Paul's Trophy Wife

Upon digging a little deeper, Paul began to suspect Valerie Mansfield wasn't very popular with anyone.

She didn't have that many friends, only a hundred or two, which could be accounted for by her own choices, but her messages told a different story. There was a long list of conversations she had started, all saying hello, how are you, how have you been, etc, and most of them were completely ignored. The ones that had bothered responding were very short, curt, almost hostile, and they'd engage in small talk, but any time she'd asked to spend time together, to go out for lunch or drinks, she was perpetually turned down, or ignored altogether.

She had a long list of favorite websites, but they were mostly for shopping, dresses and shoes, lingerie, furniture, paintings, you name it, and when Paul checked her email, it was a long list of order confirmations, and little more, besides spam.

He kept going through her folders: cat videos, Pinterest, Esty, until he came across one titled "fingernail art" and almost skipped over it, thinking nothing in the world could be less appealing, then out of curiosity went back and opened it up.

His heart practically started thumping right out of his chest as soon as he saw it, it was the biggest list of porn videos he'd ever seen, with the raunchiest titles. "Blond slut gets gangbanged," "Dumb whore slapped around," "Forced to sell her body," "Cock hungry slut covered in cum," and on and on and on, gangbangs, degradation, bondage, prostitution, even blackmail, spitting, gagging, rape, all things Paul had seen before, loved and jerked off to even, but never imagined a girl could enjoy.

"Jesus Christ," he whispered to himself, his breath short, shaking his head. "What the fuck?"

And the list went on and on, it was almost endless. On a lot of the sites she even had her own screen name, and there were comments from her screen name on every video.

"I've cum to this vid so many times it made my pussy sore." "Mmm, wish a bunch of guys would use me like that!" "Look at him fuck her mouth, I'd love a cock that big shoved down my throat," and on and on and on.

Paul groaned, shaking his head. He looked through the rest of her folders but that was it, a secret treasure trove of rough, fucked up porn, and nothing else.

"There has to be something else," he reasoned, looking through every last tab, every last website, but that was it. Then he went through her pictures, her folders, but he couldn't find anything. Her email was a dead end, her documents and pictures were all blanks, there was nothing else to be found.

Paul was about to give up when he started looking through her browser history. It was mostly the shopping websites interspersed with her favorite porn sites, but about a month or two back, he found it.

It was an email account on a separate website from her main email, and she'd logged out and the login was blank but all Paul had to do was press the arrow key down and her email popped up, selecting it brought her password up too. It was all so easy a child could figure it out, and once he logged in, he struck gold.

Paul spent the better part of an hour reading the longest email chain between Valerie and a man named Jason. By the time he'd finished, he felt like he really knew Valerie, really understood her struggles, her pains and heartaches and desires, and if her sad facebook messages were depressing, nothing could prepare him for her and Jason's email exchange.

This is what he learned:

Valerie had grown up a rich, spoiled, neglected brat. Her mother was a socialite alcoholic who constantly berated her, her father worked too much and was rarely around, dying from a heart attack when she was a teenager. She was raised by nannies and sent off to boarding school as soon as she was old enough, never getting much attention from either parent.

So she lashed out, she acted up for their attention, but they would merely pass her off to the revolving door of nannies who would quit after a few months. She didn't get along with girls in her class, she got kicked out of school after school.

Finally, shortly after her father's death, she entered college, had a few boyfriends, but none of them could stomach her very long. She tried to join a couple sororities but was turned down every time. Then, about a year after barely graduating and moving back in with her mother, she met Roger.

He was still married to his second wife at the time and they attended the same country club. They had an affair, and he was quickly divorced, marrying her not long after it was finalized.

After they'd wed, they moved a couple towns over to get away from their scandalous reputation. Mr. Mansfield had no qualms with her not working, spending all her time relaxing at home or working out, in fact he preferred it, but he seldom gave her the attention she wanted. He was gone most of the year, he rarely spent much time with her, only taking her out when he could show her off to colleagues and coworkers.

And he was patient, so patient, too patient. He never told her off for being a bitch, he never put her in her place or even acknowledged her anger, and that only angered her more. And apparently, to make matters worse, his cock was small and he barely ever wanted to fuck her.

Paul read email after email of Jason trying to cheer her up but failing miserably. Eventually, she dropped it altogether and they began flirting, sending pictures back and forth. Paul's eyes pretty much popped out of his head when he saw naked pictures of Valerie Mansfield, her gigantic tits, her luscious, voluptuous ass.

Jason replied with a picture of his cock, and it looked to be about 6 or 7 inches, but she gushed over it, telling Jason it was so big, that it looked perfect.

"Perfect?" Paul thought, rubbing his head a little. "Isn't that a little small?"

He went back to reading their emails, one in particular standing out.

"Yes, yes, I really love it rough. Honestly, I fantasize about finally being put in my place, being punished for being such a bitch, lol. I want a man that can tell me what to do, that can abuse me, punish me, degrade me, and fuck me until I can barely move. I know it's going to sound weird but nobody's ever dominated me, and I'd just love to be taken control of, to be used, and covered in cum, forced even, gangbanged, pimped out and treated like garbage."

Jason's response: "Wow."

They started meeting up, started fucking. Valerie pushed to be wilder and more experimental, and Jason said he would, but she was constantly begging him to be rougher.

And then the end came. She apologized but said she couldn't do it anymore. If Roger found out, her life would be over. Jason was upset, but she got mad, told him it was just sex, called him a pussy, etc. She snapped, like she was wont to do, and he apologized, never replying again.

Paul was sweating by the time he was done, and the sun was hanging low in the sky. He quickly grabbed his portable drive and downloaded their entire conversation onto it, then screen shot every video and the comments she made, before deleting any trace of his activities and logging off.

********************************

Paul's knuckles were white and he was short of breath when he knocked on Valerie Mansfield's door.

"Coming!" He heard her yell, and he stood there, trying to keep himself calm.

Now, It's not that Paul was a bad looking guy, he was 6'1, skinny, he had black hair, he'd ran track all throughout high school, he'd just never really known how to approach a girl, and worse of all, unbeknownst to him, he'd missed some very obvious signals from some of the girls from his school, so here he was, a virgin still, and he was determined to get what he wanted.

"Oh, Paul, hello," Valerie smiled, a small little grin out of the corner of her mouth. She was wearing a bright blue dress with a big black belt, one shoulder showing off, her cleavage staring him in the face. "Come in."

Paul walked in, handing her the bag, and they sat down.

"Is it beyond repair?" She asked, expecting the worst.

"Oh, no, it was simple, just needed to be cleaned up, I installed an antivirus so it should be fine for some time," he told her, and she laughed.

"Yeah, yeah, until a couple months from now," she laughed. "What do I owe you for your troubles?"

"Oh, ha, nothing, don't worry about it," Paul replied nervously, but she rolled her eyes.

"Don't be a little shit, Paul. What do you want?" She snapped, sneering at him.

"Ok, well, it's been pretty hot out, I was thinking it would be nice to come by for a swim in that pool of yours," he told her, and she laughed.

"Sure, let yourself in through the gate any time you want," she told him, standing up.

"Yeah, well, see," Paul shrugged, scratching his head. "I was hoping you'd like to join me."

Valerie's annoyed sneer turned into a surprised smile, looking him up and down, leaning forward, her hands on her knees, her tits in his face.

"Oh, so you'd like an afternoon with me in a bikini, is that it?" She asked, seductively.

"Yes, that's exactly it," Paul replied, flatly.

"Then it's yours," she laughed, standing up straight again before pointing towards the door. "Now get out, I'll see you tomorrow, noon."

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