0 comments/ 200885 views/ 12 favorites Under Her By: HungryGuy Foreword: This story is a sequel to CO-ED TANDEM BEER PISSING CONTEST. ### Tameka leaned forward at her word processor, trying to overcome the writer's block which had hit her earlier in the day. She had been sitting there for nearly eight hours straight without once moving away from her desk. She leaned over and poured her umpteenth cup of coffee from her Coffee Glutton automatic coffee maker, took a sip, then began to idly tap her fingernail on the desk. She took a sip of coffee when a snork came from under her crotch, momentarily breaking her concentration. She looked down at his pasty white chin and neck between her coal black thighs. She rocked back, lifting her pussy up off from Jack's mouth, to let him take a breath, then rocked forward again pressing her cunt tightly on his mouth. His nose was inserted slightly up her asshole, and she occasionally pinched his nostrils with her sphincter muscle, not that it made any difference in his ability to breathe through his nose. So far, she had written 2000 words, half of her column. She started a new paragraph and had just written two more sentences when she sighed and bore down on Jack's face, forcing his jaw open with her crotch, and emptied her bladder into his mouth once again. Writing Bondage in the City for the City Screamer was an easy job, but she tended to procrastinate, putting off writing the column until the weekend. However, this weekend was different. Last night, she had gone to Edge Play to be a spectator at one of the club's infamous weekly co-ed tandem beer pissing contests. In such a contest, the bottom lies on his back with a tube over his cock and dangling into a small pitcher, and where the top sits on his face and chugs beer as she pees into his mouth. She was in the audience when one of the contest judges announced that there was a single guy who needed a top and asked for a volunteer from the audience. She was hesitant at first, but he was cute and she thought, "What the hell!" and raised her hand to volunteer. They even came in second place! After the contest, she had invited him to come home with her to be her toilet slave. Lucky for him, she was so drunk when they got to her place that she shackled him to the sofa and let him sleep in relative comfort until morning, and she went straight to bed. Of course, Tameka put Jack under her ass as soon as she got up and started writing her column. It was great to be able to sit on his face at her computer and drink cup after cup of coffee without having to get up to go to the toilet. Though, she imagined, his adult diaper must be soaked by now! She had only ordered Jack to change his diaper once so far since she started work on the column this morning. She also felt the urge to take a dump coming on, and she needed to let a fart out. She rocked back to let him exhale, but immediately pressed her pussy onto his mouth before he could inhale again. She relaxed her sphincter muscle and let the gas slowly blow out her ass as he slowly inhaled. "I suppose it's time for a break," she muttered to herself after he had inhaled her fart. She stood, stretching her arms over her head, and then swung her leg over Jack to stand along side him. She pulled the wheeled, padded workout bench, on which Jack was bound, out from under her desk, and unbelted his wrists and ankles. "Go change your diaper, slave. And be quick about it! I need you back in service so I can take a dump." "A dump, Mistress?" Jack asked. "Yes, slave. A dump. A shit. I hope you're hungry." "You're joking, right, Mistress?" Losing her patience with her inexperienced newbie slave, she shackled his wrists and ankles again and then turned her back to his head and sat back down. His diaper can wait. She adjusted herself, positioning her asshole over his mouth. She wiggled once more as his nose slid into the opening of her pussy. She felt the sensation building in her bowels of having to shit -- that woozy feeling in her intestines -- that pressure pushing at her asshole from inside. She inhaled, relaxed her sphincter, and pressed. She grimaced as she felt that pleasant sensation of a lump of shit sliding slowly out her anus. A moment later, she let another lump ooze out her asshole into her slave's mouth. Tameka has had numerous toilet slaves at her service, and knew the horror that this one was experiencing in having a woman shit directly into his mouth for the first time. The full weight of her body pressed her asshole to his lips with such force that there was no way he could spit any out. His nose up her pussy meant that he would have to hold his breath until she finished her shit. Tameka grunted and slowly pushed another log out her ass. Then one more. She remained seated for a few seconds more until she was sure that she was done. She stood as Jack let out an explosive breath, brown liquid dribbling out the corners of his mouth and down his cheeks. "Slave!" Tameka shouted. "Swallow my shit and lick up the drips going down your cheeks before they stain my bench!" Jack sat up a little and started chewing. He swallowed once, twice, and three times before he stuck his tongue out and licked the corners of his mouth. "I feel sick, Mistress," Jack moaned. "Get used to it, slave. Lie back down." Jack lied back down on the bench and Tameka sat back down with her ass over his mouth. "Now lick me clean, slave." Jack licked the drippy shit from around her asshole. "There. That wasn't so bad, was it?" she asked. "No, mistress." "Good. Now that you've had your lunch, it's time for mine." Tameka unshackled Jack again commanding, "While I have dinner, go change your diaper, and then return to your place." Jack went into the bathroom as she went into the kitchen to nuke a microwave dinner. After the dinner was hot, she ate it at her dining table for the next twenty minutes or so. Upon finishing dinner, she returned to her desk where Jack was dutifully waiting for her. She shackled him again, rolled him back under her desk, and took her seat on his face. About a half-hour later, the phone rang. Tameka reached next to her PC and answered it, "Hello." ... "Hi Edris! What's happenin' girl?" ... "Really? Congratulations! They pay pro rates?" ... "Twenty five cents a word! Whooeee! You's in the big time now girl!" ... "Yeah?" ... "Sure!" ... "Okay, the Greenwich Sistah Critique Group is meeting Wednesday night at Charity's place. Got it! See you there." ... "Bye now!" Tameka resumed working on her column, diligently working into the wee hours of the night. At one slow moment during the night, she poked her finger into her navel and started digging the crud out of it. She rolled it between two fingers as she dug a little more, adding that to the blob. She continued until she nearly got her navel raw from digging into it and got all the crud that she could get out. She rocked back and dropped the blob of navel crud into Jack's mouth and then rocked forward again sealing his mouth with her cunt. She continued writing until she wrapped up her column around two in the morning. Then she e-mailed the manuscript to her editor so that he would have it first thing Monday morning. Finally, she stood and stretched again and told Jack to change his diaper and wait in her bedroom. Tameka went to her bedroom closet and changed into her nightgown. Jack walked in a few moments later. "Slave, before I go to bed, I need to give you a lesson." "Yes, Mistress," he answered. She pointed to a large doggy mat on the floor and said, "You will sleep on that tonight. But first I want you to come here over by my bed and kneel backwards onto your hands facing the ceiling." He did so. Then she straddled his head facing the top of his head and squatted slightly, pressing her pussy against his mouth. A moment later, she emptied her bladder into his mouth once again. "Now clean me," she commanded. he licked her pussy clean. She climbed off him and said next, "You will take that position immediately whenever I say 'toilet' during the night." "Yes, Mistress." "Then after you cleaned me, you can go back to your bed." "Yes, Mistress." "Now, get in your doggy bed, slave -- until I need you." "Yes, Mistress." He curled up in the dog bed to sleep. Tameka got in her bed and closed the light, saying, "Good night, slave." "Good night, Mistress," he answered. Tameka did use Jack once or twice during the night. With the command, 'toilet,' he dutifully positioned himself by her bedside in the moonlight and she squatted over his sleepy face to empty her bladder into his mouth. He cleaned her as instructed and she returned to bed and back to sleep. Tameka slept late the following morning. Around ten or so, she called out to Jack when she woke, "Good morning, slave." "Good morning, Mistress." "You were very good yesterday and last night." "Thank you, Mistress." "Today, your service to me will be more pleasant for you. I want you to go and take a shower. I've laid out a towel, washcloth, a fresh bar of soap, toothpaste, toothbrush, and mouthwash in the bathroom for you. Take your time. Enjoy your shower." "Yes, Mistress. Thank you. You're very kind." "Return to me here when you're done with your shower." "Yes, Mistress." Tameka rolled over and went back to sleep while Jack showered. About a half-hour later -- Tameka didn't watch the minutes -- Jack returned to her side. "You look nice and clean, slave. Very good." She stepped out of bed and pulled the blankets up, smoothing them out. Then she lied back down on the bed on her back. "Slave, give me a tongue bath. I want you to do every spot of flesh that is accessible to your tongue. I'll roll over when it's time for you to do my back." Jack started with her forehead, working his way around her face. When Jack got to her mouth, she puckered her lips and drew his tongue into her mouth, bringing their lips together. Tameka held the kiss for