A Bestiary of Unnatural Women

A Bestiary of Unnatural Women

Ashley Zacharias

Smashwords Edition

Copyright © 2010 Ashley Zacharias

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Contents

Forward

A Most Surprising Date

Suzie's Lessons

Riding the Devil's Horse

Notes from Roissy, Cleveland,
Ohio

Topper

A Wife of No Small Promise

A Necessary Beating

INR

Portrait of a Wife as a Middle-Aged
Woman

Afterword

Forward

This is an anthology of short stories that I
wrote between 2008 and 2010. What species are these kinky women who
willingly submit to bondage, humiliation, and pain? They have their
reasons. But one must wonder why they chose to solve their problems
in the ways that they did if each didn’t have at least some
tendency toward masochism.

These stories are not presented in the order
in which they are written, but in the approximate order of the
development of an intimate relationship, from stories about the
first date to stories about mature marriages.

Like many relationships, they get darker
toward the end.

In “A Most Surprising Date”, a young woman
hypothesizes that the most desirable man is the one who is best
able to compete against other men. Being a good experimental
psychologist, she puts her hypothesis to an empirical test.

In “Suzie’s Lessons”, a woman with an odd
breast fetish submits to a nerdish young man for his use and abuse.
But he can’t satisfy her until someone tells him how to act
dominant.

In “Riding the Devil’s Horse”, a woman is
intrigued by medieval torture devices. She asks the man she lives
with to build one of them and torture her with it, all in the name
of research.

In “Notes from Roissy, Cleveland, Ohio”, a
young wife is shocked when she reads her parents’ diaries and
discovers that they acted out scenes from
The Story of O
.
Can that kind of thing be done in the Midwest?

In “Topper” a dinner party with the boss
turns out differently than anyone expected. It’s hard to tell who
is the most surprised.

In “A Wife of No Small Promise”, a woman
decides to give her husband the sexual adventure of his life. Her
mistake is that she thinks that he still loves her. His mistake is
that he thinks that he does not.

In “A Necessary Beating”, a young wife rues
her infidelity to her husband and will do anything to win back his
trust. She takes it upon herself to introduce him to a new
sport.

In “INR”, a woman thinks that she can make
her rape fantasies a reality by unleashing the beast in her
husband. But she is more successful at organizing her own rape than
she planned.

In “A Portrait of a Wife as a Middle-Aged
Woman”, a wife agrees to spend an hour letting her husband do
anything sexual to her that he wants. She thought she knew him but
is shocked to discover what kind of sex he desires most of all.

I hope that you enjoy reading this collection
of fantasies as much as I enjoyed writing them.

Ashley Zacharias, 2010

A Most Surprising Date

When Felicity answered the door, Roy was
surprised to see the way that she was dressed. Though he had only
seen her once before, this was not the first time that she had
surprised him.

The first surprise had been two weeks ago
when she had given him her phone number.

He had invited researchers from a number of
local companies to his laboratory to discuss collaboration on a
grant application for the development of new human-robotic
interfaces. She had come in the company of two engineers from the
Barton Kinematics Group so he assumed that she was part of their
team. She had not said a single word, but from the moment that he
sat down until the meeting ended, she had maintained almost
constant eye contact with him across the boardroom table.

He assumed that she was part of Barton’s
strategy. Their engineers had been arguing that he should
investigate an interface model that was compatible with their
latest product to the disadvantage of their competitors. Their
model had some good characteristics – not surprising since they had
already based their most successful product on it – and he had been
fighting valiantly for a neutral model that would allow others to
compete on an equal footing in the marketplace.

He wanted Barton onside but not at the cost
of driving everyone else away.

Barton, expecting a tough fight, had
apparently brought a beautiful woman along to flirt with him across
the table on the oft chance that she could distract them. It had
almost worked; Roy had had a hell of a time keeping his mind on the
details of the two competing models.

She had said not a word, but as everyone was
leaving, had slipped a piece of paper into his hand and had
whispered, softly, “I’m Felicity. Please call me at home soon.”

That was considerably more distraction than
was required or expected. In fact, the head of Barton research
team, the redundantly named, Tom Thomas, had appeared somewhat
taken aback to see the young woman pressing close to him and
whispering intimately into his ear.

For a moment, he wondered if maybe she was
some kind of industrial spy, but he shrugged that idea off. He
might be a university professor, but he was worldly enough to know
not to discuss proprietary information with anyone until they had
been straight jacketed with the most restrictive possible
non-disclosure agreement.

He got his second surprise when he phoned her
the next day and she had suggested that he come to dinner at her
place rather than going out somewhere. That seemed inappropriately
intimate for a first date. He had almost balked but she bluntly
told him that her invitation was strictly personal. She said that
she did not want him to get the wrong idea just because she had met
him at a business meeting. She said that she didn't normally attend
research-planning meetings but had gone to his only so that she
would have a general idea about what was happening. When he probed
her a little about which model she supported, she insisted that she
didn't give a damn which model he wanted to develop if his grant
was approved.

