5 comments/ 109155 views/ 20 favorites Irresistible Girl By: DrRoleplay You can be shocked if you want, but you don't know Melissa. Maybe you've seen a body as nice as hers, and maybe you've heard a voice as sexy—but heaven help you if you've experienced all that in combo with such hypnotic powers of persuasion and pure animal lust. Once we broke the taboo there was no turning back. I needed her desperately. Her mother and I had been going through the motions for years. Anna lost interest in sex before I lost interest in her soft plump curves, and I took no joy in those nights when she did her wifely duty—mainly because that's exactly how she described it: doing her wifely duty. Lying there faking a moan now and then seemed to me less like duty than charity. Melissa sensed it when she came back home after her freshman year of college. "What the fuck?" she told me one afternoon when Anna was off showing a house. "Why bother staying married? Handsome guy like you needs a tiger, not a walrus." "Honey, she's sensitive about her weight—there's no need for name-calling." She spun my office chair around. "Daddy. I'm the tiger." And she pounced, straddling my lap and sucking my tongue into her mouth. I should have resisted but she was indeed a tiger, a taut, lithe, aggressive little sex machine, exactly the kind I fantasized about when thrusting into Anna. So, to Melissa's surprise, not only did I not resist, I took over. I pushed her t-shirt up, pulled her bra cups down, and began sucking and biting on my daughter's hard nipples. She was overjoyed. "Oh god oh god, I had no idea how you'd react," she laughed and moaned. I slurped at those tight pink buds and worked my hands into her shorts. "How long have you been thinking about it?" "Two nights. It never crossed my mind until I saw you try to kiss Mom and she turned her head away. It was like a bomb went off in my head and all of a sudden I realized that if you were one of my professors I'd be throwing myself at you." "So your presence on the Dean's List—?" "Perfectly legitimate," she said, smiling down at me. "There are pretty strict rules, you know." "What are we going to do now?" She pulled off her top. "What lovers do, naturally." x x x We spent the summer arranging our affair around Anna's real estate schedule. Arranging our affair, fucking like bunnies, call it what you will. We only came close to getting caught once, when we were in the den and Melissa squirted on my face just as her mother was coming in the front door. She got her pants up quickly and went to greet Anna in the living room; I rearranged my pants to hide my bone, but then a quick glance in the mirror showed I had moisture in my beard and on the collar of my gray polo shirt. I heard the women discussing the weather while I was changing. Their relationship had been contentious from the time Melissa hit middle school, and while there was a certain détente now there were also long-standing grudges: Anna, jealous of her daughter's natural sex appeal and perfect body; Melissa, resentful of her mother's hovering, her overprotective nature, and the constant assumption of guilt. It was I who negotiated the peace treaty after Melissa called her mother a pig and left home to stay with friends for the better part of a month. "I don't respect her," she admitted one day as she smeared my semen up and down her thighs. "I don't respect her because of the way she left you hanging. Studly 46-year-olds need regular pussy, so if I had ever found out you had a girlfriend on the side, I wouldn't have blamed you. Fuck that shit. You don't have a girlfriend on the side, though, do you?" "Only you," I said, tilting her face toward mine. "Sweet romantic Daddy," she sighed. Then she licked what was left of my goo off her fingers. x x x That summer there were a couple of news stories that gave me pause. One from somewhere down south, where a farmer was found to be keeping his wife and daughters as sex slaves—breeders, essentially—and selling his infant children/grandchildren on the black market. The other was from Michigan, where a sting operation caught a state representative in bed with her adult son. The taboo was in the news, and if anything it turned Melissa on even more. "We aren't trash like those people, Daddy. We're grownups in love." "In love and unable to show it in public." "We could move to somewhere where nobody knows us." "What about your mother?" "I'm working on that one. How do you feel about putting your foot down and saying 'Anna, you ignorant cow, I deserve a hot young girlfriend'?" "I can't see it going over." "Do you love her?" "I don't want her hurt." "I think that's unavoidable, Daddy. But I'm working on it." So yes, the news stories gave me pause but Melissa gave me something far more visceral. I was enamored of her sexuality and she was impressed (and at times necessarily patient) with my stamina. Anna didn't seem to mind that I no longer pressed against her and erectly requested her wifely duty, and when Melissa returned to college for her sophomore year, we made a rule: Newsy emails from her regular school account, sexy missives from Hotmail. She was Daddysgirl382236 and I went with TigerLover6969. Her first choice, Daughterfucker, seemed like it might be a tad indiscreet. She also volunteered a rule of her own: "I'll understand if Miss Piggy decides she needs to get serviced, but I won't be sleeping with any boys." In October I found Anna reading a novel called The Liberation of Mary. I only noticed because of the handcuffs and bright red lipstick prints on the cover, which didn't seem like Anna's cup of tea. "Have you heard of this series?" she asked, blushing a little. "They're best sellers, and they're—well, they're pretty frank about things." "What kinds of things?" I smiled. "Spankings and things. Did you know there are little clampy things that go on your—?" She indicated the tip of her breast. "I've heard about them, yes. Nipple clamps, nipple clips." "I think that would hurt, but—" I could see where this was going but couldn't believe it. "But?" She hid her face in the book. "I know it's going to sound weird, but I think I want to try this. Some of it. Not all of it. Parts of it. Am I weird?" "Of course not. I mean, I don't know how good I'd be at—" She dog-eared a page, turned the book around, and flipped through the pages, revealing several scenes in yellow highlighter. "This might help," she said, bolder than I'd seen her in years. x x x The character of Mary, it turned out, was the same age as Anna. She was divorced and unhappy with her life, and had begun spending her evening hours exploring the world of internet porn, which led to reading the personal ads at Hornypeople.com, which led to finding a boyfriend in his 30s. A dominant. A master. The writing was definitely frank and surprisingly not bad, and it was clear from the highlighted passages what Anna was curious about trying: spanking, obedience, name-calling (which surprised