Not a Beautiful Woman Ch. 03

Tonight was the night. Her hands shook, her breath was short, and her insides tingled. She didn't know if the cause was fear, excitement, anticipation or anxiety. When she remarked about her state, her master answered, "Your body is flooded with adrenaline and the symptoms would be the same regardless of the emotion at the source of the hormonal surge. Your feelings in the aftermath will probably tell which emotion to credit or blame. Try to breathe slowly and deeply for a few moments before you jab yourself in the eye."

He wasn't joking. She was sitting in a dressing robe in front of the mirror at the desk space in their bedroom trying to apply her make-up for the evening. She had already showered and done her thick blond hair specially. Instead of being parted on the right side and allowed to fall in waves to her shoulders, she had put it up and over toward the left side, secured it with bobby pins, and sported a magnolia blossom above her right ear. The magnolia had been her master's idea. "A symbol of Southern whiteness that should attract almost as much attention as your breasts and legs where you're going." Gazing into the mirror, she had to admit that her hair had never looked better. "Now," she thought while taking the suggested deep breaths, "if only I can finish putting on this eyeliner without injuring myself. Daddy is right, as always." Forcing herself to breathe more slowly and deeply reduced the trembling of her hands. Taking advantage of this, she swiftly put the finishing touches to her eyelids, extending the black lines all the way to the corners of her eyes for a slutty Egyptian look. With a satisfied glance into the mirror, she told herself that her face had never conveyed sexual availability more starkly and, being a thoroughly experienced slut, that was saying something.

Her make-up finished, she reached for the new pair of stay-up flesh-toned nylon stockings with the black lace tops. They had been expensive, but they were of the highest quality and felt luxurious sliding up her long, smooth and shapely legs. Next, she put on the new strappy sandals with the three-inch heels. They were black, suede, and cost as much as the new black dress, but they were so comfortable that she could wear them all night. She looked into the full-length mirror against the wall by the head of the bed and turned her legs this way and that, looking for flaws. Aside from the heaviness of her upper thighs, which was down-played by the tall lace tops of the stockings, she thought her legs and feet looked perfect.

Finally, it was time to don her brand new "little black dress." It was made of a very thin, clingy, synthetic material. It had a halter top that clasped in the back and only covered the top ½ of her thighs. She feared that it would not flatter her somewhat wide and flat derriere, of which she was a bit self-conscious, but Daddy had assured her that, so long as it was evident that she wore no panties, and the material of the dress guaranteed that, no man would find fault with her bum. "Besides, you won't be wearing a bra so I think all eyes will be drawn almost exclusively to your magnificent breasts as they jiggle while you walk," he'd said. Looking again in the long mirror, she had to agree.

She still could hardly believe that he'd agreed to this. In her experience, it beggared imagination to believe that a man would do such a thing without a selfish reason. But he was who he was and, she told herself, she loved him above all things. Of course, he'd voiced objections, but they weren't selfish, arising from insults to his manhood or damage to his ego, if there were any difference. Instead, his opposition had been based solely on reasonable (probable?) fear of the potential consequences to her.

She'd had plenty of sex partners before her Master, but none like him. He seemed to be a walking contradiction; compliant yet dominant; naive yet cynical; a man of absolute habits yet always open to something new. Likewise, to anybody who really knew him, it was easy to see that his emotions ran very deeply. Yet, he gave very few signs of them aside from his gregarious nature. Whenever confronted by an issue, it was as if a switch got flipped; he completely turned off his emotions and instantly began, as he would say, "acquiring, collating, and analyzing data." Her knowledge of his character gave her the courage to approach him with her problem. Thus, when she finally revealed the nature of her growing fixation, he didn't show hurt, or anger as would every other man she'd ever known. Actually, the issue would have been easier to resolve if he could have brought himself to be an active participant. That was, of course, her first choice. However, the inherent flexibility of his nature did not extend that far.

