Dark Desires Fulfilled:
A Novel of Erotic Ecstasy
By
Imelda Stark
Smashwords Edition
Copyright 2008 Imelda Stark
All Rights Reserved
ISBN-13: 978-0-9828353-5-7
ABOUT THE AUTHOR
Imelda Stark is the nom de plume of a teacher and practitioner of psychotherapy at a major East Coast medical school (hence the need for a pseudonym). She has been exploring the psychologically complex realm of BD/SM for fifteen novels now. Imelda strives to combine the eroticism she feels around challenging things happening to willing bottoms with an exploration of how we aficionados of these painful pleasures got to be the way we are. She welcomes and will respond to email at otherself@sbcglobal.net. Her complete works may be found listed in the Afterword.
CHAPTER ONE
David Cannon signed the last in the sheaf of papers feeling slightly disoriented, almost as though something mildly traumatic had just happened. With that last signature, he had closed the deal for the buyout of the startup he and his partner had labored so ceaselessly to bring to success. They had stubbornly refused to enlist the venture capitalists who had circled like birds of prey around the growing success of their unique on-line service brainchild. Instead, they chose to fund it themselves as they went along, accepting the sleepless nights of cash flow worries. As a result, when the major player in their space made a preemptive offer of $200 million for full ownership, the two men each walked away with over $60 million after taxes. This was an amount that qualified as ‘drop dead money’ anywhere on the planet. The thirty-five year old former fraternity brothers had worked ceaselessly together on realizing their corporate dream since finishing business school. Now they each intended to do nothing but exactly what they wanted for the rest of their lives. David's partner had already made plans to spend as much time as he and his girlfriend wanted on every single beautiful tropical island that crossed their fancy (and already had first class ticket for later that day on a flight to the first one). But David had quite different thoughts in mind. When he had realized that their hard work was likely to buy him total freedom for the rest of his life, the careful businessman thought long and hard about what sort of liberation would be truly meaningful to him. His own mind seemed to be running into dead ends and blind alleys of yet more selfless (and, for him, at this moment soulless) dedication to philanthropy as a replacement for his previous commitment to his company. The entrepreneur knew enough to hire a consultant.
David asked around among friends and colleagues and then did his usual painstaking on-line research. He came up with the name of a senior local clinician who, based on his exorbitant hourly fee, was highly enough valued by his clientele to be a good first stab. Dr. Eisenman seemed competent and friendly on the phone. When David knocked at the door of the pleasant detached home office in a posh local suburb, he was greeted with a firm handshake and a warm demeanor. The elderly psychiatrist was fit for his age and dressed casually, and sported the requisite tidily trimmed beard and high forehead above his warm brown eyes. They took seats in two comfortable armchairs in the book-lined consultation room with windows overlooking a quiet garden. The psychiatrist opened the session by asking what he could be of help with. David responded by giving a tight synopsis of his current circumstance, and the dilemma he faced about what to do with the rest of his life. The doctor responded by asking further questions, expertly guiding his new patient to elaborate on his life to that point. Within the first half hour David was helped to define what had given his life meaning up to that point, and why that paradigm seemed to have outlived its usefulness.
David began to realize he was in the company of a skilled expert. He relaxed into the rhythm of the conversation as Dr. Eisenman guided them into the realm of the entrepreneur’s personal life. It gradually emerged that the striking success of David’s business venture had not been echoed in his private realm. His brisk, matter-of-fact speech pattern slowed and became much more halting and vague when responding to queries about life away from work. It turned out that the businessman had experienced chronic relationship limitations since his freshman year at Stanford. He easily wooed and bedded perfectly acceptable girls with relative facility. But within months David became vaguely bored and found pretexts to break up and begin the pattern anew. The athletic six-foot young man had inherited his father’s good looks and natural charm, so there was never any shortage of new candidates for this cycle. As long as he never lacked for companionship or sexual release, David saw no reason to question this model of relationship. After all, he was unfailingly kind to his partners throughout their brief bouts of limited closeness, and worked hard to part with each of them on good terms. This was especially true as his business life became more intensely absorbing. The fact that his love life could be conveniently compartmentalized alongside his daily workouts as necessary but routine pieces of his self-care regimen seemed almost ideal. The therapist gently probed this dismissive assessment. David admitted that he had noticed some numinous sense that more might be possible in his relationships, but figured it would naturally evolve once he wasn’t so busy.
By the end of their first session, Dr. Eisenman managed to bring his interesting new patient around to a new idea. Perhaps this pattern in his love relationships might be related to his sense of rootlessness as he prepared to leave work behind as the central organizing principle of his life. Since David felt some sense of urgency to get a better handle on this issue before the sale of his company went through, he pressed the psychiatrist for another session as soon as possible. They found a time the next day, and the entrepreneur left the garden office feeling an unusual sense of bewilderment for a man who had spent over a decade convincing himself and everyone around him that he was completely normal.
David had uncharacteristic problems concentrating the remainder of that day. That night he slept restlessly, awakening several times from tempestuous dreams. He reported this to Dr. Eisenman the next morning when they met shortly after sunrise. The psychiatrist asked him to report anything he could recall about the content of his dreams. The businessman answered, “Well, actually, the last one was about my stepmother, whom I haven’t thought about in years…” The older man responded, “Go on…” David colored in embarrassment, and replied, “Well, it’s kind of sexual, the dream, I mean…” After some hesitations, and accompanied by many fits and starts, the therapist was able to elicit the narrative of the dream. It consisted of a younger David being ordered to strip and lie across his stepmother’s knee. Thereupon he received a long and severe spanking on his bare behind, followed by a variety of intense erotic experiences between his teenage self and the attractive older woman.
