CHAPTER ONE
"She gave it all, you gave her shit/She coulda done just anything, or anyone/Cause she's a goddess/You never got this/You put her down/You liked her hopeless/To walk around/Feeling unnoticed/You shoulda crowned her/Cause she's a goddess/You never got this/Now you gotta deal with this glitch on your shoulder/Fuckin' with a goddess and you get a little colder/Yeah it's colder, colder/Fuckin' with a goddess, and you get a little colder" - BANKS 'Goddess'
"Which one should I wear, a necktie or bowtie?" Robert asks, holding a tie in each hand.
"The bowtie, definitely. A necktie with a tuxedo is rather pretentious, don't you think? Why not just wear a suit? Do we really have to go to this thing?" Jennifer replies, with the evidence of her annoyance in her tone.
"This thing?" His retort was sharp, obviously annoyed with the belittling of such a prestigious event.
"I'm the U.S. Attorney for the District of Columbia. Don't be ridiculous, of course we're going. Who turns down an invitation to the State Dinner? Now get dressed and quit complaining."
"Well, it's not like we've never been. It's going to be the same thing, with the same people. Why don't we do something spontaneous? We could go to the country house." She pleads with her eyes, something she has to do more and more often.
"You sound desperate." He says to her coldly without even bothering to look in her direction.
The unfortunate truth is that she is desperate - and horny. She's desperate for the passion that once made her body melt. She hungers for it. At this point she's willing to do whatever it takes to satisfy that insatiable hunger ravaging her. She needs to feel ... something, anything, from him.
Jennifer Sparrow-Gallagher, barely even half-dressed, sees this as an opportunity to seduce her husband, Robert. Surely her advances would be welcomed. She's flirty and sensuous - thanks to the few glasses of wine she had. She walks behind him as he struggles to tie his bow tie.
For a woman in her early forties, her body is amazing. Her long, lean legs make her look like a gazelle. Her stride is slow and graceful. She doesn't have on any panties. She doesn't believe in panties with evening gowns. Her perfectly manicured vagina is slowly beginning to awaken.
She reaches him in only a few steps. Her pillow-soft breasts press against his back. She slowly slides her hand up his thigh, until she reaches his soft cock. She begins to slowly stroke it to life. She's tall, so she barely has to stand on her tip-toes to nibble on his earlobe. She strokes the full length of his erect cock and whispers, "Are you sure we have to go? Why don't we stay and you can fuck me instead?"
Her vagina is pulsating, yearning to be penetrated. All the wetness that normally would be soaked up by lace panties begins to form a single trickle that traces its way down her inner thigh. She unzips him and thrusts her hand into his pants. Robert's dick is hard and warm. His shaft fits perfectly in the palm of her hand. She circles his tip with her thumb. Slowly. Counterclockwise.
She inhales and whispers, almost begging as she speaks to him. "I want you inside me."
He reaches his hand behind him, slides his hand across her face, and slowly combs his fingers through her hair, pressing her face deeper into his neck. She breathes in his cologne. He clenches her hair and whips her around with enough force to have given her whiplash. The gust from being twirled around has blown all the eroticism out of the room.
There is a look of rage in his eyes. She's confused, and scared. She surrenders to her knees, but is bent awkwardly, because he still has her hair in a death grip.
He snarls at her. "We don't have time for this! Clean yourself up. The driver will be outside soon."
Robert finally releases his grip and begins again with his bow tie. Yet again, she finds herself on the receiving end of one if his outbursts. For the life of her, she cannot figure out where this anger and resentment toward her is derived. She has been nothing but a loving and devoted wife to him.
Something in her sparks, something deep and dark. "Why won't you fuck me? Why won't you fuck me like I want to be fucked," she asks, screaming at the top of her lungs.