me), and nipple clamps. "And if you see something you'd like to try," she said, "just spring it on me and if I don't like it I'll use a safeword." I was a little surprised she knew that word existed. "Friday night ok?" she asked, and I told her I'd penciled it in. Appointment: Spank wife. I talked to Melissa on Thursday evening. She was studying and didn't have time for phone sex, but definitely wanted to hear more about her mother's sudden interest in being submissive. "I think It's hilarious," she said. "Promise you'll call me and leave the phone on while you're making her your bitch." I did some prep work at the local sex shop, picking up a soft leather slapper, some nipple clamps, and a couple of surprises. I figured I might as well venture off-script a little, just to make things interesting. After dinner Friday night, Anna excused herself to get ready and I stripped down to a black banana hammock and black gloves. I called Melissa, who said she'd popped popcorn and was ready to put me on speakerphone. "Good luck, Mr de Sade," she giggled. "Make her scream." With the phone in my pants pocket and my pants hanging on the clothes tree. I waited. Anna emerged from the bathroom packed into a white corset and shiny white panties. She'd applied a modest amount of makeup and curled her hair, and she looked beautiful. She looked like my bride from almost 25 years ago. My heart stirred, and I felt myself eager to give her the pleasure she wanted. "I'm ready, Master," she said, blushing. I gestured to the foot of the bed. She came quickly and shot a lascivious look at my thong. "What are you looking at?" I demanded. "Face the bed." "Yes, sir." I attached soft cuffs to her wrists and used extender straps to secure her to the bedposts, then consulted my mental list of highlighted passages. Challenge her— "Why are you here?" "Because I've been bad." Page 37: "You're here because you're a worthless piece of cuntmeat." She shuddered. There was an unmistakable hint of a smile on her face. "Yes. I am cuntmeat, sir." I stood beside her and unzipped the corset. "What the hell is this? Why are you hiding your body?" "I was trying to look sexy for you, Master." I tossed the corset aside and her big soft breasts jiggled free. "I'll decide what makes you sexy, cuntmeat. I want you naked." I jammed my hand down the front of her panties; she noticed my genuine gasp of surprise. "Are you surprised, Master?" "You shaved completely." Anna nodded shyly and turned her head to face me. "Spank me," she whispered. "Spank my butt and my pussy. I want to know what it feels like. I'm sorry, I know that's bottoming from the top. Or topping from—I don't know, something like that." "It's okay." From there we put on quite a show for Melissa, who heard dozens of slaps and pleasured shrieks. She heard her mother's uncertain moans when I attached the nipple clamps, uncertain moans and happy moans and "I changed my mind" and then "No, it's okay, leave them." She heard me demand to be sucked hard. She heard me say things to her mother that I hadn't said to her: "Worship me, cuntmeat." "Get on your back and open your legs like a fifty-cent whore." Eventually she heard a couple of loud orgasms and then silence, as Anna whispered "Thank you" and curled up beside me. I held her close and drifted off. There was a text from Melissa when I woke up next morning: "Riveting performance, my love. Keep it up. Make her your slave so eventually she can be OUR slave. Who do you think sent her that book?" x x x In the next two months, Anna read every book in the "Mary" series and I made many more trips to the sex shop. She put her limits to the test, always demanding a few more swats after she was sure her ass had had enough. She requested buttplugs and paddles and ball gags. One night when she was blindfolded and tied to the bed, she noted that she wouldn't be able to do anything about it if I were to open the blinds and expose her body to any snooping neighbors. Our house was at the end of a cul-de-sac and our bedroom faced a wooded park, so any snooping neighbors would have needed a telescope and a team of lumberjacks to see inside. Nevertheless, I raised the blinds and told her a crowd had gathered on the lawn below. Her nipples stiffened visibly at my words. The mere idea of public humiliation was enough for both of us. And running parallel to this sexual reawakening was the mutual lust between Melissa and me, a lust that was beginning to fade. In our phone conversations, we looked ahead to a time when she and I reigned over a household in which Anna served us both as sex slave and maid. But I shouldn't have been surprised to find myself less dependent on Melissa. She was a voice from a thousand miles away. She might as well have been a phone sex girl who got paid to call me Daddy. And there were nights when I didn't have a chance to call her because Anna was so revved up. One night in early December, Melissa admitted to being a little jealous. "Sometimes it seems like you're enjoying Mom a little too much." "We're having fun," I told her. "Like we used to, except now she gets off on being called cuntmeat." "She is cuntmeat, Daddy. You and I belong together. I don't care if it's the three of us, but she and I are switching roles, guaranteed." "I know, baby. We'll find the right time for it. But for now, she's out for another couple of hours, so let's talk about me holding her while you spank her pussy." "Let's talk about you getting her a tattoo on her fat ass," she said. "Something like 'Property of my husband and daughter.'" "All right. Let's run with that." "I mean for real." "Definitely fun to imagine, but—" "No, Daddy. For real. Send me a picture when it's done." I paused to let it sink in, to listen to her seething in her dorm room. "Baby, you know that's not going to happen." "Then maybe you don't need a hot young girlfriend after all. I'll bet it won't be hard for me to find someone who does." "Melissa—" "Have fun fucking the old lady, Daddy." Click. I don't know how we got from "You and I belong together" to a hang-up in under thirty seconds, but once she decided it was over, it was over. I supposed it was official the night she called me and left the line open while she apparently got laid by some frat boy, so I wrote it off as a mistake. I crossed the line, I violated the taboo, and it ran its course. The next communication I received from Melissa was an email with her flight information. "Pick me up. Be on time. Thanks for nothing." Anna and I went out for dinner on Thursday the 13th, the night before Melissa was scheduled to arrive home. She reminded me that it was our last night to get loud and crazy for a while, so on the way home I made her masturbate with her right hand while waving to other drivers with her left. Before long she was tied spread-eagle to the bed with clamps on her nipples. I strapped a ball gag on her and told her the world would just have to do without her cuntmeat wisdom for a while—she