Amy's Perspective Pt. 02

(This short story is a continuation of Amy's Perspective)

Chapter 1

You might think it's easy to put yourself in my shoes. I'm a young, attractive bright woman married to a man I love deeply. Another man was attempting to blackmail me for sex with the threat of making my husband's life hell at work if I didn't comply.

Rightly or wrongly, I complied and gave in to his sexual demands. Steve, my blackmailer, played his cards well, and given that I wasn't earning any money I saw no choice but to give him what he wanted.

Over the next 6 months I gave this man access to my body. I did what he wanted me to when he wanted me to.

This is not some story about how great this sex was. I was dominated by this man. He took his enjoyment out of my discomfort. It was his way of getting at my husband. He channeled his anger toward me. And like a whore (my reward being sanity for my husband at work), I accepted this anger on a weekly basis.

Steve's anger was thick. His entire game was to use sex as a weapon, and I was the target this weapon was directed at.

On three occasions my husband, Richard, was sent on business trips. Steve used these opportunities for overnight visits. I remember one where he had me on my knees, with my hands tied behind my back and my mouth on his organ, when the phone rang. Steve picked up the phone and gave it to me to speak. It was Richard, who was alone, in a hotel room, lonely, and just wanting to talk. If he knew what was occurring in his bedroom at that very moment, he would have died. It was the hardest conversation of my life. Steve kept his penis in the vicinity of my face the entire time.

I'm not going to describe the details of the sex, other than to tell you he demanded that I obey him – how I dressed, how I talked, and what I did. And I complied with his demands every time.

Then on one visit he made me an offer. It was the early afternoon. It was the first of three surprises that day. He told me if I did exactly what he wanted this day, he'd make it the last time. I told him I've always done what he wanted, but why should I believe him?

He responded, telling me that I could take it or leave it, he didn't really care if I believed him – but anyway that what he wanted didn't involve leaving the house and wouldn't involve anything painful or harmful.

As like all the other occasions, I told him I'd comply.

He took his clothes off and I took off mine and then he told me that I needed to learn how to be successful in life and that he was going to teach me right then and there. I didn't know what he was talking about.

He sat down in my husband's favourite chair, and then picked his knees up toward his chest. He told me that for a girl like me to succeed I'd have to kiss a little ass. And he wanted to give me the first lesson.

He told me to get down on my knees before him and do just that - kiss his ass.

I'll be honest. That's the one place in the universe I don't want my mouth. And of all the asses in the world this arrogant bastard's ass would be the one I'd be least willing to kiss.

It lasted an hour. He gave detailed instructions on how he wanted it, on keeping my lips attached, on using my tongue to penetrate his asshole.

It was revolting. I still gag at the thought of what I did. The session ended with being tied faced down to my bed and the second surprise of the day – my first experience with anal sex – an act he performed twice before finishing.

Though I had no bruises, I felt beaten to a pulp.

The third surprise of the day occurred when Richard came home a couple of hours later with the news that he'd been laid off. Obviously, Steve knew this and decided he wanted one more kick at the can – and he wanted that kick at the can to be something special.

Chapter 2

People can pretend all they like that external things don't impact the rest of your life. They are lying or deluded.

Without a doubt, subconsciously, I built up tremendous anger – and it was in part directed against my Richard, my husband, because, first, it was Steve's power over him that gave Steve this power over me. Second, a husband is supposed to protect you from evil – and I felt I was being offered up on a silver platter.

Now I know, I know – Richard did nothing to deliberately hurt me. But I was hurt and abused through Richard.

And the truth is sex became far less satisfying with him. You see, sex was no longer just sex – it had all this baggage – and I knew the baggage was mine alone.

Well like anyone else, the desire for good sex remains even if you are not getting it. I yearned for a couple of hours of pure sex for sex's sake. My fantasies became fantasies about other men.

Other men didn't remind me of the baggage I carried. It didn't remind me of having to stick my tongue in an asshole. It didn't remind me of the pain of anal penetration. It didn't remind me of being ordered to beg to be fucked by a guy I didn't want to fuck me.

I found that not only was I fantasizing about other men, but that I also wanted to be around other men, to dress sexier around other men, and to interact (perhaps even flirt a bit) with other men.

When I put on a pair of jeans, I now always chose the tightest pair. When I went to buy a skirt, it was short and tight. I wanted to feel sexy and I wanted to feel sexy outside the home.

Richard, after 6 weeks off, found another job. But things didn't really get back to normal. We were just less passionate. I'm not entirely sure he noticed – but then again he was the one who got laid off – his mind would be elsewhere. But with his mind elsewhere, there I was at school, or with friends, or just out – an attractive, slim, early twenties girl dressing sexy to attract attention from other men.

And that's what I got.

I really enjoyed the attention; the interaction. It was carefree, simple, and sexual without any baggage. I'd be asked out to lunch, dinner, and parties. I would feel the occasional butt-grab. Occasionally, some guy would try more.

In due course, I started accepting some of the less aggressive of these passes. I'd go to lunch with some guy while at school. I had a couple of dinners with a guy in one of my classes. And I went to a few parties without the presence of my husband.

All this, while I was towing a very tight line. I was never unfaithful. I thought about sex with others, but never engaged in a sex act with any, with the exception of a kiss which may have lingered a split second longer than it should have.

But looking back, I now realize there can be no mistaking the path I was on. I loved my husband, but wanted sex from any man but.

At the time, I had just figured I was escaping for a few moments of carefree flirtations. I didn't realize that I was telling these men that I was available to bed. I knew that was likely their goal, but I didn't know that subconsciously I was telling them they would succeed.

Vultures only swirl around animals they know are injured. Men are no different. There seemed to be more and more of them in my life at the moment, all of whom wanted (looking back) time with me away from my husband. Maybe it was a couple of hours of study time, maybe it was dancing at a party, or maybe it was for a haven't-seen-you-in-a-while dinner; but looking back it was clear they were parting me from my husband and looking for the opportunity to move into my pants. And men could read in me that that is exactly what I wanted.