Tie Me Up & Make Me Blow You - Chapter 1

Chapter 1
 
Kathy had a perfect little life. She had plenty of money. She had no worries and no cares. Everything in her life was going along perfectly.

To look at all that she had materialistically, anyone would envy her lifestyle. The house, the cars, the trips, the clothes, and the jewelry, she had it all. Fortune without fame and flying beneath the radar is always better in life. It's best not to draw attention to yourself, especially when you've had a colorful past. Let's just say, should her husband decide to run for political office one day, he wouldn't have a prayer of being elected with her by his side. The tabloid press would dig up enough information and photos about her during her wild and crazy college days that their lives would be ruined.

Fortunately, for her, her husband harbored no such political aspirations. The only aspirations he harbored were collecting as many of those small, green pieces of paper that had Benjamin Franklin's photo on them. His God was money and he worshiped it. He worked as an investment banker and recently, a few years ago, had become a partner in the firm. They lived in a perfect house right on the 9th hole of the golf course of an exclusive country club.

A bad day for Kathy was when she forgot to wear her pearls to lunch with the girls. Big, expensive, and just perfect, she loved her exquisite pearls. They were her gift from her husband when he made partner.

Married for twenty-three years last June, she had a 21-year-old daughter, named Mandy, and a 19-year-old son, named Randy. Kathy just turned 45-years-old and was at the pivotal point in her life where she was considering having some cosmetic surgery to freshen her look and give her a more youthful appearance.

Accustomed to her beauty preceding herself to help open doors and to make her the center of attention, with her imagined sudden lack of interest from the opposite sex, especially from those men younger than her, she was just beginning to feel her age. In her uncharacteristic lowered self-esteem, even though she thought differently about herself, whenever men young and old saw her, she was thought of differently by others. Whenever she walked in a room, she was still a head turner and a conversation interrupter. 

Only, when she looked in the mirror now, she could imagine what she'd look like in ten years or in twenty years. She was beginning to look how she remembered her mother looked when her mother was her age now. It was a frightful horror because at the same time she remembered what she looked like ten and twenty years ago. As was everyone else on Earth, she was getting older and every time she peered in the mirror, she imagined she saw new wrinkles or new sags.

Even though aging was inevitable, she needed time for her mind to catch up with her body. Even though she looked middle aged, she still felt young. She felt no different now that she was in her forties than she did when she was in her twenties. Certainly, she didn't feel 45-years-old and she still possessed much of the vibrant energy that she had in her twenties. She had yet to slow down. She needed a minor adjustment in her perception of her age and how others perceived her. She needed a reality check.

Her only consolation was that she was aging with the rest of her peer group. Only, sometimes, whenever she was down on herself and in a funk, unbeknownst to her, she was aging better than the rest of them. Certainly, even without having plastic surgery, a non-smoker who exercised regularly and who watched her diet, and taking care to wear sunscreen when out in the sun, she looked ten years younger than her age and much younger than all of her friends her age and younger even.

Where did the time go? Twenty years rushed by with the blink of an eye. As if it were yesterday, she still remembered being newly married. It wasn't that long ago that she was taking her children back and forth to grade school. It wasn't that long ago that her husband made his first million dollars, moved them from upstate New York, where she was from and where she met him, to this lovely closed community and exclusive gated estate in northeastern Massachusetts. She couldn't believe that was more than a dozen years ago.

She remembered that she looked good, real good, ten years ago. She wished she could have always stayed thirty-five forever. She loved that age. She was old enough not to be bothered with all the immature bullshit, but not too old that she still couldn't enjoy all the immature bullshit.

Some of her friends have already been under the knife and she envied the results, but cringed at the pain, the bruising, the swelling, the forced isolation while they heeled, and all they had to do to look how they do now. Was it all worth it? Not for her, it wasn't.. Blessed with good genes, she was glad that she didn't have to do all that to still look young and attractive. For the time being, she was content with her skills at applying her makeup.

She felt that plastic surgery was a vicious cycle that had to be repeated in five to ten years, too. Always, there was the risk that something could tragically go wrong. Reluctantly, she decided, she'd rather age gracefully without having a surgeon pull, nip, and tuck her skin beneath her hairline and back behind her ears. How dreadful to have her face pulled so tight that it hurt to smile. 

Still, she had to give her brave, albeit vain friends credit. They looked ten years younger. They looked rested. They looked happy. Only, she was nervous.. She had heard some of the horror stories of botched surgeries and she was vain, but not vain enough to put herself in the hands of a surgeon's knife. Still, her friends pressured her to go ahead and, at least, have a consultation. She promised she would, but didn't.

She was friends with Christine, Ellen, Audrey, and Brenda. They were all members in good standing of their little gang of women who looked like one another, dressed like one another, thought like one another, and talked like one another. They even had a gang name, The Rich Bitches, and a gang sign when out on the town shopping, the flash of a platinum card with an unlimited credit line.

They lunched together, shopped together, and talked about their perfect little lives to one another. It was a glorious existence being rich and not having to work at a mundane job all day, while their husbands made money. Able to hire people to clean their perfect homes, care for their lush lawns, filter their posh pools, cook their delicious meals, pamper their precious pets, and drive them wherever they needed to go, they were free to indulge themselves at the spa for hair, makeup, massage, and skincare treatments. 