smiled at that. I spent a half-hour toying with her nipples, taking the clamps off and putting them back on, making her squeal against the gag. (Her safeword while gagged was a hummed do-re-mi, but there was no music, only moaning.) I teased her with a vibrator, keeping it away from her most sensitive areas until she practically lifted the bed up with her bucking. I was in the process of lubing up a buttplug when Melissa walked in. She smirked at the sight of her mother in bondage; Anna's eyes flashed and she pulled against the restraints. Melissa threw her coat over the chair. "Am I interrupting something?" "What are you doing here?" "You tell me. You're the one that bought me my ticket. I can't help it if you believed me when I said I was coming tomorrow. How you doing, cuntmeat?" Anna seemed to be trying to cover herself up. I moved to the bedpost to release her left ankle, but Melissa said No. "Leave her tied up. Nice shaved beaver, Mommy—you missed a couple of hairs, though." She quickly stepped out of her jeans and pulled her tiny pink thong aside. "This is what a pretty little muffin is supposed to look like, Mommy. I'll have you feel inside it later so you can see how tight it is." "I think you need to leave us alone." "No, I think I like this view. Helpless Mommy, just like we planned." So the secret was out. Anna's eyes widened. I went for the restraints again—this time the one on Anna's left wrist—but Melissa jerked my thong down and grabbed at my cock. I pushed her away and got Anna's hand loose, expecting her to remove the gag and free herself. Instead she lay as she was, stretching her arm out as if it were still tied to the bedpost. "Anna?" My wife nodded at Melissa, who smiled and removed her top and stood there with that perfect body. "You should have read the sixth book in the series, Daddy. Mary gets a mistress. You're not the only relative who finds this irresistible." Anna's eyes met mine and she pulled the ball out of her mouth. "She's very persuasive—and I want to experience her too." "That's enough, cuntmeat," said Melissa, securing Anna's wrist once again. She straddled her mother's plump belly and began inching her way up. There was a "Daddy's Girl" tattoo on her left butt cheek. I watched Anna disappear beneath our daughter's legs and heard the sexy sound of muffled slurping. Melissa threw her head back and said "Welcome to Slavetown, Mommy." I was overcome with love and lust for both of them. x x x Nothing makes a Christmas break memorable like mind-blowing kinked-out sex with your family. They told me the whole story the next day: Melissa sent the first book ostensibly as a peace offering, woman to woman. "She told me it might improve our sex life," said Anna, "and after I read it I began confiding in her. We began confiding in each other." Melissa broke in: "And when the time was right I turned on the charm." She eventually introduced her mother to phone sex, and they concocted the early-December "breakup" in order to set up the surprise. It was a pretty neat plan. So yes, you can be shocked if you want. But twenty steps from where I write this, there's a tiger tied to a bed and another one strapping on a dildo. I'm not rocking this boat for anything. Irresistible Girl Ch. 02 Chapter 02: Plan A It wouldn't have looked good for me to miss the dean's annual New Year's Eve party, so even though we would have preferred to be home in bed with our daughter, my wife and I showed up and did the mingle thing. Melissa said she didn't mind and that she'd use the time to catch up with some of her old high school friends. She did, however, make her mother wear a bullet vibrator inside her—and gave me the wireless remote. "If you see her getting all flirty, give her a buzz," said Melissa before we left the house. "Or, hell, just give her a few random buzzes. See if you can make her hike up her dress and flick her bean." Melissa flashed her evil grin and Anna tsk-tsked. "Such a twisted mistress." "You love it, cuntmeat. Daddy? Bye-bye kiss?" I took Melissa in my arms and Frenched her deeply—and just for good measure I clicked the remote button and held it, causing Anna to close her eyes and bump up against the easy chair. "Oh god—we'd better go or I'm going to need a change of panties." And with that our wicked daughter sent us on our way. Anna and I both have good friends in the administration, so we both got caught up in the evening and enjoyed ourselves. I only buzzed her a couple of times, once when she got cornered by an elderly professor emeritus known for his tendency to ramble. I pressed the remote control several times in quick succession, causing her knees to buckle so that she had to clutch the old prof's shoulder. I could read her lips from across the room: "Oh golly fuck." The professor laughed heartily. "He told me I had a delightful sense of humor," she confided later. With an hour before midnight Anna and I were shooting pool with the dean, the president, the director of financial aid, and the head of the math department. The topic turned to our children and what they were up to. The dean's son had just made junior partner at a Chicago law firm. The president's twin daughters had both been accepted into med school. The financial aid director noted that her son had landed a speaking role in an upcoming action flick. The math prof's son and daughter were new parents and couldn't be happier. "How about your daughter, Woodson?" asked the dean. "She's out east, right? Princeton?" I drew a blank for some reason. I stood there with my mouth open and could not remember where Melissa was going to school. Fortunately, Anna rescued me. "Yes, Princeton," she said. "Sophomore philosophy major, three-nine." The president laughed. "Did John forget he had a daughter?" Anna smiled and said her dear husband must be getting old. On the way home she asked me what had happened. "I spaced out. All I could see was Melissa going down on me—and in my mind I thought you were going to say 'Yes, she and her father are lovers and they both dominate the fuck out of me." Anna stroked my thigh. "Well, I can't say it didn't cross my mind," she smiled. "I'm surprised you didn't hear the flood in my panties." * * * A little background: I'm director of marketing at a small private school in New Gothenburg, Minnesota. Anna has her own real estate firm, and you can see her pretty round face all over town—on billboards, bus signs, kiosks, and whatnot. "Let Anna sell it"—and she does a damn good job selling it. The fire had gone out of our marriage a couple years ago, but we were content living a platonic, friendly life with the occasional (rare) coupling—until last summer, when our daughter Melissa made a play for me and I responded like a horny teenager. We kept up a phone and email affair when she went back to school, but then in fall Anna's sex drive came back to life after she began reading a series of best sellers about a submissive woman. She asked me to try out