Getting it fixed.
Have you ever actually stopped and considered your sexual needs? Chances are if you are reading this blog of my endless rambles you have done a little more considering that most people. How often do you need sex in order to be satisfied and more to the point, what does that sex need to contain? Do you expect your partner to satisfy themselves at some point if you have no desire to partake in mutual satisfaction? And if you have no wish to satisfy them sexually as much as they need, do you expect them to be unsatisfied rather than seek the sating of their appetite in the arms of another?
If you undertook to explore your sexuality and see where it took you, would you expect your husband/wife to try and travel that road with you? What if they won’t, what if they can’t? What then? Do you remain curious? Can this curiosity be put aside for the sake of your relationship, your family? Or perhaps you find something that really stirs your sexual drive deep down in your soul; you wake up a need inside you, whatever that is, perhaps a need to be submissive, to be restrained and played with, used, hurt. What if your current partner can’t provide that for you, would that need within you fester? You might discover a liking for foot play but your partner can’t abide their feet being touched, or you might like to cross dress or feel someone fill your insides with their entire hand… it could be anything, the subject matter is endless but what if the person you thought was perfect for you is unable to fulfil your sexual need but is pretty much wonderful in every other way? What then?
If you found yourself in a position where you were both busy making your lives full and enjoyable, working hard at your personal goals, shipping the kids to school and various clubs and an essential area of your life started slipping into disrepair you would find a way to fix it wouldn’t you? Money allowing you would hire a cleaner, an au pair, you’d get somebody else in to do the jobs you find yourself unable to perform. Or, your partner is busy or just not damn interested in the fact you want to get fit, they stuff themselves with cake when you want to be feeling trim and sexy, so you go to a personal trainer to help you make that physical need come true, they are educated in the area of your concern and a much better person to fulfil your need than your spouse, so you hire them, it stands to reason doesn’t it? Doesn’t it?
So why does our sex life get left to fester? Because it’s less important? Because it’s intimate? If your husband is unable to handle you as roughly as you would like due to his own sentiments, would an appointment with a forceful male masseuse giving a ‘full body massage’ not be an option for the happiness of all concerned? And your wife.. she won’t consider anal sex? Doesn’t like blow jobs? Gets the arse when you glance at another woman’s prominently displayed breasts but never considers having sex with you… A swift motorboat experience with a friendly ‘not interested in you personally’ professional would keep you a little happier… So why can’t we do it?
Yes, I understand we have been taught to view our sexual needs as private and there are (not insurmountable) risks involved to our heath and great care should be taken that emotion doesn’t get involved (that would be too messy, how human we all are!) but honestly, if you have a need, why does society dictate that we must not fix it?
I can hear a few of you guiltily saying “Why involve someone else, that’s cheating, they can wank!” and to you I say, yes, they could wank. What a perfect get out for those who can’t satisfy their partner. This is not just about getting off, this is not just about an orgasm. This is about the touch of another, feeling a need fulfilled, a hot cock slipping into your tight orifices, teeth on your flesh, the smack of a hand against your buttock delivered with perfect force and a worshiping caress, being pushed, explored expanded, admired, held, the sound of them panting, the concentration on their face as they bring you to the point of explosion, the look in their eye as they send you into rapturous oblivion…
Someone teach me how to get that from wanking and I will gladly wank forever…
He fidgeted in his chair clutching a box, a little uncomfortable with sitting in this elegant drawing room, its delicate tones and sophisticated furniture testament to the extremely good taste of the lady he was about to visit. His beautifully tailored suit, expensive watch, cufflinks and starched shirt were more of a facade here in this house than anywhere else in his well run, high powered life. This was the appointment he most looked forward to in his diary, these few hours made all the hard work and stress worthwhile.
A slight girl entered the large white double doors.
“Good afternoon Sir.” She smiled politely.
“Good afternoon Maxine.” He replied “I have bought her a gift, I know its extra, not payment.” He blustered slightly, starting to blush.
“I’m sure she will be thrilled Sir, shall I take it to her?”
“Please Maxine,” he nodded adding quietly “I hope you are right.”
“You are welcome to head down to the basement when you are ready Sir, make yourself comfortable.”
She turned and left the room, shutting the doors behind her, his thanks died on his lips. He breathed deeply.
