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The Other Woman
Carmenica Diaz
I don’t mind being the other woman.
It has certain benefits and none of the irritating male problems that come with marriage.
I should know, I’ve been married three times!
I know, I know, sometimes I am too romantic for my own good but I think I have finally cured myself of dreaming that futile and pathetic dream of the perfect marriage.
The truth is, men become so mundane, so bloody boring once they’re married!
The romance goes, the courtesy vanishes, not to mention the sex! It all evaporates once the honeymoon concludes.
I thought I knew the reasons why my previous marriages failed and decided in the third marriage, that hubby and I would have separate residences, that we would preserve the mystery! Nothing makes me drier than the Gobi desert than to hear my man fart and belch in bed, or see his grotty underwear strewn around the room.
Tidy habits vanish and once they’re married, they forget about making themselves presentable.
Why is it men expect us to dress in sexy lingerie – usually bloody uncomfortable stuff – but they don’t even think to have a shower or even shave?
Oh yes, rub your stubbly face over my sensitive bits – that will get me soo hot – not!
Men!
Some information for men – you have distinctive odours – some I like, others make me want to vomit!
Absorb the fact that the female of the species can distinguish at least ten thousand different odours while the male is lucky to be able to identify five thousand! That could be the reason you don’t see many female garbage collectors, do you?
It’s just evolution and, believe me, there were times when I wished the proportions were reversed.
However, we like pleasing odours. Note the emphasis on pleasing!
So shower, don’t use a strong or perfumed soap and don’t pour a bucket of cologne over you when you’re finished – in fact, no cologne at all!
And wash your bloody balls! They can really pong after a while. Believe me, there is a good odour associated with male genitalia and then there is – well, no need to explain, I hope.
There’s nothing like the distinctive masculine odour of a fresh man in your arms.
Back to my third marriage.
The separate residences worked out pretty well for at least seven months but then he became whiney. A whining man is the ultimate turn off. How can you respect a man who whines and complains?
I divorced him.
He’s probably whining about that as I speak!
I digress – sorry, it’s the educator in me.
Where was I?
Therefore, I enjoy being the other woman. I use the cock, and go home to soak in my bath while listening to my music. Sport never graces my television set, the toilet seat is always down and I have lace edging on my duvet.
All in all, very satisfactory and when I want sex with a male, I hunt.
That was how I found Mark.
I seduced Mark very easily. If a woman can’t seduce the man she has eyes on, she must be from another planet! Earth men are easy! (That’s a small film joke, I’m not really from another planet).
He was easy, in fact a little boring , not even fun and games. It was ok for the night– I just really wanted a cock – you know how you just need penetration? It was one of those nights!
It was adequate and then he became morose and had regrets. He began to go on about how his wife didn’t understand him. I couldn’t stand it!
I slapped him.
Hard.
‘Will you bloody shut up! I have no concern at all about your wife or what you do or don’t do! I am not interested! I was interested in your cock! Now that’s over, I’m going.’
‘But…but Carmen…will I see you again?’
‘What on earth for?’
He was immediately at a loss and I felt slightly sorry for him.
‘Call me at my office sometime,’ I said airily. ‘I’ll leave you to pay for the room. Bye.’
He called and called and I relented.
We had lunch and I watched Mark be very rude to the waiters and pretend to be so in control. I resolved to never see the ignorant and boring little shite again.
Then he began to ramble on about rubbish so I took control.
‘Shut up or I’ll slap you again!’
He gaped at me, eyes wide and shut his mouth.
‘Or, perhaps,’ I said, sipping wine, ‘I’ll give you a bloody good flogging!’
Mark suddenly blushed and I wondered if I was on to something.
‘Perhaps you’d like that,’ I said maliciously, watching him squirm, ‘perhaps your little dick is hard at the thought of me putting you over my knee?’
‘Ah…I… he stuttered and I smiled.
‘You would like me to spank you, wouldn’t you?’
‘Me? Ah…no…that’s silly,’ he said, face bright red.
‘Is it? I think you should get up, walk out of the restaurant, reserve a room at the nearest hotel and come back here with the key. I’ll finish my meal and then take you back to the hotel and spank you.’
‘Now,’ Mark stuttered gamely, ‘Carmen…that’s…’
‘Last chance,’ I said, carefully placing my knife and fork on the entrée plate. ‘Decide!’
Slowly, Mark stood up, adjusted the bulge in his trousers and walked out of the restaurant.
He was quiet and submissive when he returned with the key and I made him walk behind me to the hotel. I also enjoyed making him strip naked and lying over my lap so I could spank him.
I am an accomplished spanker – there are a few spankees that would testify to that!
My female lovers enjoy spanking tremendously, warms them up for an intensive bout of lovemaking while with men, it just makes them totally submissive, overwhelmed with subby emotions.
Mark wanked for me after I finished and I do adore watching a naked man wank when he has small sparkling tears in his eyes from a jolly good spanking!
I thought that was the end of it as Mark was a useless and deadly boring little shit.
One morning, at the university, as I was detailing the construction of medieval French castles, I noticed a woman seated in the back of the lecture room.
She was not one of my normal scruffy students who thought University was an excuse to look like penniless ruffians and was dressed simply but elegantly.
I gestured to my last slide, indicated that further reading should be undertaken from the sources listed and finished.
Gathering my material, I pushed through the students, ignoring the usual ingratiating ones and zeroed in on the young woman. She was older than the usual motley crew and I smiled as I said, ‘have you just joined the course? I haven’t seen you before.’
‘Ah…no. They said I could sit in and listen. Is that all right?’ she asked anxiously.
‘Of course. Are you thinking of enrolling?’
‘I’d like to but…’
‘I’m Carmen but I expect you know that.’
She laughed self-consciously.