some of the scenes from the books, and the next thing I knew I had an obedient little wench on my hands. What I didn't know was that the whole thing had been orchestrated by Melissa, who had found a way for her and her mother to switch places in the family dynamic. When she came home for Christmas break, Anna started submitting to her too. I mention all this to set up some context for what happened when we got home after that New Year's Eve party. It was one in the morning and we found Melissa naked and watching porn in the family room. When she saw us, she whistled for her mother: "Here, cuntmeat—finish me off." Anna stripped to her undies, took her position on her knees, and buried her face in Melissa's bare pussy. Melissa moaned and caught my eye: "How many times did you buzz this horny bitch, Daddy? She's eating me like she's starving." I moved behind the sofa and leaned over to tweak Melissa's nipples and watch my wife suck ravenously on our daughter's pussy. Melissa yelped and instantly Anna's face was obscured by a clear spray, a splash of sex-droplets that glistened on Melissa's tummy and thighs and matted her mother's hair. Anna lapped up as much as she could and rested her cheek against Melissa's thigh, looking up at us dreamily. "I love your squirt, baby. Did that feel good?" "Of course it did, cuntmeat. Now move aside—I'm going to fuck my man." I was naked and ready. Melissa lay back on the sofa with her legs open and I watched her watching my cock disappear inside her. "Fuck me hard, Daddy. Slam it in." She wrapped her legs around me as I drilled her tight wet box, and soon Anna walked over on her knees and began caressing Melissa's left breast. "Can I help you get off again?" she asked. Melissa clutched a handful of her mother's hair. "What you can do is go stand in the corner." This was one of Anna's favorite punishments. She nodded and scrambled to her feet. "May I masturbate, Mistress?" "You may not. Keep your hands behind you, on your ass where I can see them. Do not bump up against the wall, do not rub your nips on the wall, and do not even think about your husband over here sperming inside your daughter." "Of course not, Mistress." Anna hurried to the corner and stood there like a disobedient child with her hands clasped behind her. Melissa and I shared a grin: We both knew Anna would be over there pressing her thighs together at the sound of our sex. I buried my cock in to the hilt and unloaded a torrent of cum as Melissa stroked my face and whispered that she loved me so very fucking much. We made Anna crawl upstairs between us. I think we let her get off that night. I'm pretty sure we did. * * * On the last Wednesday of her Christmas break, Melissa was giving me a lap dance while her mother was off showing a house. She seemed distracted, though, and when I mentioned it she said "I'm concerned. I'm concerned about you two being here without me." "It's only for a semester. Or are you worried about me falling in love with my wife while you're gone?" "Stop it," she said, sitting sideways in my lap. "I know you love both of us and I know you're going to fuck your little cuntmeaty wifey piece of property and I know we'll have three-way video spank sessions. But Daddy, let's face it—Mommy is going to be craving girl parts while I'm gone." "Should I get her a hooker?" "Have you seen the local hookers?" "Actually, no. Have you?" "Trust me, Daddy. They are not Minnesota's finest." "All kidding aside, I don't think it's a good idea to bring anyone else in—what we have here isn't exactly something we want everyone to know about." "Duh, Daddy—I'm not going to call everyone I know and say 'Hey, I'm fucking my dad and making my mom my sex slave—wanna come over?' Relax. I have a plan—although Plan B was the local hookers. Trust me?" "I do, baby." She straddled me and rubbed her tits in my face, then whispered in my ear: "When Mommy gets home, let's take turns fucking her in the ass." I do remember Anna getting off that night. A lot. We ratcheted up the humiliation angle, so that when I had my cock deep in Anna's butthole, Melissa was holding her mother's phone, going through her list of clients, pretending to call each one: "It's ringing, cuntmeat! Roger, hi, you don't know me, but your real estate bitch is my mom, Anna Woodson, and she loves it in the asshole. Chances are, when she's showing you a house, she's got a fat buttplug up her ass. Yeah, ask her about it next time. Ask her to show you—she'll bend right over for you cause she is a nasty anal slut." Anna came hard from the fake calls, moaning like a cat in heat. She and I had gone 23 years between buttfuckings, but as soon as Melissa told her to get her ass lubed up, she jumped. We were both going to miss her. * * * Watching my daughter and wife sleep that night, Melissa on her side with her arm thrown across her mother's massive jugs, with her leg between her mother's sturdy thighs, both of them nude, comfortable, bound by love and lust—for now. How long could such a relationship last before someone caught on, before someone suspected something? How long could such a relationship last before one of the partners decided he or she didn't want to go against the norm anymore? I spooned my daughter and pulled her tight against me. She stirred and smiled and turned her face to mine. "I love you too, Daddy." * * * We celebrated Melissa's last night at home with a session that lasted long into the night. None of us were ready for it to be over, but there were kisses and hugs and a certain amount of tears that weren't caused by the paddle. The mood in the house was fairly glum the next morning. Anna went off to work, but not before dropping to her knees, kissing Melissa between the legs, and letting us know that in honor of their new relationship, she was wearing a buttplug. Melissa shot her an evil grin and said "I hope it hurts, cuntmeat," but then leaned over to give her mother a sweet and tender kiss. Melissa hadn't said anything more about her "Plan A," so I figured it hadn't panned out and, frankly, I wasn't all that concerned about Anna craving the touch of another woman. Melissa could have just forbidden it, and that would have been that. But she didn't. Because apparently Plan A was still in the planning stages. The webcams were on fire during the first two weeks of Melissa's spring semester. Melissa was treated to several evenings of watching me restrain and tease her mother; in return we got lovely close-ups of our daughter's masturbation techniques. As she rubbed or vibed off, she made her mother provide a running commentary in purple detail: pussy worship by webcam. It kept us connected and helped us count down the days till May. Anna and I had just finished dinner on the first Friday in February when the doorbell rang. I was already clearing the dishes, so Anna answered the door. In a moment she returned to the kitchen, alone. "There's a woman here." "What kind of woman?" "The kind who introduces