Chapter Two: Taking Sugar from a Daddy

Clarice dropped fully formed on the great capitals of the world. In her twenties, she was the belle of the ball, the head of the harem, the juice for the justices. In Dubai, she shook the sheikhs, in Las Vegas, she kegeled the casino owners, in Paris, she parley-vous-ed the prime minister, and in Hong Kong she hung out the Huns to dry. Leaving them either drained or desperate. Clarice collected sugar daddies, like some kids collect baseball cards.

Playing her part, she could be whatever they wanted. Transforming herself into the perfect lover, be it concubine, shy schoolgirl, or dominatrix. In this way, she amassed a fortune by the time she retired at twenty-eight. She bought hotels instead of stocks and hired managers she could twist or mount at will. Passive income allowed her more active delights.

As an orphan, Clarice learned how to charm anyone and everyone. She developed the skill as a survival mechanism, but was not a sociopath. She refined it as a teenager, beginning her seductions while other girls played with dolls. Deprived of love, she designed her own. Fabricated it into the fine art of reward and profit. She learned never to ask for money or favors, but gave others the opportunity to reward her, ending up receiving far more than she expected.

Accompanied by her blossoming good looks, she bore with pride an irresistible and targeted technique in flirtation. Practicing it once more, she smiled into the mirror. Wearing a tight black dress that revealed more than hid her assets. Her blond hair, shoulder length, perfect for wigs, weaves, and extensions, now fell naturally. Her green eyes and height perfect for all her men.

Buttocks deliciously round and enticing, perfectly balanced by full breasts. She twisted and turned seductively to draw the wealthy towards her. Fixing her eyes and desire on a sugar daddy of her choosing, they melted under her wiles. The most steadfast and resilient man or woman could not help but to submit to their base desires with Clarice. She only improved with time and travel. Maturity gave her a strength that her lovers folded beneath, begging to submit.

Carrying over twenty passports, most legal, and most taken by force of will from the burning desire of her sugar daddies, she was free to cross borders whenever she chose. She would not brook abuse, but could dish it out masterfully. She trained with all the best masters of the sexual arts, seeking their knowledge. All reimbursed through their ultimate satiation. An example, bored Japanese housewives paid her to be tied-up and suspended on stage in Tokyo’s red-light district. Clarice was one of the few women that could perform this service and drew sizeable crowds.

A quick learner, she soon exceeded the techniques of her masters. Clarice trained her body through discipline to control and pleasure her lovers, transporting them to new levels of carnal satisfaction. She always left them hungry for more. They often spent their love lives seeking sensations and climaxes she delivered, but could never experience again without her.

That life was behind her now. She could receive pleasure or give pleasure as she chose, no longer a servant of love. Some folks shopped in grocery stores. Clarice shopped in the rarefied world of gigolos. She chose them over prostitutes, or even those that sought meaningful relationships. The architecture of love was a religious construct. Genuine passion was a complex system of manipulation exchanged between individuals. Sex a dance of pleasure and pleasuring.