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Chapter 21 Branded by Lover
Chapter 21 Branded by Lover

Chapter 21 Branded by Lover

CobraElizabeth Lin Johnson

Edward avoided any mention of my husband and family. When with him, it was as if they didn’t exist. It was him, only him, no other man. He was prone to jealousy and controlled by marking me as his which I consented to. One time I forgot to avoid co-mingling my guppies.

For Valentine's Day hubby bought me a big sheer red panty brief with an embroidered heart, his counter branding of me. Foolishly I made a mistake of betraying both guppies

I called Edward the next morning,

"You awake?"

"Yes, Sweetie Pie. What's up?"

"Are you still in bed?"

"No, I'm munching toast. It would be better munching you."

"Get back in bed. I'm coming over. Tell Sir Lancelot, I got a surprise."

"What kind of surprise?

"If I say, it won’t be a surprise. Just stay in bed and don't get crumbs on the sheets. I just cleaned them"

Racing over with the panty on, skipping my usual Mall parking lot drive-through security, I let myself in with the key I now had, scampered up to his bedroom, and put my finger to my lips as I entered.

"Shhh, stay in bed! I got your surprise, look-see."

I lifted my skirt and flashed the panty, slowly turned around and back, and flouted it with a few old belly dance moves.

Fluttering close, as he watched transfixed, he reached over, grabbed me, and pulled me to bed. Still dressed, including shoes, he pushed the crotch aside and we romped hard. Finished we lay next to one another,

"I like my Valentine’s present but you’re a day late."

"Turn you on? Lance seems to like it."

"Look's great. Where’d you get it?'

"Don't question a present."

"Tell me, where?"

"A gift."

"Gift? Who? Who buys you panties? Are you seeing another?"

"Don't be silly."

"Well, who?"

"Oh, don't worry my suspicious Sir Lancelot. It was hubby”

"Take it off! Take it off! Give it to me! I don't want you to wear it."

After stupidly telling the truth, struggling to get it off past my shoes, he grabbed it, roughly finished pulling it off, got up, and tossed it in the bathroom wastebasket. Back in bed, he pushed my legs apart and forced his way in as I protested. Mounted, he sucked on my neck and gave me a hickey as I squirmed to get him to stop.

It was like my husband did after my, "We screwed" admission. Edward re-staked his claim of me.

Once he finished, I felt my neck, got up with the excuse of needing to pee, and looked in the bathroom mirror. He left a big red blotch, marking me as his. Branded with his hickey I retrieved the panty and hid it in my bra. When I came out of the bathroom, he’d already gone downstairs. I descended the stairs and informed him.

"I need to rush home."

"I'm sorry, I'm really sorry Sweetie Pie. Forgive me."

'No, it was a mistake, my mistake. I'm sorry I upset you."

I left, taking the blame for date rape, verified with his unwanted hickey.

Some girls at work unabashedly showed off a hickey. I wore a turtleneck for a week. Hubby stared but said nothing after my desperate explanation a broom handle was the cause. Edward was apologetic when he called and didn’t mention the rescued panty. He asked what my husband's reaction was, not mentioning but inferring the hickey. I told him he never noticed which made him feel better. I re-learned guppies need to be kept separate to avoid imbroglios. The nexus of which could upend all my machinations of serving two men.

In response to the red panty fiasco, Edward took me to a lingerie shop at Town and Country Village in Palo Alto, an upscale little shopping center, and bought risqué hipsters embroidered with cheeky, "Ring My Chimes", "Please, Please Me", "Make Me Purr", "Stroke My Fire", "Pull Down To Open", “Try It You’ll Like It” and "Shake And Bake. One even had a zippered crotch. They were to proclaim Miss Puki was his.

Hubby, fascinated with my logo underwear, asked where I got them. I said K-Mart. He went there and couldn’t find any like them. I said it was a closeout. Even though he suspected something, he was aroused if I wore them.

To avoid slipping on gift lies, I bought Edward and hubby identical presents when gift-giving. In response to the Valentine snafu, I bought them identical boxer shorts with little printed bugles. After they had each worn theirs, I switched them. I smiled seeing them prance about with each other’s on.

While kept segregated there was a cross-influence creep. The flow of intermix was more towards my husband. I upgraded his attire and aftershave, changed his hairstyle, and introduced things like sushi, cheeses with toast, and red wine.

I obeyed Edward’s command and wore panties he purchased or ones I bought he approved of when with him. Ditto with hubby, I wore those that pleased him. Fortunately, he liked the ones Edward purchased reducing my quandary of what to wear. By changing panties and comingling their briefs, I two-timed both yet assured both I was theirs.

My transition the night I changed from girl to woman continued under Edward’s tutelage. While our time together was limited, he insisted on "dressing" me all the time. In his mind, my attire, perfume, jewelry, and cosmetics were his domain. He was fascinated with my hair and ears and bought several hair clasps and earrings to adorn them to his satisfaction. He would take me to buy cosmetics, watch the sales girl test them on me, purchase what he liked and then apply them on me afterward at his apartment, an artist with me as the canvas.

About once a month, he insisted on re-dressing me in a new outfit, usually matched, semi-formal, dressy attire from shoes to accessories. His propensity was for pencil dresses.