He stops with the tie. He stands there for a second, steaming with anger. Before she even has time to react, his hands are around her neck, lifting her slightly off the ground. She gasps, not out of fear, but out of lust. The anger in his eyes is making her moist. His strong hands around her neck, surprisingly, are making her clit tingle. He squeezes slightly more, and then slams her face down onto the bed. He kicks her legs apart like a cop frisking a suspect. His right hand grips the back of her neck, pinning it to the bed. His left hand strokes her pussy, preparing it to be penetrated. He unfastens his pants and strokes her wetness with his cock before slamming it deep inside her.
There was nothing gentle in the way he was taking her. It was full of fury and spellbinding sorcery. It was magical and transcending. He pulls out and slams into her...and again...and again. This is punishment for the way she spoke to him.
"You have the fucking audacity to talk to me like that?" He asks her like he's trying to fuck the sense back into her.
She can't control the sounds she is making. With every punishing thrust, an unrecognizable sound leaves her body. He is fucking her so hard that he is knocking the wind out of her. She fights for air. He wraps her hair around his wrists and yanks her head back. He slaps her face. The slap is not terribly hard, but she definitely feels it.
"Is this how you want to be fucked, like a filthy whore?"
The grip, now around her throat, tightens. She is lightheaded to the point of almost passing out. Her legs vibrate. She grips the comforter until her knuckles turn white.
"Oh God, Robert! Yes!"
Her body explodes in orgasmic euphoria. It was the most powerful orgasm she's ever had. He thrusts deeply, until her pussy swallows his entire cock. He cums inside of her, letting out a beastly growl.
He is finished with her, so he leaves her there, half hanging off the bed, her vagina throbbing with delight.
"What the fuck just happened," she thinks to herself. "Why have we never fucked like that before? We've always "made love", which is sweet. But this? This was not sweet. This was ... carnal and pure and perfect."
He looks at her, tie finally tied, "Be ready in ten minutes."
She is barely able to stand, let alone walk. She successfully gathers herself, cleans herself up and reapplies her makeup. Robert slips on his jacket, adjusts the cuff of his sleeve and is out the door. Vincent already had the Maybach pulled around by the time she reached the lobby. She arrives in just enough time to see him get in the car.
The car ride was silent. All she can do is replay the episode in her head over and over and over again. She catches herself biting her lip. She's turned on just thinking about it. But what was the turn on?
"Yes, the sex was good, but I have great sex with my vibrator," she confesses to herself.
The way that he handled her with such aggression and passion was a new thing. It was definitely a turn on. He had all the power. He made her relinquish it all to him. She remembered the look in his eyes when he accosted her. It was that look that made her yield to him. She knew that there would be nothing she could do. In that moment, he wanted her and he was taking her. Her body was completely his to do what he desired.
She could have protested, but he asked an honest question; "Is this how you want to be fucked, like a dirty whore?"
It was what she wanted. It was what she needed. She wanted to be stripped of every pretense her privileged life afforded her and be handled like a cheap prostitute. She wanted to be fucked out of her mind, destroying the upper class image that was so burdensome. He destroyed this yoke and replaced it with the yoke of his powerful grip around her neck. In doing so, her body was freed from this unbearable weight she had been pulling for so long. It was free from its shackles and every inch of her felt this weightlessness.
This new found freedom of being unchained made her body quake. It was the most powerful orgasm she had ever experienced. That orgasm brought about an awakening. For the longest time, she thought her vagina had all the power. She understands that on its own it means nothing, not to Robert or men like him.
The real power comes from being the only one that is able to give a person exactly what it is that they desire. She wanted to be fucked like a dirty whore. She wanted to feel the raw sex and unadulterated passion that comes from fucking someone like you don't give a shit about them other than the pleasure they give you. No love, no feeling, no emotion, just fucking. He was the only one who could do that, and he knew it. When he did finally give her what she wanted, needed, begged for, she became his. That is what she wanted. She didn't want good sex, she wanted all the power. The power to give or deny someone their most innermost desires is what she craved.
She has to cross her legs because she starts to feel her vagina getting moist, just thinking about the way he had her gripping the bed.
"Vincent, how long until we arrive," she asks the driver.
"Thirty minutes ma'am," he replied back, looking at her in the rear view mirror.