Except for the young men she dated in college, Kathy never had sex with anyone other man than her 52-year-old husband, Robert. Although, define sex, that is. As was Bill Clinton's definition of sex, she never had penetration from any man other than her husband, since she's been married. In Clinton's case, even though he didn't believe that an exchange of fluids constituted sex, Kathy did and in all the years of her marriage she has never exchanged fluids with anyone other than her husband. Certainly, there have been episodes of touchy feely, especially when alcohol was involved, but she was careful not to ruin her reputation for the foolishness of a flirtatious fling.

She was a good wife and a good mother.. She was Robert's trophy wife and he was her security blanket. Robert liked how they looked together. An average looking man, short and stout, and looking much like the stereotypical banker and a bit like the man that appears on the cover of the Monopoly game, he was happy that his money could buy him the affections and loyalty of such a woman who looked as good as did Kathy. She appreciated how he kept her in the lifestyle that she had grown to love. In the way that there is someone for everyone, they not only deserved one another but also they were made for one another, the bitch woman with the rich man, which made her the rich bitch.

Often, her husband commented that they looked much better together than did Senator McCain and his wife, Cindy. McCain was his idol and that fact gives you a bit more insight into Robert's political preference. She, on the other hand, certainly hoped they looked much better together than Senator McCain and his wife, Cindy, as Senator McCain was twenty years older than Robert and Cindy McCain was nearly ten years older than she was. Moreover, she preferred Obama over McCain. Still, she understood his reference of an older man with a younger woman, albeit Robert was almost eight years older than she was, whereas John McCain was eighteen years older than his wife. 

She never cheated on him. She never even thought about cheating on him. Although, there was that young tennis pro at the club that she was so smitten with and a new, handsome golf pro, too, who she found interesting enough to flirt with while having him give her some pointers with her game. Still, she'd never do anything more than masturbate in the bathtub while imagining them tying her up, spanking her ass, and forcing her to have sex with them. Oh, how this little vixen loved to vex men while playing the virginal victim.

Butter would melt in her mouth, and her smile, when cast in your direction, would make you do anything she asked. Educated, articulate, intelligent, witty, and funny, she had the charm, the confident poise, and the practiced personality to make any guest feel at home and at ease while entertaining them with interesting conversation.

When talking to you, she made you feel as if you were the only one in the room. She made you feel important and special. She had a knack for getting the best out of people. She made you feel that you had a chance with her should Robert suddenly have a heart attack and die or should they divorce.

Little did they know that while she knowledgeably talked to her guests about current events or passionately discussed art or expressed her taste in music or recommended a good book or a fine wine, she was undressing their husbands with her eyes. Imagining them naked, imagining making love to them, and imagining sucking their cocks before and afterward, she hungered for the lustful attention of a man, any man who would show her the forceful sexual affection and domination that she yearned to have again. 

The husbands were unaware of her dual personality. If only they knew she was always so horny, they may have taken her up on her secret desire of needing to be tied up and slapped. If only they knew she was everything and so much more than what they imagined she'd be in bed, they may have been more forceful with her and gotten from her what they so wanted. If only they knew that she desperately wanted them, as much as they desperately wanted her, they definitely would have risked the scandal of a romantic affair to be intimate with her. 

Robert, on his best days and when in an amorous mood, was only an adequate lover. Nothing adventurous or spontaneous, as soon as she gave him a blowjob, he'd be off to sleep. Occasionally, he'd return the favor but, as he grew older, those days were getting fewer and further in between. Except for ones given her from her own hand and by one of her many sexual toys, it had been a while since she had an orgasm. Certainly, he had never given her one. He was always at the office and sometimes there on weekends, especially whenever there was a special deal going on or a special client who they were trying to romance to have them commit their assets or please to have them invest their investment portfolio with their firm.

After having experienced every sexual position in her college days, after having a life filled with sexual activity, she had grown content just to tease men and show a bit of skin, while imagining them wanting her, undressing her, and making love to her. Recently becoming a bit of an exhibitionist, she enjoyed the attention she received when the guys stole a look up her short skirt or a nonchalant glance down her low cut blouse.

She loved pretending that she didn't know she was showing. Whenever she saw a handsome man with a cute dog, she was never shy about squatting down to make a fuss over his dog while giving him plenty to see with a down blouse view of her breasts and an up skirt view of her panty.

Athletic after years of dance classes and gymnastics as a child, but probably from playing a lot of tennis during the past twenty-four years, she always had shapely legs, a flat stomach, and an overall toned body. Without having celluloid saddlebags on her thighs or flabby wings on her triceps, she was proud of her firm, round ass and her permanently, perfectly perky, B cup tits were the envy of all her friends. She looked marvelous in a bikini and having seen her topless sunning by their backyard pools, her gang of rich, bitch friends were all surprised that her tits were natural and not surgically enhanced silicon creations.