herself as a fuckpig and says we should know what that means." "Someday I'd like to get through an evening without a woman calling herself a fuckpig coming to the door." I thought it was funny but Anna smacked me on the arm for my trouble and said this was serious. I followed her into the living room and found a tall, slim woman whose long dark hair was streaked with silver. She was 45 or so, quite attractive, and dressed fashionably. "Can I help you?" She moved to shake my hand. "Mr Woodson, yes, I'm your fuckpig." I spread my hands, hoping for more, and finally the woman added "Plan A?" Holy crap—our little wench of a daughter had done it. But what exactly had she done? Persuaded a stranger to come into our lives? How could she have done it without betraying our fairly enormous family secret? Anna had no knowledge of Plan A, so the blank look on her face was genuine. "Ah. Yes. Plan A," I said, going for my phone. "If you'll excuse us for a moment—please have a seat." The woman removed her coat and made herself comfortable on the sofa. I ducked into the foyer and Anna followed me. Melissa's phone was already ringing. "Hello, Daddy!" "Plan A is here." "Isn't she pretty?" "Do you remember a talk we had about discretion?" "And do you remember me saying I wasn't going to do anything stupid? Her name is Paula Fuller, and she has to be as discreet as you guys—she's her daughter's fucktoy. Wait, no, fuckpig is the term they use." "What's she saying?" asked Anna. "Explain it to your mother," I said, handing Anna the phone. I returned to the living room, where our unexpected guest was waiting patiently. "Mrs Fuller?" "Paula is fine," she said. "And fuckpig will be appropriate when we get started." "Melissa mentioned something about your daughter—" "Yes, Courtney. They graduated together. Courtney is in college out in California now, but she, as I assume you've been told, is my owner. I obey her and get off on it—it's as simple as that. I understand your wife is in a similar situation with you and Melissa?" I nodded, a little dizzy at this sudden turn of events. "She is," I said, "but naturally we don't want that news to get out." "You needn't worry, Mr Woodson. It sounds as if we all have a good thing going—I'm not interested in anything but obeying my daughter, which until further notice means serving you." I glanced back at the foyer, where Anna was still on the phone, listening intently. "How did Melissa know to contact you?" "She caught us. Slumber party, the girls' senior year. Courtney had ordered me to wait till the girls were asleep, then walk through the room, stepping over each sleeping bag—naked. My daughter has a truly twisted imagination, Mr Woodson. I made it as far as the doorway and chickened out—there was too much to lose, and Courtney knew it. Still, she forced me into my bedroom and proceeded to punish me—which that night meant sitting backwards on my face as she used clamps on my nipples. Courtney heard a noise in the hall—it was your daughter, on her way to the bathroom. She confronted her, and your daughter said she'd heard quite a bit. I offered her money to keep quiet, but to Melissa's credit she refused it. She said we were cool. Had you begun your relationship at that time?" I shook my head. "Not till last summer. But I'm sure Anna will agree that we'll need some time to process—" Anna came hurrying back into the room and drew the blinds. She crossed directly to the couch and extended her hand, pulling Paula Fuller to her feet. "Get naked," she said, ripping her own blouse open. "We have to serve our master." I cocked my head. Apparently Anna had had more than enough time to process. Paula smiled a cool, knowing smile. "How would our master like us?" "Undress each other," I said. "Paula, you first. Make my wife naked." "Yes, sir. But please, master, call me—" "Do it, fuckpig." The taller woman finishing unbuttoning Anna's blouse and draped it over a chair. Anna stood there, biting her lower lip and breathing harder, watching Paula's fingers glide over her silky flowered bra. "I love big tits," said Paula, kissing my wife's cheek. "My daughter's are just a little smaller than yours. I'm afraid I got short-changed in that department." Anna turned her face and kissed Paula's lips. "I don't care how big they are—I can't wait to touch them." Paula smiled and unhooked Anna's bra, freeing those lovely round globes. She bent down to lick at Anna's hard nipples, but I tapped her on the shoulder and said "Not yet." She blushed and unzipped my wife's skirt, scooching it down to the floor, cooing with pleasure at what she found. "No undies—naughty Anna. And smooth too! My mouth is watering." "Your turn," I said. "Anna, let's see what Paula has for us." Paula kicked off her shoes as my naked wife moved behind her to unzip her slacks and pull them down—and her tiny black panties with them. She too had a perfectly smooth box. Anna went for the blouse next, unbuttoning it from the bottom and tossing it aside, leaving Paula standing proudly in just a black bra—B-cup, nothing to be ashamed of. Anna reached around and opened the bra, and promptly got her pinky finger hung up on one of Paula's nipple rings. "Oh wow," murmured Anna. "I always wondered about those." "Courtney made me get them," smiled Paula. "Very handy for being led around on all fours." Anna stood beside Paula and they wrapped their arms around each other. "What next, master?" I took my shirt off and beckoned them forward. "This has always been a fantasy of mine," I said, guiding each woman to a nipple. They sucked like hungry babies, moaning and smacking their lips and grinding against my thighs. I let them suck until I could barely stand up, and gently pushed them away from my chest. "This is new to me," I said. "I think maybe you should just get to know each other while I sort out what to do with two beautiful slavegirls." "Pardon me, master," said Anna with a wink, "but would you mind expressing yourself a little more forcefully?" "Cuntmeat and fuckpig—69, now." The women laughed and Anna volunteered to be on the bottom. She lay on the floor with a pillow beneath her head, and I watched as our new friend climbed on, buried her face between Anna's legs, and lowered her glistening slit onto Anna's eager face. I think we'd known Paula about fifteen minutes at that point, but they munched each other like old lesbian friends. Paula's long black-and-silver hair spread itself beautifully over Anna's thighs; Anna wrapped her arms tightly around the small of Paula's back. Presently Paula asked permission to fingerfuck Anna's ass. "Granted," I said. "Both of you—work those fingers in each other." I'll never forget the sight of my wife underneath that woman we'd just met: thighs open, hips bucking, a finger deep in Paula's ass and a face wet with pussy cream—a very happy and contented face. They came together—Paula, it turned out, was a major screamer—and then sat back together against the sofa, holding