Sorodna Dusa

"I can feel Kitty, but I can't meld with her as we do, darling. Have we failed?"

"Not necessarily, my sweet. Project to her in the blind. See if you can show her what we feel for each other."

She sensed my concern about how much of what she should tell her daughter. "I will be discreet, my sir."

Colors brightened and textures sharpened as Katryn relived for Kitty an edited version of our first meeting and first mental contacts, followed by the feelings of unity we enjoyed, especially during sex. My contribution to the broadcast was the image of two puzzle pieces with elaborate cutouts and projections interlocking to form a seamless, perfect whole. When she had finished, we retreated from the pearl. I opened my eyes.

Kitty had let go of our hands and was sitting in the easy chair again. She looked at us with awe tinged with a bit of envy.

"That has to be the most unusual experience I have ever had," she whispered. Louder, she went on, "Mother, if you want this smart, handsome stud-muffin, you've got him.

"You know something, Mr. Fredericks? When the word gets out that you two are engaged, you're going to hear hearts breaking all across the school. Half the girls at Thayer dream about luring you into bed and letting you have your wicked way with them! So do some of the teachers, for that matter."

"So we have your approval, Kitty?" asked Katryn.

She came over and hugged us tight. "You do. You both do." She looked at me and said, "But I have a problem. I can't keep calling you 'Mr. Fredericks' when we're in private. And I can't call you Father; I have a father even though I don't see him often. What do you suggest? Mother, what do you think I should call him?"

"I would suggest 'sir,' or perhaps 'Major.' He used to be in the Army. That will do until after we're married," Katryn said.

"Even after we are married," I added. "I'm not trying to replace your father, Kitty. I'm not your sire. But there is a difference between being a father and being a dad. If you ever reach the point where you can call me Dad or Daddy, I'll know I've made it. Okay?"

"Okay." I was surprised to see tears in the eyes of my two girls.

Life seemed to move quickly after that. As Katryn had predicted, Kitty was delighted at the prospect of having a room she could make her own, and pushed us aggressively to speed up the remodeling. With two extra sets of hands working on weekends and over the Thanksgiving break, even with having to convert the room between Kitty's future bedroom and the existing second floor bath into a private bath for her and a linen closet for the household, we were able to have Christmas at my house. When she returned from a court-mandated visit with Vaughn and his replacement wife after New Year's, Katryn and Kitty moved in with me.

I was surprised at how easily the three of us meshed into a smooth-running family unit. From stories heard during my Army days of families trying to get it together when one parent with kids remarried after a divorce, whether the new partner had kids or not there was always a long period of adjustment before stability was achieved within the 'blended family.' Kitty accepted my role as her mother's partner and treated me with the same respect at home that she did at school. I continued tutoring my not-yet-stepdaughter as Katryn and I had planned before we became lovers, and was pleased with her progress in all areas. I assured my fiancée that I had no doubt Kitty could get into any university she wanted. I talked to Kitty about sending off applications for early action by Auburn, Cornell, William & Mary, George Washington University, and Brown. Any of them would be happy to land a girl with a 3.68 GPA who was also a varsity gymnast.

The two of them were planning our wedding. Like all prudent grooms, I stayed out of the way and kept my mouth shut except when asked for an opinion. Katryn picked the date, the church, the reception hall and the menu. Her famous designer friend had persuaded her to return to the runway for a couple of shows modeling bridal, bridesmaids and mother-of-the-bride gowns in exchange for creating her wedding gown and those of the bridesmaids. The only thing I insisted on was because the groom, best man and groomsmen would all be in Army Blue uniform with medals, the bridesmaids' dresses should be of a complementary color.

When we'd been living together for about four months, Kitty brought up a subject at the dinner table.

"Major, can I ask you if you'd do something for me?"

"As long as it's not illegal or ethically questionable," I riposted, which drew a chuckle from Katryn and a smile from Kitty. "What do you have in mind?"

'I want to trade cars with you, even up." I set down my fork and studied her.

"You want to swap that gorgeous Porsche of yours for my old Taurus station wagon? Why?"

"I'll be going off to college next year. I'll need to be able to pack all my stuff and haul it there. More to the point, a Porsche makes a statement when driven by a girl that is so not how I want people to see me. Your Taurus is practical. It isn't exactly the statement I want to make, but it's a sight closer to me than an expensive foreign convertible is.

