Tuesday Story

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.

"Just call AAA," I replied cheerfully. "They'll have us back on the road in no time. Let's not let it spoil our first real vacation in a long time." What a Pollyanna I can be sometimes!

"Goddamn it," I heard Giles suddenly exclaim. "There's no cell service out here."

"Well, it's hot and I can't stay in the car," I heard Candice complained from the backseat, pushing the door open and sliding out onto they even hotter humidity of a Georgia summer. "So, what are you gonna do, Daddy? I'm hot!"

"Get back in the car. You're half-dressed at best," he said. "We don't need that kind of attention right now."

She of course paid no attention, walking aimlessly back and forth and pouting.

And just that moment, as if to mark his words, a pickup with an incredibly loud exhaust system drove by, came to a quick halt and baked up toward us. I had an uneasy feeling that Candice flaunting her cute, tight ass in skimpy white shorts and a pair of five-inch heels that threatened to bounce her ample bosom right out her meager excuse for a halter top was probably the reason.

"Hey, y'all got car trouble," the driver said, walking towards us, openly ogling Candice, who I swear was now provocatively posing!

"Overheated," Giles answered, slowly getting out of the car.

"Can I take a look? I'm a mechanic with a shop just up the road," he asked. "Nice ride," he added. "Don't see them broke down much."

"Sure. Thanks," Giles shrugged. The mechanic reached inside the car and unlatched the hood, while looking me up and down. I felt a chill of dread and excitement.

"Fan belt," the man said, peering inside the hood. "I got me a tow truck up the shop, and I can come tow you back and fix you up if you like. Won't take long and my prices is very reasonable."

I had a vaguely uneasy feeling about all this. The man was probably in his mid-forties with stereotypical good ol' boy manners and drawl. He was probably nice enough looking once and likely a ladies' man as well, but he'd put on a lot of weight, especially around his midsection, lost some teeth and hair, and now looked little more than a typical Georgia red neck. But the uneasy feeling wasn't about how he looked; and it wasn't the way he looked at Candice, though it should have been, I suppose. No, it was the way he looked me up and down as if he knew a secret about me...and my own odd stirring inside in response. This man was dangerous to me, and I felt he knew it just by looking. My heart was suddenly racing. I dropped my eyes submissively in reply to his stare through the windshield.

This situation was becoming very strange. Both Candice and I are accustomed to being looked at. We're both blondes with long legs and big boobs and we've never tried to hide the fact that were attractive. So it wasn't that he looked that had me in this odd state. Most guys look. It was the way he looked. In those brief few seconds of staring at me, he had very obviously undressed me. Not crudely necessarily, but very slowly and knowingly, deliberatively and thoroughly. I though this man can probably describe the shape of my bare breasts. Could probably tell you how they'll feel in is hands. The shape of my nipples. The feel of my silky-smooth pussy against his rough hands. I could almost feel him parting my thighs for a closer look. And for disturbing reasons, I was intrigued. I desperately wanted him to look at me and not Candice. I actually felt possessive! Or perhaps possessed. I got out of the car and shamelessly posed in hope he'd see me as the tastier of the two sexy blondes his eyes had been feasting on.

"I'm Thaddaeus Booker, by the way," he smiled nodding at all of us. "Just call me Thad. I can be back pick y'all up 'bout ten minutes," he said winking at me. I raised my eyes back up in submissive acknowledgment

"Thank you," Giles said. "Appreciate it."

I turned inquiringly to Giles as Thad drove off. "You sure of this?"

"Not entirely, but I don't know what choice we have."

"Did you see the way he looked at us?"

"I think you're used to guys staring, Michelle."

"He's different."

"He's a rural redneck and you're just not used to their ways anymore is all. I'm pretty sure he's not going to rape you," he answered condescendingly.

No, I thought, he's probably not going to rape me or us, but there is something Giles didn't know, something that makes him dangerous in ways Giles could never understand. He could never recognize that I was both nervous and excited that he was coming back. And no, I thought in an abrupt and terrible moment of clear perception, if he fucks me, it won't be rape, Giles. That's the really scary part.

About a half hour later, Thad reappeared, driving a rusty flat-bed tow truck, and on which a short time later he had the Mercedes pulled up and secured.