hands, looking up at me. "Your cock looks even huger from this angle, master," said Anna. "Thank you, cuntmeat. But fuckpig—how long has it been since you've had some?" "Real cock?" said Paula. "Not since Courtney's dad left, so—five years." Anna kissed her hand. "Poor baby." "Courtney brought home a boy one weekend last year—and she made that poor boy tease me mercilessly. She made him kneel between my legs and touch the tip to my lips. God, you should have heard me begging—but she wouldn't let him put it in." "I'm going to put it in. On your knees with your head on the sofa—and Anna, get in position where she can keep her mouth busy." Put that picture in your head: A lovely slim woman on her hands and knees, her face wet with pussy, while another woman, gorgeous and curvy, holds her legs in the air with her eyes closed and her mouth spouting pre-orgasmic gibberish. And the curvy woman's husband, his cock buried in the slim woman and his hands clutching her hips, pounding away in a pussy he didn't know existed an hour earlier. That picture—proof of the success of Plan A—is what I'm going to leave you with. Except for the text I found from Melissa later, which said "You're welcome." Irresistible Girl Ch. 03 Chapter 3: Paula's Revelation Two in the morning and my wife woke me up by humping against my hip. "I'm sorry, master—I need it," she murmured. I wasn't entirely sure she was awake, so I rolled onto my side and softly asked what she needed. Cum, she said. Cum on her face. Smeared all over. "Make me your cum-bunny in front of all these people," she said. I asked her what people. She said something about all the wedding guests. "Must be quite a dream," I said, sliding my hand down her tummy and rubbing her clit. She was drenched and ready. "Sexy dream," she said. "I want it all over my face. Smear it around. Rub it in. Leave it till morning. I don't care." I rose to my knees and let her suck me hard, then pushed her back down and started stroking. Anna threw her legs open and tapped out a dirty Morse code on her shaved box. I leaned over and braced myself on one arm so she could reach my nipple with her free hand. She knew when I was close, and turned her face toward me with her mouth open. "Not in the mouth," I said, gently closing her jaw. "On the face, cuntmeat, so all the wedding guests can see." I groaned and splashed her nose, then eased myself down and began fingerpainting her face with it until she shook the bed with her orgasm. "Goddamn," she said, finally waking up completely. "That was—that was—do you think you can go again? Up my ass, maybe?" * * * Nights like that were quite a contrast from just a few months earlier, when we were both pretty much resigned to a sex life that ranged from placid to nonexistent. Then our beautiful daughter Melissa decided that she and I should be lovers—and after a few long seconds of contemplation I agreed and began an affair with her. When Melissa went back to Princeton for her sophomore year, we carried on in secret emails and lusty phone calls. About that time, Anna started reading The Liberation of Mary, a series of semi-scandalous erotic bestsellers that inspired her to explore her submissive side, with me as her novice master. I didn't even notice that Melissa was orchestrating the whole thing, and that she and her mother were also carrying on a long-distance lust that culminated on Melissa's first day home for Christmas break. Since then, Melissa has been more like a wife to me, and Anna has been our toy. Our cuntmeat, to quote the book. It's been a crazy, kinky, completely consensual thing, and even after Melissa returned to school for her spring semester, she was thoughtful enough to indulge her mother's taste for pussy by recruiting a woman named Paula Fuller—herself a sex toy called "fuckpig" for her own daughter—to play with us on the weekends. So counting Paula's daughter Courtney, five people in the world knew about the mother-daughter-father intrigue going on in our medium-size city in the middle of Minnesota. And five was plenty. * * * "Tell me about the dream," I said the next morning as I munched a slice of toast in the bedroom doorway. Anna removed her towel and jiggled to the dresser to get a pair of panties. "If I tell you, we'll both be late for work." "I have to know what got you all worked up." She put the panties down. "Then there's no use putting these on. Fuck, I'm already wet." I took off my pants and briefs and climbed up on the bed. She started to join me, but I put up my hand. "Tell me the dream first, and if it's a good story I'll make you cum before work. Stand right there—no touching yourself. Proceed." "Bastard," she said with a smile. But she stood beside the bed and began to recount it all, closing her eyes to bring it all back. "We were in a church. The church we got married in, only bigger. Much bigger, and the pews were packed. There were flowers all around, so it looked like a wedding was about to occur. I looked around and saw all my friends and family, all your friends and family—pretty much everyone I know. "The minister was Rev. McNolan, the one who married us. After I recognized him, the scene shifted and I saw who was getting married: It was you and Melissa." My cock jumped. Anna went on. "Melissa looked so beautiful in her white wedding gown. You looked handsome in your tuxedo. Your best man was Paula, but Melissa didn't have an attendant. She held your hands and you looked at each other like you were so happy, both of you smiling, looking into each other's eyes. Then I realized I should be in the dream somewhere if my daughter's getting married. And that's when I saw myself on the floor between you. Naked. On my hands and knees. With my bare ass facing the guests. When the minister said you could kiss the bride, you both stepped forward as if you didn't notice me. I could see you and Melissa kissing—your tongues, your hand cupping her breast—and then she ripped the bottom half of her dress off and straddled me. She said 'Go, cuntmeat. Ride me out of here.' And I obeyed her. She rode me down the aisle and stopped at every row to make sure everyone could see me. My parents were there and my mother and father both called me cuntmeat. My co-workers reached out to slap my ass as I crawled past, and one of them asked you if it was ok to jack off on my face. That must have been when I started humping you in your sleep." Anna was right. We were both late for work that day. * * * I'll be the first to admit that I was living in the best of every possible world, even if there were times when my prostate let me know it needed a break. It was fun to slip away to the den and have phone sex with my daughter, to act like a crazy college kid with a long-distance girlfriend. It was just as much fun to experience Anna's sexual reawakening, and to know Melissa approved of—and occasionally choreographed—our master-and-slave play. And then there was Paula. Tall, slim, small-breasted Paula—mine