But I Don’t Really Want This, Chapter 25
Nicole moaned in pleasure and took her hand away. After a few seconds she realised her hand was moving back. She withdrew it again and held it with her other hand. It’s fingers felt very wet in her other hand. And sticky. The sensation of holding her wet fingers in her dry hand made her notice the smell. I’m such a mess! She rolled from her back onto her side. She wanted to cum, but didn’t want to yet. She reached for the glass of water on the bedside table and took a small sip. She was thirsty and wanted to take a bigger gulp, but she didn’t want to leave the bed before Will came back, and she didn’t want to invite the urge to urinate.
I can’t wait for him to see how wet I’ve made myself. He’ll notice it, but I hope he says something. I hope he praises me for that, tells me I’m good. She laughed inwardly at the desire for validation, but then allowed herself to follow that train of thought again. That would feel so good, if he compliments my wetness.
She took her hand away again.
Her mind wandered to the strip club many weeks ago. She remembered stripper 1 briefly, the girl whose smile she had been enraptured by. She smiled to herself at how soon she had forgotten about her, and naturally she allowed her thoughts to wander to stripper 2. Those boobs. The way Will couldn’t take his eyes of them. The way the tent in his pants had jerked as they brushed against his body, against his face.
She took her hand away again. She thought about another sip of water. No, too soon.
She remembered the feeling of sitting there, her blouse open, her own bra and tits on display for him, for everybody. Tits that were his. Just last year she had had implants inserted that he had chosen! Well she had wanted them too, but it had been his idea in the first place. And if he wanted to grope those tits in public in front of strangers (he wouldn’t! Right?), then she would let him. But that evening it hadn’t been enough for him. He had chosen a dance from stripper 2 and her bigger tits, tits that he wasn’t even allowed touch, could only look at, and maybe feel them press against him. And she had had to watch. And it had turned her on so much. And for lots of reasons. One reason was simply that she had found the stripper and her tits sexy. Another was the effect they had had on Will.
She took her hand away again. She was lying on her front now. Her hips raised slightly to allow access. Her face in the pillow.
Another reason was the how demeaned she felt. He had played the role of the asshole boyfriend that evening. Had taken her to a breastaurant and a strip club. Had told her to unbutton her blouse further, and then further. She had done everything he wanted and he still chose someone else.
She took her hand away again.
A closely related turn on had been the effect on her own self esteem, and a change in how she was evaluating her own self-worth. She had always had high self-esteem—they both did—the only source of truth of your own value came from within. It was a while now since she had discovered her submissive side, but after that night she had realised that lower self-esteem really went with that kink. Any man would want her. She was gorgeous, intelligent and funny, and she knew it. And she had given herself over to him completely and he had acted like she still wasn’t good enough. And she had found herself believing him. And she had found herself wondering what she could do to be good enough for him. And all the time a part of her had been screaming at her, telling her that it wasn’t the truth, that she was good enough.
She took her hand away again.
And ignoring that part of her and surrendering to the doubt had turned her on. To value your worth based on someone else’s opinion. To choose low self-esteem.
She took her hand away again.
To choose to be in an abusive relationship—in the mental rather than the physical sense—and to think that this was what you deserved because you weren’t good enough for anything better.
She took her hand away again.
And so the best you could hope for was to try harder to please him and hope it would be enough. And if it still wasn’t enough? Then keep trying harder, all the while ignoring that voice inside you, telling you that this is wrong, you are good enough, you deserve better.
She moaned loudly into the pillow as she took her hand away again.
Sometimes it felt as if her various newly discovered kinks were combining in some way to form a kind of infinite loop of horniness. Being demeaned had turned her on. Allowing herself to believe that her self-worth was based on his opinion turned her on. Choosing low self esteem had turned her on. Doing everything she could just to please him, just so she could feel like she had value. And then to fail in her attempt. To be judged not good enough despite her efforts, that was the sweetest feeling of all.
She took her hand away again. So hot, but I don’t want to cum yet.
Of course neither of them wanted an abusive relationship. And she absolutely did not want her self worth to be based on his opinion. And she was sure that he didn’t want that either. But pretending otherwise was a lot of fun for both of them.
She took her hand away again.
She had thought about having a conversation with him about this, to clarify his thinking on it, just to be sure, to know that she was safe, that this was just a fun game. A fun sexy, game that hit all her buttons. But she had decided against it. By talking about it, they would create rules and boundaries around it. And then the cognitive dissonance, the voice inside her head telling her it was wrong, would be softened. “Yes dear, this would be fucked up if it was real, but you’re just pretending. It’s a game with safe limits. Have fun!” And then it wouldn’t be the same anymore. Ignoring that voice was part of the turn on. She wasn’t finished exploring this kink yet, and she didn’t want to destroy it before it started.
This time she didn’t take her hand away again. That train of thought hadn’t actually ended anywhere sexy. What would be sexier?
