mind games

Angela couldn’t believe her good luck. One of the wealthiest men in the city had fallen in love with her. She had schemed and connived her way into his confidence. She had used every base and crooked ploy and trick she could think of to get him to first notice her, and second to begin to consider her someone he might want to marry. Yes, everything had worked out. Things were going her way, and soon, if she continued to play her cards right, she would be in control of everything this man owned. She would be the wealthiest gal, or guy, in the state. Then she could dump him and his forlorn sister out on the street.

Angela thought back on the events that had led to her almost complete victory over the McNaughton siblings. It had started when the two McNaughtons, Brandon and his mousy little sister Vonda, had managed to undermine and nearly bankrupt her father. It had destroyed the man, and he died of grief, a complete loser.

Angela, using her family’s remaining wealth established a new identity and new financial empire. Though it was certainly much smaller than anything her father had created; it was substantial enough to attract the attention of the ever-avaricious Brandon and Vonda. Once she got their, or rather his, attention she pulled out all stops to first get him in bed, and then get a real love commitment.

Angela knew she had the physical traits and the emotional moxie to pull the thing off. She was a gorgeous twenty-three year old blond-hair blue eyed goddess. With her 34B natural breasts, which she had developed and sculpted naturally through a rigorous exercise regime, plus classic good looks, and a magnificent pair of long and shapely legs, Brandon fell all over himself trying to get her attention.

Angela didn’t play it easy. She made him work for everything he got. If he thought she was cheap, her plan would never have worked. No, she played about as hard to get as she could and still make the chase and capture within reach. Ultimately he caved in. Though he got her in bed, he was still ready to offer that long-term commitment she had so earnestly worked for. The only slight drawback was in the nature of his long-term promise.

Brandon, it seemed, had made a personal, and legal, arrangement with all the members of his family. If he were to ever find anyone he wanted to really settle down with, the long term companion had to sign off on some legal agreements that made the commitment absolutely permanent. This was not a prenuptial. Brandon explained, he and Vonda’s mother had been born with some very serious emotional psychological disorders that never materialized until well after their father had married. The emotional trauma associated with her illnesses and her eventual death had led his father to demand a legal commitment of a most unusual nature. For Angela and Brandon to marry, Angela had to undergo a rigorous psychoanalytical assessment. This assessment, according to Brandon, was really only a formality, though, in it’s essence Angela had to agree to a short stay in a medical facility where her emotional status had to be proven beyond a shadow of a doubt. For Angela, this was as easy as a walk in the park. She agreed to the requirement, and spent six weeks in what was certainly the most prestigious sanitarium in the nation.

Angela had stayed in the facility, had taken all the tests, and had participated in all the appropriate clinical meetings and workshops. At the end of the six weeks Brandon was right there with the longest stretch limousine Angela ever saw. Brandon whisked her away to the nearest justice of the peace where a civil ceremony was performed, and she had become Mrs. Brandon McNaughton.

Now armed with a marriage license, and the man she wanted Angela was ready to begin to claim all that was her rightful due.

Vonda had been quietly amused by Angela’s nearly transparent effort to get Brandon in bed and then down the altar. What Angela didn’t know was Vonda had been adopted into the family when Brandon’s father had been involved with another woman while in Europe. The other woman had died giving birth to Vonda, and, being the gentleman that he was; Brandon’s father had assumed the moral and legal duties of a parent. Any ceremony that Brandon and Angela had entered into was, as far as Vonda were concerned an awkward interference. Vonda knew a happily married Brandon might lead to her, that is Vonda’s, eventual removal from the household. So Vonda had begun to initiate her own deliberate subterfuge designed to get Angela under her firm control. Angela had a sizable fortune, and Vonda intended to obtain it even before Angela had started to weave her own pathetic little web. If she could put Angela aside, then she would be better able to continue to manipulate her erstwhile brother.

A happily married Angela might scheme to undercut Brandon. Meanwhile, Vonda would proceed to completely unravel everything about Angela, for it seemed that Angela never fully understood that the six week visit to the sanitarium was designed by Vonda, not to guarantee her stability, but to create a dossier that would prove beyond any doubt her complete inability to function. Angela had been tricked and trapped, and she didn’t have a clue. Now it was time for the McNaughton’s daughter to begin to have a little fun with their new acquisition.

