Sting Of The Riding Crop

Why shouldn’t a woman choose to have a better figure, retain her youth by investing in cosmetic surgery and a gastric band or purchase a young husband from a foreign shore? The pressure on the female of the species to be physically perfect and match up to the glamorous creatures portrayed every day in the media is enormous. Forget that the photographs are touched up; their figures enhanced and wrinkles digitally removed. Forget the reality that weight lost too quickly is all too easily put back on. Forget that the ‘bought’ man is only interested in the cash in your account and a better way of life. If a woman wants it all and can afford it then I say good luck to her.

As a thirty two year old single woman, with a history of failed relationships and a penchant for one night stands I know what I want from life but not how to get it. I have enough money to allow me the freedom not to work as my ex-husband was an investment banker with quite the portfolio. I suppose you could describe me as filthy stinking rich, and you’d be right, but money hasn’t brought me sexual happiness. If anything, having my new found millions has made me even more guarded about the men that I date, which I suppose explains why I prefer a one nighter to a lasting relationship.
 
In my efforts to have sex whilst avoiding being fleeced by some gigolo or other my life has become something of a parody of ‘Looking for Mr Goodbar’; all disappointing drunken one night stands with married men, their wedding band safely stowed in their pocket until after we had done the dirty deed, and then a quick kiss on my cheek as they hurriedly exit the expensive five star hotel room I paid for. Still, I prefer a hotel to my own place when it comes to illicit quickies. Though when I say ‘place’ perhaps I should say mansion as my Belgravia terrace is huge on the inside and imposing on the out... Any unscrupulous lover would see my pile and suddenly it would be true love rather than true lust.
 
In one respect it was a safe way to enjoy no strings attached unromantic sex without any of the usual emotional baggage and demands that come with a relationship. It kept me safe from financial predators. And it had been fun for a while, at least until one of my pick-ups was less than polite when it came to my reaction to one of his acts of fetishism but perhaps we’ll get into that later.
markkdesade markkdesade
46-50, M
Jan 16, 2013