short on time I didn't.

The closer we got to the airport, the more I was aware that my pussy seemed to have a mind of its own and now my nipples were getting in on the act. Every bump we hit in the road scraped them across the silk of my blouse hiding under my suit coat. It was pure torture. I wanted to whip open my blouse and pinch them. But of course, that wasn't an option. Maybe I could take care of myself at the airport, I mused. I obviously needed more relief that my bedtime session provided.

Check-in was fast and efficient. Mostly business travelers at that hour who knew what they were doing. I was surprised to find I was in row 2. I didn't fly much but I recognized that as First Class. At least I'd have room to stretch out a bit. Security wasn't too bad and I got to the gate half an hour before boarding. That left me plenty of time to grab an Egg McMuffin and coffee from the overpriced terminal McDonalds. My sexual excitement had dissipated somewhat. I told myself it was the excitement of traveling and the stress of trying to be on time at that early hour that caused my state of arousal. Now that I was here early my body was starting to relax.

I made a visit to the lady's room before boarding so I could have a full size bathroom and then it was time to go. First Class gets to board right after the non-existent people traveling with small children and only one elderly gentleman who needed help down the ramp. As I settled into my window seat I took a look around at the other First Class passengers. All were impeccably dressed and groomed. As soon as we reached cruising altitude out came their laptops. The cabin was a chorus of clicking keys. I had not brought my laptop but I had my Kindle so I brought it out of my bag. The man sitting next to me was busy banging out memos and working on spreadsheets. I tried to sneak peeks at what he was working on but he had some kind of screen protector which prevented curious eyes from seeing the display from the side. I tried to engage him in friendly conversation, but it was clear that wasn't why he was there.

I was half reading my book and half secretly watching him. He was definitely a find specimen of man. I couldn't understand why he wouldn't talk to me. Nobody was that focused on their work, were they? I starting playing out mind games trying to decided what business he was in and what he was like outside the office. Eventually my thoughts turned sexual and began to fantasize about him and joining the mile high club. My thong was once again drenched and my nipples were demanding attention.

My watch told me we would be starting our descent soon so I asked politely if I could get passed him to use the bathroom. Although First Class had more room, my ass was still in his face as I squeezed past him into the aisle. I then removed my jacket and tossed it onto my seat. In the bathroom my main concern was drying my panties. As I hiked up my skirt and hooked at my reflection in the mirror, I lost control. With one hand holding my skirt I used my other hand to join the solo Mile High Club. It only took a few minutes of furious rubbing until my body shuddered through another climax, definitely stronger than the night before.

I was still riding my finger when I heard the announcement to raise your tray tables and fasten your seat belts. I quickly washed my hands and straightened my skirt, but as I walked back to my seat I had the feeling everyone knew what I had just done. I knew my face had my usual post orgasmic glow. I slide past my row mate, facing him this time. I'm not sure why I did that. Instead of looking at my ass this time he was face to face with two very hard nipples. If he had played his cards right he could have been in the bathroom with me, I thought to myself as I sat down and strapped myself in. His loss.

As we descended I noticed him stealing glances at me. I was holding my jacket so my nipples, in addition to screaming for attention, were still on display for him. I pretended not to notice and kept looking out the window. He never said a word and everyone in First Class deplaned very quickly after we reached the gate. I was nice to be off the plane in less than a minute. I could get accustomed to flying this way.

Everyone was walking quickly toward baggage claim. Of course I just had my carry-on, but Sam had told me that was where is driver would meet me. As the crowd passed the secure area, I saw a row of limo drivers holding hand scribbled signs looking for their fares. I found mine and off we went. He was all business. He kept the darkened screen up between the driver and passenger compartment. I'm glad he knew where he was going because I was immediately lost having never been to L.A. before. Soon we were at our destination. He opened the door for me, tipped his hat and was gone. I was standing in front of a gleaming glass office building. Checking my phone again for the floor and contact name, I headed inside.

The first interview with personnel went fine, I thought. I was pretty standard stuff. About half the time was talking about me, my education and my experience and the other half was spent trying to make them sound better. Nothing really stood out. Since they had flown me in just for this I would have thought the interview would have been more in depth, but I guess they interview a lot of people and I'm sure the job gets mundane.

45 minutes later it was over. I wasn't sure what to do. I had heard my phone buzz in my purse while we were talking so as soon as I reached the lobby I checked it. It was a text from Sam saying he was downstairs. As this is what I was really there for I practically sprinted to the elevators. Sam was waiting outside another limo at the curb. I could definitely enjoy not driving anywhere. He gave me a hug and said thanks for taking the interview.

The car quickly sped away. Well as quick as you can in L.A. traffic and we ended up at one of those fancy restaurants you see on T.V. when talking about Hollywood. It was fancier than any I had ever been in. The menu didn't have prices on it. I guess if you have to ask you can't afford it.

Our lunch conversation was mostly business about how my last semester finished, what my plans were, did I have any good offers. The usual lunch chit chats. Sam also asked about my personal life, was I seeing someone, what did I do to relax and what I did for fun. Our conversation was more like an interview than my interview had been; punctuated with some of the best Mahi Mahi I had ever eaten.

After lunch we got back into the limo. We were still waiting for a call with the interview results so Sam had the driver give me a tour of the Hollywood hot spots. Eventually Sam got a text that the company wasn't interested in me. It didn't say why. Sam was clearly disappointed.

"I'm sorry to have wasted your time," he said.

"Not at all," I replied. "All interviews are good experience."

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byTappy_McWidestance© 15 comments/ 129366 views/ 38 favorites

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