He also was fond of mini-dresses and skirts flared or of pencil design because. He enjoyed looking at my thighs when I got in, out or sat in his Porsche. Sitting in the bucket seat, he loved to look down as he shifted and glance to catch a glimpse of a panty he bought.

He loved me in bright colors and lace and claimed my complexion made me one of few who could dress in the color violet. Material was very important to him and often the final selection was based on his tactile material texture decision.

On a Friday night date, I arrived in casual work clothes without makeup to provide Edward a clean slate and deflect hubby’s suspicions. Edward then fussed on re-dressing me in front of a wall mirror with an expanding wardrobe he kept in his apartment. After I stripped, he selected lingerie, a dress, blouse or skirt, and shoes but never pants or shorts for me to wear. We then applied makeup from lipstick to eye shadow and combed my hair. He then chose earrings and hair clasp to make my final presentation. "Dressed" we went out or sat about until he could no longer stand it and take me, often still half-dressed. I loved the attention.

Edward wanted me to wear his outfits when not with him. Time was tight, at home and at work, so I wore what was comfortable. For dressy occasions, I did wear Edward’s branding outfits. Hubby loved to see me in them. He, too, got excited when I wore them and took me as I dressed or undressed. My wearing them for hubby was another level of infidelity.

Edward also tutored me on life perspective, mannerisms, goals, even the way I spoke. I was transposed not just sexually from girl to a woman but also to be self-assuredly feminine. With his guidance, I dressed for influence, not only for others but for me. I read the novels and listened to the music he suggested. After six months, he gave me a sapphire ring with diamonds. It was beautiful and too expensive.

He requested I wear it instead of my wedding ring but I refused and wore it on my right hand only when with him. I told my husband the gems were synthetic and I bought it from a girl at work cheaply. I never wore it around him.

Edward taught me to avoid vulgar words and use the proper term when talking about sex even when talking dirty to one another. I readily agreed as I never did swear. He explained how vulgar words demeaned the user, the listener and the object or person discussed. His favorite singer was Tom Jones and he got me the record, Say You Will Stay Until Tomorrow.

He wanted to visit my home. I knew he was not a friend to my family. He was trying to invade my family which I kept from him. I didn’t want him to come and feared my husband, the children, neighbors or friends would see his Porsche in the driveway.

He became obsessed about visiting the house, often drove past it and asked detailed questions about its furniture and decor. Pertinacious in seeking to see the interior, I eventually gave in, supposedly to critique my decorating. I let him come for a quick walkthrough. Instead, as expected, he attempted sex.

I threw up my hand to cover my mouth to stop his kiss and walked outside. He was trying to violate my husband's home. Like taking off my wedding ring, it was a line I couldn’t cross. Relief swept me as his car drove off, with him in a jealous huff. Standing in the driveway as his Porsche popped into second gear with a squeal of tires, I felt stupid. I was stupid. I should never have let him in.

I’d violated our family home. My husband would never be able to live there if he knew Edward entered the house even with the attempted kiss nixed. There are some infidelities that can’t be forgiven.

After his house tour, Edward bought a wine storage rack and a mirror for the house. He said to think of him whenever I drank wine and he was watching and admiring me from the mirror every time I peered into it. I did think of him if I drank wine alone from the rack but kept some separate to drink with hubby.

In a twist of depravity, the mirror ended up as part of my marriage water bed. After I told hubby about girls at work water bed stories, hubby made one and unknowingly used the mirror as part of the headboard. While lovemaking we could watch ourselves. Edward could too if what he said was true, but it wasn't.

Edward was never in my thoughts when with family, but he crept in during work hours. I closed my eyes and saw his face. A brush against my cheek felt like his caress. On occasion, he slipped out of my tongue despite attempts to keep his world secret.

No one, not even my close friend Julie knew I was having an affair except a lone confidante. She was the older woman at work I helped meet her alignment quotas. In exchange she let me confide to her about Edward and provide me aged perspective advice. She was my spy handler and was a way for me to verbalize what was happening in my secret life.

She provided the insight I needed and was nonjudgmental. Her best advice was to not lose a long-time good husband for a short time good lover It was something she failed to heed when young. In response, I redoubled affair camouflage efforts.

As the affair continued my marriage underwent fundamental changes. Hubby was constantly sexually aroused but in a state of anxiety over my affection. My attempts to assuage his anxiety, such as fobbing off Edward’s gifts and branded clothes as things I purchased, failed to quell his suspicions. No longer the submissive wife, we argued when we never did before.

Despite my contrived lies and carefully covered tracks, he remained convinced something was amiss. His suspicions there was another were justified. There was another, not just Edward but another me. The woman he married was no longer the woman he was married to. The marriage of our original vows was over. We were in a new marriage that both of us were struggling to adjust to.

There was, however, a part of our original marriage intact. Only Squirt spewed semen in Vixen, even if sans sperm. Edward’s Sir Lancelot in its condom didn’t. This satisfied my perverted rationalization of faithfulness.

Author Notes: The struggle of placating 2 men results in my betraying both.

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About The Author
Elizabeth Lin Johnson
About This Story
19 Jul, 2017
Read Time
10 mins
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