When the entrepreneur had finished recounting this disturbing dream, he became aware that he was intensely sexually aroused, more so than he had been in as long as he could remember. Dr. Eisenman noted the tension in the room, and asked David what he was feeling. After some hesitation the younger man bravely said, “I can’t believe how turned on I am…more than I have felt in years with any of my partners…” There was a long pause. After which the psychiatrist gently ventured, “Is it possible that anything at all like your dream ever actually transpired between you and your stepmother?” Another long and tense silence ensued.
David flushed visibly and felt overwhelmed with a stunning rush of memory. He finally spoke, “You know, I haven’t thought of it since it happened. But I am beginning to think that something a lot like my dream actually did take place…” The session time was drawing to a close, and the psychiatrist noted this and asked if he could check his schedule for a moment. He discovered that the next two hours were free. The doctor decided on the spot to abandon his own plans of going for a workout and offer to continue the session, since they had suddenly opened up such a difficult topic. He said, “It seems we are in the middle of something very important and delicate. I would be willing to go on for the next couple of hours and ‘make hay while the sun shines’ if that works for you.” The flustered patient readily agreed. He got on his Blackberry to cancel his morning appointments before settling back down into his chair and closing his eyes as his mind wandered back across almost two decades.
Dr. Eisenman guided David through a painstaking journey through the incident that his dream had triggered him to recall. By the end of the three hour session they had constructed a highly detailed narrative. It seemed that it had all started when David was in his mid-teens, away at the upscale boarding school that male members of his family had attended for generations. His father, an energetic trial lawyer, had unexpectedly come to visit his only son at school. There he had taken him out to dinner and announced that he was divorcing David’s mother. This did not come as a surprise to the young man. He was sensitive enough to detect the distinct lack of warmth between his parents, including its exacerbation by his mother’s worsening alcoholism. It was clear to him that his father wanted his acceptance, if not his blessing, for this momentous decision. This was an unnerving new experience for a son who had always found his father to be bigger than life and not in need of anything from anyone. David was able to rally himself to provide some comfort to his dad. Though the irony of the role-reversal was far from lost on him even as a teenager.
Over the next months, the situation between David’s parents deteriorated. His mother became increasingly irrational in her efforts to recruit her son into condemnation of his father’s faithless abandonment of their marriage vows. This finally came to a head when the young man was at home for the winter holidays. The desperate woman made such a drunken scene that her son stormed out into the night and called his father to come get him. After this incident, David spent his school vacations with his Dad, avoiding the misery of watching his mom drink herself into oblivion. This created some uneasy complications. David’s father wasted little time in compensating for years of a sexless marriage by parading a succession of much younger women through his newly decorated luxury condominium.
Further, the self-involved parent seemed to see no reason to curtail his activities just because his teenage son was temporarily at home. In fact, David's dad sometimes even seemed to flaunt his masculine prowess. This exposure to adult sexuality definitely had an impact on the young man. He became quite curious about the beautiful young women his father ushered into the commodious master suite after decorously introducing them to his son, who was usually hanging out in the living room watching sports on the large-screen monitor.
Things changed after a couple of years, in the summer David was entering his senior year of high school. His father’s home situation stabilized as a new stepmother was introduced to the young man at the fancy dinner celebrating his eighteenth birthday. Angelique was a lovely, stylish brunette Frenchwoman who had emigrated to the United States as a teenager, but still spoke with a delightful accent. She was warm, trim and vivacious. Clearly the couple was quite in love, to the extent that their intense erotic energy made David somewhat uncomfortable. His disturbingly young new stepmother nonetheless made a visible effort to befriend the young man. Over the months he became quite fond of her, even confiding in her regarding his frustrations about not finding a girlfriend. Shortly after he returned to his last year in boarding school, the enamored couple married in a quick civil ceremony attended by no one they knew, and jetted off on an extended honeymoon. When David returned for Thanksgiving, they had settled into what seemed like genuine matrimonial bliss. Both were apparently unfazed by the fact that at 27 years of age, Angelique was far closer to the son’s age than that of his father.
All seemed to be going ahead without a hitch as the young man finished out his time at the boarding school and was pleased to get into Stanford. This he thought would be a welcome change from East coast winters. Just as he was settling into his college life, everything changed once again just as he was packing to head home for Winter break. The Resident Assistant at his dorm, looking quite somber, came to find him. A call had come from home, and his father had been found dead of an apparent heart attack, according to his distraught stepmother. David caught a redeye to the East Coast in stunned shock. The next week was spent in a numbed daze as he went through the motions of helping Angelique get through the interminable details connected with an unexpected death. The funeral was ghastly, including a horrifying scene as David’s intoxicated mother attempted to physically attack the bereaved young stepmother. The drunken woman needed to be escorted away, shrieking imprecations at every step, by security personnel.
