Out on a Limb

Mrs Fancy

Constance's attraction to Donald Fancy was almost instant, and not because he was exceedingly handsome (which he was) and not because he had money like virtually everyone around her (which he certainly did not).  No, Constance was attracted to Donald because when he came into a room and spoke her body reacted the way it always did to men of power. The flutter in her belly. The delicate hairs rising on the back of her neck. The tingle deep inside the folds of her most intimate place. Her body had become so attuned to who the young man was that she hardly needed Donald to say a word to her. She could even remember with striking clarity how she had nearly orgasmed the first time the two made eye contact.

Donald Fancy was definitely someone she needed to meet, even if she couldn't say why. He was the first sensation of touching herself in her father's office closet, her womanly release paired with the sobs of a broken man, the blissful assault on her graduation and the Junior Vice President exploding in her mouth all wrapped into one.

It didn't take much effort to get Donald to ask her out, not when she had learned to pull her father's strings so well so long ago. She simply dropped the right words in the right ears, and before long she and Donald Alexander Fancy were an item envied by all.

The pair dated for a few weeks before sleeping together (she pretended to be a traditional girl that way), and the sex was twenty-something adventurous with the occasional threesome after a night of drinking, a few sex toys as thrown into the mix for fun, and even a few trysts in her favourite public haunts like the janitor's closet and the periodical section of the library.

Donald wouldn't be as rough with her as she liked at first, but she found ways around as she always did.  Sometimes she would have to stage an argument to get him to take his anger out on her, but it usually worked and left her both exhausted and satiated, a sensation she had not fully achieved since her graduation party when she was eighteen. She became quite fond of the spankings he delivered with the worn textbook she would mistakenly leave by the bedside and he was always very considerate to leave bite marks and bruises well below clothing lines. She explored sex and sensuality unlike anything she had ever imagined, and Donald was incredibly giving when it came to humiliating her the bedroom and turning her shame into ecstasy at just the right moment.

And still something was missing.

Although Constance enjoyed their intimacy and honestly never felt more fulfilled in the bedroom, she wanted more both from and for Donald.  She still found him to be a potent man when he walked into the room, but her conviction that it was tied to his sexual prowess waned as they became more comfortable with one another as a couple. She knew that 'something' was there, but she also felt like she was losing her connection to it.

It wasn't until several weeks later and a particular incident in which her friend Georgia went missing – and ultimately turned up dead, her body seemingly violated and mutilated according to rumours– that she discovered what Donald was holding back.

It was power.

Their lovemaking as of late had gotten wilder than ever, not that Constance was complaining. She found it hard to sit in class (her bottom so raw from spankings and her arousal so inflamed a sneeze could send her over the edge) and felt the need to be intimate with Don like never before. He wasn't quite violent in the bedroom, but he showed her no quarter, and when she (falsely) begged him to stop he would double down on her with his insatiable appetite and use her body until she was nothing more than a limp pile of flesh.

It was wonderful.

It was after one of these boisterous rounds of lovemaking that Constance discovered the secret of it all, and the secret was her dear departed friend, one George Mason. Constance was parched (as she always was lately thanks to Don's prowess) and after reaching over for a glass of water she took an extra moment to grab a chap stick from the nightstand drawer. She reached into the drawer without looking as she knew where it would be located, but instead of laying hands on the lip gloss, her fingers settled on something unfamiliar. The object wasn't quite sharp, but felt more like an earring.