Into My Silhouette
Part One
Discovering the Dark
Becca Noire
Copyright © 2011 Becca Noire
All rights reserved.
Smashwords Edition
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ISBN-13: xx
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DEDICATION
For my boys!
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Chapter 1
So, how does one descend so far into madness? How does the addiction start?
Damnit! Why when I start to dream about my life do I immediately have my mother jump into my head? Her favorite saying, "What would the neighbors think?" hits me in the face.
My name is Becca Noire. I am I think, your typical 40 something divorced mother of one. But lately there are days I wake up and feel I must put on a mask. That who I am is not good enough. In the world of business I am forced to be a dominate female to gain respect. Make all the plans, snap my fingers.
Men, un-amazingly, having been emasculated in their marriage, are lacking strength, bitter, angry, horny, lackluster and needy. So if you want to go out and date you will find this is the majority of men available, especially on dating sites. Men who want to talk incessantly about themselves and how bad their last wife or girlfriend was. Or they don’t talk at all. But, they will buy the drinks or dinner and they will drool with want and desire. All I have to do is blink my eyes and smile pretending that their conversation is riveting.
I had a normal childhood. My father was distant yet loving in his own way. My mother was cuddly and sweet and always worrying about her weight and mine. By the time I was 16, I was 5' 7", 120 pounds with DD boobs. With the exception of my boobs, I was normal, not model skinny, not model beautiful, but normal and pretty.
I have two brothers who made my father very proud with their sports scholarships to good schools. I thought I could make my father equally proud with my academic scholarship to a good school as well. I didn't disappoint him; I just didn't match up to my brothers.
So how did I wind up here, so far off track from my dreams? I had my life all mapped out. That is what I had been told to achieve success. A plan was always needed and that made perfect sense to the analytical side of my personality, the career driven side I let rule me for all those years. Why had I let go of that side?
This is my journal of my descent down the proverbial "rabbit hole", my journey from the world of “vanilla.”
A man once told me sex was like Baskin and Robbins, 31 flavors. Then he said, "and I don't like vanilla." That was my first taste of unabridged desire and dominance. I was hooked.
Let me start at the beginning of my descent. It was shortly after my divorce had become final, the legal process went fast and comparatively painless, it was the emotional process which took its toll on me. I was lost. I had married my college sweetheart after grad school, the proper thing to do in my parents’ eyes. He was from a good family. He had a good career, was charming, handsome and we had fun together. All the things you would think would make a successful marriage. I was happy, he was happy, our parents were happy.
We lived in the city for a few years and enjoyed the newlywed life two successful careers offered. Then I got pregnant with my daughter and we moved to suburbia for the great schools and big backyards, things you are supposed to do for your child. All very proper.
Then came the realization that the commute sucked. The loss of an hour of your life just traveling to your job wears on your nerves. The newlywed city dweller life of meeting the love of your life for dinner at eight at a posh little romantic restaurant, barely able to control your passion for the 10 minute cab ride home, gave way to bickering over who was going to leave work by 4 to get home in time to pick up our daughter from childcare before the financial penalty amounted to our mortgage payment. Both of us felt our own job was far more important than the other's.
As you can guess, the misunderstandings and arguments, distorted the respect we once had for each other. He withdrew from our home life and became passively aggressive towards me. I tried everything. I begged. I wore sexy outfits. I suggested counseling. Then I just gave up and filed for divorce.
The ex moved back to the city and resumed his bachelor life; I on the other hand had to stay in suburbia because of the great schools and big backyards. The things I was supposed to do for my child.
My first taste of the world past “vanilla” came on a date, actually date three. The first two dates with this man were lovely. There was great conversations which covered so many different topics. I found that for me, stimulating conversation was in itself a powerful aphrodisiac. He was witty and charming and at the appropriate time, very romantic. At the end of the evening, he drove me back to my house where I invited him in to continue the conversation. I went to the other room to put on some soft music only to turn around and find him standing behind me. We started to dance and quickly found ourselves in my bedroom. To say I was filled with desire would be an understatement. I wanted him. His kisses were amazing. His touch was electrifying.
In moments I was completely nude on my bed where as he was only missing his shirt. His fingers stroke my curves and moans escaped my lips. I had had sex a few times since my divorce, but this was different. I was entranced by his touch and his words.
He was complimentary in such an elegant way. Yet every time I went to unzip his pants, he politely told me no. His fingers drew circles around my stomach and then moved to my patch of pubic hair, which I kept neatly trimmed and waxed. He told me to look into his eyes, as I did his fingers pushed into me. My gasp was unlike anything I had ever uttered. I closed my eyes to drift into the pleasure he was creating. In a firm yet sweet voice he told me to open my eyes and look at him.
My synapses were firing. His expert movements made me lose my breath and as I looked into his eyes I saw something I had never seen. I saw delight - delight in his ability to control my body. I was wetter than I had ever been before; laying there experiencing this immense pleasure, but on his terms. I begged for more. I wanted to have sex. I wanted to feel his dick inside me. But he firmly told me no. He told me to lay there and enjoy what I was experiencing. Then he pinched my nipple hard, whispered “No begging”, and his finger hit my G-spot. Every fiber of my being was immediately electrified and I came uncontrollably.
He kissed me on the forehead, got up from the bed and retrieved his shirt. I was in disbelief. I wanted him to fuck me. I craved the full contact of his body. I was in heaven physically, but emotionally I didn’t understand why he was saying no. No man had ever said no to sex with me. I was stunned. He then told me the sex was like Baskin and Robins quote. He told me, I was too new out of my divorce and too vanilla for his taste. He said I didn't know who I was yet and I would be too much work for his liking.
He emailed years later and wrote that he wished he had fucked me when he had his chance. Hahahaha, his loss.
Yet, from that moment he got out of my bed and walked away, I knew I needed that in my life. “That” was dominance. I needed a dominate man, better yet; I craved a dominant man in my life. I wanted to feel the control exhorted over me and I wanted to see the delight of power in my lover’s eyes.
That moment was my first taste of this addicting drug. I wanted to experience that feeling again.