Jennifer puts up the partition and closes the curtains. "I want your dick," she announces, looking in Robert's direction.
She can't believe she said it out loud. It just came out, but it was real. She wanted him bad and she wanted him now, right there in the back seat while Vincent listened to the sound of them fucking.
Robert was fiddling around with his phone, so he heard her, but it took a second for him to really process what she said.
"Excuse me?"
She repeats herself, this time more slowly and matter-of-factly. "I. Want. Your. Dick. Pull it out for me. Now."
Robert is annoyed by her antics almost immediately, but is interested to see exactly where this was going.
"I don't know what you're trying to prove, but we are about to be at a really important event and you're acting like you're a high school girl in the back seat of her father's pickup."
"Why do I hear you talking when you should be unzipping your pants? Do it."
He smiles slyly and unzips himself. "What are you planning to do with it?"
She hadn't really thought that far ahead. This was really spur of the moment and not well planned out.
"Well ... I'm not going to do anything with it, you are. You're going to masturbate and I'm going to watch", she tells him.
"I'm not doing that," he says with the most serious of looks on his face.
"I'm not asking. We've got about 20 minutes, you'd better get started. Here, I'll give you a jump start."
She reaches her hand into his zipper which startles the hell out of him. His whole posture changes and he tenses up. She kisses the head of his exposed penis. Not in an overtly sexual way, but tenderly, more like a mother kisses a child's "boo-boo" to make it feel better. She puts him in her mouth until he becomes fully erect and lets some warm saliva run down his shaft.
"There, that should do the trick."
Jennifer feels very sure of herself and positions herself deep in the corner of her seat, up against the door so she could get a full view of the show that is about to start. Robert wraps his hand around his stiff cock and begins to stroke it slowly.
Over the next few minutes, Jennifer watches him intensely, becoming increasingly horny and confident in her little experiment. Jennifer's eyes are closed and she's focusing solely on the sounds of Robert pleasuring himself. He's doing it because she commanded that it be done. This pleases her to the point that she wants Vincent to just park the car in an alley and allow herself to be taken again. Just before she can cross the point of no return, Robert awakens from his masturbatory trance.
"So let me get this right. You just want to watch me jerk off," he asked in the middle of his stroke.
"Mmm hmm," is all of a reply she could muster.
"What is either of us getting out of that?"
"Just do as you're told," she says in a low mumble, still lost in the fantasy of the alley.
This was clearly the wrong thing to say. His whole demeanor changed once he realized exactly what was going on.
"My dick isn't here to do your bidding," he says as he zips his pants.
"Shit," she thinks to herself. She's snatched from the stratospheric heights of her fantasy world and it plummeted back to reality. The reality is that she is caged and will never be able to fly free sexually.
"Robert, just do this for me, please."
"No," he says without flinching
"But..." She goes to plead her case but he cuts her off.
"I said, no." There was a look of disgust in his eyes that she had never seen before. Here using him for her own pleasure was some type of violation. "I bet you feel real proud of yourself, me sitting here with my cock in my hand."
Feeling deflated, she lets it go. She draws the curtain back and looks out the window. The District night is cold and quiet. The remainder of the car ride would mimic the stillness outside.
"Vincent, how much longer," she asks, trying to gauge how much longer she has to endure this embarrassment.
"Seven minutes ma'am." He replies simply while his sorrowful eyes gaze at her, pitying her, through the rearview mirror.
"Great." For the next seven minutes she'll have to sit in silence, pissed off with her legs crossed, and try to block her throbbing pussy out of her mind.
The security to get into the White House is unimaginable, as to be expected. There is no way to get even remotely close to it in a UPV (Unauthorized Pedestrian Vehicle), which is what the teams of security classify all the Maybachs, Bentleys and Rolls Royces that make their way to the valet area. The term valet should be used loosely because it is a full quarter mile away from the gates. Vincent parks and Robert and Jennifer get shuttled to the security gates.