several seconds as their tongues caressed each others'. Finally, she released his tongue and allowed him to resume his task. She nearly giggled when he got to her nose and inserted his rolled-up tongue up each of her nostrils. This boy's thorough she thought to herself. He worked his way down each of her arms, first one then the other. He dallied on each finger, giving each finger a thorough sucking. Then he returned to her torso, covering the expanse of skin that covered her chest and abdomen. It delighted her when he lingered a little longer than necessary on each of her nipples. He even dug into her navel with his tongue to get any crud that she may have missed the previous night. Of course, he eventually reached her crotch. He sucked on her pubic hair, swirling the hairs with his tongue before progressing to her most intimate spot. She spread her legs to allow him to fit his head in and he started licking the skin around the outside of her pussy. "Don't miss any flesh that you can get to with your tongue," she reminded him. On that cue, he moved directly into her pussy and started licking it all around. "Make me come, slave." Jack attacked her pussy in earnest at that order. He licked the perimeter inside her pussy up and around above her clit and back down again, then up the center past her hole and over her clit, then back down the center again. Then up around the perimeter. Then up and down the center. His teasing was driving Tameka nuts, but she loved it. For a white boy, he sure knew how to work a pussy with his tongue! And then -- and then he started sucking on her clit -- hard! In and out and in and out he sucked it. Tameka had never come so quickly in her life! Nor so powerfully! She was rocking and shaking and quivering like mad. And he was still sucking her clit like a lollypop as she came. After coming for nearly ten minutes straight, she didn't want him to stop, but it was starting to hurt. So she commanded him to resume his task. He continued down one leg to her foot, then down the other leg to the other foot. He was even thorough with her toes, sucking each toe thoroughly, then working his tongue into the spaces between toes. Having completed every possible spot that he could reach with her lying supine on her back, she rolled over prone onto her chest. He started from the top again, working his tongue into her scalp between her braided hair. He progressed down the back of her neck, down her spine and surrounding flesh. He licked one ass-cheek clean, then the other. Then he went down the middle, thoroughly licking her ass crack lower and lower. She considered telling him to skip her asshole, not just for his sake, but she wasn't sure if she would enjoy having him stick his tongue deep up her asshole. Yet after giving it some thought, she knew that she couldn't let him off that part of the task -- it was his duty as a slave to do every spot on her body, even if she didn't really enjoy it. But he surprised her -- he didn't just jab his tongue painfully up her rectum. He licked it, and around it, and probed gently into it, taking his time with it, but without forcing his tongue in too deep. The way he was doing it was actually pleasurable. She had never really enjoyed being rimmed before. He finally got past her as and started his way down the back of her legs, first one, then the other. Finally, he did the soles of her feet, and he was done. "Good job, slave! Excellent!" "Thank you, Mistress." "Come into the kitchen with me. As a reward for your talented tongue, I'm going to let you have brunch with me." "That's very kind of you, Mistress." "How do grits and hash browns sound?" "I've never had grits, but I'm sure they're good." "Then follow me." Tameka and Jack went into the kitchen, and Tameka started preparing the meal. I didn't take long and she set two plates on the table in her dining nook. "Dig in!" she said. They ate and talked the rest of the afternoon. Tameka asked him how he got into the scene, and told him how she loved being a domme. "Don't tell anyone I said this," she said, "but I think it's totally outrageous for a black woman to have a white guy for a slave! Even if it's just for a weekend." Jack said, "That'll be our secret, Mistress," and they both laughed. After a time, Tameka looked at her watch and said, "Lord! Look at the time! I gots to get you back to Edge Play before they send out the posse!" "But you didn't buy me in a slave auction, Mistress. You just invited me home after the contest. So I don't think you got to get me back to the club. But I would appreciate a ride back to Penn Station from here." "Sure! No problem. But first, follow me," she said with a sly grin. She walked to the bedroom with Jack following her. She lied on the bed and looked up at jack, licking her lips. "Do you want another tongue bath, Mistress." "I want you to fuck me." "Mistress?" Jack looked astonished. "Mount me and fuck me, slave. Now!" Jack climbed on Tameka's supine body, placing his legs between hers. He lowered his head down and kissed her. She eagerly took his kiss and groped inside each others' mouths with their tongues for several minutes. Tameka knew how wet she was, and she could feel his hard-on poking her pussy, so she reached up and pulled his ass down, as if giving him the final go-ahead. She felt him poking, trying to get it into the hole, and then he slid into her. She had a talent of her own -- she squeezed his cock with her pussy muscles so tight that he let out a "yelp" of pleasure. She continued milking his cock with her pussy and it didn't take long for him to explode into her. She was a little disappointed that he came so fast, but he was such an obedient and talented slave -- letting her sit on his face non-stop all day yesterday while drinking a near constant flow of piss and shit from her and then serving as her bedpan last night -- that he deserved his reward. And it wasn't like she wasn't enjoying it either, of course. She would have done this with him if he wasn't cute and didn't turn her on. Jack had spent himself and Tameka let him lie on top of her while she stroked his back with one hand and ran the other through his hair. That's one thing she'll give white guys, she thought, their hair is always so soft and fluffy, and feels so good to run her fingers through. They nearly fell asleep in their embrace with Jack on top of her when she looked over at her clock on the nightstand by her bed. "Oh crap, look at the time!" Tameka said. "Huh?" Jack answered sleepily. "C'mon, slave. It's time for you to go. I'll give you a ride to the train like I promised." Tameka and Jack both got dressed and they took the elevator down to the parking garage under her apartment building. She drove out onto the streets of Brooklyn, down to the Battery Tunnel, up into Manhattan, past the ruins of Ground Zero, and up to 34th street to Penn Station. She stopped in the underpass between the Penn Station and Madison Square Garden. Just before Jack exited the car, Tameka said, "You'll be my slave again, Jack, right?" "Sure, Mistress." "Hey, now that it's over, I'm Tameka, er, Tammy. And only special friends get to call me that." "Yeah, I definitely want to be your slave again, Tammy!" "Gimme a kiss before you go," she said. Jack and Tameka kissed once again, their tongues wrestling briefly before they parted ways. - END - Under Her Absolute Control I live in the north of the country and often have to visit London on business. I invariably arrange to stay overnight and there is a particular Domme I usually visit. The evening before I was due to see her, she emailed, cancelling our appointment due to a family illness. It was too late to arrange a session with another Domme so more in hope than expectation I put an advert on the casual encounters section of Craigslist. It read, 'Submissive businessman in London on Wednesday . Would any dominant Lady be interested in meeting for an evening of fun?' Needless to say, there were no replies and I forgot about the advert. It was over a week later when I received the following email. 'Sorry I missed your advert last week, I was away on holiday. If you intend to visit London again, why not contact me?' It was signed, Abi. I wrote back saying that I was often in London and asked her what she was looking for. We corresponded over the next few weeks and later I realised just how much information I had given her about myself whilst receiving practically none from her in return. It was only much later that she told me that she had paid a private detective to obtain as much information about me as he could. By this stage, however, she had me hooked and we arranged to meet. I was staying in a hotel and we arranged to meet in the lobby. A public place would protect us both, at least initially. She told me to be there from seven onwards. It got to eight forty five and I was becoming resigned to the fact that I had been taken for a ride when my mobile rang. 'Well, you don't look dangerous but I want a better look at you. What's your room number?' '304' I replied. 'That's '304, Ma'am'. Don't forget again. Go to your room now and await instructions.' The line went dead before I could say anything. This was not the plan we had agreed on but I was not going to let this opportunity escape me. I walked to the lift glancing round the lobby to see if I could spot her but could not see any likely candidate. At least I now knew she was a 'she' and not, as had gone through my mind, some bloke having a wind up. I had been in the room a matter of seconds when my phone rang again. Without preamble she began 'Keep quiet and listen. If you want to carry on with this, do exactly as I tell you. Any deviation and I will walk away. 