The final week of the Winter break was spent trying to sort through his father’s affairs, which it turned out were in a shambles. The worst news was that the flamboyant lawyer had not gotten around to changing his will since the divorce. Every penny of his considerable wealth (with the exception of his son’s substantial college fund) was left to David’s mother. Angelique was stunned and crushed. The bereaved son found himself in the awkward position of comforting his gorgeous stepmother as she tried to reconcile herself to beginning life again with no resources save her own wits and determination. He was impressed with how rapidly she pulled herself together. By his last night before returning to school, she had actually rallied enough to prepare him a wonderful going away dinner. This was the prelude to the seminal incident that follows in the words David used to describe it:
“So, there we were, Angelique and me, alone in the condo, eating this wonderful French meal accompanied by his best French wines. After all, we both knew that my Mom was likely to come after every drop left in his wine cellar once I was gone. I wasn’t used to drinking. Pretty soon I was soused, which I suspect was true of Angelique as well. The talk came around to what went on between her and my father, and I suppose it was my fault for asking. But I did finally press her to tell me what it was like sexually between the two of them. She said he was the first man who let her be truly what she was in bed and loved having done to him the things she loved doing just as much as she did. I didn’t have a clue what this meant, but the wine seemed to have evaporated my inhibitions. So I asked her point blank what she meant. She stopped me, and asked if I was sure I wanted to know. I said I did, because it was another way to know my Dad, and right then I wanted to keep as much of him as possible.
She took a deep breath, and said that he had always fantasized about being spanked. They had met when he placed an ad looking for a partner who enjoyed giving what he was hoping to receive. I was shocked to think of him in that way, but my cock told me I was a chip off the old block. Since I was suddenly as turned on as I could ever remember being. She noticed this, which I guess was pretty apparent. My stepmother said that it seemed like these tastes were running in the family, which both embarrassed me and turned me on even more. Suddenly, it dawned on me that Angelique was pretty turned on herself. I couldn’t believe it when my own mouth blatantly suggested to her that it would be fine with me if she did the very same things to me that my father had loved her to do to him, and that right now seemed like a perfect time. I mean, this is from a guy who had never come on to a woman in his life. And all of a sudden he’s openly propositioning his beautiful widowed stepmother.
What was even more shocking was that she looked me square in the face with those beautiful brown eyes. Then she said in that charming French accent, “Very well, mon cher, let’s get you to the bedroom and get those clothes off of you. Your wicked stepmother will see to it that you get exactly what such naughty boys as you deserve!” She stood up and beckoned me toward the master suite, and I followed, with my cock making an enormous bulge in my pants. We came into the room and she closed the door firmly behind her, turning to face me, looking up at least six inches, but clearly in command. She ordered me to strip, which I did with much embarrassment. After all, I had not been naked in front of any woman since I was a baby. Let alone my gorgeous stepmother who stood calmly in her skimpy housedress and bare feet, promising to spank my bare ass. My cock was rock hard, and she laughed and stepped forward to take it casually in her hand. She declared, “Ah, the enthusiastic little man, always thinking that it’s all about him, standing up so expectantly! But he will have to wait a long time while I pay some close attention to some of these other naked parts before he gets his turn.”
Angelique then led me by her firm grip on my erection over to the bed. There she released me while she climbed up and seated herself in the center of the king-sized mattress, with her back against the pillows piled at the top of the bed. She instructed me to open the top drawer of the nightstand, and to hand her the wooden hairbrush I found there. This she placed on the spread beside her. She then ordered me to climb onto the bed and lie across her lap. When I did, she opened her bare legs to entrap my raging cock between her silky thighs. I lay on the bed with my head spinning with alcohol and arousal, thinking I could come any second just from the delicious pressure of her legs on my penis. She calmly ordered me to spread my arms and legs, saying, “Your father would hold this position every night while he took his spanking. I loved how he would open his most tender parts to me and never once try to protect himself no matter how much punishment he needed on his poor bottom cheeks. He trusted me to do what was best for him like a stern mommy giving a naughty boy the discipline he knew he had coming. I want you to be just as brave as he was, j’comprends?”
I said I would try. Then I spread myself out as she commanded, opening my buttocks fully to whatever she had in mind for them. I was painfully aware that she was looking at a part of me no one had seen in this way since I was a baby having his diapers changed. This feeling of exposure got even more pronounced when Angelique began stroking my ass. Her sensual touch made me twitch and jump at the contact, which also felt enormously arousing and brought me even closer to coming between her legs. She crooned in her lilting, sweet accent, “Such perfectly beautiful young moons, so delightfully responsive to my touch! I can’t wait to see them squirm and redden once they begin to be spanked...But then again, since I’m in complete control of them, I guess I don’t have to wait any longer than I want, now, do I? Have they ever been punished before?” I muttered that they hadn’t, as my arousal seemed to be nearing the breaking point with the combination of her sexy monologue and her gentle hands on my ass. She responded with enthusiasm, “Oh, tres magnifique! I love nothing more than inaugurating a virgin ass with its first spanking! I promise to make it a particularly long and memorable one!”
With that, my stepmother’s hand descended to land smartly on the center of my left cheek with a resounding smack. It shocked me out of the wine-soaked reverie she had induced with her soothing, salacious words and her gentle stroking. Her small hand produced a surprising sting. Soon a matching blow descended on my right cheek, and my spanking truly commenced. She methodically covered every inch of my trembling buttocks, which rapidly warmed to their unfamiliar assault. The pain was intense, though bearable. As the inflammation mounted, I also reconnected with my entrapped penis. It was getting powerful stimulation by the compression of her firm thighs as my hips involuntarily plunged to the rhythm of the punishment. I felt a growing sense of panic as I realized my arousal had gone beyond the point of no return. Angelique seemed to sense this and increased the tempo and strength of her assault on my bottom cheeks. She also focused her painful attention on the very bottom curves of my buttocks, which seemed to have more of a sexual charge attached to it. Soon I was bucking and shouting as she spanked lustily away while I spent an embarrassingly huge gout of semen between her thighs and onto my stepmother’s fancy bedspread.