"Will you swap cars with me, sir? Please?"

I looked at Katryn, to seek her opinion. Her expression said to me, "Whatever you choose to do, Master." I looked back at Kitty.

"If that's what you want to do, Kitty, we'll sign you out of school an hour early tomorrow afternoon. We'll go to my insurance agent and Motor Vehicles, change the insurance and registration, and exchange keys. You'll walk out of there the owner of my Taurus, and I'll have your Boxster. Okay?"

She got up, came around the table and gave me a hug. "Thank you, Daddy." I didn't say anything; the lump in my throat was too big. I could see tears of joy in Katryn's eyes as well. From then on, I was always 'Daddy' to Kitty when we were in private.

Before I knew it, our wedding day was upon us. The wedding rehearsal had not gone smoothly. Katryn had thrown a tantrum on walking into the church to discover a white carpet down the center aisle instead of the red she had ordered, pink and white ribbons adorning the pews instead of the royal blue and gold she had selected, and pink silk flower roping on the rails in front of the altar. She had screamed at the wedding planner she had retained to assist her, calling her an incompetent cow and worse. I had to take her outside to calm her down, to the surprise of Kitty who had just driven up. Leaving my bride in the hands of her daughter and her bridesmaids, I returned to speak to the wedding planner and the minister.

The explanation was simple. There were two weddings scheduled for the morrow, one in the morning and ours at 4 PM. There was plenty of time between to take down the roping and the ribbons, replace the white runner with the red one, and put up her blue and gold ribbons along the aisle. I reported the facts back to Katryn, who had the good grace to look abashed. As I led her into the church to apologize to the wedding planner I murmured to her, "Your bridezilla behavior has earned you a punishment when we get home, you ill-mannered slut." She looked into my eyes and shivered deliciously.

After the rehearsal dinner, Katryn went into the bath for a quick shower. We had the house to ourselves; Kitty had asked permission to cut out of the dinner early to see a movie, squired by Duke Duquesne, my best man's eldest, my godson, and a junior at West Point. She seemed quite taken with him. My blues had come back from the dry cleaners and I was pinning insignia and my medals onto the blouse hanging on the closet door when she came out of the bathroom. I finished by placing my Combat Infantry Badge with the two stars signifying the third award above the medals.

"What are they all for, my darling sir?" she asked. I smiled and pointed to them.

"This is the Silver Star, third-highest medal for valor. Next to it is the Legion of Merit, for excellent service not involving combat. Beside it is the Bronze Star with a V for Valor meaning it's a combat decoration, and two stars indicating the second and third awards. The one with the purple ribbon and George Washington's bust is the Purple Heart, awarded for being wounded in action."

"And the little leaves on it?"

"Oak Leaf Clusters, representing repeat awards. We sometimes call the Purple Heart the 'I Forgot to Duck' Medal."

"It looks like you forgot to duck a lot, my sir. And the rest?"

I waved them off. "Awards from foreign governments, commendation medals of various sorts, and I-Wuz-There medals for overseas service that everyone gets just for being there. Pretty, but of no consequence. The ones that matter are the ones that aren't round. If you serve in a combat branch long enough, you can't help but get a medal or two."

She reached out and gently fingered the Silver Star. "I'm not completely ignorant of American medals. This is one they don't pin on just anybody. You have to do something outstanding to earn it. It seems my master is not only a good master to his submissive, but a brave man as well. A brave man who deserves to be rewarded."

"And I will have my reward from you, but not until you have been punished for that bratty display earlier. Off with your clothes, slave."

Her robe fell to the floor. She was naked beneath it. I led her to the two hooks by the window. Two chains hung from them.

"Grab those chains and do not let go," I ordered. She took hold of the chains and I hoodwinked her with a sleep mask.

"Spread your legs, slut."

Katryn took on the shape of an inverted Y. I walked to the drawer that held the toys I used on her and removed some of them. Walking back to her, I whispered into her ear, "You are a lady, or at least you are supposed to be. I expect you to behave that way, not like a petulant, prima donna-type bitch. You hang there and take your punishment as a proper submissive should."

"Yes, Master," she breathed, quivering with fear and anticipation.