So two questions emerged. Would Angela be able to overwhelm her unsuspecting husband and abscond with all the wealth? Or would Vonda dismantle Angela’s schemes and place her in a situation beyond all redemption? Stated in more deliberate terms. There were two scheming bitches, but only one could win.

After an extended honeymoon in Fiji, Brandon and Angela returned to the palatial estate they would share with Vonda and the array of friends and neighbors who would be constantly in and out. The property was enormous; encompassing hundreds of acres of exquisitely manicured lawn, a vast expanse grossly expensive gardens, including a garden maize, and a huge area of some of the most pristine old growth forest in the nation. Though there was a small town only thirty miles away, Brandon had to fly back and forth to work, using on alternating dates a small Cessna or a modified Apache assault helicopter that he had managed to acquire from a friend in the defense industry.

Angela for her part, once they reached home, would have access to several automobiles including a steel gray Jaguar, a stunning black Porsche, and a number of other types of vehicles from limos to SUVs. Angela would be able to drive to town on her own, or if necessary, she could rely on one of three chauffeurs for transportation. Then again, there was always Vonda, if Angela wanted company.

As their plane touched down on the McNaughton’s private landing strip Brandon reminded Angela that she should always try to respect Vonda’s wishes when they were home. Brandon explained, owing to their mother’s tragic malady Vonda had vowed to never marry, but she promised to always stay at or close to home, to be available as helpmate and companion to Brandon and anyone he chose to marry. To all intents and purposes Vonda had promised to give up her life to care for and help her brother. Vonda was already a cool thirty-three, and though a stunningly attractive woman, she had devoted her life to making Brandon the best sister any man could have. For his part, Brandon had asserted his deep devotion to Angela, and he had proven it by marrying her, but he explained he would always have a special love for his sister. He told Angela he trusted his sister in all things. He wanted Angela to not only respect his affection for Vonda, but also to develop the same rapport with her as well.

Angela swore she would come to love Vonda with the same passion Brandon had. Angela promised she would devote herself to gaining Vonda’s love and trust, and she would respect all Vonda’s wishes.

The first several weeks at the estate were idyllic. Everybody was happy. All was quiet, and everything seemed to be moving exactly as everyone intended.

It was the beginning of the seventh week when the first subtle chinks in their fortress of love began to appear. Vonda, having always been the single female of the house, had naturally been the center of attention. This had continued unabated for weeks, but by the seventh week Angela had begun to begrudge some of Vonda’s responsibilities and prerogatives. Some of these prerogatives had included mundane things Angela had no interest in like choosing the family menus, or selecting the wines and pastries supplied when guests were invited. However, Vonda had also begun to take it upon herself in selecting other things about which Angela believed Vonda should have no interest.

At first, Vonda had not taken an interest in the things that Angela wore each day. Then, beginning the fifth week Vonda started making modest suggestions about the way Angela dressed.

Angela liked to wear clothing with a little flare. She liked colorful outfits. She liked wearing dresses, skirts, and blouses that some people might perceive as daring. Angela liked mini-skirts and blouses that hinted at a bare waist. Angela liked to tease and entice. She had the body for it, and she always enjoyed using it. Though her breasts were smallish, they were firm and perfectly shaped. She liked to wear translucent bras that had a minimum of structure. These bras allowed her breasts to bounce insouciantly, and let her nipples press and peak naughtily against the soft material of her blouses. Angela liked the modest but still revealing peek-a-boo look a thin linen or silk blouse provided. She liked lace. She liked capped sleeves that hovered translucently over otherwise bare shoulders. She liked short pleated skirts that billowed out when she walked. She liked the loose fitting short skirted look that gave the impression that there might not be anything on underneath. Angela liked comfortable fitting satin shorts with tight crotches that gave the hint of her womanly charms found beneath the cloth and between her shapely legs. Angela used to laugh to herself that, if she weren’t rich, she certainly would have made good prostitute.

Vonda thought Angela was much too extravagant in the amount of skin she showed. Vonda, being something of a prude, shared her opinions with Angela, but Angela flew just slightly off the handle asserting she would select her own clothing. Vonda needn’t concern herself with what Angela liked to wear.