Angelique stopped her assault on my now-throbbing buttocks once the last spasms of my climax subsided. She resumed her delicious stroking, along with her hypnotic dialogue, “My goodness, what a naughty boy you are, making such a nasty mess between my thighs, just like your father used to. I’m afraid that has earned your poor bottom cheeks a long, painful chance to get acquainted with the back of my hairbrush. This is going to hurt much more than my silly little hand. I expect you to cry out and weep or I won’t think I am making an impression. However, you are not allowed to plead for mercy. After all, that would imply you don’t trust me to know what’s good for you, so your punishment will be doubled if you do. Do you understand, my sweet boy?” I murmured that I did, feeling afloat on a cloud of endorphin-induced euphoria (in addition to the unaccustomed wine I had consumed and the glow of my first non-self-induced orgasm). I was more than willing to endure anything in order to remain in the hands of this beautiful, masterful older woman who had granted me such an erotic, unexpected reprieve from my grief.
I settled back down across her lap. My cock was already beginning to harden up again as my stepmother resumed her stroking of my already throbbing ass cheeks. This time it was with the smooth, cool wooden back of the hairbrush. Suddenly the pleasant sensation stopped and the first blow from the brush descended. It jolted me with its intense sting as I cried out loudly for the first time. Angelique was implacable, spanking intently away at my burning bottom as I shouted with each blow, squirming uncontrollably on her lap. As she spanked, she resumed her crooning monologue, “Oh, look at how the pretty white moons have turned darker and darker pink, and now almost red! Isn’t it lovely how they tremble and squirm to try to escape their punishment. But their wicked stepmother knows what’s best for them, even if they don’t. I’m just going to spank and spank them until my arm gets tired, because they move so charmingly in their sweet little dance!” Soon, I burst into tears, sobbing out how sorry I was for being bad. It seemed like I was actually apologizing to my Dad somehow, or even crying about his death the way I hadn’t seemed able to at his funeral. That apology seemed to trigger something in my stepmother, and she stopped my spanking. She just resumed her stroking of my red-hot cheeks as I calmed down.
Angelique leaned over to retrieve something from the nightstand. Soon I felt a wonderful cooling sensation as she spread a soothing lotion on my throbbing ass-cheeks, almost immediately easing most of their discomfort. As the pain subsided, I became aware of my once-again raging cock, still trapped between her thighs (which were slickened by my previous orgasm). She remarked on this, “Oh, you young ones are all alike, ready to go again almost immediately! However, before we let this insistent little man have his way with me, I think it’s time for Angelique to be compensated for her hard work on behalf of your proper discipline. That would be accomplished by a visit of your handsome young mouth to her pussy!” I had certainly read about and seen some pornographic depictions of cunnilingus. But I’d never had a chance to perform it, and told her so. She said, “How delightful, another aspect of your virginity I can take tonight! I will teach you, and I guarantee all your future partners will thank me. that is because being eaten is most women’s favorite thing!”
With that, she helped me off her lap. My erection bobbed expectantly, and I watched with delight as she stood and calmly pulled her housedress over her head. This revealing her taut, tanned body clothed only in black silk underwear. She suggestively removed her bra, freeing her firm, smallish breasts like white peach halves topped with firmly erect dark pink nipples. My stepmother then smiled saucily at me as she eased her bikini panties down and off. I gasped to see a live beautiful naked woman for the first time in my life. Her pubic bush was trimmed to a neat triangle above her genitals, which were a brownish pink and clearly visible through the close-trimmed pubes. They seemed swollen and glistening with the juices of her arousal. She raised her arms and did a slow pirouette, showing off her firm but feminine ass, as stark-white as her breasts inside her bikini lines. I murmured how lovely she was, and she laughed appreciatively, “Why thank you, sweet David! You are quite lovely yourself as well, you know!” I was inordinately pleased at the compliment. And I was even more delighted when she gracefully climbed onto the bed and pulled me into a full embrace on top of her, gradually engaging me in a searching kiss.
I savored the feel of her lovely nakedness beneath me as she guided my inexperienced mouth through a careful, gentle introduction to the art of kissing. By example she was teaching me how to be responsive and not overwhelming. After about ten minutes of this delightful interlude, she instructed me to kiss my way down to her breasts. I was then to make love to them gently at first with my hands and mouth. Of course I was delighted to do this. Soon I found my hands and face enjoying the firm mounds, especially the responsive nipples. These she taught me to suckle gently at first, and then to stimulate progressively more intensely. Finally, when I was deeply sucking one nipple while firmly squeezing and massaging the other, she cried, “Enough!” Then my wicked stepmother ordered me to make my way down to her pussy.
I kissed her sculpted abdomen along the way down. After that I followed Angelique’s directions to carefully navigate the sensitive creases between her thighs and torso as she spread her legs to expose her crotch for my attentions. The musky odor of her arousal was intoxicating to me as I spread her vaginal lips and saw the soft, moistly pink tissues within. She instructed me to lave her vulva with a broad tongue from bottom to top as she moaned in satisfaction. My stepmother then introduced me to her clitoris, and guided me in encircling it with my tongue as her passion increased. She then left me to my own devices and settled back to enjoy herself. I enthusiastically buried my sensorium in the smells and tastes of her pussy. Within minutes, she exploded into a shouting, writhing orgasm as she held my head firmly against her while she rode out her spasms for over a minute. After a wonderful eternity, she collapsed limply on the bed while I rested my head on her belly, inhaling her scent and savoring the moment.