And so it was, every time, he never saw her before, never after, she was always in ‘character’ expressly to his wishes but never predictable. No matter how much he craved this, needed what was about to happen, the apprehension of it, of not being good enough to get what he needed weighed heavy on his chest. He stood and pulled himself to his full not unsubstantial height and did as he had been bid.
“Don’t you dare move you worthless excuse for a man! I told you to lie and so lie!” Her voice was tight with contempt. She wielded the crop with forceful accuracy across his thigh, he barely whimpered although the red mark was testament to his pain, several such welts were already blossoming down his legs.
“Yes Mistress.” He whispered through clenched teeth, his ankles already firmly tethered, she fastened his hands to the cuffs attached to this purposely altered low table, his head fell back, he stretched his throat over the edge of the table, panting slightly, his erection already hovering madly above his slightly flabby stomach, as he squirmed a little to get as comfortable as the hard wood permitted. He could see her strutting up and down the room behind him, pencil skirt barely concealing black stocking tops, demure white blouse open at the neck, a rather fetching scarf tied at her throat, her blonde hair caught up in an exquisite chignon, tortoiseshell glasses poised on her dainty nose, her cool blue eyes glaring with ice and pure disgust, the bench mark for the approval he craved from her. He watched her feet as she walked, the 4” heels clicked with menace over the tiled floor. Black suede with gold leaf Louboutin booties, the red soul flashing with anger at every sharp crack in her stride, he knew she was thrilled with his gift to her as she put them on straight away, his Mistress was pleased with him and he thought he was going to get the thrashing of his life because of it, a grin flickered across his face. The crop landed sharply across his thigh taking him by surprise and he let out an involuntary groan.
She stood over his head and bent her face down to his ear
“How dare you smile.” She whispered tersely in his ear. She stood up, her knees so close to his face he could have kissed them, he glanced up and groaned again, black lace panties… every specified detail, she was worth every penny of the $2995 dollars plus shipping and import tax the shoes had cost him.
“Why are you smiling?” she barked, the crop slashed at his inner thigh, centimetres from his bulging penis. He struggled for a moment against the pain.
“Your shoes Mistress, you look fabulous in them. I hope you thrash me well for buying them for you.”
“Hmmm, it was a very thoughtless act on your part Richard.” Her well spoken clipped tones bit every word. The crop stung into his thigh with a whistle through the air. His wrists and ankles strained against their tethers. “I’m rather struggling to be mad at you, you worthless pile of useless shit!” Thwack! He whimpered quietly wrapping his satisfaction at pleasing her around himself like a bandage.
“They do rather suit me don’t they.” She agreed, walking around the side of the table she climbed on to a step and then up onto the table top next to him, balancing on one foot she rubbed the suede toe around his jaw, then pushed the shoe against his nose, he gasped in pain
“Don’t they smell nice…” She said with more humour in her voice then he was used to, he felt fear tingle the hairs at the back of his neck, she moved the shoe to push down on his chin.
“LICK!” she barked sharply, then her tone twisted into a honeyed tune “How do they taste?” He licked the shoe quickly, many times eagerly. “Good?” she prompted, he nodded in response. She placed her foot in the centre of his chest, the heel bearing down into his skin. He strained his neck to look up at her, seeing only pale thigh and stockings he moaned and relaxed his head back. Gracefully, standing astride his chest in one deft move, the solidity of the shoes cracking on the wooden table and making him jump, he craned his neck back up to see what she was doing; the porcelain globes of her pert bottom teasing him as her hips swayed side to side. She started using the leather swatch of the crop to lightly bat the glans of his swollen member. She was like a cat playing with her prey, bat bat bat, it made him cringe a little, more out of association then pain. Turning to face him, the stomp of the shoes on the table so close to his tethered fingers, she lifted her foot and pressed her shoe down directly on top of his cock and held no quarter. His head lolled back as he cried out, tears oozed from his eyes as he fought to control himself, she applied more pressure squashing his cock into his stomach.
“Aaagghhh!” He cried out unable to control his distress, he knew his anguish displeased her, noise was weakness and she would often withdraw her favours if he cried out too often, he bit down on his lip. Moving her foot in a rocking movement from side to side as she admired the boot;
“They are quite beautiful; you have extremely good taste Richard, I’m flattered you thought they would suit me.” he gasped as she removed her foot only to cry out again as the crop found it’s purchase on his inner thigh once more. His eyes screwed up tightly he could hear her pace across the table and stop astride his neck. “You deserve a reward Richard.” He watched cautiously, breath held, expectantly, head hanging from the table as she stepped down, his head between her thighs, she squatted slowly, with tantalizing promise, the black lace fabric stark contrast to her pale skin. He could barely breathe with anticipation; would she allow him the holy grail? She reversed her pussy into his face, she smelt fabulous, all musky and female.