Her current obsession had begun to form, admittedly rather vaguely, the day after they'd first had anal sex. She had astonished herself by saying, "Fuck me in the ass, Daddy. Please. I want it dirty. Fuck my ass hard." And just as astonishingly, he had immediately complied. The next morning had started as nearly every morning for the past several months. He had awakened first, found her sleeping nude, and interpreted that as a request to be woke via an orgasm. As he expertly nibbled her clit, her eyes sprang open, she grabbed his head and grinded her mound into his face for about 30 additional seconds, at which time her body shuddered and her moaning reached the level of soft scream as the orgasmic spasm played out.

After her climax, as, always, he left to go about his daily activities and she returned to a light sleep filled with vivid sexual dreams. The dream that morning revolved around anal sex, but in it, she enjoyed a vaginal orgasm. She awoke with a moan to discover her hand over her mound and her fingers rubbing her clit. When she realized what had happened, she became anxious. Coming without Daddy's permission violated the most important rule of their relationship. He waived that requirement in the case of her morning head because he thought it unreasonable to enforce it when she had no control. Likewise, he hadn't punished her the several times she had come so hard that she passed out, mainly because he was so gratified that he'd had a hand in accomplishing that and because the sensation had obviously been so intense as to catch her off-guard. She had been a little worried about the previous night because she had used her own fingers to come without permission while cleaning his cock with her mouth after their first anal. But he hadn't said anything yet, so she stopped worrying. Thus, Saturday proceeded as usual and when Daddy got home, they enjoyed a normally horny evening.

Typically, they avoided sexual activity on Sundays, using the time to rest and plan the upcoming week. Daddy sometimes needed to complete class work, but not often. The Slut was surprised to be awakened by her master giving her head as he would on any other day. Just as on those other days, she woke at the edge of orgasm and grabbed Daddy's head so as to grind her clit against his mouth. But unlike other days, Daddy stopped licking and pulled back. She looked at him with a touch of desperation and begged, "Please, Daddy, let me come!"

He smiled and answered, "No. Get up and go to the bathroom, Slut. This is a punishment day for you."

Knowing now that he wasn't going to ignore her lapse on Friday, she assumed a downcast look and reached for her robe. Her master refused to allow that saying, "No clothes on punishment day."

Thinking about that for a moment, she stood up straight, ran her hands backwards through her hair, then downwards over her breasts, pinched her already hardened nipples and sauntered to the bathroom with as sexy a walk as she could manage. She had seen his raging erection and thought, "Let him suffer, too. If I'm to be aroused without relief all day, let him be as well. I know what the sight of my body does to him." She looked back as she closed the bathroom door and flashed him a challengingly wicked smile.

However, her smile didn't last long. When she came out of the bathroom, he let her drink a glass of water before tying her to the bed spread eagle with four scarves. He began stroking her breasts, belly and thighs, murmuring about what a lovely delicious body she had. She did her best not to react, but then he began kissing her neck and ears, moving quickly down her shoulders to her breasts. He spent a solid 20 minutes caressing and kissing the soft and firm flesh of her orbs. Her breath quickened and her hips began to gyrate. When he mouthed her nipples in that special way she couldn't resist, she added soft moaning to her other symptoms of arousal. Finally, he trailed his tongue down her belly, missed her cunt as he traveled down her right thigh, back up, over and above her pussy and down her left thigh, and then back up and over to the center.

By now, her gyrations and breathing were faster and her moans louder. Her master hovered his face over her pussy and began telling her how beautiful it was and how sweet it smelled. Then he inserted his tongue at the bottom of her slit and ran it slowly up to her clit and back down several times. He stopped and told her that she tasted as delicious as she smelled.

Thanks to his work, the Slut was whimpering and begging. Her Daddy ignored her pleas and continued his ministrations of her body. An hour later she was on the verge of losing her mind. In her anguish, she got angry. "You sadistic motherfucker," she said through clamped teeth. "Either take me over the edge or let me do it myself, God damn you!"

He stopped completely, stared at her and asked in a very somber voice, "Do you wish to end our agreement?"

The full consequences of her tantrum became plain to her. She immediately began to weep and begged him to keep her as his slut and property. She was sorry and admitted that she deserved punishment. After that, he asked if she were hungry, thirsty, or needed a bathroom break. She answered yes to all three.