'I will come to your room in exactly two minutes. Leave the door slightly ajar. I want you on all fours facing away from the door with your head to the ground. Do not turn round or attempt to look at me. Oh, and be naked as the day you were born.' I had an instant decision to make. I was making myself completely vulnerable to a total stranger. Later I realised how clever she had been, keeping me under constant pressure by having to make immediate decisions. If I had had time to think I am sure I would have acted differently but I let my dick rule my head and began to strip. It would turn out to be the costliest decision I have ever made. I opened the door slightly and got myself into position. I heard footsteps coming up the carpeted corridor and heard the door swing open. There was a lengthy pause and then the clinking of metal followed by a thud as something landed on the floor next to my head. 'Keep your eyes shut. Pick up the handcuffs and lock one onto your left wrist. Then put your hands behind you and lock the other cuff on your other wrist. You have ten seconds or I will walk away.' I must have been mad. How I have regretted those next ten seconds ever since. I actually did as she ordered and cuffed my wrists behind me. I heard the door shut and then she was checking the cuffs, tightening them. 'Lift your head. Keep your eyes shut.' She tied a piece of dark cloth around my head, blindfolding me. She guided me to a chair and helped me to sit down. I could feel that she was wearing leather gloves. She secured me to the chair very quickly and very effectively. She had me drape my arms over the back of the chair. She tied a rope to the chain on the cuffs, passed it under the seat of the chair and tied it off around my neck. She pulled my legs apart and tied them to the outsides of the legs of the chair so that I was completely exposed to her. By this time I was in a cold sweat. What had I done? I started to speak but immediately received a very hard slap across my face. 'I told you to keep quiet,' she snarled. I felt her start to push something into my mouth and resisted. She hit me again. 'Open your mouth, or you'll be very sorry.' Her gloved hand gripped my ball sac. I opened my mouth and she stuffed some material in. 'Don't spit it out or I'll tie it in place so tight that you will wish I hadn't.' she continued with my bondage. Once she had me secure I could hear her moving around and quickly realised she was searching the room. I thanked my lucky stars that I had locked my wallet away in the room safe. By now I was really frightened and already regretting the fact that I had let my dick rule me. I felt her behind me. 'I am going to remove your gag. Do not attempt to shout for help because if you do I will make you very sorry.' She pulled the gag out but immediately clamped her gloved hand over my mouth. 'Where is your wallet?' she asked. She lifted her hand and immediately I began to yell as loudly as I could. Never mind the humiliating predicament I was in, I was really scared by now. She stifled my cries almost immediately by clamping her hand back over my mouth. I tried to bite her without success. She clamped my head and pinched my nose closed. Now I was in real trouble. I twisted and bucked as best I could but she had me tight. I could not escape her grip and I began to get light headed through lack of air. My last thought was that the bitch was going to kill me. Everything went black. I came to gasping for air but only through my nose. The gag was back in place and now she had tied it in place, viciously tightly. As I became more aware of what was going on, I could hear her in the bathroom, running water. 'Back with me, I see. I warned you that you would be sorry if you tried to call out. You need to realise that I mean what I say. I am going to be in your life for a long time to come and we need to establish two basic rules from the outset. You do as I tell you and I mean what I say. I have all night to get these rules over to you.' She was behind me again and she tied a piece of cloth loosely over the lower part of my face, covering my nose and mouth. She then tipped the chair backwards and lowered it to the floor so that I was resting on my trapped arms. I felt her stand above me and she gripped my head between her feet. Suddenly I began to experience a drowning sensation as she tipped water from a glass onto the cloth. I spluttered through my nose as I gasped for air. I could not move away because of the way she had me restrained, nor could I move my head to avoid the water. The sensation was horrible. She kept it up for what seemed like hours but as she told me later was actually half an hour. Up until then, it was the worst half hour of my life and I would have begged her to stop and gladly told her where my wallet was if only she would stop the infernal torture. She was relentless, reminding me on several occasions of her two basic rules. I tried nodding my agreement but it had no effect, she just carried on. At last it was over. She took the cloth away and left me to recover for a few minutes. I now began to feel the pain in my arms which were taking my body weight and felt considerable relief as she righted the chair. Standing behind me, she removed the blindfold. I could hear her doing something with what sounded like soft material and zips and after a few seconds she stepped in front of me. She was a bizarre and frightening sight. She was medium height, around five feet six. She was wearing a business suit, dark blue pinstriped jacket and trousers and a black roll necked jumper. She wore black leather gloves on her hands and high heeled boots on her feet, which raised her to around five nine. The scary part was the black leather hood she wore over her head. The mouthpiece was zipped closed. Two short plastic tubes emerged from the nose openings. The eye pieces were unzipped but she was wearing a pair of goggles over the hood so that it was not only her eyes that were covered, but the whole of her skin. I could make out her general shape which even in my sorry state was very pleasing and I could also see a lot of hair outlined under the hood. Overall, she presented a terrifying figure. She squatted down in front of me and began to fix a simple woodworkers C clamp to my left testicle. She tightened it until she could not pull it off and added another turn. I thought I was going to die from the pain. She fixed another clamp to my right testicle and tightened that one in the same way. She sat down on the bed facing me. 'Now, I asked you before where your wallet was. Remember?' Her voice was muffled by the hood. I nodded through the pain. 'Well, I am going to ask you again in fifteen minutes and perhaps this time you will see some sense. Remember that you could have avoided this if you had answered me when I first asked.' At that moment I would have told her anything she wanted to know but she was not about to give me the opportunity. I could not stand fifteen minutes of this blinding white agony but knew I had no choice. I pleaded with my eyes but all I got in return was an implacable black hood. I was sweating profusely. This was a different form of torture but at that moment was infinitely worse that the drowning. She watched me squirming, completely silent and unmoving. At last she stood up and loosened both the clamps although they remained in place. She gave me a couple of minutes, seeming to know that it would take that amount of time for the agony to recede and for me to recover. 'I presume there will be no more nonsense,' she said as she removed the gag. 'Now I will ask once again, where is your wallet?' 'In the safe, inside the wardrobe,' I gasped. She struck me very hard across the face. 'Don't you ever learn?' she snarled. 'I told you to address me as "Ma'am" ' 'Sorry, Ma'am, I forget' Another hard slap, 'Don't forget again or I will tighten those clamps.' She opened the wardrobe and found the safe' What is the combination?' she asked. '17864, Ma'am,' I replied. Moments later she was sitting on the bed with my wallet. She went through the contents and laid them out on the bed. She produced a digital camera and took pictures of various items. She now had details of my home address and where I worked. She picked up my cashpoint card. 'PIN number and what is your daily limit?' she asked. 'And for your own sake don't try to be clever.' I gave her the PIN and told her the daily limit was £500. She put my wallet into her handbag. She stepped behind me again and told me to open my mouth. Just as she began to push the gag in I remembered that I had already taken £100 cash from the ATM that day and thought I had better tell her, which I managed to do. Her response was 'Good, you are learning already. If you want to avoid pain you will need to keep that up.' With that she gagged me tightly and reapplied the blindfold. I could hear her unzipping the hood and taking it off and minutes later she left the room, telling me she would be back soon. It took me only a minute or so to realise that there was no way in which I could get free. I was left to reflect on just what I had got myself into and it did not look good. I had no idea of what she might be planning and was very frightened. If I had had any inkling of what was to come I would have been absolutely terrified. She returned within a fairly short time and again I heard her putting the hood back on. Soon I heard the noise of a modem dialling the network. 'I am online to your bank. I need your security number.' She unfastened the gag and I told her immediately. 