‘Yes Professor, I know and I’ve read all your books. I’m Wendy.’
‘You’ve read all my books?’
I raised an eyebrow at that as I guessed she hadn’t read my other books, just the boring ones on medieval history.
‘Yes. I find the subject fascinating and the way you write about historical figures just brings them alive.’
‘Thank you, Wendy. I’m just dashing off to have a coffee. Would you like to join me?’
She was a sweet thing, a little nervous with me but quite beautiful. I gestured at the wedding ring on her finger.
‘How long have you been married?’
‘A year.’
‘Congratulations on surviving the first year.’
Wendy smiled nervously and sipped her coffee.
‘Why don’t you enrol?’
‘Ah, my husband wouldn’t allow it.’
‘Why ever not?’
‘He…he wants me to stay at home…’
‘How frightful!’
‘He’s very decisive and controlling, Professor…’
‘Please, call me Carmen. He sounds very irritating to me.’
‘Have you been married…Pro…Carmen?’
‘Three times. Each was a disaster and the sex became awful!’
Wendy flushed at that.
‘You…you are one of the few historians that discuss sex in a historical context…’
‘Medieval people did enjoy sex, Wendy, it’s a useful way of increasing the population!’
She laughed.
‘I know. Sorry.’
We chatted for sometime and parted.
Wendy returned to my lectures and we made a small habit of having coffee together. Inevitably, the conversation would return to marriage, husbands and sex.
It was when Wendy casually mentioned her husband’s name that I felt a small shiver pass over the back of my neck.
‘Your husband’s name is Mark?’
‘Yes,’ Wendy said brightly and furnished her last name.
It was Mark – the spankee!
I looked at her carefully.
I don’t believe in fate or coincidence and this was either a striking coincidence or Wendy planned it.
‘You don’t really enjoy medieval history, do you?’ I asked evenly.
‘No,’ she admitted, ‘not much, although, I have learned quite a lot during our small discussions.’
‘How wonderful,’ I said sarcastically. ‘What is this about, Wendy?’
‘I…I listened in on Mark’s telephone conversation, I have suspected him for sometime and I heard him badgering you to meet him for lunch…I knew then…’
‘Knew what?’
‘That you…you were …the other woman!’
‘How dramatic,’ I said with a droll tone. ‘I think we should have lunch and I am definitely going to have a glass of wine.’
‘Did you hear what I said?’
‘Of course,’ I said patiently, ‘and I will explain to you over a long lunch. With some luck, we will be tipsy by three.’
‘I…I don’t know…’
‘You don’t like me?’ I pouted and she smiled.
‘Yes, I do. I didn’t want to but I do.’
‘Then have lunch with me.’
‘I…I don’t know…
‘I have a way for your marriage to improve and your sex life will be wonderful.’
Wendy studied me keenly.
‘Really?’ Wendy asked slowly after a long moment.
‘Yes, really! Now, see if you can signal that silly waiter, we’ll escape this mundane café and whisk away o to my favourite restaurant.’
‘Hello Mark, this is Carmen.’
‘Carmen?’
Mark’s voice became immediately soft over the telephone but I suspected his dick was hard.
‘Why…ah…’
‘I want to play some more games. You liked our last game, didn’t you?’
‘Ah…yes,’ he whispered.
‘I want to play again but harder this time. Do you want to play harder, Mark?’
‘Yes,’ he whispered again.
‘Book a hotel room.’
He was naked and kneeling on the floor of the hotel room when I arrived – just as I had instructed.
I remained fully clothed to increase his humiliation, bound his arms together, and lashed them to the top of the doorframe before flogging his back and bottom.
Angry red welts covered his rear when I finally released him, carefully avoiding his rigid cock and lashed his arms behind his back.
I propelled him to the bed and forced him to lie on his back.
Mark watched me with wide eyes as I tied his ankles together and then forced the gag into his mouth.
‘There, Mark is all silent,’ I said as I buckled the straps behind his head.
The television sound was loud as I had used it to mask the sounds of the flogging and I used the remote to turn the set completely off.
‘All quiet – just how I like it.’
Taking a red lipstick from my handbag, I sat on the bed beside the restrained Mark.
‘You’re in a pickle now, Mark,’ I said casually and began writing on his bare chest with the lipstick. ‘You’ve just given up control in more way than one.’
He watched as I wrote on his skin and drew a large arrow pointing at his hard cock.
‘I don’t suppose you can read upside down so I’ll tell you what I’ve written. If you’re interested of course. Nod if you are.’
Mark frantically nodded.
‘It says, “I am a submissive slut. Please control me. You control me by controlling this!” The arrow points at your hard dickie!’
I slipped my hand around his cock and slowly stroked it twice, leaving Mark gasping into the gag with frustration.
Carefully, I pushed a cock ring around his cock.
‘That will trap the blood and keep it nice and hard for your wife.’
Mark gaped at me and I smiled as he made desperate noises in the gag.
‘Wendy will be here in about twenty minutes to see a side of her husband she never knew about. Perhaps she’ll flog you again or just spank you. I do know Wendy has a chastity belt for you and I admit, it was my idea. I’m such a bitch! I don’t think that your willie is going to get much relief anytime soon!’
I flicked his hard cock with my forefinger and stood up.
‘Perhaps when she’s trained you, I can come around for coffee or dinner to see how you’ve progressed.’
I walked to the hotel room door.
‘I suspect, Mark, that your marriage will last for sometime, perhaps twenty or thirty years. At least until Wendy grows tired of you.’
He made more desperate noises into the gag and I smiled as I slowly shut the door.
The Other Woman
from the short story collection ‘DOMINANT WOMEN’
by
Carmenica Diaz
The stories of Carmenica Diaz are available at
www.cafeboudoir.com
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