There is absolutely nothing "pedestrian" about the guests attending this evening's gala event. There are various dignitaries, world leaders and the who's who of American politics. All the attendees get transported via shuttles. Granted, the shuttles are Mercedes mini buses, nothing like the smelly ones at the airport.
There are security checks for the security checks. All purses were checked and everyone was individually scanned after passing through a metal detector. Only then were you allowed to board the shuttle. Once boarded, everyone relaxes a little as the short trek is made to the White Houses' main security gate. Security tents are set up for guest to walk through, which is convenient considering the Mid-January air. The invisible numbered watermarks on the invitations are checked against the corresponding list. Once verified, all they have to do is just succumb to waiting in the receiving line.
It was a grand entrance. Each couple was announced as they entered and had their photo taken as they shook hands with the Vice President. They are announced as "United State's Attorney Robert Gallagher and his lovely wife Jennifer Sparrow-Gallagher, daughter of Virginia Senator Alexander Sparrow". Much to her chagrin, Jennifer is yet again linked with her father as part of his legacy. It is this unbreakable bond between father and daughter that is the catalyst to all that she is, all that she is not and all that she will eventually become.
Alexander Sparrow is the son of Jewish immigrants, who survived the Holocaust and left everything they knew and came to America. Most people's idea of Holocaust survivors is that they were all modest people, rich in tradition who fled to America as a means to start over after Hitler's genocide. In large part this is true. However, there were those who saw landing on Ellis Island as a last resort, an exile to escape the bowels of the underworld and the bile that were their lives.
Such was the case for Alexander's father, who was an unsavory man - a highly intelligent brute. He would become well known for his propensity for hostile takeovers of rival associates' less than legal business ventures. His counterparts requested his services whenever a strong message needed to be relayed that their time for doing business was coming to a close. Those who employed him would then absorb the previous owner's business and territory into their own.
Ari Brenneman, the son of a distiller, would leave his family business, and morph into a high ranking member of what would later become the Jewish Mafia in America. His only real loyalty is to himself and his only concern is the accumulation of wealth and power. People were a means to an end. They could be used and discarded as he saw fit to fulfill whatever need that was barring him from achieving his goal.
The women who were commonly found in these circles were of no concern to him. He saw them as scavengers who clung to powerful men for their own personal gain. They did not appeal to him, nor did their over-sexualized tendencies. What did appeal to him was the eagerness of youth to please and gain approval. They yearn for the attention of whoever gives them the adulation they crave, catering to their fantasy of being older than they are. He preys on the ones that maturity has not yet taught that the treasure they posses is meant to be locked up and not to be easily given away. These are those whom he seeks to devour.
Such was the case with Alana, a manifestation of his ill-requited love for members of the opposite sex whom have not yet reached womanhood. The circumstances of his fleeing to America are a bit convoluted, but the common thread that resulted in his excommunication was the rape of this young girl. The victim of his assault was not just any girl. Alana was the 14 year old daughter of the man who controlled all of the comings and goings of those who lived in the shadows. He was no one to trifle with. Those who did have the misfortune of tempting him in any fashion usually were not heard from or seen again.
Needless to say, allegiances were severed and a bounty was placed on his head. Ari's uncle had left for America when he was just a boy. Like many during that period, his uncle made his fortune during one of the lowest points in American history by capitalizing on the depravity of the human spirit during Prohibition and the subsequent years following the Great Depression. Ari was smuggled aboard a steam liner headed for Ellis Island under the assumed last name "Sparrow".
He joined his uncle in America and flourished beyond measure through various questionable business ventures. Ari Sparrow would marry a beautiful Jewish girl, barely of marrying age, who was working as a seamstress. They went on to have two daughters and a son, Alexander.
Jennifer only knows bits and pieces of her family's lineage, but she understands all too well the dark recess of humanity from which she comes. For this reason, among others, is why she distances herself from her father. When she hears his voice from behind her, she gets a sickening feeling in the pit of her stomach.
"I was wondering when you'd arrive. I sent the car for you quite a while ago."