'I am going to leave the gag out. You know what will happen if you try to attract attention. Those clamps are still on your balls and if I have to tighten them again I will pop them.' I believed her and kept very quiet. She worked on the computer for a short time and then made a call on her mobile. She spoke quietly and I could not make out much of the conversation but I did hear her give the room number. She gagged me and blindfolded me once again and minutes later there was a knock on the door. I jumped as she slid a needle into my thigh and seconds later blackness descended. To be continued? It depends on the response. Please let me know what you think. Under Her Control Stanley knew what he wanted and just when and how he wanted it. He had very little patience for people who were incompetent. His wife Alice, a rather meek, submissive woman, had learned to say how high, when he said jump and what color, when he said shit. She knew that any excuses or mistakes were simply unacceptable. She was, in fact his slave. They had been married for five years and she had never, during that period, ever denied him any request no matter how outrageous. She had come to accept the fact that his word was law. In the beginning she had put up some resistance but he soon beat that out of her. He never hit her. He didn't need to. Just by changing the tone of his voice would cause her to do a one-eighty and comply with his wishes. Alice was 34 and was quite attractive with a sexy figure. Stanley, however, never let anyone see this side of her. He made her wear unflattering clothing, no makeup and a mousey-brown lack-luster hair do. Not that he ever took her anywhere anyway. He kept her at home and out of sight. He even refused to let her family or friends visit. Slowly she had come to accept this as normal and meekly complied. Their sex life was all about his needs. She, as his sex slave, pleased him in every way and anyway he wished. She herself had never experienced an orgasm with his four inch penis. She was a virgin when they married and had never experienced another man. He did not allow her to watch television because he knew that with all that woman's liberation shit on TV could give her the wrong ideas. She had a couple of romance novels carefully hidden away that she would read over and over, dreaming of a life she had never known. One day, Stanley told her that his company was having a Christmas party at a local nightclub and he was being considered again, for a management position and was expected to attend with his wife. Alice could not believe her ears! They were going out to a nightclub. It was like Cinderella being invited to the ball! "Oh my goodness!" she thought to herself, "I have nothing to wear, my hair, what should I do?" After posing the question to her husband, he replied, "Don't worry, just wear your best dress and put a little lipstick on. Nobody will be looking at you anyway." The night of the party, Stanley decided to go with the guys after work to club and get a head start on the drinking. He told Alice to take a bus and meet him there at eight. Alice put on a simple dress, put a dab of lipstick on her face and left to take the bus at 7pm to allow enough time to get there by eight. She didn't want to upset Stanley by being late. After waiting for some time, at the bus stop, a man in a new Lexus pulled up to the light next to the bus bench. He looked at Alice and smiled. "Excuse me madam but you look like you need a lift." He said in a calm, deep voice. Alice never talked to strangers but she was worried about being late. She had been waiting for the bus for forty-five minutes and knew she could not get to the club in fifteen minutes. "Please sir," She replied, "I'm supposed to meet my husband for his office Christmas party at the Blue Rose Club at eight and I am afraid the buses have stopped running!" "Well this must be your lucky day," The man replied, "I am part of the entertainment tonight at the Blue Rose; allow me to drive you there." Alice, nervously got into the car, put on her seat belt and thanked the handsome man who had come to her rescue. She studied his face while he drove. He had huge dark commanding eyes, salt and pepper hair and was dark complected. "You mentioned being an entertainer, are you a singer?" Alice inquired. "No, I couldn't carry a tune in a wheel barrel," He replied, "I'm a hypnotist." "A hypnotist!" Alice exclaimed, "Does that stuff really work? I thought it was all phony and rehearsed like wrestling?" The man controlled his anger and said, "Allow me to introduce myself. I am Professor Stern, hypnotist, clairvoyant, and mystic. I can read your mind, predict your future and put you completely under my power. Hypnotism not only works, it can be a marvelous tool for therapy. I have helped hundreds, no thousands of people over the years." "Just how does it help people?" Alice asked. "Simple, it allows me to go into your mind, see what your problems are and fix them.' He answered. "My husband could sure use your help," Alice stated. "He is so pushy. He has to have everything his way. He is up for a management position at work, but I'm afraid that his uncompromising attitude would cause him to be passed over again, like it always has before." "Very interesting," Professor Stern said. "I think I may be able to help him. I will try to put him under during my act tonight. Sometimes when I do group hypnosis, a few of the audience become hypnotized along with the group. If he does, I will plant a post-hypnotic word in his head that only you and I will know, then, later, when you and he are at home, all you have to do is say this word and he will be hypnotized again and you can then give him suggestions to improve his disposition." "Do you mean that all I have to do is say the word and he will be under my power?" Alice asked in amazement. "That's right, and I am sure that a sweet person like yourself would never take advantage of the situation, would you my dear?" The professor asked. "Of course not" Alice replied quickly, but already the wheels were turning in her mind. They arrived at the Blue Rose a few minutes after eight. Professor Stern told Alice, if their plan worked, the word he would use would be "Asbestos". It had to be a word that would not normally come up in the conversation. He then left Alice and went around to the stage entrance. Alice walked into the club and looked for her husband. She finally saw him, or rather heard him across the room talking to his buddies. He already sounded pretty high. "Where's my fucking old' lady, she'd better get here soon or she's in big trouble!" He said, slurring his words. Alice quickly went to his table and said, "I'm sorry dear, the buses were running slow tonight." She didn't dare tell his she caught a ride with a strange man. "Ok, ok," He replied, "Just sit down and shut up, the show's about to begin. They have some kind of hypno-guy, if you can't believe in that crap." "Good evening, employees of the Darrell Paper Company," The announcer said, "and welcome to the Blue Rose. It is our pleasure to provide you with some entertainment for your Christmas Party tonight. For our first act, I would like to present that amazing, Hypnotist, Mind Reader and Predictor of the Future, let's give a big hand for, "Professor Stern, ladies and gentlemen!" Professor Stern walked out on the stage dressed in a tuxedo and cape. He was accompanied by his pretty assistant, a young lady, about twenty, wearing a very revealing costume. "Good evening, ladies and gentlemen. I know some of you may be skeptical regarding my abilities, but I hope to prove to you, over the next thirty minutes that everything I do, is completely honest and real!" The professor said. "For my first demonstration, I would like six volunteers from the audience, especially the non-believers to come up on the stage. Not everyone can be hypnotized, but I have found that skeptics are usually the easiest ones to put under." The professor said with a smile. Stanley, being very skeptical, and a little drunk, was one of the first to raise his hand. The professor, seeing he was sitting with Alice, quickly accepted him along with five others, who were then lined up across the stage. The professor then said, "Ladies and gentlemen. I must ask for your complete cooperation. Please be very quiet as not to distract our brave volunteers. I would also like to have the lights dimmed just a bit. Thank you. Now I would like you all to relax. Just listen to the sound of my voice." "You are all feeling very relaxed." The professor said in his deep soothing voice. "All the tensions you are feel ing your bodies are going away. You are feeling a little sleepy. Your breathing is slowing down. Your eyelids are becoming heavier. All you can hear is the sound of my voice. You are starting to fall asleep. You can hardly keep your eyes open. Your eyelids are getting heavier, and heavier. They are closing now. You are asleep but can still hear my voice." Professor Stern continued. "You feel wonderful and completely relaxed. Those of you who are asleep take one step forward. Five of the six volunteers, including Stanley stepped forward. A slight snicker came from the audience but the professor held his finger to his lips, to quiet them. The volunteer who did not fall asleep was excused and sent back to his table. Alice was astonished at how easy, Stanley was hypnotized. The profession winked at Alice and went over to Stanley and whispered some words in his ear. He then addressed the group and told them that they were Christmas Carolers and they were there to sing songs. He then told them that if was very warm on stage and recommended they take off their pants, skirts, shirts and blouses to be more comfortable. He then cautioned the audience to remain quiet. He then led them in the tune "Jingle Bells", after which the audience applauded and laughed. Several cameras were clicking to record the moment. He then had them redress and told them. "I am going to count back from ten. When you wake up, you will feel refreshed and awake. You will not remember anything that happened and will return to your tables. 