I reached down to her pussy and began to finger her. She moaned deep in her throat and pressed herself against my hand. My thumb began to stroke her love button, lightly at first and then more firmly. It wasn't long before her quim began to ooze its natural lubricant, hot and wet on my fingers. She thrust her pelvis forward, trying to pull my hand deeper into her. I responded by pulling my fingers out of her and replacing them with the big butt plug I'd taken out of the drawer. Katryn gasped in surprise as she felt my curved fingers replaced by the unyielding plastic that moved in and out of her slit. When I had it well lubricated, I forced it into her rectum, ignoring her cry of pain as I shoved it home.

I resumed fingering my submissive, replacing the pain in her butt with the pleasurable sensations emanating from her cooze. At the same time I began twisting her nipples, pulling on them in a way I knew she loved while I whispered in her ear.

"Slaves are not allowed to be temperamental. You exist to please your master, to show your pride in his ownership. When you misbehave like a spoiled child, you will be treated like a spoiled child. You embarrassed me, you embarrassed Kitty and you embarrassed yourself today, Katryn. If you were a little girl, what would your father have done to you for behaving as you did?"

"He'd have spanked me," she mumbled through the lust rising from her pussy. "He'd have spanked me. Maybe even switched me and welted my bottom -- "

WHACK! My hand left an imprint in red on her buttocks and she yelped.

"Your what, slave?"

"My ass!" she hastily amended, feeling the burn on her butt cheek. "He'd have used a birch switch on my ass!"

"We don't have any of those handy, but I'll make do."

She cried out as the boiled leather paddle with holes drilled in it smacked into her ass, leaving a waffle-like imprint on her skin. Her nipples were hard nubs jutting out from her breasts and I saw glistening moisture on her inner thighs, sure signs of my slave's arousal. I listened to her whimper between yelps as I spanked her, moaning with pain and need. I could tell she was almost there.

"Please, Master, please!" she begged. "Please! I'll be good! I need to cum! Please make me cum for you! Please!"

I shifted the paddle to my left hand, stepped beside her and took aim with my right.

"AIEEEE!" she shrieked, her thighs pressing together in reaction to my hitting her from behind with the leather and from the front with the knotted silk flogger. She climaxed immediately, her sex-syrup dripping onto the floor. She came again when I brought the flogger down onto her boobs, the little knots lashing her nipples and sending bursts of sensation through her. I stepped closer as she hung from the chains gasping with the force of her release and inserted a curved plexiglass penis into her twat.

"Hang onto that and don't drop it," I ordered. "Your punishment isn't over yet. If you drop it, I'll punish you further! Now, count!"

"Yes, Master," she gasped.

Using the silk flogger, I gave my slut three dozen lashes, slowly, with about five seconds between strokes. I struck her on the buttocks, the upper thighs, on her mound, on her breasts, on her belly. I varied the impact from almost a caress to a whistling strike that made her scream out the number. When I was done, my Katryn was a quivering submissive hanging limply from the chains, her eyes rolled back, somewhere deep inside her head. But she had not dropped the dildo, and I was proud of her. Prying her hands from the chains, I guided her to the bed and positioned her, arms stretched in front of her, her breasts flattened by her own weight, her butt elevated by the pillow under her belly and her legs spread wide. I pulled the butt plug out of her and reached under to gather her juices on my fingers to anoint my cockhead. Finally, I pushed past her anal ring and took her in the ass.

Her being was like a glowing yellow sun with pulsing red veins running through it in a field of velvet black. As I entered her, the sun that was she flared and enveloped me with its heat and need while I drove deep into the heart of her. I could hear and feel her moaning as I pleasured her and myself. She shoved her buttocks hard against me, pulling me as far into her as she could. We moved as one, together in our pursuit of pleasure.

"Use me, Master! Treat me like the cunt I am! Your slave deserves this! Fuck my ass and remind me who is the master! Oh, you feel so good in there! Please don't stop humiliating me! Fuck my ass, Master! I am yours to use, your whore, your courtesan, your sex toy! I love it! Even your taking my asshole like a street woman makes me want to cum for you! Please, Master, let me cum! Let me cum for you so you know how much I please you, my love, my Dom, my lelki tars. Please! Let me cum on your cock!"

I loved Katryn, but never more than when she begged me to prove my love by dominating and using her as the means to achieve mutual ecstasy. With every thrust our commingled corona flared red and purple as I relentlessly drove her toward climax, my swollen, rock-hard cock violating her. I could feel the dildo in her pussy, separated from the male flesh pillaging her ass by only a thin membrane. I reached under her and began to manipulate it, a reciprocating action that alternated anal with vaginal thrusts. She gasped as the dual stimulation forced her over the edge.

