Training the Trophy Pt. 01

Author's Note and Preface: The "Rich man possesses poor girl/Pretty Woman" storyline is no doubt very played out. It is a tired stereotype of plot and character. Apologies in advance. This being true, I wanted to make an attempt at this (overly) popular fiction thread of ownership, domination, possession and submission. If you don't want to read another version of this theme, click away now. If you'd like to see my attempt at it, rife with personal fantasy and my own fetishes, then read on, and I hope you find it at least somewhat entertaining if not original in the least. -Sustainer.

No matter what they may admit to, every man desires to have an obedient, submissive, beautiful trophy wife. Conversely, every woman secretly desires to be a perfect, subservient possession who is adored and cared for, objectified and kept captive while provided firm direction and absolved of all guilt surrounding sexual latitude- since her sexual conduct is no longer her choice, but rather, her solemn and sacred marriage duty. Every man wants this. Every woman secretly longs for this.

Through luck and industry, I have become a wealthy man. This alone is infinitely attractive to women. No matter what they may claim or espouse, how much they assert their feminism or independence, a woman desires a wealthy man to provide for them and offer financial security. Other than my wealth, and my sexual appetite, I am an utterly unremarkable man. Some women, more than you may imagine, are willing to exchange their full sexual servitude in for financial security and social status. My wife is such a woman.

I found her in a gentleman's club. An upscale topless club where young women danced on stage in lingerie and revealing costumes, performing exotic dance routines for assembled clients while revealing their breasts and stripping to a G-string. Following their performance, the young girls would circulate among the patrons, making small talk and soliciting private lap dances in a more private setting in the back rooms of the club for large tips.

This was the perfect resource to find what I was looking for. Firstly, it acted as a kind of living catalog. Without the absurd constraints and antiquated conventions of "dating", I could quickly review a large number of potential trophy wives before beginning the indoctrination into my marriage and trophy wife training and optimization program.

I am a businessman, and as such, I admire efficiency and a well-run process. In advance of my trophy wife assessment and selection I consulted with a friend who is a marriage counselor and a behavioral psychologist. He holds a Ph.D. in training psychology. After describing my objectives to him in obtaining the ideal trophy wife, he and I worked together closely under contract for months to create an optimal, scientifically configured, trophy wife selection, indoctrination and training program. This included an ongoing maintenance and administration routine for my eventual trophy wife. Once our perfect trophy wife curriculum was developed, I simply went to various upscale gentleman's clubs to locate the very best trophy wife to my specific tastes and purposes.

She must have brown hair and brown eyes. Round cheeks and a full face with a round nose. Preferably European in heritage.

While her figure must fall within very specific parameters for hip measurement, leg length, buttocks shape, overall height and weight, her breast size and shape are not critical at intake since modern breast augmentation surgery means that any girl can have any breasts.

Perfect breasts exactly to my liking would be an add-on at a specific phase of the acquisition and indoctrination process. In fact, consultation with the cosmetic surgeon who was already contracted to perform my prospective trophy wife's optimization had given me specific guidelines to look for in shopping for the right candidate. It was best to start with a young girl, 18-20, who was a 32 or 34 B cup bra size. This would be the perfect platform for creating a large, firm, high-breasted girl who would be a tailor-made 32-34DD cup after upgrade. After her work was completed, she would have large, firm, high breasts with dark, upturned nipples atop big areolae that puffed out from her tits in a constant state of erection and apparent arousal.

Her hips should be full, her buttocks round, firm and elevated, her waist trim and narrow, tapering down from her curvy, reproductive hips. Her legs should be moderately long with adequately full, not too-skinny calves and healthy, firm thighs since stockings are a particular fetish of mine, among many others. The perfect selection would be free of tattoos and, in the best of worlds, have nipples that were already large and dark in color, symmetrical and outsized to her breast size so they would scale up nicely to her new, much larger breasts. Puffy nipples are the most desirable, but if all other pre-existing physical factors are excellent, my cosmetic surgeon told me about a procedure whereby nipples and areolae could be enlarged, darkened and made to protrude more to my liking. I personally inspected a young girl he had performed the puffy-nipple enhancement procedure on, and the results were remarkable.

Once my selection criteria, recruiting and indoctrination processes were finalized, I went out looking.

After several enjoyable weeks of shopping at local gentleman's clubs there was an epiphany. A young girl, 5'3" tall, long, brown hair, enormous brown eyes, swaying hips, round buttocks and the most beautiful face and button nose I had ever seen, sat in my lap and asked if I wanted a dance. It was impossible to refuse. I suspected immediately that I had found my quarry.

She danced for me as I reclined in a lounge chair in a private room, swaying in the shadowy light to soft music, then straddling my lap, stripping off her sheer, lacy bra, grabbing my hands and placing them directly on her breasts. Then she began to gyrate on my swelling erection, clad only in a little, shiny black thong panty. She leaned forward, pressing her tits to me, and whispered in my ear, "Back here you can do almost anything you want. $100 a song Sir."

I felt her natural tits, and they were quite nice, likely a large "B" or "C" cup. An excellent starting point. Her hips were full and girlish, her buttocks spectacular and round, the skin smooth and even in tone from what I could see in this light. Her lips were large and I felt them on my neck when I leaned forward. Somewhat unusual for an exotic dancer to kiss a client on the neck. Her arms and legs were beautiful, her overall figure full and round. And that hair, my God, that beautiful mane of cascading, natural brown hair. Luxurious.

The gentle grinding of her thin thong panty crotch on my erect cock inside my pants had me soaked in precum. After three songs, I grabbed her firmly beneath the arms and moved her slightly away from me. She had a slightly surprised expression, then smiled, "Enough?" she asked.

"I have a proposition for you, young lady. Would you be willing to meet outside this club for dinner, for, perhaps, two or three hours? It would only be dinner and conversation, I assure you, in a public place. Nothing to risk. Everything to gain."

She made an overly quizzical expression.

"Ohhh. A proposition? Hmmm. You know we aren't supposed to be doing that."

"Five thousand dollars for dinner young lady. And I buy your outfit for the night. No funny business. No sex. Nothing weird. You and I, dinner in a nice restaurant and a few hours of conversation. That's all. No risk. All reward. What do you say?"

"Hmmmm. Sounds nice. Possibly. Maybe..." She cooed. She circled her thong-covered hips one more time on my lap, pressing down on my hard cock inside my pants extra hard.

"You buy one more dance, and I'll think about it. But I need to know your real name. I'm going to check you out online before I decide. In the meantime, are your pants still getting tighter... and wetter? I'm soaked. My panties are almost soaked through. I'm going to have to go back and change after I'm done with you..."