Actually, how can I explore this kink further? What would make it better? He had demeaned her in the strip club by choosing a woman with bigger breasts, despite all her efforts to be what he wanted. She had had implants for him and had put them on display and he had chosen a woman with even bigger tits who was putting even more of them on display. But he hadn’t been explicitly cruel. He hadn’t told her that she wasn’t good enough. What if he had had?
She took her hand away again.
He did often call her demeaning things as a joke, he knew she enjoyed it. What if he had combined that with the feeling of not been good enough? What if he had laughed at her and called her ‘tiny tits’? What if the stripper had been there as well? What if she had laughed too, standing above Nicole, derisively looking down past her own, bigger tits at her? ‘Tiny tits!’ the stripper would repeat, still laughing.
She took her hand away again.
And Nicole would feel so wretched that she would be close to tears. What can I do to be good enough? Then the stripper would go over to Will and straddle him. She would look back, smiling, at Nicole while taking one of Will’s hands and placing it on her heavy, bolted-on boob. Letting him free it, by pulling the too-small boob tube-cum-bikini down, letting him feel its weight, and then squeeze and maul it. Jesus-fucking-Christ, yes! he exclaims as she throws her head back, theatrically moaning about how good it felt to be a real woman with a real man. And then she looks back again at Nicole, still smiling, letting her know that the implied criticism was no mistake, making her feel pathetic, worthless. Now for some reason Will isn’t wearing pants and the strippers micro skirt is gone. The stripper guides his cock into her and kisses him deeply. ‘Mmmm yes’, she says to him, why on earth did you waste a perfectly good cock on that foreign boy.
‘I deserve this’, Nicole moaned loudly into the pillow. She took her hand away again.
I want to be a target of xenophobic abuse? she asked herself. I’m such a fucked up bitch. “No you’re not, you are good.” Being turn on by humiliation? That’s not normal. Obeying everything he says? That’s fucked up. “It doesn’t matter, you are a wonderful person, and what happens between consenting adults in the bedroom is nobody’s business.” Oh really, well what else turns me on? She thought about sushi, about buying lingerie the first time after her surgery, about enjoying letting her tits bounce up and down for everyone as she strode through the breastaurant that same evening as the strip club. Exhibitionism? What else? My money situation, the reading thing? I fucking love all of it. I am a total slut-whore and I’m lucky to have someone like Will who is strong and hard-working and funny and loves and protects me, but also understands my perverse needs and is prepared to put up with them. “He’s not humouring you, he fucking loves it!". Good! I’m glad, that makes him even more perfect! Where else would I find someone like that? “Oh, a man who gets off on being dominant over a woman? I’ve no idea where on earth you could find someone like that!” the voice added sarcastically. I’m not listening to you, you stupid bitch.
She took her hand away again.
She realised that the voice inside her telling her this was wrong had a form in her mind’s eye. It was her, but two years in the past. Before surgery and lip injections. Before working on her ass. Back when she felt no compulsion to do everything Will said and rarely wanted sex. You flat fucking cow.
She took her hand away again.
She realised that what she had been doing for the past—she looked at the alarm clock—45 minutes was also for Will. She wanted to please him, make him happy, receive his praise. It was pleasurable, but also agony. She needed to cum, it would be so easy! Would feel so good! But then she wouldn’t be able to surprise him with how wet she had made herself for him. And she was prepared to suffer a bit just for his approval. “It doesn’t need to be this way!". Fuck off you dry bitch. He wants my hot, sloppy cunt more than your sandpaper vagina.
She took her hand away again and looked at it. Yep. Sloppy. I hope he likes it.
Her mind wandered. Butt-plug month had ended weeks ago, but he had promised a new theme-month soon. He had such a good imagination for these kind of things. What else would he have her do?
She took her hand away again. Instead she moved it to her butt plug, the new one, and shifted position onto her side.
She pulled the new one out slowly now, feeling it stretch her at its widest, then inserted it again. She moaned. So wrong and so right. He had gotten her this new one during the last week of butt plug month. She had remarked towards the end of the month how good she was getting at inserting and removing the original plug. So he had bought her a bigger one and presented it to her at dinner in a restaurant. It had been in a small paper bag with the logo of an up-market jewellery store. She noticed people in the restaurant seeing her being presented with the gift. Before she could take the box out of the bag, Will told her to go to the bathroom and put it on.
She took her hand away again.
Once she had removed and cleaned the old one, she wrapped it in some toilet paper and put it in her hand bag. The new one was quite ugly. The old one hadn’t been beautiful, but at least it was an interesting colour. This one was just a black lump. Surely there are pretty ones? There are, I’ve seen them on the Internet! I want something beautiful sticking out my butt! She laughed inwardly to herself. Putting the new one in had been like the very first time all over again. It had not been easy, and as she returned to the table, she was conscious of each step she took, feeling the larger volume inside her. She wondered if anyone who had seen her go to the bathroom with the jewellery store bag, had thought it was odd that she had returned with an empty bag and no visible jewellery. She hoped so.