"A-a-a-a-a-h-h-h! Oh, Master!"

Her sun went nova, a rainbow burst of colors that expanded and swirled in a rush of hot gas. She went limp under me, surrendering to the burning satisfaction of her climax, wallowing in the sensation. I shifted from alternately filling her to shoving penis and dildo into her at the same time, so she went from almost empty to completely full with no half and half about it.

"Ohmigod! Ohmigod! It's too much! I can't take this, Master! You're too big! Please! Don't! Stop! Please... don't... stop. Please don't... stop. Please, don't stop! Please don't stop! Please don't stop, Master! Fuck me! Fuck my cunt! Fuck my ass! FUCK ME!"

As she got used to the new rhythm, she arched against me, trying to impale herself on the hard male flesh in her guts and the unyielding plastic in her quim at the same time. The fact this required her to move in two directions as once made her quest impossible, but it didn't stop her trying. I ravaged her body on that bed, forcing her into climax after climax until she lost all control of herself. Sounds replaced words as she lost herself in the pleasure. My own control was slipping, but I was determined to force one massive orgasm out of her before I let go myself.

"Uh! Uh! Uh! Fuck! Aaah! Oh yes! Cock! Aaah! Cock! Uh huh! Uh huh! Oh please! Oh please! Uh! Uh! Uh! Deep! Yes! Yes! Oh! Oh! Oh! Oh please -- uh huh -- uh huh -- uh huh -- yes -- yes -- oh yes -- oh yes -- a-a-a-h -- a-a-a-h -- a-a-a-h -- OH Y-E-E-A-A-A-H-H-H-H!!"

She convulsed under me as I blew my load into her ass, hot, sticky cum blasting out of my prick to splash deep inside her bowels, coating them with the proof of her skill as a lover. She squirted around the fake cock in her box, cumming violently and wetly on it as the proof of her climax soaked the bed beneath her. Our minds fused in an eternal instant of color and textures as we came together as one, feeling the explosive compaction of a hydrogen bomb in the micro-instant before the reaction consumes the released energy and send its flying apart again. It's truly impossible to describe; it can only be experienced.

When at last we came back to the world, we were on our knees beside the bed, utterly spent. I pulled the dildo out of her before withdrawing my shrinking cock from her ass. Not bothering with the bed, I reached up and pulled the blankets off to cover us as my willing submissive snuggled into me and we fell asleep on the floor. The smile on her face told me of her satiation and it was enough.

The next day I was picked up by a limousine full of groomsmen and a convoy of my active duty and retired Army buddies in their dress blues just after noon, who lined the front walk to the street singing to the tune of 'The Volga Boatmen,' "You'll be sor-ry, you'll be sor-ry; Don't think so now, but you will be!" and similar traditional airs that urge the groom to run while there's still time. As we pulled away, a second limo filled with the bridesmaids pulled up to the house to help Katryn ready herself for the big day.

That their work was worth it became apparent the instant the organ began to play "The Wedding March." She processed up the aisle alone in an ice blue wedding gown with a slight train, so overlaid with crystal bead embroidery that she looked like she'd stepped out of a Byzantine mosaic, with the beads flashing refracted color in the light coming in the windows. She was a vision. I imagined it was only her catwalk training that guided her through the flashing of camera strobes of the guests, fashion industry trade photogs and the society page photographers to stand next to her bridesmaids in Jungle Green off-the shoulder gowns that complemented the Special Forces branch colors on the epaulets of my groomsmen. That was about as much as either of us remembered of the ceremony.

At the reception afterwards, my best man Colonel Greg Dusquesne, his wife Barbara, their son Cadet Duke Dusquesne in his full dress grey uniform, Kitty, Katryn and I were standing in a corner of the hall talking about the immediate future.

"The paper only said that honeymoon plans had not yet been finalized," said Barbara, a teasing note in her voice. She and Greg had shepherded me through the difficult transition from enlisted to officer status that accompanied my battlefield promotion in Iraq and were among my favorite people in the world. I owed them a lot and as far as I was concerned, they were family. "Usually that means the couple just want to be let alone. But what do you really have in mind?"