10-9-8-7-6, you are starting to wake up, 5-4-3-2-1." The five volunteers woke up, totally unaware that they had just put on a show and smiling walked back to their respective tables. "I told you, this was a bunch of crap, "Stanley said to his wife. " Nobody can hypnotize me." Alice just nodded to her husband, trying not to smile and was anxious to get him home to try out the post-hypnotic word, "Asbestos". Professor Stern then proceeded with the rest of his act. He hypnotized a few other volunteers, made a few predictions and guessed a few articles that were collected from the audience. He then left the stage for the next act to enter. One of the articles he guessed was Stanley's wallet. Little did Stanley or Alice know that he obtained their address and phone number before returning it. By this time, Stanley was very drunk and his boss offered to drive them home. Stanley was passed out in the back seat and Alice rode up in front with his boss. "Stanley didn't tell us he had such a beautiful wife," His boss said, "he has really been holding out on us!" Alice blushed at his words, not being use to getting complements. His boss was quite handsome and when they got home, helped carry Stanley to their bedroom. Alice thanked him and told him she could manage it from there. "I'll bet there are going to be five, very surprised employees Monday when they see those pictures of themselves in their underwear, singing on stage! His boss said. He then took Alice in his arms and gave her a more than friendly kiss on the lips and left. Alice was a little flustered from the kiss. Stanley rarely kissed her and she enjoyed his boss's attentions. She undressed her unconscious husband and crawled into bed but before she could fall asleep, the phone rang. Alice quickly grabbed the receiver, not wanting to wake her husband. "Hello," she answered. "Good evening Alice." It was Professor Stern's voice. "I just wanted you to know that when you say the word "Asbestos", your husband will immediately fall into a hypnotic spell. At that time, you have complete power over him and may do anything you wish to him. Then, before you take him out of his trance, you can tell him he won't remember anything that occurred. I hope you enjoy your new found power. I will be checking in from time to time to see how it is going. Maybe you can do a little favor for me sometime. Goodnight!" Alice had a hard time getting to sleep. She kept contemplating the endless possibilities her newly acquired power might avail her. She began to realize that she had built up a lot of resentment for the way Stanley had treated her through the years and although she knew she was also to blame for allowing it, she could feel her anger toward him grow. "Tomorrow, Mister Big Shot, tomorrow we'll see who gives the orders around here. "Hey bitch, get up and make me some breakfast, and get me some coffee right now, and a couple of Motrin. My head is pounding!" Stanley said. It was his usual good morning speech. Alice rolled over and looked at her hung-over husband and said, "Asbestos". Stanley immediately fell into a deep trance-like sleep. "Can you hear me?" Alice asked. "Yes," Stanley replied. Alice noticed the tone of his voice was gentler. Not the usual demanding tone. "Good." Alice continued. "This morning, you want to fix my coffee and breakfast. Put on my bathrobe and go downstairs and make me some coffee. You will then bring it to me, and go back to the kitchen and fix our breakfast. I would like two eggs over medium, half a grapefruit, and a piece of toast, lightly buttered with a spoonful on honey. Do you understand?" "Yes." Stanley replied, and to Alice's amazement, got up and went and put on her bathrobe. Tears of joy filled Alice's eyes. She could hardly believe that this once, demanding chauvinistic pig was obeying her orders. She was going to have fun this weekend with her new found power. Stanley looked silly in her robe, but that was the idea. She took some photos for posterity,of him scurrying around, bringing her coffee and serving her breakfast. She was really enjoying this! After breakfast, Alice instructed Stanley that he was her new maid and needed to look the part. He was to apply depilatory cream to his body, shower and shave his facial hair and any errant hairs with a razor. After completing this, he was to report to her for further instructions. Stanley voiced no objections and went into the bathroom to start his emasculation. Alice smiled as she sipped her coffee and ate her breakfast. The toast was a little burned and the eggs, a little runny but, he will learn, yes he will learn. After applying the cream, waiting ten minutes and taking a shower, Stanley watched as his body hair washed down the drain. In his hypnotic state, he was completely at ease. After all, he was the maid and everyone knows, maids don't have hairy bodies. After a removing his beard and mustache and a few touch-ups with the razor, Stanley went back into the bedroom to get further instructions. Alice giggled to herself at the site of her once macho husband, all pink and smooth. She had him rub a feminine smelling lotion over his skin to ease the burning and itching. She then had him put on a pink pair of her panties, a bra, and one of her wigs. She applied lipstick, eye shadow and some rouge to his cheeks. Stanley, in spite of his bossy, aggressive personality, was not a very big man. He weighed about 150 lbs and stood 5'7". Now with his facial and body hair gone and in full make up and wig, he could almost pass for a woman. Alice took some more photos, making Stanley pose in his new feminine attire. She would keep these pictures just in case, he became rebellious later on. Next she gave him a list of chores to do. Clean the kitchen, bathroom, vacuum, dust and do the laundry. He was to ask her if he had any questions regarding these tasks but first she had him run her a bath. What she needed was a long, relaxing soak in the tub. Something she hadn't had the time to do in ages. Yes, this was going to be the beginning of a whole new life for her and Stanley. When Alice had finished her bath, she summoned Stanley to dry her and rub her body with moisturizing creams. She then told him that he loved the taste of pussy and could never get enough and she ordered him to suck her cunt. Stanley took to his new found duty like a man drinking cold water after thirsting in the desert. He licked and sucked her for over an hour bringing her to her first orgasm and subsequently to four more orgasms. Alice was in heaven. After experiencing multiple orgasms for the first time in her life, it had only wet her appetite. She told Stanley to call his boss and explain that because his cock was so small, his wife needed a real man to come over and fuck her. Stanley meekly complied. Stanley's boss could not believe what he was being told but quickly agreed to come by and help. Stanley's boss was 6'4", 220 lbs and black. He had always fancied Alice and now he was going to have her. Stanley greeted him at the door in his panties, bra, wig and make up. He held his apron and curtsied as his wife instructed him and said, "Oh thank you for coming over and fucking my wife. She is upstairs waiting for you, please follow me Sir." Stanley's boss chuckled at seeing his employee in his feminized state. He led his black boss to his and his wife's bedroom where Alice was waiting, naked on the bed, legs spread wide. He sucked his wife's pussy some more to prepare her for his boss's huge black cock. His boss quickly undressed and push Stanley aside, crawled between Alice's legs and plunged his nine inch cock all the way into her. "Ahhhh!" Alice exclaimed. She had never felt anything so big and long. His cock went much deeper than her husband's puny four inches had ever gone. Stanley had been instructed to get them some cold wine while Alice and his boss were fucking. He could hear her moans as he fetched the wine and quickly returned upstairs. As he entered the room, his wife was coming and his boss was emptying his cum filled balls into her tight pussy. He allowed them time to recover and handed them each a glass of wine. He was then told to suck his boss's cum out of his wife's cunt, and then suck his boss's cock clean while they sipped their wine and kissed. Alice had set up the camcorder before his boss had arrived and everything was recorded. She had planned to use this in the future if Stanley decided to cause any trouble. He would have a hard time explaining begging his boss to fuck his wife, then sucking his cum from her pussy and cleaning his boss's cock. Anyway you looked at it, Stanley's life had changed, no longer the bullying, selfish, pig. He was now the emasculated, sissy, cuckold maid who only wished to please his mistress wife. Under Her Control This idea has been bugging the hell out of me for years now. It's an intended two parter, second half subject to the reception of this one... maybe. I'll probably post the second half either way, but the path of great reception would be nicest. * Part One His arms were beginning to ache, and the infuriating part was that he knew it had more to do with the psychological effects, rather than the physical ones, of his position. So, yet again, he reminded himself this wasn't a Stephen King novel, he needn't worry himself crazy trying to find a solution for the seriously fucked up situation his wife had left him in. Laurel had always been particularly scatter-brained, taking desultoriness to almost the level of a disorder, a crazy trait for a surgeon to have; but never had he thought she could forget about him when he was like this. What the hell was she doing anyway? She was probably talking to Mrs. Oderbelle from across the street. He figured she wasn't in the house because he'd heard the front door open and close shortly after she'd gone downstairs for the whipped cream she'd promised, and no amount of shouting her name had reproduced the two sounds he was learning to long for. He'd had three quarters of an hour now to remind himself of how stupid he'd been to agree to have her tie him up. Once again, he wrenched angrily at the silken restraints that tied him