for the asking. She shared Anna's love of submission and humiliation and, just like Anna, obeyed her dominant daughter without question. What kept it all from getting too weird was the fact that we all knew when kinky time began and when it ended. We all knew when to indulge in name-calling and pussy-spanking and when to concentrate on work and home repairs and nonsexual entertainment. When Paula came over for the weekend on Friday evenings, she was ready to serve; before she left for home on Sunday we talked about everything except leather slappers and butt plugs. No one was in permanent chains. No one was in actual servitude. All of us knew where the line between kinky and freaky was. All of us, that is, except Paula's daughter. Courtney Fuller was attending college on the west coast, and Paula always hedged a little when we asked how their relationship started and what kept it going. "We just kind of fell into it when her father left," she would say with a shrug. "Who knows why one woman gets turned on by being in control?" Courtney had made her mother get her nipples pierced as a sign of subservience, and apparently was fond of threatening to drag her to a tattoo parlor and have "I am my daughter's fuckpig" inked on her ass. "Naturally, she wouldn't really do such a thing," Paula would laugh, but there was a catch in the laugh and I had the sense she hadn't ruled it out completely. One Friday night in April, our daughters coordinated their schedules so they could both supervise a threesome in our master bedroom. We set one laptop facing the side of the bed and one facing the end, then videoconferenced the girls in. It was ridiculously high-tech. I'd only seen Courtney in pictures, but now there she was on the laptop screen, a pretty coed with curly red hair and a body more like Anna's than her mother's. (One reason Paula said she loved sucking Anna's tits so much was because they were big and round like her daughter's.) Melissa waved at us from another corner of the laptop: "Home in six weeks, people. Can't wait to have cuntmeat sucking my boyfriend's goo out of my pussy." "You're making me wet, Mistress," said Anna. "Both these bitches have too many clothes on," said Courtney. "You should have been naked before you logged on." "We weren't sure what you and Melissa had planned," I offered. "Strip each other," said Melissa. "Make out while you're doing it." Anna and Paula obeyed quickly. They'd done a lot of making out during our weekend sessions, and at least once, Anna told me, during the middle of a workday when she invited Paula to meet her at a home she'd just finished showing. Melissa's order wasn't one they had to think twice about. Courtney turned her attention to me. "Mr Woodson. So. How's my mother as a lay?" "Fantastic." "And as a fuckpig?" "She's never been anything less than compliant." "Are you whipping her?" "We have some floggers and paddles—" "No whips?" "Never. Anna and I never use them—the floggers seem to inflict all the pain I'm comfortable inflicting." Courtney ahemed. "Mother? Fuckpig? Why aren't you begging to be whipped? I believe I instructed you to take one of our whips two weekends ago." Paula looked at the screen with Anna's left breast in her hand. "I'm sorry, Goddess. I could tell Master John wasn't a sadist." "I don't actually care what you could tell or what he is or isn't, fuckpig. You think I'm not keeping track of how many times you fuck up while I'm away? Jesus. Both of you bitches, hurry up and get naked. Now, Mr Woodson, I let this fuckpig play with you because she's a stupid cunt who needs a strong hand. She only understands pain and being put in her place. She craves it. Please tell me you've never gone down on her." "Once, but—" "OK, goddamn. I wasn't lending her out as a lover. Do you understand that?" Melissa broke in. "I know Daddy is dominating her, Court. I've watched. He focuses more on humiliation than pain. That's what cuntmeat likes best too." "Melissa, I give less than half a fuck about what these bitches like. Can we just start this show? Fuckpig and Chubby McFloppytits, stand back to back." I saw Anna blush. Melissa looked like she wanted to say something, but held her tongue. Anna stood back to back with Paula, clasping her hands. "Mr Woodson," said Courtney. "Fuckpig was supposed to bring you two packages tonight. Did she?" "Got 'em right here," I said. "A sack and an unopened Fed Ex box." "Empty the sack." I emptied it onto the bed: two rather nasty-looking pairs of nipple clamps. They weren't necessarily bitey-looking, but I tested the spring and they were going to clamp down hard. "Attach one clamp to the fuckpig's left nipple, please." I did. Paula winced and squeezed her mouth shut. I moved to her other breast, but Courtney stopped me. "No—the other one goes under their arms onto your milk cow's right udder." I attached the clamp to Anna, connecting the women, then Courtney had me do the same thing on the other side. The chains had a bit of slack, but too much movement by either woman would cause additional pain for them both. Anna hadn't played with such tight clamps, so her whimpering was a bit louder than Paula's. Paula whispered over her shoulder to relax and focus on something else. "Your assignment, bitches, is to face each other without removing the clamps. If one slips off, you start over from the beginning. Is that clear?" Both women nodded. I glanced at the laptop and watched a sadistic grin spread over Courtney's face as Anna and her mother struggled to figure out a nonpainful way—any way at all, actually—to solve this human version of a blacksmith puzzle. I suppose if I'd been an engineer instead of a liberal arts major, I could have figured it out sooner, though I also had no doubt that Courtney would not have been happy with my kibitzing. Anna and Paula tried talking through some ideas, but their thoughts were punctuated with cries of discomfort. And then suddenly when I looked back at the laptop, Melissa was looking elsewhere, off to the side. She quickly turned back at her webcam, said "Back in two minutes," and shut down the videoconference. Courtney asked her where she was going, but it was too late. Anna was fighting back tears but managed to ask if Melissa was ok. I said I'd find out and walked behind the laptops with my phone. Melissa answered cheerfully: "Hey there—a friend just dropped by, so can I call you later?" "Call me Father if you're in trouble." "None at all, Daddy. Say Hi to Mom!" Mysterious. I was concerned about why she'd voluntarily leave the session so easily, but also concerned that she wouldn't be there to temper Courtney's meaner impulses. "Melissa's fine," I said, "but might not be back." I remained out of sight of both webcams so I could coach Anna and Paula—not that I had a clue how to get them out of their predicament. Both women were taking turns trying to duck down, bend at the waist, and turn, which wasn't getting them anywhere except in more pain. At