She took her hand away again. She was on her back again.
Well, she also had her handbag, so there was a reasonable, but false, explanation. Will had been doing something on his phone when she sat down. He looked up and smiled at her. His finger still moving on the display. It had taken her a second to figure out what was happening. The plug was vibrating. She had gripped the edge of the table harder and harder as she watched his finger move slowly from one side of the phone to the other. She understood now why the plug was so ugly. It had a more important purpose. She held her breath in an attempt to control herself as his finger went past half way. By the time he reached the other end she thought she could hear it buzzing. He then returned it to a lower setting, still on, but low.
She took her hand away again.
After a while she realised that she liked it, a warm, comfortable, exciting sensation within her. She allowed herself to rock back and forth on it, but wasn’t sure if she was being as subtle with the motion as she could be. Glad you like it sugar. Afterwards they went for a walk on the strip. He took out his phone, opened the app, and looked at her. She nodded. ‘Just a bit more, just for a little bit.’
She took her hand away again.
Pity it wasn’t vibrating now, but she had no control over that. The app existed in his phone only. She had been forbidden to install it on her phone. She would have to wait until he was home to ask him to turn it on. She didn’t always wear it at home of course. Butt plug month was over. She didn’t need it in in order to communicate with him anymore. But she loved the stimulation, and would occasionally put it in around the house and sometimes even when going out. She remembered a few weeks ago when they had been doing grocery shopping. As Will turned off the engine, Nicole had touched Will’s arm and looked at him. Just so you know, I’m wearing my plug. The old one had been forbidden, so there was only one plug she could mean. And what should I do with this information, he smiled back. Oh, I’m just a girl, I don’t know if it is my place to tell you what you should or shouldn’t do, she winked back. The voice in her head screamed.
She took her hand away again. That had been a fun day.
Will would be home from work later than usual today. And she had been home earlier than usual. There had been no chores to do so she had gone on Tumblr. She had posted a few images of girls that she liked. Less and less was she posting images of the stripper 1 type of girl and more and more of the stripper 2 type. She remembered one of the pictures. Those are so cool. She felt the voice getting ready to make itself heard.
Stupid Dried Up Boring Madame Nicole Brodeur: Stop thinking it. You already look amazing. Your breasts are already large.
Hot Fun Slutty Nikki: I can still look at pictures of breasts and enjoy them. There’s nothing wrong with that.
SDUBMNB: Yeah, technically there is nothing wrong with that.
HFSN: I bet they feel sexy. That’s what the stripper said. She said she feels sexy all the time.
SDUBMNB: You already do feel sexy all the time.
HFSN: I’d feel sexier if Will looked at my tits the way he looked at hers that night.
SDUBMNB: He looks at your tits all the time! Non-stop!
HFSN: Yeah, it’s so fucking great, but I wonder how much better it could feel?
SDUBMNB: No!
HFSN: I bet it would make him so happy with me, if I got bigger tits for him to look at and play with. What do you think it would feel like when he plays with them?
SDUBMNB: He already loves you, uh, I think... I mean, the last year and a half has been weird, but..., no, wait, I mean he definitely loves you! And you don’t need to do that for him!
HFSN: He could pick them out, just like he did with these.
She took her hand away again and cupped and squeezed her breasts for emphasis
HFSN: Letting him choose is so hot! And then I would be perfect for him, exactly like he wants me to be. I would make him so, so happy, just as happy as he makes me!
SDUBMNB: Oh my God, can you even here yourself right now? Look at that picture! Look at what she did to herself! 2 years ago you would have laughed if you had seen that image. You thought large fake breasts looked awful.
HFSN: That’s true, I did think they looked like shit, but now I think they look really sexy. And Will thinks they look sexy. And you know what? You think it too!
SDUBMNB: I, uh,...
HFSN: You even understand the plumped up lips now.
SDUBMNB: Ok, fuck, yeah, I admit it, I do, they look amazing, I understand the aesthetic now. But you still don’t need them. You are good enough. Wait, you are better than good enough. You don’t need to change anything about yourself for anyone.
HFSN: But I can still do it for me, right?
SDUBMNB: No!
HFSN: No? You hypocrite bitch! Your whole argument is that happiness and worth comes from within, and now you’re telling me I shouldn’t do what makes me happy?
SDUBMNB [Trying a different argument]: Everyone would know. You’re beautiful, with great hair, wonderful eyes and an amazing figure that includes already large breasts. People look at you all the time. I mean ALL the time! Think of how much more stares you would get. And also, breasts that large on a woman in such good shape as us? They’ll know.
HFSN: Fuck, fuck, fuck.
She took her hand away again. That was the closest yet.
SDUBMNB: By the way, I object to my name. I was fun!
HFSN: When were you ever fucking fun? Apart from that first year with Will when that dry cunt of yours started working for the first time.
SDUBMNB: ...
HFSN: [laughing]
She took her hand away again.