Flashing an attractive man accidentally on purpose was all just innocent fun and part of being a woman who still wanted to feel that she was attractive and desirable. Certainly, she didn't look her age and at 45-years-old, she was still young enough and looked good enough to command the attention of a roomful of horny and sexually unsatisfied men, especially those who were all her husbands age or a bit younger or a bit older. Now, instead of giving her body to whatever man who forcefully took it, she had grown content to just want to be noticed, wantonly wanted, and secretly desired. Now, instead of acting out her every horny thought, it was all left to her imagination while she masturbated.

Besides, it was all just a game to her that made her wonder if she was going through the change of life. Suddenly, with the hot flashes she's been experiencing, she was horny all the time. As the way she was when she was in her late teens and early twenties, she was always thinking about sex now. If anyone could read her mind, they would see that it was filled with dirty thoughts of being bound while forced to suck cocks and fuck doggy style. For someone who looked so classy and who appeared to be an unapproachable, rich bitch, she was such a down to Earth, roll in the mud, fuck her in a haystack type of girl who loved to talk dirty while giving her lover everything he sexually wanted and lustfully desired.

Her favorite fantasy was for two men to attack her. She imagined them tearing off her clothes. She got wet when she thought about them not unbuttoning her blouse, but ripping it open and exposing her bra clad breasts. She imagined them pulling off her skirt and breaking the zipper in the process. She imagined them slapping her across the face when she mildly resisted and cutting her bra off with scissors and doing the same with her panty.

Now, stripped naked, she imagined the men touching her everywhere and forcing her to kiss them, first one and then the other while they caressed and fondled her tits and pulled and twisted her nipples. She imagined one man fucking her doggy style while slapping her ass and she imagined the other man forcing her to suck his big, hairy prick while pulling her hair and slapping her face. She loved thinking about that fantasy while touching herself at night.

She liked being forced. So long as they didn't hurt her, she liked it rough. So long as they forced her, she'd do anything. Even though she didn't look the part, she enjoyed being treated like a dirty slut and an insatiable whore.

Only, the difference is that, being married and playing the faithful wife to such a rich and successful man whose ability to get clients depended upon him having a sparking clean reputation, she couldn't get what she needed from Robert. He was a dud in bed. If only he would push her back on the bed and tear off her clothes, she'd never think of wanting sex from another man again. If only he would slap her around, she'd be satisfied to be his woman. If only he would tie her to the bed and demand that she do whatever was his desire, she would.

He worked too many hours and went on too many business trips. Gone two and three days at a time, he was never home. Once in a while, on those trips where he was gone for a week at a time, he took her, especially if he was going to Europe, especially Paris or Geneva. Yet, having been there several times, she was bored to go again. It wasn't any fun to shop alone. She invited her friends, but they always had other commitments. 

She wondered if he was having another secret, sordid affair with another one of his secretaries or endless interns. He did have an admitted penchant for young and beautiful women, as she once was when he chased after her with gifts and promises of a good life. Besides, he was so polite, too polite for her liking. She loved talking dirty, but he didn't like it when she said anything vulgar or inappropriate, as he called it, during sex.

She craved real sex and couldn't get any from him and being married and not wanting to ruin her financial arrangement with her husband as the faithful wife, she couldn't get real sex from anyone else for that matter. The only time her husband had been her lover was when they were dating and that quickly waned once they were married and even more so after the birth of the children. What is it with guys and children? Just because she's a mother now, doesn't mean that she's not the same woman with the same sexual needs. Now, thinking of her as the mother of his children, he doesn't even like cumming in her mouth.

The last time he gave her a good fucking was when he made partner, but that only lasted as long as his Viagra pill. It was the same, dull Robert immediately thereafter. He was content to receive his weekly blowjob while fondling her tits and making a feeble attempt at rubbing her clit. She never had an orgasm with him. 

Sure, there were those times when she entertained and some of her friend's husbands had a little too much to drink and were too free with their hands. She'd be drinking too and it took her a few seconds for her to realize that there was someone's hand feeling her tit and fingering her nipple or someone peeking up her dress to get a look at her panties or lifting up the back of her skirt to get a feel of her firm, round ass. So long as no one else noticed, so long as she could laugh about it while playing the innocent virginal victim and maintain her respectable reputation, she loved the attention she received from men and had fun feigning her displeasure by slapping their hand away.

She loved it when men were free with their hands and inappropriate with their suggestions. She loved the dirty talk and the innuendoes. She loved a good conversation filled with flirting, teasing, and touching. She loved feeling wanted and desired.

Sometimes it was just a look that would make her know they were interested and make her want to flash them. Sometimes it was just a light touch of her arm or the small of her back just above her buttocks that sent chills down her spine, lust in her heart, and the feel of horniness in her pussy. Sometimes, it was just a cerebral connection that she had with someone on so many different levels and who she looked forward to seeing again.

Yet, the ones who were rewarded with more were the ones who wouldn't take no for an answer. They were the ones who saw through her little game of teasing and mocked shock. They were the ones who grabbed her by the hair and forced their tongues in her mouth while they stuck their meaty mitt between her legs. They were the ones who she wanted and needed so as to feel that she was still a sexual and desirable woman again.

In the next chapter Kathy reflects back on her past.