“Mon cher, you are a natural love-maker, and women will flock to you, I promise!”, she sighed. We rested like this for several minutes, my cock still throbbing away, and then my stepmother said, “Lie down on your back, David, and I will ride you like the young stallion you are!” I was quite content to do this. Soon I was treated to the unimaginably voluptuous sight of Angelique straddling me as she took my erection in her hand and guided it into her pussy. It soon became a heavenly sheath of liquid warmth around my cock. I reached up to play with her breasts as she rode me, controlling the pace of our fucking to suit herself and to manage my arousal. She must have come three times in this position, playing with her own clitoris while she fucked me as my hands continued to enjoy her tits (also a first for me). When she had had enough of me, she milked my cock to come inside her tight sexual core. That first vaginal orgasm of my life felt even better than I had ever imagined it could. She then collapsed on top of me, and we cuddled and chatted as my cock slowly subsided inside her and our sweat dried.
My stepmother finally climbed off of me and lay by my side, stroking my body and complimenting me on my physique and sexual prowess. Such words were ambrosia to my ears, as my family had been notoriously stinting of praise throughout my life. She asked if I’d had sex before, and I admitted that I had not. Whereupon she said, “So many virginities to lose in one night to such a wicked old woman! I think there are a couple more to take from you! I have just the idea to accomplish both at the same time and get me off once more in the bargain!” My immediately resurgent cock communicated my enthusiastic acquiescence. Angelique arose to bring us each a bottle of chilled water to replenish our fluids, after which we each visited the bathroom to relieve our bladders. I was instructed to lay on my back on the now-thoroughly sullied bedspread, and Angelique kneeled over me as she described her final plan for our encounter, “My sweet young man, I am now going to introduce you to the wonderful French tradition of the soixante neuf. In English, it is called the sixty-nine, where I will straddle your head with my legs so that you can eat my pussy while I perform the same service for your cock. I intend to add one little variation, by taking the virginity of your sweet little bottom hole by giving it a good finger-fucking as well! Do you have any complaints?”
I assured her that I was completely in her hands. Then I lay back to watch her delightful trim tanned thighs and roundly feminine, firm white buttocks descending over my face. I buried my mouth in her pussy, tasting my own semen as well as the juices of her own multiple arousals and releases. Shortly I was distracted from this compelling immersion in my stepmother’s sexuality by the amazing sensation of her beautiful lips engulfing the head of my cock. At first she circled it with her tongue and then took it deeper into her throat. Angelique accompanied this wonderful new sensation with a sensual massaging of my balls with her skilled hands. The combination made it difficult to focus on my own task at hand with her luscious pussy draped over my face. I persevered nonetheless, and we seemed to find a rhythm as we each orally worshipped the other’s genitalia while my arousal mounted yet again. Then my stepmother introduced yet another twist. I felt her saliva-moistened finger circling my anus, and then pressing inexorably inside.
Angelique’s probing finger produced intense and disturbing, yet quite exciting sensations in my bottom. I had barely adjusted to these when she thrust deeper inside me and touched something that sent a jolt of electricity to my cock and balls. I moaned and bucked at this intense new sensation. Within a couple of minutes spasmed my way into yet another orgasm, emptying my youthful semen into her lovely throat. My climax seemed to trigger her own. Soon I was clasping her plunging hips as she ground out her pleasure against my face before collapsing onto me as I lay inhaling her scent.
We dozed there for many minutes, each of us with our face immersed in the other’s sexuality before my stepmother finally stirred and rolled off of me to nestle in my arms. I was surprised to feel her shoulders starting to shake, and realized that Angelique was silently weeping. My instinct was to hold her, which I did. After several minutes of quiet sobbing, she finally spoke, “Oh my God, I am so ashamed! I can’t believe I did this to you, that I took advantage of your grief and drunkenness to use you in this way for my own comfort. I have felt so despairing about losing your Dad and him having made no provisions for me in case he died. So tonight once we started drinking, you somehow seemed so like him, and I just lost myself. I am so sorry about this! You must promise me to forget that this ever happened, as will I!”
Angelique seemed frightening to me in the intensity of her regret (just as she had overpowered me in every other way that evening). I stammered out that I would do whatever she wanted. She reiterated that we would never speak of this again, and would go back to our own beds for the night. Tomorrow morning she would take me to the airport and I would return to my life at Stanford, and neither of us would even recall that it had happened, or tell a soul. She even made me promise to forget what had happened between us, and to behave just as though it had never occurred, and I solemnly swore to this. And you know what, I think I have actually kept that promise pretty well, since today is the first time I have even thought about that night since that very moment.”