After posting a few pictures, she fell down a Tumblr hole. Clicking links, looking at various blogs, clicking onto other blogs based on some comment, clicking onto other blogs based on a picture that had been reblogged. And down that hole she had come across a post on edging. She had come across the term before and knew what it meant, but this time some blogger’s comment had caught her eye and she read a post, and then another post, and then another.
She took her hand away again.
Of course, being in the mood was not a rare event for her anymore. And she didn’t need much foreplay anymore. Unless you used her new definition of foreplay which included things like Will calling her a slut, or Will slapping her ass when she wasn’t expecting it, or seeing someone stare at her cleavage.
She took her hand away again. Yeah. Foreplay is the fucking best.
Edging. Masturbate without cumming. Keep yourself as horny as you can without going over the edge. Be so turned on and ready for him at all times. The logical extension of that, orgasm denial, had seemed like too much. Maintaining a permanent state of horniness so that you would agree to anything for release. She already would agree to anything, so she didn’t need the extra incentive. But if Will wanted her to try that, well, I would want to make him happy, and it would be so sexy to always be in heat when in public, so of course...,
She took her hand away again.
No better to not think about that. I still love my life outside of sex, even if sex is a lot more important to me than it used to be. I can’t be thinking about sex all day at work. I mean, I do often think about sex at work, but it doesn’t get in the way of work. I need the release. “Thank God!” Shut up bitch. But occasionally edge for him? Be as wet as you can be for him? I bet he will love it. I hope so!
She took her hand away again.
She fantasized about him arriving back now. Not saying anything just unzipping his fly, releasing his hard cock and ploughing in and out of her. No starting slow and building up. Nuh-uh. Not for me. Not today. Can’t wait for him to look at my Tumblr likes for today. I wonder what ideas he will get?
She took her hand away again. Think of other stuff.
She remembered the previous weekend when they had been grocery shopping. She had wanted to buy herself a bar of chocolate for the journey home but because of the new rules she didn’t have money, and she didn’t want to buy just a single chocolate bar with her card before Will had the groceries rang up. But he had made her a deal, I’ll buy you a bar of chocolate but you have to post a picture of my cum on your tits to Tumblr. Yeaahhh! she had quietly and happily exclaimed as she wrapped her arms around him and kissed him, before skipping off to pick out her prize. Chocolate and be a secret slut on the Internet? Win-win.
She took her hand away again.
The new rules. Oh God, she had already given up so much for him. Never in her worst nightmares had she imagined being financially dependent on someone else, let alone imagined herself actually enjoying it. And now she was living it. They had been planning a joint bank account for quite a while. The new cards arrived a few days after the meeting at the bank. He had taken hers and put it in one of the books on the top shelf. For emergencies and pre-agreed occasions only, he had said. He held up the Internet banking login details. You can keep a copy of this in whatever way you feel secure with, but you only get to use it in emergencies.
She took her hand away again.
Keep your old card, he had told her, for your old account. But I already moved my salary and my outgoings to the new account! The money left over won’t last long, she added. Transfer that money to the new account too, he ordered. After you have done that you don’t get to use the Internet banking for that old account anymore, except of course in emergencies. Then give me the login details for your old account.
Fuck, yes. She took her hand away again.
Once a week I’ll make sure that exactly $150 is in that account. That will be your money for the week. If you spend less than $150, then the next week I will top the account up by only the amount necessary to reach $150. You can’t attempt to find out the balance, though I accept that situations may occur where you accidentally find out. You can’t overspend. Oh that reminds me, remove the overdraft on that account. You can use the Internet banking to do that, if it’s possible, or phone them or go visit them.
She took her hand away again.
$150 per week? That’s less than $8000 per year? And that’s only if I spend exactly all $150 every week. I earn 10 times that!
She took her hand away again. The humiliation. She tasted her fingers.
$20 dollars a day she had decided to limit herself to, giving her $10 dollars of wiggle room. Her bank had an ATM near her office where she could withdraw $20, $40 or some other amount so that she would know how much she had remaining. It didn’t count as ‘attempting to find out the balance’, if she already implicitly knew. But she had always been someone who paid with card rather than cash, and Will had noticed that she was keeping extra cash in her purse. He asked why and she explained her new system. Don’t use the ATM, he ordered, unless for emergencies. Pay with your card. You are welcome to keep the receipts, but don’t attempt to add them up until at least a week has passed.
She took her hand away again.
But I won’t know how much I have left, she had pleaded. Yeah I know, he responded. But this is what you wanted to try. And she knew it was true. They had never discussed anything like this. But she had reblogged and posted comments on posts about financial dependence. And liked other posts. And she knew he noted everything that she did on Tumblr, and that it would give him ideas. In her head she had imagined it might be a fun, sexy idea to try for a month. But he gave no indication that this was temporary. This is what you wanted, he said. I know, she answered.
She took her hand away again.
He reached his hand under her skirt, put his finger inside her panties and entered her lips. He withdrew it. He showed her his finger. She could see the wetness glisten. You want this.