He said, "Leave the bathroom door open so I can make sure you don't try to masturbate. I trust you, but this is your first time to be punished and I don't want it to be worse than necessary."

She answered, "Yes, Daddy. I'm sorry Daddy."

Having noticed that his erection was still raging, when she came out of the bathroom, she asked, "Would you like me to suck your cock, Daddy? To help make up for me being a brat?"

Her master responded, "No. I need to suffer when you suffer to help me remember not to punish you unless it's necessary."

These words touched her as nothing else had. She sat on his lap, buried her face in his hair and wept inconsolably, constantly muttering, "Please don't suffer, Daddy. I did wrong, not you. Please Daddy, I love you so much. I can't stand to see you suffer because of something that I did."

"Well," he said, "in that case, I guess you've been punished enough. Go dress for a normal Sunday and we'll go to a movie and get something to eat. I hear '9 to 5' is entertaining. We'll have extra good sex tomorrow night."

She remembered that he had kissed her gently on the forehead and held her close until she stopped crying. She swore that she wouldn't ever break another rule.

And thus far, she hadn't. Daddy was an easy master and there were only four rules. The only difficult one was number 4: The Slut can't come without Daddy's permission. Still their active sex life, even though her master had designed it and their whole relationship around what she had admitted were her desires, began to please her less as her fixation grew. She could not stop constantly daydreaming about being fucked by at least two guys at the same time. It had really begun bothering her after she introduced dildos into their lovemaking. Every time Daddy put one in her ass, squeezed her buttocks, and kissed her nipples while she grinded on his cock she lost all control. And when she gave him the double-headed dildo that he used to fuck both her holes while kissing her clit and she sucked his cock ... indescribable. Was it any wonder that she had come so hard that she passed out the first few times they had done that? But, she didn't pass out anymore, even though it was still the best sex she had ever had. She would not give it up.

The daydreams began in earnest after the first time they used the double. Now, in the mornings after Daddy had gone and she slipped back into a doze, she had begun having vivid real dreams of being fucked by multiple men that she didn't know. It seemed like a drug addiction. First you smoke pot, then you take pills, then you do coke, then heroin. Each drug more dangerous and powerful than the last. She thought she realized the danger of dwelling on this developing obsession, but she felt powerless. At last, she resolved to talk to her master. He was the smartest man she'd ever met and she loved and trusted him completely.

It was about two months after the punishment. Christmas had come and gone and the Spring semester was more than ½ done. Daddy was finishing his junior year but was still 2 full years away from graduating. Working a full-time job meant that, in order to keep his GPA as high as possible, he couldn't take more than 4 courses per semester. Neither of them minded because their lives were so good. Or, at least hers had been before developing this fixation. So, one night, after sex, they were eating the meal she had prepared. They always had sex first and then ate, which was probably very unhealthy and the reason why neither of them had lost any weight even though they must burn a lot of calories every evening.

She'd made one of his favorite dinners, pork chops, sautéed potatoes, and green beans. Like a lot of men, he rarely spoke much at meals and was always finished before her. He was polite about it, though, and never tried to hurry her by leaving the table. It was in these moments that she could talk to him at dinner.

He was one of those kinds of people, more typical in men than women, that, when he heard about a problem, he immediately began working on a fix. However, when she described the source and extent of her growing fascination with the idea of being gangbanged (ridiculous sounding but accurate word), all he could do was stare. "How long have you had these feelings?" he asked.

She responded, "Like I said, it began the morning after the night we first had anal sex."

"No, I mean when exactly did this become something more than just a fantasy; in your own words, an obsession? It sounds like this has developed into a need for you. Is it really that? Have you tried your best to fight it off? Is it affecting your enjoyment of our relationship?"

All very good questions, she admitted to herself. But how was she to answer?