to the bedpost; they again responded by tightening their holds imperceptibly. They hadn't started out especially uncomfortable, and he hadn't been thinking about that as a consequence of the two perfectly rounded, red nipples that Laurel had been feeding him. Her T-shirt had been rucked up beneath her chin and her bra was so thin as to be negligible. She'd got his pants off easily and was rubbing her wet snatch teasingly up and down his left leg she had straddled. Even through the double barrier of her panties and slacks he'd been able to tell how excited his being trussed up like a living sacrifice was making her. "I'm gonna thank you so good for letting me do this," she'd promised in a sexy whisper. Laurel had one of those husky voices rarely found, but often found seductive, in a woman. One word from his wife of eleven months could send him into a frenzy. Her voice and its power to excite had been a deciding factor in his making an honest woman out of her. He realized he'd let that sexy voice lead him into all manners of evil. Laurel had definitely employed it as a persuasive aid when recruiting his permission for this bondage game. At the time, he'd sure as hell been looking forward to her brand of gratitude. Looking at things objectively he could find a wry sort of humor in his predicament. Hell, after forty-five minutes of being chained to his bed, waiting for his wife to come home and free him, he couldn't blame the surfeit of giggles threatening to rise up from the depths of his nine year old self and poke fun at his forty-one year old self for the shithole he'd found himself in. That was... until Aria walked into the room. ***** This was decidedly awkward. Granted, he was saved from total embarrassment by still being dressed in his underpants, but since there could only be one reason for a man to be tied to a bed by purple silk scarves, he wouldn't say he could walk away totally unaffected. Still, he should feel lucky it was his daughter and not Claire, Laurel's fourteen-year old, who had come upon him like this. It should be slightly less embarrassing shouldn't it? "Aria, thank God! Where's Laurel?" he asked. He found it odd how he hadn't thought to get angry until his freedom was an imminent promise. But anger and relief warred through him with such a susurrus they blocked out the niggling twinge of doubt lurking in the periphery. Looking back he had to accept, though, that early detection wouldn't have aided him one bit. "She's at the hospital," Aria said. Her voice was whisper thin, sounding more like that of an eight year old than one nearly twenty. She was standing just inside the bedroom door; her hand still held the knob and she seemed to be leaning on it as though for support. "Mrs. Oderbelle collapsed in her garden." Not only was her voice thin, it somehow sounded as though it was coming from far away; or as though her mind were far away and had left details as to what should come out of her mouth for an explanation. Matthew felt that niggle of doubt get its bearings now. She wouldn't! He was her father... she wouldn't! Yet, she had made no move to leave the doorway. "Well, don't just stand there, gimme my hands." He tried to sound calm, like the sound of a man who didn't suddenly fear his own daughter. He wriggled his fingers to get her attention focused on the object of freeing him; an object that had somehow become even more important than it had seemed minutes before. "Aria!" he snapped. She shook her head, and her eyes, which he hadn't noticed had strayed, refocused on him. "Untie me." She moved forward then, slowly. But she only advanced a few steps before turning around again. She wasn't leaving though, she was closing the door. He watched her keenly as she rested her forehead against the white-painted wood and he noticed her shoulders rising and falling with her deep breaths. It was probably his held breath that allowed him to hear the lock in the door turn over. ***** Aria's mom had died when she was ten. Cathy had been the graceful swan to her ugly duckling, and her promise that Aria would look just like she did someday had died in the hospital with her. She barely remembered how her mother looked, but the pictures she sometimes found the nerve to look through never showed her the resemblance she longed to see. Her hair too was honey-blonde and her eyes a grey-flecked blue, but the angular structure that had given Cathy model-like cheekbones was superseded on Aria's version by rounded curves, a testament to the left-over baby fat she'd given up hope of ever getting rid of. Laurel had offered once, when her relationship with Matthew was on more than tenuous grounds, to give Aria a 'super discount' on any work she wanted to have done. At that time, her father had still been hers and he'd saved her from fumbling for an abashed answer by negating the need. "Aria is perfect just the way she is," he had said, and the glow in his hazel eyes had made her feel as if it were true. Laurel had smiled in acceptance but one look at how the smile quirked behind her wineglass had told Aria that she didn't quite agree. For that, and all the other one thousand little hints Laurel dropped that made Aria feel inadequate, she couldn't dislike her. They were not cruelly meant; Laurel really did feel like she was helping Aria each time she pointed out how much more like a family they'd look if Aria's breasts were a cup smaller, if her hips were leaner, if her tan was deeper. There had been a moment, after a particularly hurtful comparison between Aria and Claire where Aria felt like asking her why the two of them didn't get boob jobs and eat a loaf of bread or two to look more like her. But, though Laurel and Claire had become a constant fixture in the world that had once belonged solely to her, though she found it increasingly hard to exist beside a perfect image and its teenaged carbon copy, she couldn't begrudge her father his happiness. She would bite her tongue and smile. She had done so for over a year. She smiled at their engagement party, at their wedding, at their half-anniversary, and she ached with the knowledge that she would be expected to smile at the one year anniversary in little over a month. She felt she had smiled herself into the backseat of her father's life. The extra special trips they used to take together, before Laurel and Claire, were family outings now. Visits to the theatre were planned around what Disney movie was out that week. He had forgotten how he and his little 'grasshoppa' had loved to take in the old Chinese movies; Silver Fox and Jet Li were apparently now replaced by Kung Fu Panda and Bella Swan. Just two weeks before, when she'd set out to coax him from his latest novel to take her up to Degan's Point for a revival of their long-standing but now defunct tradition of midnight picnics, she'd been almost certain of victory until he'd shocked her by declining. He had to finish this chapter by the end of the week, he'd explained, and with a 250,000 word count for the book, he was looking at a long week already. She would have swallowed that excuse if he hadn't run off to his bedroom the moment Laurel had declared she was turning in just fifteen minutes later. She'd spent the rest of the night alternately stewing and crying over how easily he could neglect her. It had been a long and bitter descent for her from the happy kid she'd been, even after her mother's passing, to the maybe-woman she was now. She suspected often that if she weren't so apt to forgiveness she wouldn't still love her father so much; not while she knew she was third place in his affections now. Doubly unhealthy to these ideas was her nascent thought that she was somehow responsible. She felt locked in a torturous cycle where her surliness and irascibility drove Matthew away from her and towards the bright and happy Stepford twins, in turn, driving her deeper into her dark moods. Could it all be her fault? He'd told her just three days ago that she was the perpetrator of all her dark imaginings -- he tended to get quixotic whenever deeply entrenched in an installment of his latest medieval fantasy -- that her resentment towards the changes in their family had caused her to see threats where there were none. She'd been trying to make him see her side of an argument between her and Laurel as to the design of the dress being commissioned for the vow renewal they'd celebrate for their one year anniversary. Aria had felt an unholy anger bubble inside her at the unfairness of the charge of obstinacy for obstinacy's sake that Laurel had thrown at her. "Look, I didn't make a fuss about the yellow bridesmaids dress; can't I just wear what I want this once?" Her voice had been brittle with suppressed rage. She knew that if he dared, if he even hinted at siding with Laurel's idea of matching fuchsia dresses for her and Claire she would never forgive him. He'd proved himself reliable in calling for a compromise that would see Aria in charge of her own wardrobe for the ceremony and dinner. Aria had felt a jolt of satisfaction he didn't miss when he'd told Laurel she was forgetting that Aria was nineteen and not a kid anymore. He'd been quick to remind her of that fact herself when he'd gone to her room afterwards to talk to her about the incident. He had been -- as she'd recently been conditioned for more callous treatment -- uncommonly kind to her in sticking up for her. "I know this had been hard for you kiddo..." he'd started, and she'd started to cry. That was when he'd given his bit of renaissance wisdom about her perpetrating her demons or whatever. "Laurel loves you, honey. She's just overeager because she knows she hasn't won you over yet." That had made her cry more. So it was her fault was it? He'd had her gathered in his arms as he lightly stroked her fair hair. She had sobbed into the white cotton t-shirt he wore accompanied by striped