She took her hand away again.
You know you are no good with numbers and money, he said sympathetically.
She took her hand away again.
I know, she agreed. A lie. A huge fucking lie and they both knew it. They were both great with money. I do try, she added, looking up at him, I really, really do try.
She took her hand away again.
I know you do sweet-tits.
She took her hand away again.
It’s not your fault. I don’t blame you for that. You are what you are. You know I’m just trying to protect you from yourself, don’t you?
She took her hand away again. Oh, he really gets the new me and I love it.
You’ve just made too many bad financial decisions (lies!) and expensive, unnecessary purchases (more lies!). He stroked her hair, and she moved her head to meet and enjoy the movement of his hand. I know you are trying to protect me, she said. I do know, and I know I am stupid with money. Looking up now, doe-eyed. I know how bad I am. She looked back down and put her face in her hands. Wait ’til he gets a load of this improv, she remembered thinking. I’m sorry, I’m really, really, really sorry, she wailed, I’m sorry that you have to do all this extra work for me because I’m so stupid. She decided against adding tears. Maybe that would have killed the fun for him. Face still in hands. Please don’t leave me. He grabbed both her shoulders and pulled her against her, like in a movie from the 50s.
She took her hand away again.
Cocksucker, he said smoothly, cocksucker, you know I’m not going to leave you over something like this, right? Really? she asked, looking up. Of course not. You can’t help the way you are. There are things which are your fault and there are things which are not your fault, and this isn’t your fault. I would never leave you for something that you cannot do anything about.
She took her hand away again. Oh the delicious implication!
Now, turn around here, pull your panties down, put your hands on the table and I’ll fuck your asshole. That always cheers you up, right? She nodded her head eagerly, relief sweeping across her face, like an upset child being offered ice-cream. After assuming the ordered position, he flipped her skirt up to look at her ass. Wait, he said, still role-playing, disapproval in his voice, you’re not wearing a butt plug today?
She took her hand away again.
Her turn. She turned her head to the side so he could see the reactions on her face. No! Had she ruined it? Would she not get a butt fuck? Worse still, being bad at numbers and sums and things wasn’t her fault, but was this her fault? Would he leave her over this? She looking shaken. Your move, she thought. And then she had felt his cock entering her vagina slowly, and she allowed a hint of relief to play on her features.
She took her hand away again.
It’s OK, he said, when he was fully in her. He withdrew and rested the head of his now lubed cock against her asshole. You don’t have to wear your butt plug ALL—and here he pulled her head back roughly by the hair—the time. She looked forward as she enjoyed the sensations of him entering her. This was the fucking best.
She took her hand away again. She took a sip of water. She took a short rest.
It was kind of nice that he was taking care of the bills and their savings. Oh, she could and would have done it, and would have done a good job, but it was a pain in the ass to worry about it. Part of her wanted to worry about it, but she knew he was also good at this kind of thing and she had seen how much he was depositing in the saving account each month. One less thing for her to worry about. The joy she experienced from being able to free herself from that worry had surprised her. And she wasn’t unable to buy anything expensive. If she wanted to go shopping by herself, he would put extra money in her account. Though she would have to bring back all of the receipts. And the exact amount that was left over would be removed from the account in a few days.
She took her hand away again.
She found herself talking more with Will about specific items that she needed or would like. Previously that was something that only happened in her head. I want/need this. I can afford it. I will buy it. That didn’t work anymore. Sometimes he would ask for her to send him a link to the item and he would order the item for her.
She took her hand away again.
Other times she hadn’t a specific item in mind, but knew the general features. For example, I need new hiking shoes. Which hiking shoes, he asked. I don’t know, she responded. Find a pair and then let me know, he ordered. An hour later she called him over. I really like these ones, she said pointing at one image. She moved to the next tab. But these would do the same job and are cheaper. He had sighed, feigning tired-of-your-shit. We’ve already established you’re a fucking dumbass when it comes to money, right?
She took her hand away again.
She nodded. So why are you using it as a factor in your decision. Pick the pair you like, he said. I’ll either get them or I won’t.
She took her hand away again. ‘Call me stupid’, she groaned. So demeaning. Such a turn on.
If she wanted a small luxury, and was afraid of overspending her weekly allowance, she could ask him for some extra cash. Just a few days ago she had asked for $5 to buy a Starbucks coffee. He took out a $5 note. $5 for a blowjob, he said.
She took her hand away again.
She had laughed and hat gotten to work. Afterwards he had put the note in her cleavage. $5 dollar whore, he had said. What are you? A $5 dollar whore, she answered.
She took her hand away again.
Don’t brush your teeth again before you go, he had said.
She took her hand away again.
She had gotten very good at not spending her allowance. She had breakfast at home and there were cheap lunches available in the cafes and stores around her office. And if required to go for a more extravagant meal with a client or with her bosses, then that would be paid for by the company. Dinner was at home, or if they went out, then of course Will paid. It was easier to just ask Will for money for anything extra. That way she didn’t have to worry about overspending at all. Another think less to worry about. Freedom! One week he had told her what a good girl she had been, that he had only needed to transfer $42 into her account to take it back up to $150. She had revelled in the feeling.