As it worked out Brandon was a little late getting home from work one evening. He missed the evening meal. This was not an unusual event, but what did seem unusual to Brandon was the fact that this time only Angela was on hand to greet him when he reached the foyer.

“Where’s Vonda?” Brandon asked. Anyone listening could tell there was a modest sense of concern lurking under Brandon’s seemingly innocuous question. Brandon knew it was irregular for Vonda to be unavailable when he first came home. Vonda was much like a loyal dog in that regard.

“I really haven’t a clue.” Replied Angela, though in reality she knew Vonda had been put off by a disagreement they’d had earlier.

“Don’t worry.” Angela continued. “I’m sure whatever is bothering her couldn’t be too serious. I saw her not twenty minutes ago, and she certainly wasn’t in ill health.”

Brandon thanked Angela for her reassurance, but asserted. “I think I better go and see if she’s all right.” He excused himself and ascended the stairs to Vonda’s suite of rooms.

After briskly walking down the third floor hallway where Vonda’s rooms were located he stopped in front of her main door and knocked. “Vonda? Are you there? Are you OK?

Vonda quietly opened the door. “No Brandon, I’m not OK. I think we have a little problem. Come on in, and I’ll share it with you.”

Brandon asked as he entered. “What’s the problem? Are you sick?”

As she closed the door Vonda responded. “No I’m not sick, but I think it’s time we started to crack down on Angela.”

“Do tell.” Was Brandon’s quick reply.

“Well I know you’ve noticed how Angela likes to flaunt herself in front of our friends. I’ve noticed, and I’ve become increasingly put off by her demeanor and by her attire. You recall three days ago when the O’Hara’s were here she was wearing a low cut blouse with a half cup bra. Everyone could see how her breasts were pushing up and out. They were almost ready to flap out on the floor. I thought Mike, I mean Mr. O’Hara, was going to ejaculate right there in the sitting room.” So stated Vonda.

Brandon listened and then answered. “Let me say something to her. If I don’t get anything from her then we can revisit this again in some other way.”

Later that evening Brandon sent one of the maids to seek out Angela, and invite her to his study.

The normally obsequious maid coolly stated. “Mrs. McNaughton. Mr. McNaughton asked me to tell you he wanted to see you in his study.”

Angela answered the maid dismissively. “Tell Mr. McNaughton I’ll be there in a few minutes. I’m in the middle a good novel, and I don’t want to put it down just yet.” Angela pretended to continue to read, but as soon as the maid stepped out of the room she went to her wardrobe and picked out an outfit. She chose a light blue casual jumper with a scooped neck, capped sleeves, and loosely fitting pleated panties. She picked out a pair of pale blue patent leather shoes and a pair of brilliantly white stockings that she pulled high and tight, nearly to her crotch. Checking her face in the mirror she dabbed a littler blush on her cheeks and applied a tad of lip-gloss. The last thing she did was take a hairbrush and lightly flick it through her hair thus accentuating its natural curliness. Once she thought she looked just right she started making her way to her husband’s study.

Angela tapped on the study door lightly to make sure Brandon would know she was entering. She opened the study door and skipped over to where her husband was sitting. She knew she looked ravishing, and she knew anything Vonda might have said was immediately imperiled by her good looks. She reached her husband’s desk, leaned forward, putting on display her magnificent breast, and asked in her sweetest voice, “Is anything wrong? The maid said you wanted to see me?”

Brandon stood up and stepped away from his desk. Walking comfortably over to his wife, he put his arms around her and said. “I heard you and Vonda had something of a disagreement this afternoon.”

“There wasn’t any disagreement.” Angela answered. “Vonda thinks she’s the new arbiter of family fashion. She wants to tell me what I should and should not wear.”

