Chapter 1: Trauma

My name is Laura Carter and there is no getting away from the truth – I am not the woman I once was.

When my story started, I was a very different person to the one I am today: shy, lacking in confidence and what my boss called a follower, not a leader. But over the course of one year, all that changed and, with hindsight, not in a good way

Professionally I had a reasonably content life when my story first started. I was 29 years old and divorced for three years, separated for two years before that. I had a really good job with a big multi-national as a Client Manager looking after clients all over the UK and increasingly in Europe. This meant travelling all over the country and, several times a year, to other countries around Europe, so, a lot of time away from home staying in hotels. My job involved a lot of client support and training of their people. It also allowed me a great deal of autonomy in deciding my schedule, when to work at home and when to do my travelling. As I have said, my boss told me, I am a natural follower and not a leader, very supportive but not commanding, maybe a reflection of my naturally submissive character.

I was well paid and, as part of my divorce, got a lot of money and the riverside apartment, in a converted warehouse on London’s South Bank, near Tower Bridge – you will soon see why I got so much from the end of the marriage.

So, I was very comfortable, if not rich, and lived what some consider to be an enviable lifestyle. The only downside was that my husband’s betrayal hurt me deeply and left me so fragile emotionally that by the time my story really started I had not been in any kind of relationship for five years and had been celibate for over six years. My life was my job and my career.

For you to get the picture correct in your own mind, let me tell you a bit about myself. Physically, as that is relevant to my story, I am 5-2/157cms and weigh 8.5 stone/55kilos, petite in other words. I am a natural blonde with my hair usually in a soft pony tail when working. However, when “off duty,” going to a function or out with friends for the evening, I wear it down in a neat shoulder-length bob.

I regularly worked out in the gym in the basement of my office and went swimming when I could. I was not a great fan of running but did it on occasion. So, I was fit and toned, with a slim body, a flat stomach, nice peach-shaped bum, and small 32b breasts. I have slim but shapely legs, if I say so myself, and I am one of those lucky women who have thighs that do not touch at the top, so my vagina is clearly visible in the gap. I have quite large, pink areola and long, large nipples, which, when aroused, look the size of fat cashew nuts, and can be just as hard. They are very sensitive and I love to play with them when using my fingers and toys to relax after work.

Thanks to a full course of laser treatments, I have an almost permanently smooth, totally bald vulva and mons. My long puffy labia, both inner and external, are clearly visible, with a prominent clitoris right at the top that behaves just like my nipples – it becomes very rapidly swollen and even more prominent when I am aroused. Although most of that was only known to me and my gynaecologist at the time.

When I was younger, I was told I was very pretty but now, as I approached 30, I was often told I was beautiful. I was always smartly dressed, and usually wore 4-inch stilettos that showed off my legs and made me just a little bit taller: smart business suits, dresses, skirts and tops but nothing outrageous. When in work mode I always wore bra and panties (or thongs usually) but when relaxed I never wore a bra as my small breasts do not need one, although it does mean my nipples, perky even when not aroused, do show clearly through any shirt or T-shirt I might wear. I am quite proud of them and, if I am honest, I enjoyed the occasional surreptitious glance they attracted from passers-by, even though I am naturally shy.

Finally, because that is also very relevant to my story, psychologically, and emotionally, I have always been fragile. With hindsight, I also now recognise I have always been a very submissive character. Even with my first boyfriend I realise I gave him my virginity because he kept telling me I had to let him do it. So, I did, because I wanted to please him.

My shyness and emotional immaturity also meant that I never used the “dirty” words for sex and sexual activity, but as my story unfolds you will notice that my language changed as my experiences also changed me emotionally too. So “doing it” or “intercourse” became “Fuck/fucking” and my “vagina” became first my “pussy” and then my “cunt” and my bottom became my “anus/ass/arse.”

So why was I so fragile and why celibate and alone for so long?

Well, I met my husband, Luke, in my first year at university in Manchester, when I was still only 18. He was 30 years old and working for a big investment firm in Manchester when we first met; he had come to an evening function to recruit possible high-flying students for his firm. I was not interested in a job with his company and had only gone to his session to get some experience in the job market for later.

However, he paid a lot of attention to me and asked me to go for a drink after the job fair was over. A drink was followed soon after by dinner and then a whirlwind romance. I fell hard for him. He was handsome, caring, attentive, rich, and very controlling, although I did not understand that until later. He had made me fall in love with him, right from our first date.

When I finished university at 21 it seemed the most natural thing in the world to get married – a small but traditional church wedding, with a beautiful white dress for me and morning suit for Luke. We made a very attractive couple. Our honeymoon in the Seychelles was a dream come true, and by the time we came home I had an almost all-over tan from my tiny bikini. I was ready to be a devoted, almost Stepford-like, wife for him.

He had joined a big hedge fund in London before my final year at university and so, when we returned from honeymoon, we moved into the newly converted apartment that he had bought with his first big bonus. Everything seemed perfect.