pajama bottoms. He'd taken to wearing a t-shirt since Laurel had moved in as she had taken to wearing his pajama tops. Somewhere between her sobs Aria remembered this, another display of intimacy between her world and the other woman. She had suddenly been desperate to reclaim some of that; all that had once belonged to her... and more. Heaven knows where she'd had the nerve, she didn't think she'd even had the thought; it had just been instinct that had guided her. She had kissed him... on the lips; through a stream of tears. The type of kiss a daughter should never, ever give her father. At least, that had been her intent. What had happened really was more like a still-birthed attempt at a kiss. She'd hit payload, her lips had touched his and her arms had slithered around his neck, drawing him closer. But what had come of it was a few seconds of startled surrender on his part before he'd stripped her from him and pinned her clinging arms to her side. It blew a hole into her already compromised chest; of the kind that leaves one breathless, painfully on the cusp of crying. She'd watched him leave her room, not before looking at her as though she were the single most perplexing poundage of oddities he'd ever seen. He hadn't been alone with her since that night; had barely spoken to her. If she were in the living room with any company less than one other breathing body -- Flufflers the cat didn't count -- he would hasten away as surreptitiously as he could. Two days ago when she'd knocked on his study door and asked if she could speak with him he'd given a meager excuse and told her he'd speak with her later; but later never arrived. And now she was locking the door to his bedroom. She'd had three days to nurture the roiling thoughts and ideas that wreckage of a night had been. Three days in which the inchoate idea that she could win him back by stealing the intimacies he shared with Laurel had taken such deep root it had felt like coming home. She kept envisioning lightning; she'd learned long ago that it didn't just come from the sky, but from the ground as well, and she thought her feelings hadn't just come out of a need to take what Laurel had, but it was her need too, awakened by necessity, and both needs had rushed to meet each other. And this time, he couldn't just walk away. ***** In the back of his mind he knew he was as good as fucked. Oh God, not literally. She wouldn't, she was his daughter. But then he remembered three nights ago. What he'd been so eager to avoid dealing with was now demanding his attention; he couldn't do anything but give it, chained to his bed as he was. He would need to be firm, like a kennel master showing some savage dog just who was in charge here. He thought of his fiercest character, a stone-mason turned knight who was formidable with a capital everything. "Aria..." Shit! He was blowing it already, that attempt was too watery. "Aria!" That was more like it. "What are you doing?" Jesus Christ! She was pulling the buttons of her coat. It was a short, dull, pink corduroy that could only afford two buttons due to surface area restrictions. Before long she was shrugging out of it, displaying the pale pink camisole she had on underneath. He watched, unable to even think, as the flimsy under-shirt was grasped and pulled, showering her straight hair down her back as though it too was putting up no resistance. This snapped him back to the present. He'd been staring at her breasts; just staring at their play as they fought to stay in her bra when she pulled her shirt off. He had to focus; he had to put up resistance. "You stop that, Aria. This is not a game. It's not funny. Put your god-damn clothes back on!" He struggled into his most upright position, determined to fight if she came near. His only weapons were his feet. Could he do it? Could he use them against her? Then, inspiration struck. "Laurel will be back soon. She's probably dropped Mrs. Oderbelle at the emergency room already and is on her way back." But she just shook her head. "She said Mrs. Oderbelle was too scared for her to leave her; she's staying until they've run their tests, she's taken her into the city. That's why she called me..." She took a deep breath that did wonders for the full D's he was trying not to notice. "She told me to come get you." As he absorbed the death of his best defense she took to the waistband of her grey-blue jeans. A different sort of frenzy took him and he was struggling against his bonds with determined fervor. He couldn't let this happen. She'd gone crazy. His little girl couldn't be planning on fucking him. In his struggle he missed her complete disrobement and as a consequence was jolted by the sight of her naked body at the edge of the bed. His thrashing died in him on a sibilant breath. God, but she was beautiful. Not toned and thin like so many women today who lived on their stored fat and slept by their yoga mats, Aria was all curves and no edges. She wasn't fat, just... plush, and her breasts -- which he couldn't help but look at now -- were two perfect, burgeoning peaks. His traitorous left hand made an involuntary move as though to touch the one nearest to it. He caught himself, closed his eyes and threw his head back. Ok, it was time to plead now. "Please, Aria! You don't have to... you don't have to untie me." It was probably a good idea his hands were bound. He kept his eyes firmly closed. "Just go out... go to your room." He got her answer in the depression of the mattress which told him he was no longer alone on his bed. Where were his feet? "Aria..." He opened his eyes now; looking at her, beseeching her. "Please don't do this. We can't come back from this." Was that his voice? "You don't want to do this." Weak with a forbidden desire, speaking words by route he only hoped took fruit, he opened his eyes to see her as he'd felt her moments before, straddling him low on his thighs. She was looking at him with those beautiful eyes; eyes so like her mother's. She wasn't quite sitting on him, she was sort of braced above him and, for the love of God, it was all he could do to not stare at what she left so wantonly on display. She was his little girl... and his dick was so hard he could fuck through a wall. She had her head cocked slightly to one side; an expression he'd seen on her a million times before. She'd always been inquisitive, and now she was deciphering him. He knew exactly what she was thinking... that his mouth was saying no but... She licked her lips at the sight of his erection. The stupid slit in his boxers he'd before found so convenient was making his betraying member easily accessible to the one female in the whole god-awful world it was never meant to come in contact with. She stared at it for what seemed an inordinate length of time and then she looked back at him. Her lips parted, and her pink tongue darted out to wet her lips, whetting his appetite for prurient, purely taboo delicacies. With her breasts rising and falling on each eager, anticipatory breath, the room silent save the dueling sounds of their breaths, Aria leaned in to kiss him... and he surrendered. ***** Sweet Jesus! His tongue was in her mouth, on invitation, and he a willing guest. She'd gasped when he'd nipped at her lower lip and he'd charged in like a battering ram, rampaging, pillaging, plundering the sweet caverns so long denied to him. What was happening to him? He was so turned-on. His previous thought that this was little more than rape curled up and died in the flames of the desire he felt to take what she was offering. Somehow, he'd jumped from not wanting this to... No! He pulled back, breaking the hot kiss. "No more... baby, you have to get off." He twisted beneath her, but his struggles somehow brought her in closer contact with his tumidity. He groaned like someone dying as her inner thigh brushed against his cock. Her breathing was more pronounced now; she was so close every rise and fall of her chest was an agonizingly sweet brush against his own. Her nipples were peaked to straining tips and her dilated eyes told stories about how aroused she was. Shit! He could smell how horny she was. She made to kiss him again and it took all the strength he'd ever had to turn away. They began a sorry little struggle which ended with her so close to him, trying to force his lips back to hers, that the rigid column of his penis nestled itself between her sopping nether lips. She gasped at the suddenness of the contact, forgetting his mouth in an instant with such sweeter bounties at her disposal. She had her head bent, looking down at their sinful contact. He didn't know if he should be thankful or weep that he couldn't see past her head and flowing hair. He felt her press herself closer, closer and upwards, downwards and upwards, until she was rocking gently against him and shutting down all but the most primitive of brain cells left in his arsenal. Under Her Control "Fuck," he sucked in a breath through his teeth, "baby." He watched her, entranced as she licked her lips again. She had one hand braced on his shoulder and the other braced on the mattress by her calf; she arched her back and a shudder racked her supple body. He threw his own head back, the image of her bent backwards, undulating on his cock, nipples straining up to tease him, panned through his head behind his closed eyes. Nothing had ever felt so good. This type of sweetness could only precede death and since he certainly had never died before... "You're so wet." His voice seemed to startle her from her reverie, she missed a step in her grind and her eyes rested uncertainly on him as she brought herself upright again. "Kiss me." She demanded. He complied. Their breaths locked with their lips and their tongues warred for maximum pleasure. She began to move on him again and he could hear the faint sounds caused by her wetness and their friction. He couldn't take