The Cost of Luxury | A Beautiful Trap

 

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There they are.  The two women in my life.  I couldn’t ask for a more beautiful family. They are my pastel-coated hell that I cannot escape.

When I met Gabrielle, I was a content widower focused on building my business and raising my son, Steven.  She was holding court at the country club among the other socialites while I was enjoying a whiskey and cigar after a round of golf.  Among a flock of beautifully enhanced women of means, Gabby was the standout.  I showed my interests immediately and she reciprocated.  Our whirlwind romance drew her quickly into my bed and eventually into home as my wife.

I love to spoil my women and Gabrielle is a woman used to luxury.  To me, my woman should be a symbol of my wealth and means so I opened my wallet to support her indulgent lifestyle.  I gladly paid for her extravagant shopping trips and weekly salon upkeep because I adored having a glamorous, feminine woman at my side.  She was entitled and demanding of my resources and attention and I gladly gave it all to her.  

Gabrielle quickly integrated herself into my life and took over the day-to-day household concerns.  I thought Steven would be upset with this but he bonded easily with Gabby.  She kept him close and took him with her on her salon visits and other feminine activities.  I didn’t know it at the time but she was surrounding him with her circle and fostering curiosities within my son.  Eventually she started to “accidentally” mix panties into his laundry and leave cosmetics in the shopping bags with his purchases.  When he opened Pandora’s Box and tried them on, she was waiting to snare the confused young man in a web of comfort and acceptance.  

Months went by without me knowing about “Stephanie.”  My wife encouraged his budding feminine persona by giving him everything I gave her.  He sat next to her in a salon chair and got his hair and nails done.  She had him at the cosmetics counter getting makeovers and bought him lavish clothes and jewelry.  By the time I noticed the changes, my son was well on his way to becoming a teenage version of my wife!

I should have been angered by this development.  Instead of a proud young boy entering high school and manhood I now had a self-indulgent, entitled little fashionista.  I looked at how utterly feminine my Steven had become and I felt - proud.  She pushed her new fake breasts up in her scandalously revealing dress and I was dumbfounded at how through her transition was.  Instead of raging at my wife, I took her to bed and ravished her like never before.

Now my wife knows that she has me.  The more she and my new sissy daughter indulge their desires, the more turned on I become.  Stephanie runs up my credit cards and continues her transformation into a teenage vixen.  Her mother encourages these habits and indulges in them herself.  I’m almost sure Stephanie is dating older men now and using the same tricks her mother used on me to milk them dry.  It’s also obvious by their conversations that she’s sexually active.  Yet I don’t resist; it only draws me deeper into Gabby’s web.  I can’t deny either of them nor do I want to.  I stand by in frustration at my impotence . . . because I want to join them.