She took her hand away again.
Wait, she realised. What if he reduces my allowance because I’m constantly underspending?
Mmmm!!! She took her hand away again. Fuck, own me!
I’ll cross that bridge when I come to it. She needed to think about something else. Something less hot. She was getting closer each time. She thought of the time they had gone to dinner and she had been wearing that dress. The new one, the one whose narrow neck line went almost down to her navel, the inner sides of her firm, enhanced, braless breasts always visible. Is it too much, she had asked him before leaving. Probably, he had said, but I like showing you off. I enjoy it when everyone sees how hot you are.
She took her hand away again.
Don’t you enjoy it? he asked. Her squirming was all the answer he needed.
She took her hand away again.
What a disaster that evening had been. Work had called. The son and heir of one of their most important clients (and an early investor in the company) had arrived in town, looking to create his own account. She had been the most senior person available. Fortunately she had had no more than half a glass of wine, and she had had a jacket that she could wear over the dress. The jacket didn’t actually close in the front, and it had no pockets that she could have used to hold it in place with her hands, but at least people not standing directly in front of her would have less of a view. Naturally people in front of her would see everything.
She took her hand away again.
At the meeting, her plan was to act natural, this is normal. Though the neck line was slutty, the dress wasn’t short, so she could pretend that she had been at some gala event. And so it was the most natural thing in the world to allow the servant to take her jacket. The meeting had taken place face to face on two couches with a low coffee table in between. Tea and other refreshments were on the coffee table along with some documents, and she had to bend forward often to reach things on it. He had enjoyed the meeting.
She took her hand away again.
She had done a good job. In fact, a bit too good. Ye Zhen opened an account, but requested Nicole as his account’s manager. This was actually bad. He wasn’t her kind of client. The company attempted to match clients with managers with similar interests and focuses. Clients more interested in their stock or real-estate portfolios got managers interested in the markets. Clients interested in a life of refined and sophisticated luxury got managers who were well versed in the arts and culture. This was the kind of manager that Nicole was. Mr. Ye was more suited to a manager like Jay who dealt with the playboy clients. A Chinese and American national, Mr. Ye was in his late 30s and though not negligent of his role in his father’s empire that he would one day inherit, still hadn’t out grown the hedonism that his wealth allowed him to indulge without consequence.
She had objected when the board informed her that she would be managing his account. She wasn’t a suitable match for his needs. They agreed, but pointed out that he had requested her services specifically, and they weren’t in the business of upsetting confidants of Mr. Ye’s father who was an extremely important client. And indeed, one day the younger Mr. Ye would inherit everything and thus become an extremely important client himself. But, they continued, since we promoted you to an account manager last year you have continually impressed us with your performance. Accepting the meeting at short notice, when no one of a more senior rank was available, and landing the account, regardless of the fact that Mr. Ye is the son of an existing client, is just more evidence of how right we are. You clearly made a great impression on him.
She took her hand away again. ‘Yeah, with my tits’, she said out loud to no one but herself.
She thought of the last time that they had ordered sushi. She had been wearing the new butt plug. Set to vibrate. A low setting, but vibrating still. As always when wearing a butt plug she had to bend over to pick the money of the ground, presenting herself.
She took her hand away again.
Had he noticed the butt plug was bigger? Had that delivery guy seen the old butt plug before? Were they keeping score? Did he notice it was vibrating? Probably not. Too low a setting. What had Will planned for next time. He had said that it was getting difficult to come up with new scenarios. That was disappointing to hear, but also not a big problem. They would be moving soon. The new apartment was amazing, but it was too far from the sushi place so that little game would have to end. Maybe they could do it with a different restaurant?
She took her hand away again.
Probably not. That restaurant was unusual in that it still had its own delivery team instead of using the gig economy. She thought about Will moving temporarily to Utah. His company was building a new office there in a small town. When the building was complete, Will would be living there for a few months to get everything up to speed. But every second weekend he would come home. And every other weekend she would travel there. And sometimes, if she had no clients in town, she knew that she would have the possibility of travelling to Utah for the week to work remotely.
That’s not sexy. This time she hadn’t even brought her hand back down.
She thought about when they had gone to the bank to open the joint account, before she knew that she would be surrendering her financial independence. At the time it had still been butt plug month, so she had plugged herself up with the new, larger plug before leaving work. The bank was in a shopping mall and they had met beside the indoor fountain. He had given her two shopping bags, each from a different upmarket women’s clothing outlet. She looked inside. Some clothes and shoes he had chosen from home. But also make-up items. A lot of make-up items. Go to the bathroom and put those on, he ordered. Put on a bit more make-up, whatever you feel is appropriate for this look.
She took her hand away again.