“Lick.” She whispered so he barely heard, his tongue sort her lips through the lace of her panties, relishing the feeling of the lace on his face, she ground her sex into his mouth covering his nose in her flesh, he gasped at air when he could, fiercely lost in his lust as his tongue sort to taste as much of her as he could and then he felt it, slowly at first but hot against his mouth, spilling around his face as he craved to feel it fill his mouth, a rush of pure pleasure ignited his spine as he realised she was releasing her bladder in his mouth, he moaned, biting at the lace as he felt his orgasm release in fierce bursts splashing cum over his neck and chest.
He opened his eyes to find her standing over him, peering disdainfully over her glasses frowning, “When Maxine releases you, clean up this mess, I don’t want to hear that she had to do it…” and she stalked off, the sound of the heels ricocheting though his head like pistol shots. As she reached the door she reached out one arm and with a graceful swish of her fingers flicked off the lights…
He lay, prone, wet and uncomfortable on the table, in the dark and waited.
It didn’t take Maxine long to finish putting the room straight after Mr. Spencer had left, as instructed he cleaned himself and the basement up pretty well, all she had to do was carefully not make eye contact and release his bindings once his two hour slot was up, then wait in the lounge for him to let her know he was on his way out. It was part of the arrangement that he had to clean up the mess himself; she had stopped trying to figure out why, why was the question that formed on her lips day after day and she banished it from her mind time after time. She had worked for Kate for 2 years and although it took some getting used to, often it took some thinking about, it was a fabulous job which she loved. She was Kate’s go to girl and if anyone asked what she did for a living she told them she was the Personal Assistant of Kate Di Fiore the much sort after interior designer. Mostly she organised Kate’s appointments and kept the business premises running, which didn’t sound like much until you were faced with dealing with an inquisitive cleaning company, having to explain away stains, or managing the ‘business trips’ and flight schedules, this was before organising the clients themselves and their ‘requirements’. She was quite fond of Mr. Spencer in a bizarre way, he knew what he wanted down to the tiniest detail and was very business minded about the appointment as far as Maxine was concerned, he arrived on time, never left her any inconvenience to deal with and departed promptly, he always spoke to her politely and respectfully. Most of the Gentlemen callers were fine, one or two were a touch to arrogant for Maxine’s liking and considering she knew the intimate details of their sexual desires she thought they would do well to behave a little better.
She climbed the marble staircase to Kate’s office, punching the security number into the pad on the wall, as the lock clicked she entered to find Kate relaxing back in her office chair with her legs propped up on the Victorian mahogany antique desk, sipping tea, admiring her new shoes. She had changed into a black wrap dress and shaken her hair out of the chignon. She had an unwipeable grin on her face.
“Louboutain Maxine!! I mean, honestly… I’m speechless!”
“They are something…” Maxine agreed nodding sitting in the pale yellow upholstered chair next to the desk.
“I wish I could take them home, when am I next in Italy? Do you think I might be able to pass them off to Ian as a copy?” Kate was plotting, Maxine could tell, her pretty brow was furrowed in thought. Ian, Kate’s husband was unaware of the main business his Interior Designing wife was involved in and it was mostly due to Kate’s flare for her clientele, strict business guidelines and frequent business trips that it remained so. As an architect he worked mostly from home and could combine his work well with overseeing the running of their household, the au pair did most of the donkey work with the school run for their children. He did however, like Kate, have the taste for the highlife and would spot a pair of Louboutain boots at 200 yards.
“I’m afraid I can’t answer that.” Maxine replied diplomatically, Kate looked at her with mischief.
“I could wear them to meet the others on Sunday, the girls will be so jealous!” Maxine raised an eyebrow in doubt, Kate laughed to herself. “Who am I kidding, they would both be most unimpressed, Jack would be scathing and he and Mark would go off on one of their comedy moments.” She rolled her eyes thinking of her friends.
“Is Roy going?” Maxine asked cautiously.
“Apparently…. yes, perhaps best not to wear them, you do think of everything don’t you. I couldn’t be in this business without you, thank you Maxine”
© Juliette Turrell