"I haven't been able to get it out of my mind at all for the past month. I dream about it every morning now. Men that I've only seen once or twice. Nobody that I know. The dreams are very graphic. They've progressed to the point where I'm in a room filled with naked men, at least 5 or 6, sometimes it seems a lot more than that, and they're fucking me three at a time. And the ones who aren't actively fucking me are sucking my nipples, squeezing my ass, feeling my body. It isn't gentle. They treat me like a piece of meat; like I'm just a whore and they can do anything they want. They're rough, I'm helpless, and I love it. I come and come and come. And yes, I've tried hard to be completely satisfied with you and the dildos. But now, when we do that, I fantasize that it's a real gangbang. I've tried not to, but it doesn't work. I'm sorry, Daddy, but I don't know what else to do. Can you get a group together and gangbang me? Please?"

He looked very sad and said, "I'm sorry, but no. I can't function like that. I can't be in a room full of naked men participating in what for me is a very private thing. This is the same reason why we can't go fucking in quasi-public places. Some people find that sort of thing stimulating. For me, there is nothing more deflating. So, you think you must have this?"

"Yes, but I want it with you, Daddy. Can anything be done?"

"Let me think on it over-night and we'll talk tomorrow. Would you rather have this discussion than sex?"

"Oh no, Daddy. I always want sex. So long as you do, too, please let's have sex as usual."

"Ok then, tomorrow at dinner."

The next night, he couldn't maintain an erection. So as not to disappoint her, he licked her enthusiastically. After she came, he reached for the double but she said that she'd had enough to satisfy her. Knowing her, he doubted this but he let it pass. When they tried to eat, he could only pick at his food. That had never happened before and it worried her, but she said nothing. After a while, they both gave up trying eat. He sighed, again something he rarely did, and asked if she were ready for their planned discussion. She reached over and kissed him very lovingly and said yes.

"Well," he began, I see two physical dangers, one legal one, one emotional one, and one to our relationship."

"Go on, Daddy. You're the smartest man I know and you've always been right."

"Ok. First, I assume that this is something that you must have."

"Yes, Daddy. I'm sorry but I can't seem to help myself."

"Then the two physical dangers. One. Do I have to tell you how perilous it is to put yourself into a private setting alone with a group of strange men? While the danger of you being killed is remote, the chance of you being beaten and injured is acute. Agreed?"

"Yes, Daddy. But before we met, I'd been with a fair number on men, some of them for only a single night, and I've never felt in real physical danger. However low a man might be, very few actually intend to hurt a woman unless they're drunk or drugged up. I think I can avoid that."

"Ok. Then the other physical danger, and one a lot more probable, is that you'll get infected with a venereal disease. Have you thought about that?"

"Yes, Daddy, but I can go to a doctor and get checked afterwards. All the VD I know about can be cured and you and I can wait a few days before having sex, so, even if I get infected I can get cured and not infect you."

"I see. Well, then, the legal danger. I don't know about the law now, but fornication used to be illegal. We're guilty of that, of course, but even if those laws still exist, they're never enforced if the act occurs in your own residence. But you can't do this in our home. These men can never even know who you are, much less where you live, so this will have to be done in a motel. If these men get noisy and somebody calls the police, they might arrest all of you for fornication or even prostitution. While you might not get convicted, that will be a public affair and could ruin your future, not considering the extreme level of embarrassment you'd suffer. Have you considered that?"

"No, Daddy. But if I do it early enough in the evening and insist that the men not get too loud, do you really think that would happen?"

"Not necessarily, but it is still a danger. Do you want this enough to take the risk?"

"Yes, Daddy."

"Then there is the chance that this could damage you emotionally. Reality is seldom the same as expectation. What if, instead of thrills and satisfaction, you feel dirty and depressed afterwards. Do you want to chance that?"

"I don't see any other way to find out and I'm burning to do this. I can hardly think of anything else.

"Well, finally, what if you do enjoy this to point that you want to do it regularly? Can you ever go back to being satisfied with the way we've been? Or will you feel as if you have to move on away from me? This is what I'm worried about most."

"Daddy, nothing can replace you. I don't want to live without you in my life. If you will feel different about me, that would kill me. But if you will still love me, I can promise that I will still love you."