Afterwards, he continued, put as much of the make-up items in your handbag. Weird, but OK, she had thought at the time.
She took her hand away again.
She returned holding the shopping bags containing her work clothes, with her bulging handbag hanging from her shoulder. She was taking very small steps as she was still getting used to the combination of the larger plug and the 4 inch heels he had chosen. She loved when Will played with her self image like this. On this occasion she was the frivolous shopper. He took out his phone and did something with it. She realised what he was doing only after the vibrations started. Well under half the maximum vibration, but she still shuddered at the initial sensation. The movement of her hips shook her short, pleated skirt. It was still a higher setting than she had endured for more than a few seconds of interaction with strangers.
She took her hand away again.
I’ll take your hand bag, he offered, you’re doing great. Also, from now on if you are leaving home and know you are going to be going into a bank for personal business, you have to be dressed like this. Plenty of legs and cleavage. Understood? An exception for emergencies as always.
She took her hand away again.
She nodded. Of course, within a week she would realise that a trip to the bank would be a rare occurrence in her future, but that wasn’t the point. He made a show of appraising her cleavage, pushed up and out using the bra that she knew was his favourite. It certainly had the most dramatic effect. A three inch line of cleavage was exposed by the tight, woollen top’s narrow V-neck. That’s barely adequate, he chided her.
She took her hand away again. You picked the clothes! So good!
A short, but open jacket completed the look. During the meeting she wasn’t focused on the discussion. All of her attention was directed to maintaining decorum and fighting the urges that the vibrating plug created within her. She clenched the handbag on her lap that Will had given back to her. Will had had to answer nearly all of the questions directed to her. In most cases this was acceptable, but it became apparent that there were some questions that she was legally required to provide an answer to. The manager had to repeat all of these questions to her. On one occasion Will had to repeat a question to her an additional time, loudly enunciating each syllable.
She took her hand away again. She laughed. You fucking prick.
She had felt like a ditzy idiot. And she had loved it. Feeling stupid, but protected. Looked after. By the end of the meeting, the bank manager was actually being condescending to her, at least in an indirect way. Sometimes asking a question directly to Will which clearly should have been directed to her. ‘Does she have her passport?’ for example.
She took her hand away again.
Yes, he said. He looked at her. Your passport Nicole, you said you would bring that. Isn’t it in your handbag? Fuck! she had thought. He had brought all the documents including her passport, right? Get it out, he ordered. And then she had had to fumble her handbag open, items of lipstick and mascara falling onto her lap and even onto the floor, before she found it buried at the bottom. I found it, she exclaimed triumphantly and unnecessarily as she raised it high, understanding her character’s motivation better now.
She took her hand away again.
And wait, what was that out of the corner of her eye, was Will playing with his phone? She yelped and dropped the passport on the floor at the sudden, but mercifully brief rise in the intensity of the vibrations. I’m sorry, she exclaimed smiling, picking it up and handing it to the bank manager. That’s alright Nicole, Will had praised her, you’re doing great. Then she had looked to the bank manager for additional validation and he had nodded and smiled encouragingly at her. Yay! she thought, and allowed that emotion to show on her face.
She took her hand away again.
And that night she had blogged about all that. And had searched for other posts on the theme and had given likes to everything relevant just so that he would know how good it had felt. And though he had then chosen to make her financially dependent on him, that had just been the start.
She took her hand away again.
‘I’m a dum-dum who can’t do anything’, she said aloud. This change did not seem as drastic as being made financially dependent, but in a way it was more shocking to her, and so, as a result, that made it hotter.
She took her hand away again. She looked at the clock. Will would be home soon. Hopefully. ‘Use me’, she said to the room.
She thought of a post that she had found that evening from her new favourite blogger on Tumblr. She had liked the post, but then had come back to it. Liking it wasn’t doing it anywhere near enough justice for the chord it had struck with her. So she reblogged it.
“its such a turn on when i see that moment of realization in someones eyes when they realise im stupid and how afterwards they just talk to my Man instead. or how when i give my opinion in a conversation and the other people just ignore you and then continue the conversation like i said nothing. like what i was said was so obvious or irrelevant that i just wasted everyones time saying it. and then how my Man might squeeze my leg under the table or if we are standing rest his hand on the small of my back and give me a knowing look telling me its ok. this is adult stuff and he will take care of it for both of us. and then afterwards he tells me how wonderful i looked’
She took her hand away again.
This woman’s punctuation was non existent, but God, she had summed it up perfectly. Maybe a reblog wasn’t enough. She then added her own comment. “This woman speaks the truth and I have much to learn from her”. OK, so posting maybe wasn’t her strong point, but she wanted to leave some extra recognition. And then Will had come up with a new rule.
She took her hand away again.
Nicole and Will were both readers They both read about two books a month. Will’s new rule wasn’t that she should stop reading, but he did place limits on it. 100 pages a week maximum. “No”, screamed the voice. So roughly one book a month. Half her usual pace. That was part one of the change. But the real genius was part two of the change. What she should do once she had finished her 100 pages. He sent her to the local convenience store and told her to buy two celebrity gossip magazines.