"You two ladies can ride up front with me," Thad said, looking directly at my chest with a big grin on his face. "You boys get in the back,"

I looked a Giles with some consternation, but he just shrugged. In some strange way, I was relieved. I told myself it was because I didn't want any kind of confrontation, but I knew that wasn't the whole truth. Something about Thad was disturbing, but what was more disturbing was my physical reaction to what I can only describe as his primal nature. I could sense viscerally that he was a different sort of man from my husband, a man accustomed to having his way with women, a feeling only a certain kind of woman can truly recognize.

Giles and Jason climbed in the back, and Thad took my hand, walked me around to the driver side and helped me up onto the seat, his hand low on my back and grazing my butt while he guided me up.

"Scooch on over here, hon," he said to me as I began to position myself close to Candice. "Give that pretty little gal of yourins some room," he said to me, pulling me closer to him, his thigh pushing hard against mine. "I ain't gonna bite you!"

I could feel my heart begin to race and worse my nipples start to slightly stiffen. There was nothing sexually attractive about this crude man going to pot in his middle age, nothing at all, yet I couldn't deny that my body was telling me something entirely different. I could have moved back closer to Candice. Should have. But I stayed where he out me, my thigh glued tightly to his. "Move a little closer," he said. There was no distance at all between us, but I pushed my bare thigh even harder into his. He chuckled.

Thad's shop was little more than a garage next to a trailer with a smattering of tools, old tires and two wheelless cars sitting on cinderblocks. A half a dozen men of various ages sitting on a few rickety chairs and a broken down, sagging sofa drinking beer completed the scene. In the corner, a very obviously retarded young black man stood drooling and leering at Candice.

"Whee dog, Thad!" one of the older men said as we walked into the dim garage. "You were right about them two with the tits."

Both Candice and I glared nervously.

"Settle on down, boys," Thad said with a grin. "These two here are ladies, northern ladies. You gotta treat 'em special. They ain't like the hos you boys used to."

"Sorry about that," he said to me and gestured to Giles and Jason to follow him out to the car. "They don't see good looking women all that often," he said, winking at me as they left.. We were abruptly alone with a leering crew of southern red necks.

It surprised and frightened me that Giles left us there unprotected, but it perhaps shouldn't have. He has always been one to avoid confrontation. He has never said a word to any man flirting with me, no mater how overt. But this was different, and he should have recognized it and stayed. Confrontation was called for! He had heard what the man said, but he had walked away, leaving his wife and daughter behind.

"What size bra you gals wear?" one of the other men said, spitting something disgusting into a paper cup.

"That young one ain't got no bra on" another said, laughing and grabbing and shaking his crotch at us.

We simply stood there, transfixed both by the oddity and by the terror of our situation.

"Let's go find your dad," I said nervously to Candice, but as she turned to leave, she bumped into the retarded man who had appeared seemingly out of nowhere and in one quick motion slipped her halter top up to reveal her spectacular tits. She stood there, momentarily stunned. The black hands on her white breasts began playing with her nipples.

"Told she didn't have no bra on," the one who had shaken his crotch at us snorted.

"Little Yankee ho like I told you! Lemme you see yourens now, momma."

Candice had pushed the the black man away but a second latter he had her tits in his hands again and was pulling her toward the other men. "I'm fucker. I'm fucker. I'm fucker," he drooled. I was paralyzed with dread.

Thankfully, a moment later Thad returned with Giles and Jason. "God damn it, Benji, get off a that girl!" he shouted. "They're our guests. What's the matter with y'all?" he yelled, grabbing him by his collar and slapping him hard on the back of his head.

Giles only glanced at Candice as she pulled away from the retard mauling her breasts and nodded at me tensely to follow him quickly. Something was clearly wrong. Thad swatted me on the ass as I walked by and ushered me out of the garage.

Outside was a very large man in what looked like a uniform leaning against a patrol car. He had a billy club in his hand and was slowly smacking the palm of his hand with it. "Afternoon, ma'am," he growled. "Sorry to bother you but we got a bit of trouble here. Seems Thaddeus was working on your car and discovered this bag of what looks and tastes like cocaine, so he flags me down as I'm driving by and while I'm nosing around the car, I find these here CDs that I'm betting have some real nasty child porn on them."

"What are you talking about?" I exclaimed. "That doesn't belong to us!" He couldn't have been looking in or around the car for more than a minute nor could Thad have been working on it at all in that time.