CHAPTER TWO
Once his incident with his stepmother had been fully revived in his memory, David continued to push to meet almost every day with Dr. Eisenman as they processed the consequences of this revelation. When Angelique had driven the hung-over young man to the airport the next morning and hugged him a chaste good-bye, that was the last contact he had with her. She elected to disappear completely from his life (and from the planet, as far as he could tell). David’s mother took over his father’s assets, including the condominium where the young man had been spending his school vacations. This left him with no home base when not at school (since contact with his mother was unpleasant to the extreme, and he flatly refused it). He finished out his undergraduate years at Stanford by filling his vacations with study or work or staying with his friends’ families, describing himself somewhat ironically as an ‘elective orphan’. Business school followed immediately. He elected to stay at Stanford, since his best friend and future business partner was also staying on (though at the computer science department). By the time David got his MBA, the two fraternity brothers had already incorporated and opened up their first office. They used the last of David’s educational fund as their seed capital, and success soon followed.
While all of this educational and occupational progress seemed unaffected by the events in David’s private life, his relationships with women were quite another story. The psychiatrist theorized that the entrepreneur was probably quite subject to hypnotic suggestion. They even tested this with a standard measure for rating hypnotizability, and found he was off the charts. So the combination of intoxication and Angelique’s strong insistence that he forget actually worked quite well in suppressing the memory. He did not ever recall thinking about the incident. But as he now thought back on his life at that time, his stepmother’s seduction of him radically changed his relationships to women. Before, he had been diffident enough that even in the promiscuous world of undergraduate raging hormones he had still not lost his virginity. After, he plunged headlong into the pool of available young women. He delighted in using his charm and good looks to secure sexual partners every weekend from among the scores of willing coeds. Angelique’s training of him ensured that he would be a skilled and desirable partner (especially given his enjoyment of cunnilingus). The word rapidly got around that he was a man who insisted on showing his partners a good time before taking his own pleasure. So there was no shortage of bidders for his company.
Dr. Eisenman wondered aloud where the hostility that he must have felt toward his mother and stepmother might have shown up in David’s behavior with women. The only angle they were able to develop in this regard was a subtle one. The young man never would allow himself to behave unkindly toward a woman, but he ended up disappointing all of them. His intelligence, charm, good looks, and sexual competence meant that he looked like an ideal candidate for long-term relationship to any new lover in the first blush of infatuation. However, as soon as the excitement of novelty had worn off in bed, he would find the sex increasingly tepid, and would begin to lose his desire. Inevitably, within a few months he would have subtly withdrawn his emotions until the bewildered girl would finally give up and move on. If they asked, he would always be reassuring that it was not them, but him. Ironically, that is exactly what he and Dr. Eisenman came to believe was the actual truth.
In the course of their explorations, the psychiatrist matter-of-factly inquired as to whether David had ever tried any sexual activities along the BDSM continuum with any of his partners. The younger man said that the thought had crossed his mind several times (though since he had shelved the memory of the fateful night with his stepmother, he hadn’t known why). However, when he had broached the matter indirectly, his partners seemed to send a message that it was too weird, so he didn’t pursue it. Since he continued to have fantasies in that realm on occasion, he actually went so far as to research and hire a dominatrix to spank him once. It had been moderately arousing, but had seemed somehow perfunctory and ultimately unsatisfying. So he hadn’t been motivated to look further in that direction.
The therapist and his patient were both stymied at that point, aware that something was blocking David in his ability to make a deeper connection to a woman. They both knew that issues around his mother and stepmother were likely at the core of the block, but were unclear on how to break through it. Then David came in one day for an early morning session just having awoken from a dream, which he promptly described: “I dreamt I was living with a woman, I think my wife, and we both were entirely committed to a married life completely centered around just the kind of sex I had with my stepmother. I mean each of us would take turns being the one to give or receive all manner of punishments and erotic violations…and I was completely, totally fulfilled and in love. I awoke feeling more aroused than I can ever remember, maybe since that night with Angelique, and I can’t get the concept out of my mind.”
Dr. Eisenman immediately moved to explore this dream. He interpreted it as a wish-fulfillment fantasy, to which David readily assented. Then the therapist simply asked, “Why would such a relationship not be possible for you?” His patient felt stunned, saying, “My God, I don’t think I’ve ever allowed myself to consider it. Do you think there could be anyone like that out there who could possibly be interested in such a thing?” The psychiatrist responded, “According to the best statistics I’ve seen, over 30% of people in America have experimented with BDSM, and a somewhat higher percentage in Europe. Most data on sexual fantasies confirm a frequency at least that great in people’s inner lives as well. Given this high rate of prevalence, I’d say that if you approached a search as carefully as you do everything else, I’d consider it quite likely that you could find such a person who would be interested in trying out what you have in mind.”
David felt a surge of excitement, as though someone had opened a door to a future possibility that seemed as vividly colored as Oz compared to Dorothy’s black-and-white Kansas. Somehow, he had never imagined that someone like his psychiatrist could even tolerate his darker sexual side (which he had barely been able to allow into his own awareness). Let alone encourage him to try to bring it to life in reality. He said all of this, and Eisenman responded, “It’s not my business or desire to prescribe what should be the right kind of intimacy for my patients. In my experience, whatever floats each person’s boat in that realm is so individual that no outsider could presume to dictate the right erotic formula for someone else. I am here to help you realize your own pathway to the right sort of life for you, not anyone else.”
The entrepreneur felt a flood of relief as he gazed into the calm, warm eyes of the older man. David wondered if the good doctor had any of his own kinks that might have helped him to become so tolerant of his patients’ sexual peculiarities. Then his agile mind leapt to beginning the planning process of how to conduct his search. But when he started strategizing aloud about this, Eisenman brought him up short. The older man said, “Whatever you end up doing about this, I do think it’s a good idea for you to have a pretty clear understanding of what you’re looking for and why.” And so began an exploration that took several sessions over the next week. Finally, they seemed to arrive at some conclusions that resonated soundly for both patient and therapist.