She took her hand away again. Evil! She loved it. And hated it. And that made her love it more.
Oh, they could have had them delivered, but she should pick them up personally every week.
She took her hand away again.
That first week it had taken her two days to finish her 100 pages. There was no rule that she had to read the magazines so she managed to resist them for a day before her urge to read something, anything, kicked in. These people are idiots she had thought, disgustedly, during the first 10 minutes. She read both magazines cover to cover. On the second week she had finished both her 100 pages and the two magazines with three days to spare. Get another magazine, he had said. She didn’t and survived the rest of the week by re-reading the magazines. That had been incredibly boring for her and she realised that she needed a new magazine or some other plan. As it turns out, one of the celebrity’s stories had been interesting to her, and while buying the next pair of magazines on week three, she noticed a different magazine had a cover story about that celebrity. She picked that up too.
She took her hand away again.
But it still hadn’t been enough. By the end of the third week she was once again re-reading one of the magazines. But now she had a plan for the fourth week, though she still bought three magazines, just in case it didn’t work. On Wednesday evening of that week, she purposefully turned on the TV and found the new reality TV show that the magazines had been gushing over. Though this wasn’t her kind of television, she had occasionally found herself getting into it when she had been younger. In her school days she had gotten hooked one summer on the UK’s Big Brother series, and then one winter on the UK’s Celebrity Big Brother. In college her and her friends had gotten hooked on a series of the French edition of the X Factor. So even though she looked down on this kind of entertainment, she knew that there was enjoyment to be had and that she was capable of getting into it. And so she had allowed herself to get into it. And she was enjoying it.
She took her hand away again.
On the fifth week she had found herself looking forward to the magazines and to see if their opinions on the goings on of the series matched her own. She still read her 100 pages first of course, but she was relieved that the initial boredom introduced by that limit was gone. On the sixth week she had found herself gossiping to Will about the events of the last episode while out for dinner. Will hadn’t been watching them with her. That’s stupid girl stuff, he had said when she had first asked him if he would like to sit down with her to watch it.
She took her hand away again.
But in the restaurant that evening he had listened and so she had gabbed about the various characters, the relationships between them, and the various developments that had occurred in those relationships in the last episode, and her theories about where it was going. About what she thought would happen and what she thought should happen. She realised she had been talking animatedly and non-stop for about 10 minutes. He was resting his chin in his hand, his elbow propped on the table, looking at her, not unkindly. Apparently listening. Oh, I’m sorry, I really got carried away, there didn’t I? It’s OK, he reassured her. It’s kind of cool that you’re so passionate about it. I didn’t bore you? she asked for reassurance. No, though I’m not sure I’d always be interested, or that I’d remember who the people are that you are talking about. She laughed. I need some new friends, she said. Girls I can talk about this stuff to. She rubbed her leg against his under the table and leaned forward and whispered to him, some stupid friends. Friends at your level, he agreed.
She took her hand away again.
By the way, love your make up tonight, he changed the subject. You like the lashes? She fluttered them for him. Yeah, lipstick too. I love the moistness and the way it glitters, he added. Real nice. I’d say every man in here is thinking of sticking his dick in there. She beamed at him. You’re not just saying that? she asked, inviting additional praise.
She took her hand away again.
I do need friends I can talk to about this, she realised. She really, really wanted to talk about it. Just today at work she had heard two new temps, both female, maybe a couple of years younger, talking in the coffee room about HER show! And she wanted so much to join in. It was all she could do to bite her tongue as she waited for her coffee to be dispensed. But she couldn’t join in. She was a manager developing a reputation for dealing with the most culturally sophisticated of clients and there she was wanting to get down in the dirt with the celeb gossipers. She noticed that one of the girls was wearing a lot of make-up, but it had been applied flawlessly. She realised that she wanted to talk to her about that too. Oh, she wore minimal make-up at work, but she did enjoy doing herself up for Will on occasions, and she had been practising her technique and wanted to talk about it with someone.
She took her hand away again.
She had new interests. Things that she wanted to talk about. They would eventually slip out. Probably not at work, she would be diligent about that. But maybe when out to dinner with other people she might find herself broaching the topic tentatively with the other diners, hoping someone would seize the bait. And then she imagined no one taking the bait. Just a round of polite ‘No’s. And she wondered if any of them would think less of her for being interested in this crap. And God help her, she hoped at least one of them would.
She took her hand away again.
It wasn’t her own prejudice. She didn’t believe that people interested in reality TV and celebrities and make-up were idiots. But it was a prejudice that existed. And some people would look down on her for it.
She took her hand away again.
She heard the front door open and then close. Finally! Should she get up and meet him, or just wait for him to find her naked on the bed sheets with her legs spread and a wet patch in between.
‘Hey!’, came the shouted greeting from the kitchen.
‘I’m in the bedroom’, she called back.