it anymore just when she seemed about ready to burst as well. Almost frantic, she tore her lips from his and looked down to guide her hand surely to his cock. She flipped her long golden hair over one shoulder and cocked her head to the side, a move that allowed him to see better as well. He saw her raise a knee off the bed, and greater still, felt the plump tip of his penis brush against the mouth of her. She settled it there and began to lower herself. He heard his blood rushing in his ears. He was inside her. He groaned and she flashed him a heated glance before refocusing on her task. He was only about an inch in before her entire body started to tremble. When she whimpered and bit her lip he thought it was in ecstasy, but the frown on her brow and the unmistakable, gossamer barrier he felt himself brush against told him the true story. She was still a virgin. He definitely couldn't do this. He couldn't be her first. This would make it not only wrong but heartbreaking. A girl's first time should be full of promise for the future. There was no promise in this, none except an illicit fuck in place of a beautiful experience. She was suspended on him like that for what seemed like an eternity. She seemed to be weighing her options; she neither eased herself down nor tried to get off, she just gripped him with one hand and with one inch of her hot, tight cunt; he could feel her doing involuntary kegels all around him. Find your tongue, you fucker, he thought. "It's ok, it's ok." He sounded like a complete tool even to his own ears. It wasn't ok! He was trying to talk her out of sitting down when all his hips seemed to want to do was push up... up and in. Fuck! "Aria, it's not too late." He said that when in reality he could feel himself near the edge already; he was leaking precum like a loose pipe... inside his baby girl. "We can stop now; your first time should be with someone you love." He'd never been more annoyed with his seasonal knack for cracking off platitudes. She looked at him squarely and he wondered what it was she saw. He was a handsome man, he knew -- not in a conceited way, but one didn't live for forty-two years without knowing that your sandy-blonde, always slightly too-long hair and hazel eyes pulled women in like a shark to a line baited with baby seal. Was this what his daughter saw? Was it sexual attraction that had caused this? She'd never shown an inkling of it before a few days ago; he'd thought her kiss had just been out of a sad kind of jealousy. Was she seduced by his physical attractiveness, or was it about filial jealousy? Did it matter at this point? Whatever the reason he knew the outcome. Gone was any thought or rationale behind what she was doing because now it just felt too good stop. If he didn't want to stop, why the hell would she? "Aaahh!" They both screamed together as she filled herself with him. In a matter of moments innocence had turned into sweetly sweet sin. They were a tangle of bodies as she clung to him, first to keep them both prone until the worst of her pain had passed, and then to anchor to him as she started to move, sliding him in and out of her in sporadic, inexperienced moves. Gone were the more fluid bends and arches of when she had been just playing at fucking him... but cock could do that to a woman. And what pussy could do to a man! He would explode from pleasure... he knew it; his would be no ordinary cum. As jerky and green as her movements were, they still got the job done. He tried to help, driving himself up into her at every opportunity; but before long, saw that they were wasting more opportunities than they were creating. "Untie me," he demanded, his voice gruff and barely recognizable for the resident devil that had taken him over. She looked at him uncertainly; it was obvious she was wondering if he was just trying to get away. There wasn't a snow-ball's chance in hell of that happening now. Now all he wanted was to grip her hips and guide them to mutual release. He bucked his hips into her, pleased at the gasp his effort elicited. "Untie me so I can fuck you properly." She bit her bottom lip and groaned, his words obviously heightening her arousal. She hesitated only a few seconds more, until baser needs forced her hand and she reached over and undid the first of his restraints. His right arm free, he reached over and helped her loosen the next one, unmindful of the slight ache the release caused for the greater ache pulling away impatiently at his groin. He scooped her up and plopped her on her back so quickly she yelped, and the sound turned into a strangled moan when he started to thrust in and out, each stroke greater, more urgent than the last. He reached out, more grateful for his hands than he would have ever imagined, and clasped her breasts, squeezing, marveling at their size and perfect, round shape. He pinched her nipples, all the while keeping his wicked pace and watching the play of ecstasy riot across her features. She'd gotten wetter since he'd been in control; there was an audible wet slap that filled the silence with its naughtiness each time he pushed into her. He looked down and saw a sticky web matting both their pubes where they were joined. He leaned forward and took her into his mouth. He tried, God he tried, to fit her entire breast in but it was too big. He sucked, nipped, licked and nuzzled; each gesture drove his baby wild. She was writhing beneath him, moaning like a whore-house's best asset, and her arch off the bed was so pronounced as to lift them both until he was resting on his haunches. She sat on his lap in a variation of their first position, her knees folded at his hips. He guided her this time, using his hand and slowing them down to a deep, sensual rock that seduced him all over again. He kissed her, sweetly, as it should have been the first time. "Oh, Daddy," she moaned. "I love you." He kissed her again, demanding more this time, unwilling to face anything except what they were achieving with their bodies. His felt his orgasm coming from a mile away, it had been there for what seemed like hours, biding its time for when it would have the most devastating effect. As quickly as it formed, the idea of pulling out and spilling on her thighs was dispelled; perfection should not be truncated. "I'm gonna cum," he groaned against her neck. He could feel her body preparing for her own climax; her spasms were no longer perforated but were coming in such rapid succession it was like one long squeeze. She was crying out and he joined her as the first of his load left his body and landed in hers. For a few, immortal seconds, their frantic race for finish swept them into torrid movements that caused the bed to slam noisily against the wall. His moans had settled in his throat and Aria was shivering from her climax, her lips trembled below big blue-grey eyes full of wonder and fulfillment. "Dad," she whispered. She cupped his face with a hand and would have kissed him but he turned away, pulling her up and off his lap. With the crash back to earth the sordidness of their situation came rampaging back to him in seismic waves. "Dad?" she called again, more urgently this time, uncertainly. He backed off the bed and grabbed his pants from the ground, dressing in such haste he was almost putting in both feet at the same time. Her blood was on the sheets, it had been on his penis. Oh God! "Get dressed," he managed. He couldn't find his shirt so he grabbed a clean one from his drawer and pulled it over his head. Aria hadn't moved from where he'd deposited her. "Jesus, Aria get up! Laurel could be home any minute now and I have to change these sheets." She moved then, keeping her back to him as though to hide her face. Was she crying? he wondered. He honestly couldn't care right now. She had done this; she had wanted it; now he would have to clean it up. "Get dressed, go to your room and have a shower. You stay up there until Laurel gets home." He dragged the sheets off the bed and frowned when he noticed the red spot staining the mattress. "Shit!" Dressed in her pants and jacket, her panties and camisole stuck into her jeans, Aria flushed at the sight of what she'd lost, stuck like so much damnable evidence to the bed. She rushed to the en-suite and brought a wet rag with soap and scrubbed at it determinedly. While she worked, Matthew took the stained white sheets down to the laundry and stuffed them into the washing machine. He turned on the hot water, added soap and bleach and shut the lid. Then, he rested his head on the dryer and tried to settle the noise in his head. What the fuck had just happened? Was he the guy that had just slept with his own daughter? "Oh my God, Jesus Christ!" He'd become very religious on the same day he'd secured his seat on the bus to hell. He wasn't this person, he wasn't that guy! He was a respected author, a husband, a father... who'd taken his daughter's virginity. Fuck that shit! She'd taken his innocence! His hands had been literally tied. What man with a nineteen year old cunt sucking the seed out of him could have reacted differently? Use your head, he said to himself. When he got back to his room he saw that Aria had left. There was a wet spot on the mattress where she had managed to get the stain out. He flipped the mattress over and put crisp sheets on; he'd tell Laurel that he'd rumpled the other set in his struggles. She'd buy it because he was slightly OCD about things like wrinkles. As he opened the window and sprayed Febreeze over everything he could reach in an attempt to get the smell of sex -- incestuous sex -- out of the air, he wondered how he was going to iron out the big fucking wrinkle that had just developed in his entire life. End of part one. Thank you for reading (and hopefully voting and commenting). If anyone is interested in reading the other half of this tale, let me know and I just might oblige;)