David summed their insights up: “So Dad’s preoccupation with his work made him a scarce, and therefore desirable commodity to me. He was someone I identified with strongly and was powerfully moved to emulate. Mom was depressed, and lost in her alcoholic fog more and more over time, especially after Dad left and she saw me heading into puberty. So I was driven into withdrawal from her as well, as she became more suspicious and demanding of me. First I got to see the gratification of Dad’s playboy phase. But then Angelique came on the scene, and he seemed to settle into something really solid and satisfying to him for the first time. Then he died, and I found out exactly what was so galvanizing to him. I directly experienced his brand of BDSM in a mind-blowing first sexual experience. Then I was ordered to forget it all. This I was only too happy to do since I felt terribly guilty myself over having sex with his wife in his own bed right after he died. I spent the rest of my romantic life until today being dissatisfied with vanilla sex, which couldn’t possibly measure up to what I experienced and repressed. Non-vanilla sex for pay doesn’t work for me. That's because it lacks the deep connectedness of sex with someone who really cares about me, which I believed Angelique did. So the ultimate answer is to find someone whom I can really love and be loved by who also would really enjoy spending at least some of their time playing naughty sexual games with me.”
Dr. Eisenman agreed that this was a coherent summary that seemed to fit all the information they had. David spoke, “I think I’d like to take it from here on my own, at least for awhile. I’ll call you if I get into any trouble or need some advice, but for now, I’d like to see how I do left to my own devices.” The psychiatrist agreed, assuring the entrepreneur that he would always be welcome back, and a final large check was written out. They shook hands warmly and David almost bounded out of the office as he headed off to begin his quest for the ideal partner for the steamy erotic future he was hoping to create. He went home and forced himself to do his regular daily workout in his elaborate home gym before settling down at his computer to get started on his search.
David used his internet skills to rapidly apprise himself of the surprisingly large BDSM network on the web. He discovered a plethora of rather raunchy and unappealing sites, many of which seemed mainly oriented toward pay-for-play. After a time, he found several chat rooms where he asked members to advise him on where he might most effectively post an ad seeking the kind of serious partnership he had in mind. He got several promising leads. After reading what was posted in each of the sites he was considering, he thought long and hard before composing a posting that might fit the bill.
Hours later, David finally arrived at something he thought was a good first attempt:
“I am a 35 year old businessman, newly retired after selling a company. This good fortune has given me a chance to create a new life with no material limits on what I can do with my time and energy. My new primary goal is to seek a unique life-partner to accompany me on the journey of relationship. I am considered attractive and take good care of my body (including no addictions), and would only be interested in someone who is similar in those regards. After doing some hard thinking and work in therapy, I have realized that I wish to find a woman who has a rare combination of attributes, most of which I would like to think I share. She should be within ten years of my age, intelligent and well-educated, self-reflective, generous of spirit (but able to enjoy receiving), possessed of a robust sense of humor and given to frequent laughter, and accomplished enough that I don’t represent a sugar daddy (even though I intend to support us both in comfort for life). I am interested in an equal partner with a lively mind of her own, and a great curiosity about the world, but who can join me in making our relationship the primary focus of both of our attentions. The right woman for me will be interested in making our sexual connection a central theme in our daily lives, and will share my fascination with the erotic theater of power. She will be excited to find true erotic fulfillment in both giving and receiving intense pleasure and carefully administered pain on a daily basis. If you did not experience the same surge of arousal reading this last sentence as I did writing it, please don’t respond to this posting.
Signed,
DAVID8983”
David felt both satisfied and quite vulnerable having laid out what he wanted so literally. He surprised himself by including his frank description of his own emotional and physical response to his clear statement of what he was hoping for. As he had learned in years of on-line business, he let the posting rest for a day before revisiting it for a final editorial pass. Then he went ahead in both excitement and, to be honest, a little fear, and placed it in the ten most likely sites he had discovered in his search. He then sat back to wait.
CHAPTER THREE
Amanda Adamson was frustrated and bored. And there was no easy remedy for it, at least as far as she could determine. This was not a usual situation for the thirty-seven year old divorced literature professor. She had always regarded herself as an independent adult who had total responsibility for her own life. Indeed, when it came to her work or her leisure activities, she had never encountered any difficulties in finding interesting challenges to keep her restless mind and soul occupied. The rub always seemed to come in her love life. And that was the source of her current dissatisfaction. The previous weekend she had broken up with her most recent boyfriend, a seemingly ideal man who was handsome, attentive, accomplished, and kind. He had ended up suggesting that she seek therapy when she finally gave in to his long-standing wish to describe for him her sexual fantasy life. After telling him exactly what he could do with himself and the horse he rode in on, she stormed off in anger. The striking blonde was once again convinced that her erotic peculiarities made it hopeless for her to find a partner with whom she could truly be herself, especially in bed.