Brandon had trouble keeping his mind on the topic. The swell of Angela’s taut little breasts was very distracting, and her hair, he thought, was in dire need of a good tousling, not to mention how he’d like to rub his hands up and down those magnificent legs. He said. “I’d venture to say it’s pretty much a closed issue from your point of view. But look Angela. I don’t want to get in the middle of a disturbance about womens’ clothes. Why don’t you give some thought to what Vonda was saying. Even though I thought that crisp white blouse you had on the other evening was very attractive, it did share a little more with the O’Hara’s than I was comfortable with. You have so many pretty things. You might have been a little more discreet. What’ll you say if you were just a tiny bit more modest when some of our neighbors came by? I don’t want to tell you what to wear, and I certainly don’t think Vonda had that intention, but for the sake of family at least give it some thought.”

Though Angela was steaming inside she flipped her hair, smiled sweetly and replied. “Of course, I’ll try to be more, well, more old looking. But it was such a lovely day, and the blouse was new. I just wanted to show off for you, that’s all.”

Brandon was getting an erection watching his wife gesticulate as she talked. He answered. “Well, I guess that’s all I have to say.”

Angela leaned up toward him pressing her firm little breasts against his chest. “I’ll try to do better. I promise.”

Brandon cupped her face in his hands. He self-consciously flicked at her hair. “I know you will.”

Angela gave him her most angelic smile. Kissed him on the lips, turned and bounced off.

As his wife walked out of his study he watched her tight little ass. It seemed to bounce and skip its way out of the room. Jesus. He thought. I’ll never get any work done tonight. Not after that!

Later that evening Angela put on a new chemise she’d been saving. It was a pale blue number with a deep scooped neck. It had a hint of ruffles around the top, and tantalizingly sexy translucent shoulders. The top was accompanied by a pair of loose fitting translucent tap panties, also with a hint of ruffle and a generous bow in the back.

It was just the right item of apparel. Brandon was all over her. He wrapped her in his arms. He took his fingers and slowly moved them over her breasts in ever decreasing circles until they reached her rich brown aureoles. Then stopping at dead center he rubbed her protruding nipples. He leaned down and kissed each beautiful bud. His hands dropped to her flat stomach rubbing it like he was smoothing some expensive fabric. It was soft and velvety. He rubbed the small of her back, and ultimately he reached for her neatly trimmed vagina. His hand paused briefly at her smooth vaginal hood, then down to softly caress her distended labia, and last to rise and gently tweak her hot dry clitoris.

For Angela, it proved to be a magnificent evening. Everything she wanted from the chemise was produced, and she was certain it was the necessary ingredient that both aroused and gradually to assuaged Brandon. Angela was positive she was making him much less likely to consider anything his sister might say about what she wore. Her victory was glorious. She not only was able to mold and bend her husband to her will, but she was able to enjoy immensely the conquest. As the evening wore on, his hands lingered more and more on the soft down of her vaginal region. With some urgency he climbed on her and allowed his firmly erect penis to enter the walls of her uterus. As he penetrated her, she pressed back. She could tell when he was fully inside her. The tip of his powerful member reached to the full limit of her vagina. Her sense of fullness was compelling, and as they rocked back and forth in unison she sensed his imminent moment of closure. As it almost always happened they both peaked at the same moment. She felt his rich hot wet juices pour up and into her. He thrust ever harder until finally he was spent. She was spent as well. Her skin felt hot, flushed, and dry. It was an almost unbearable feeling of triumph, maximal physical sensation, and completeness. She held him closely, dreading the moment he would leave her inner cavity. After those few seconds of heightened climax, there were always those few moments when he remained inside her, giving her additional blissful seconds of fullness and pleasure. Sometimes they were the best.

Slowly Brandon’s shaft began to wilt. He withdrew it leaving her to her thoughts. She wished he would stay and perhaps they would repeat this evening’s joy with a new wave of caresses, kisses, and ultimate surrender, but not tonight. Brandon had work to do. He had to return to the study, and continue to satisfy his first and most unyielding mistress, his quest for even more wealth and power.

Brandon got up and put on his dressing robe. He had more work to do. He had other business to attend to. He enjoyed making love to Angela. She was a true wanton. She enjoyed him, and he enjoyed her as well, but there was another woman on the third floor and she might need him later. Not in the same way, but just as demanding. He put Angela out of his thoughts. He laughed. He remembered the old hackneyed joke about the man whose wife immediately turned into a six pack once the sex was over. Angela could lay in bed and ponder the greater mysteries of love and sex. He had other fish to fry.

June 2018
« Feb