With that assurance, he had agreed to let her
cook dinner for him. She said that she wouldn’t be free until the
following weekend and had taken his number and then called back
yesterday to give him her address and exact time.

He had been further reassured by the delay.
She was not pressuring him to move quickly but seemed to be in no
special rush.

And now, the third surprise: her dress.

In the meeting, she had been wearing a
conservative navy business suit with a pale beige blouse and low,
practical heels.

Tonight, she had answered her door in rather
different attire. When she turned and stepped back from the door,
to admit him, he had a chance to appraise her from the floor up.
She was wearing black patent-leather stiletto-heeled pumps over
black boldly-patterned stockings with a seam up the back. He black
miniskirt was so short that it did not cover the clips where her
garter belt held up the tops of the stockings. That was the reason
that miniskirts did not become the fashion until after pantyhose
was invented. Miniskirts and stockings made a wildly immodest
combination. When she turned back toward him, her white silk blouse
that was so sheer and tight that he could see her pink nipples
pressing against the material. No bra constrained her full, round
breasts.

He wondered if she were a junior engineer
looking for romance on a Saturday night or a call girl on
assignment? The thought of industrial espionage flashed into his
mind again. This new millennium Mata Hari was going to be sorely
disappointed. While there would be considerable value in his
research on human-robot interfaces when it was complete, his work
at this stage did not merit this degree of seduction. It was still
early in the planning stage and was neither all that secret nor all
that important.

“Don't just stand there enjoying at the view,
come on in,” she said, smiling coyly.

He blushed to realize that he had been
standing on her threshold, staring at her, too openly for too long.
He told himself that if she were going to dress like a sex object,
then she should expect to be appreciated as a sex object, but that
logic did not trump the deeply-ingrained social taboo against
staring at women's tits and drooling.

This was no way to start a relationship with
a nice girl.

Then, when he was inside the apartment, he
was surprised for a fourth time; and, for the first time, not so
happily. He heard low voices coming from the other room.
Male-sounding voices.

She pulled him gently inside, reached up and
kissed him lightly with soft lips slightly parted, holding the kiss
for long enough to promise much more to come. “Mmm,” she murmured.
“You taste good.”

Was she saying that just to make sure that he
understood the meaning of her perfect kiss?

She took the bottle of wine from his limp
hand and led him through a sparsely but tastefully furnished living
room into a dining room.

The round dining table was set for four; two
other men were already seated at their places. They looked at him
with expressions of ill-masked displeasure. What kind of romantic
date was this?

“Stan, Timothy, this is Roy,” Felicity said.
“He is the third player in our game tonight.”

“Game?” Stan asked, frowning darkly.

“Not really a game. More like an experiment.
There are only a couple of ground rules. Not enough structure to
really be called a game. It'll be a kind of interesting life
experience for all of us. I’ll explain the details while we eat.
First, let me get dinner on the table. Roy, you sit here.” She
gestured to one of the empty chairs. “I'll be right back.”

Roy shrugged and sat down, ignoring glares
from the other two men. “What's up?” he asked casually.

“I don't know,” Stan replied. “I was invited
here for dinner. I expected to be dining with Felicity alone.”

“Me, too,” Timothy volunteered.

“How do you know her?” Roy asked.

“I met her at Starbucks last week,” Stan
replied. “I was minding my own business, negotiating a deal on my
Blackberry and, as soon as I hung up, she started talking to me.
She didn't tell me much about herself. She just gave me her number
and asked me to call her. Before I could chat her up, she said that
she had to get back to work and left the store.” He frowned. “She
didn’t even stay to buy a coffee.”

“So you don't know her any better than me,”
Roy replied.

“How do you know her?” Stan asked.

“Almost the same story, but it was after a
business meeting. I’d never seen her before. She gave me a card and
asked me to call.” He looked at the third man at the table, “Do you
know anything about her?”

The man who had been introduced as Timothy
shook his head. “Nope. I was working out at the gym last Sunday and
she came up to me when I was cooling down and gave me her number.
She wasn't wearing sweats, just jeans and a sweater. I'd never seen
her there before so I think she came as a guest.”

Roy nodded thoughtfully. Timothy looked like
a gym rat. Not an over-developed body-builder but a real athlete
under his off-the-rack polyester suit. Stan, on the other hand, had
more of a vice-president-of-sales look. His suit was properly
tailored and, from it's slight sheen, Roy guessed that it was
probably a blended silk-wool worsted that would be light and
comfortable in the summer heat but wouldn't be particularly
durable. Stan looked like the kind of guy who wouldn't wear the
same suit for two seasons in a row.

The three men at the table couldn't have been
more different from each other. Felicity didn't seem to favor any
particular type when choosing men for her group date.

Or maybe she was very particular about
getting exactly the right assortment of men for whatever
“experiment” she was planning.

He didn't have long to think about it before
she bustled back into the room with plates of food. She set one in
front of him and another in front of Stan. Both men waited politely
while she went back to the kitchen to retrieve two more plates.

When she sat down, she said, “Okay,
gentlemen. Bon appetite.” As soon as she lifted a forkful of mashed
potatoes to her lovely lips, the three men dug in themselves.