The McCain Marriage Contract

Raymond sure had some balls, walking into my room and talking to me like I was the cause of all his problems in life. I didn't know what was wrong with him but I could only take credit for so much. The rest he needed to figure out completely on his own. After walking him out of my room I felt completely alone and bored. The heart was a truly funny organ: when it wanted something, it wanted it, even though every voice of reason said otherwise. Even though I knew Raymond was bad for me, even though I knew he hurt me extensively in the past and was yet to take responsibility for that, even though I knew nothing could happen between us given the circumstances surrounding our matrimony, I still wanted him very badly. And wanting him that bad made different parts of my body ache.

For some reason, I remembered the gift box from Mavis. I hadn't touched it since our arrival and after the first day, I completely forgot about it. Now as I bent over the bedside drawer to retrieve it I was grateful for a new distraction, one that wasn't Raymond McCain.

The grey suede box was sizeable and looked expensive even before I examined its contents. Mavis was truly a darling for even thinking to get me something. Whether or not I would like the gift was an entirely different question; we didn't know each other well enough to be familiar with our preferences.

I saw the rose petals and chaffed red ribbons first before I saw the other items. I pulled out the first one that caught my eye: a sheer black lace lingerie, with so many elastic straps that I immediately could not decipher what part of my body needed to go where. The other items were even more devilish than the lingerie. There was a huge dildo with massively engorged veins running throughout its length and a pair of round attachments I assumed were testicles, and I swallowed at the thought of it inside of me. Then there were some other stuff I recognized as sex toys whose names I could not make out, nor was I sure exactly how they were used. One even looked like a lipstick but I was very sure it wasn't meant for my lips, or at least not the lips on my face. Mavis was such a freak.

I smiled sadly knowing that her gifts would go to waste. I was sure I would never wear the lingerie, even if I lived in a country all by myself. It was much too exposing; not just for my feminine goods but also for the scars on my leg. I was not comfortable with showing them at all. Then there was the dildo. I was a virgin and, of course, I looked forward to losing my virginity -- hell, I was twenty-four already -- but I didn't fancy the thought of losing it to a sex toy. No, I wanted a man with a sexy face and a hot body and a penchant for bad-boy behavior to make me feel the way I felt whenever I read romance novels. I wanted someone that would explore my body in every way and make me experience sensations that made the body jerk and the mind float above the clouds. I wanted all of this and much more.

I decided to wear the lingerie, for wearing sakes. That way when I called Mavis to thank her for the gifts, it wouldn't just be out of courtesy; my conscience would feel better knowing that I used at least one of her naughty presents, even though not in the way I was sure she intended, even though it would only be for a few minutes.

Standing in front of the dressing mirror I took a long look at myself, something I hadn't done in quite a while. It was so sad how much and how fast I had aged in the years after Raymond left and, more recently, in the weeks following my dad's breakdown. I had gone from an attractive young girl to a fucking grandma -- no disrespect to the elderly -- and it seemed impossible to feel like my age again. My youth was lost, snatched away by physical and emotional scars, family responsibilities, and an unwanted marriage. My eyes had lost their vivacious glimmer, my cheeks their arch and suppleness, my lips their smile. I was a stranger even to myself.

I allowed my hand to move to my shoulder and gently slide the spaghetti strap of my floral maxi dress down my arms until it hovered just above my elbow. I did the same on the other side and then allowed my hands fall limp by my side. This enabled the strap to slide down my hands and, with a little wiggle here and there, the gown dropped to the floor.

Wearing just a pair of sky blue cotton panties, I looked at my reflection again, a little more intently this time. Thankfully my skin had not lost its youthful elasticity and my breasts retained their firmness. It was a relief to see that not all aspects of my life had been sucked into premature senescence. I picked up the lingerie from the bed. In my hands, it looked very small and fragile, like something that would rip the second I attempted to try it on. That was very far from the truth because when I put it on, after minutes of trying to figure out exactly how to, it just stretched to accommodate my form thoroughly. I was bodied to perfection!

Damn it, I looked scrumptious. I had no intention of turning around so that the sight of my scar wouldn't strip me of the sexiness I oozed. In this lingerie, looking at my own body aroused me. I was downright naked, save two black stars sewn rightly to shield my nipples and areolas; that lace was too see-through to be considered a body covering. The lingerie engulfed my trunk and waist, and its lower part was designed as a tiny thong to cover my perineum. I let my hair down -- something I hadn't done in ages -- and wore bright red lipstick, after dabbing some loose powder on my face. None of Raymond's whores could compare to me, I thought to myself.

Perhaps it was the thought of Raymond and his whores or whatever strange power Mavis' box of sexual pleasure possessed, that conjured my husband into my room. I had no idea how long he had stood there. I had no clue how much of my body he had seen. I wasn't sure how he felt about what he saw -- pleasure or straight up repulsion, like the other day. All I was sure of was the hesitancy with which I picked up my dress from the floor and attempted to cover myself up. I wanted him to see me, to desire me.

To fuck the hell out of me.