one point Paula got twisted around enough to beg her daughter to let them stop. One of her clamps slipped off and Courtney responded as I knew she would: "Back to square one, bitches. Mr Woodson—clamp the fuckpig, this time all the way up her areola." I stepped into camera view and whispered an apology to Paula as I reattached the clamp. "It's ok," she whispered back, and the tone was one of resignation, not arousal. I patted my wife on the shoulder and left them to Courtney. "I'm giving you ten minutes," said the girl. That's when it hit me: I moved behind the webcams and got the attention of the trembling women. I pantomimed exactly what they had to do: Slip their arms inside the chains, press their backs together, and ease themselves first into a sitting position and then flat on the floor with their heads together. I hoped there was enough slack in the chains, but even so, the hard part would be for Paula to somehow do a backwards somersault and ease her way back onto Anna. As a point of observation, there is absolutely nothing sexy about watching a woman do a backwards somersault onto another woman. But they pulled it off and I moved one of the laptops so that Courtney could see in fact that Paula and Anna were facing each other. "They did it," I said, and Courtney grudgingly said I could help them up and remove their clamps. I took the clamps off first and both women wailed as the blood rushed back to their nipples. I helped Anna up and asked softly if she was okay. She nodded and whispered back: "I prefer Melissa." Paula clutched my arm and rose to her feet, confusion in her eyes. Something had changed. "You bitches are boring," said Courtney. "Mr Woodson, open the Fed Ex box, please." I opened the box and heard Courtney chortle as I let a zip-locked baggie slide into my hand. There was a pair of polka-dotted panties inside. "Put the panties over my mother's head, Mr Woodson. Make sure the crotch is right even with her mouth. They should still feel moist with linebacker cum. Wait—were they linebackers or offensive linemen? Can't remember—all I know is that they were big and black and they filled this little white girl up with a fuckload of semen. Fuckpig, face the webcam so I can see that the crotch is in the right place—that's it. Good job, bitch. Wiggle your tongue around. Now, chubby blonde, let's see some hot lezzie makeout action." Courtney put her bare feet up on her desk and was fapping wildly as her mother and Anna tongue-wrestled around the cumstained panties. The more I watched, the more I was ready for this little experiment to be over—but also, the more I saw some real passion in Anna and Paula's kissing. They ignored the panties and kissed like lovers, not just submissives, not just participants in this sexual humiliation show. Courtney noticed it too and told them to back off. "Not liking what I'm seeing here, bitches. Face each other. Keep the panties on your head, stupid. Mr Woodson, do you have handcuffs handy?" There was a pair of soft leather wrist restraints within reach. I dangled them in front of the camera. "Good," said Courtney. "Cuff your wife's hands behind her. I need to teach fuckpig a little lesson." I put the restraints on Anna's wrists and caressed her ass while I was back there. Paula lowered her eyes behind her daughter's panties. "Now, fuckpig. I lent you out to this couple as a favor to Melissa. She knew our history, knew we could be trusted. I was under the impression that Mr Woodson was going to dominate you the way I do—my mistake. So he's more into humiliation—whoop-de-fucking-do. It was your responsibility to let him know how much you craved the sting of the whip, and the breath control, and the hot candle wax, and the expandable butt plugs—am I getting my point across?" "Well," I ventured, "like Melissa said, I have a different style of—" "Yes, I know—you got your style out of a book and you let your bitches top from the bottom. I'm not impressed, and after tonight I'm rescinding fuckpig's permission to play with you. But first she's going to do something that'll make all three of you sick." "What are you talking about?" Courtney ignored me. "Fuckpig, take a couple of steps back. Chubbycunt, open your legs a bit. Fuckpig, you're going to kick that bitch in the twat, hard enough to lift her off the ground. She's not your lover, stupid—she's a piece of fuck just like you. I want you to fuck her up." This was too much. She had to know I wasn't going to let my wife be physically beaten. But before I could say anything, Paula ripped the panties off her head and said "No." Courtney laughed. "'No'?" "No," repeated Paula. "I'm done with this game." "This isn't a game, fuckpig. This is you owing me—" "I've paid in full, Courtney. I've paid for not believing you when you told me what your father was doing to you. I've indulged your kinkiest, most sadistic whims—and I won't do it anymore. I won't kick my friend, I won't 'fuck her up,' I won't do anything to endanger my relationship with these people." "These people," snorted Courtney. "These people fuck their daughter just like Dad." "It's different with them," said Paula. "And I'll tell you something else." She moved beside Anna and put her arm around my wife's shoulders, then beckoned me to her other side. "You all might as well hear it at once," she said. "I've fallen in love with John and Anna both." I'm not sure anyone expected to hear the L-word in that situation. I didn't. Courtney certainly didn't. Anna grinned like she might have. Paula went on: "So, that's that. For a long time, Courtney, you gave me what I craved, what I thought I deserved. But I can't do it anymore." Courtney stood up and leaned over the desk menacingly. "Mother. Fuckpig. When I come home, I'm going to beat this hearts-and-flowers bullshit out of you. I'm going to shave your head and tie you to a goddamn tree in the yard and charge people a quarter to fuck your stupid, worthless, fuckpig ass." "I no longer consent to that, Courtney. Which makes it rape. Good night." "What? 'Good night'? No, it's not good night. You're going to apologize, you're going to get your head back on straight, and you're going to do what I tell you—" Whatever else Courtney threatened her mother with was lost when I shut down the webcam. Paula released Anna's wrists from the cuffs and the three of us sort of fell into a group hug on the bed. "Sorry to spring it on you like this," said Paula. "I knew I loved you after our second weekend together—and I don't have any expectations or anything like that. I'm happy with the status quo. I know we can't all live together like a threesome—I mean, there's Melissa to think of too—but whatever happens, I want us to—" Anna shot me a look that said "Less talk, more fuck" and covered Paula's mouth with hers. I ran my hands down Paula's body, down to her slippery pussylips, and was tapping her clit when my cell phone buzzed. It was Melissa, wanting to know if she'd missed anything important.