Attracting men had never been a problem for Amanda. She was tall, slender, and athletic, and blessed with classic blonde blue-eyed Nordic good looks. And she enjoyed a variety of forms of exercise that kept her naturally fit and shapely. Further, she was bright and articulate, having found a true love in European literature as an undergraduate, and happily pursuing that interest through an Ivy League doctorate. Eventually, her writing earned her a tenured faculty job at a top-notch undergraduate liberal arts college in the Northwest. There she enjoyed the challenge of a select student body at first. But teaching, even of students of high caliber, had begun to feel a bit stale after several years of repeating the same courses. It was her love life that seemed to be the fly in the ointment. Amanda alternated between two polarities. First, there were the nice men who ended up boring her (as this most recent beau was likely to do if she hadn’t spoiled things by being honest with him). Then she would turn to brilliant narcissists who kept her interest (at least for awhile) in bed but were a disaster everywhere else.
Amanda was no fool, and after a few cycles of alternating between these extremes, she had gotten a course of psychotherapy where she had come to understand some things about this pattern. She had met her therapist while doing a postdoctoral fellowship at Columbia, and the stylish older woman had been a perfect match, representing to Amanda exactly the sort of woman she hoped to become when she reached middle age. They had clicked immediately, and soon the postdoc found herself pouring out her life story. The only child of an academic couple, she had watched her brilliant but philandering father reduce her introverted Swedish emigre mother to a ball of insecurities with his tempestuous comings and goings. Finally, they had separated, followed almost immediately by a nervous breakdown for Amanda’s mother. It all ended with the bewildered sixteen-year old being sent away to a Catholic boarding school for the last two years of her high school. The origins of her tendency to attach to charismatic narcissists were not hard to understand. Nor was her countervailing insistence on being independent and self-reliant, and never subjecting herself to any man.
Some other peculiarities of Amanda’s psychosexual makeup were not so easy to get a handle on. This was in part becuase the lovely postdoc found them so embarrassing that she took months before she could begin to bring them up. After yet another breakup with a nice young man with whom she became predictably bored, her therapist made a pivotal move. She gently suggested that the content of the young woman’s sexual fantasy life might provide some clues to what had been missing in what seemed to be an otherwise perfectly acceptable relationship. Amanda gulped hard, and finally spoke up, “Well, every time I’ve told anyone about this (which is just one girlfriend and one guy I was dating), it has freaked them out. But I’m guessing as a professional you won’t follow that pattern, so here goes. Since I’ve been a teenager, I don’t think I’ve had a single climax, either alone or with a partner, without imagining giving or receiving a spanking on the bare bottom.” The therapist remained calm, and simply asked, “Do you have any idea of the origins of this preoccupation?” Amanda steeled herself, and then said that she did, though she had never spoken of it to anyone before. She went on to tell the following story.
“So Dad was as Irish as could be. This meant in part that we were a Catholic family, among other things. We were never seriously observant until Mom’s breakdown. Then I was sent away so Dad wouldn’t have to be bothered with me. Starting a new school as a junior knowing no one was not easy. But I was a pretty resilient kid, and being athletic immediately got me connected on sports teams and in the dance classes. The school seemed very religious, requiring attendance at Mass seven days a week. The first Saturday we were required to go to confession, which I hadn’t attended in years. The priest seemed a bit put off when I told him I hadn’t attended confessed for eons. He proceeded to conduct a more detailed inventory of my sins than I had ever experienced. The holy Father seemed particularly interested in my sex life, quizzing me about boys and masturbation. For some insane reason I decided to tell him the truth about both. When he found I had lost my virginity over a year earlier and got myself off almost every day, he freaked. My angry confessor said that I was going to have to report to Sister Mathilde for a special penance in the nuns’ quarters after dinner that night.
I was nervous as hell about whatever this penance was that I had coming. But it wasn't like I had any options since the school was in the middle of nowhere and I couldn’t exactly call my Dad to come rescue me. So I showed up as ordered. Sister Mathilde was a slim, tall woman in her thirties whom I suspected would have been quite pretty in normal clothing. She seemed quite forbiddingly stern when she came to answer the bell at the nuns’ entrance. She took me firmly by the arm and led me into her simple room, locking the door behind us. The furnishings consisted of a single bed, a desk with one bookshelf above it, a chair, and a prie dieu with a padded bench for private devotions before a statue of the Virgin Mary in one corner. She told me that Father had informed her of the nature of my sins. Sexual transgressions of that magnitude required severe physical penance, which she was in charge of administering. She then instructed me to remove my clothing. When I balked, she explained that part of my penance was to experience the humiliation of being completely naked during its course.
I still protested having to be nude. But she assured me that if I resisted, she would summon other sisters to compel me. Then my punishment would be doubled as well as having even more witnesses for my humiliation. I stripped reluctantly, finally standing naked before her. Then she told me to lie down on the bed on my back. I complied, puzzled. The stern Sister then instructed me to demonstrate to her how I masturbated, which of course I rebelled against. Once again, she asserted her will. She threatened me that if I did not comply, she would double the punishment she was going to deliver to my bottom. Finally I gave up and decided to do what she wanted. I had never been watched while playing with myself before, and felt quite embarrassed. But I was also a little bit turned on by all of the proceedings to that point. Especially, as I now suspect, by her obvious interest in my naked body and my sexuality. I closed my eyes and began touching myself between my legs. She asked me if that was how I did it on my own. I said yes, but she persisted in inquiring whether I played with my breasts too. I admitted that I did, and she made me do that as well. All the while as I was beating off, she kept telling me what a bad girl I was, and how much she was going to have to punish my bottom for my naughtiness. To tell you the truth, this all turned me on quite a bit. I climaxed quite easily with my eyes clamped shut, and Sister Mathilde looking on with her intense blue-eyed gaze from her seat on her desk chair.