8 comments/ 8360 views/ 4 favorites Thirty-One Days a Bitch Ch. 01 By: livebeornwulf $450 million dollars might just be suffered forfeiture of in one single dead of the night. Aged, frail, but a greatly rich man—Ian Bitch grew to be a prevailing multi-millionaire all in credit to Preston Dick. A youthful, irresistible and atrocious man: monstrous at the same time and causing so plenty a people to be transformed into dominant millionaires on one requirement that they do anything to cheer him back; Preston wants old Ian's only daughter, Daisy, to become his bitch and wife for not more than thirty-one days; in the course of which she must without lack of success become pregnant with him. Furthermore, he wants the child to be a lovely son. And if Daisy fails flatly in doing all of this for him, their bargain is closed without any sort of negotiations. Firstly, Ian will lose out all his big money and possessions; and then secondly, he will end up broke and dirt-poor like he helplessly was in the first place. ********************* I have at no time been a bitch bastard before as I am right now. Preston Dick wishes me to be his marital woman and loose woman at the same time. Can you even picture this? If I should save the life of my father's hard cash and his chattels furthermore, I have to work out all this that he desires me to execute for him. It provokes and maddens me one way or the other, but legitimately speaking, I have no any other option or alternative here. I am the bitch and the wife all merged into one. I consistently will be. This is the house that Preston and I will be renting in. I stop and park my car carefully in the driveway, then inch my way out to inspect and check it out. It looks pretty modern and up-to-the-minute to some measure of extent. The windows, the burnished floor, the sleek and unbroken-flowing tiles, the made-of-wood doors and ceiling plank or ceiling board—they are all very newly and recently. Allie Bennett is the woman having to her name the gigantic, bulky, and mammoth house here which she is lending out on a lease. It has about eighteen rooms inside it, all finalized and sewn and tied up perfectedly. I can't help myself but make glad eyes and gawp at them unbrokenly. Everything is faultless and unblemished here. I know that leasing this house will be a tiny puny thing to Preston. I hear gossip and talk that he might be a billionaire, a multi-billionaire God willing, or by any chance not so this filthy rich. One thing is straightforward even. Preston Dick is rich and made of bona fide, durable money. As for this latest residence of ours, we will be spending up to $10,000 every nigh month. Allie, our lesser, even adds that she might raise the rentals up any moment without any prompt warning, and Preston does not give a damn about it at all. "What do you think about your new home, Mrs. Dick?" She queries me doubtfully and dubiously. It is almost like she doesn't place much confidence in me adoring and caring to stay in a place as logically attractive and pleasurable as this. I express to her flatly, "I imagine that it is divine and world-class. I will doubtlessly enjoy my stay in this place, Miss Bennett." She knits her brows in a kindly and charitable course of action. "If you chime so, Mrs. Dick!" The hours of darkness have at long last fallen. I am settled down here in the void and unfurnished living room on a lone historical-seeming chair, rocking and moving gently to and fro, scanning and eyeing up all about me silently and noiselessly. My cell phone buzzes all of a sudden and abruptly, but I am speedy and headlong to respond and pick up the unforeseen call. It is my dad, Ian Bitch. I know that he has a creepy and spooky name, but that is just our family weirdo and problem altogether. "Mr. Bitch. You rang me up at final last. You have no mini idea how long I have been waiting for your call." Ian sounds penitent and remorseful. "I am so sorry, sweetheart. I was occupied with some stuff here at work. I am through and finished with all of it anyway. And how are you doing there at your new home, my treasured one?" "I am great, dad. Things are very good here too." "And that ruthless villain; how is he acting towards you? I swear that if he ever hurts or maltreats you in any way he will ever regret having lent out a hand to me in the first place." "He has not yet turned up here. I guess that he is having some unaccomplished work somewhere. What do you reckon yourself?" "Heck—I am not concerned, dear, with what he does and what he doesn't do behind our unsuspicious backs. I am only concerned and bothered about you, my love." "Well, don't be, dad. Call to mind, I volunteered to do this for our own sake and sanity. I don't ever like to visualize you and I myself thrown out there on the streets and at last helplessly and miserably dispossessed. I will do anything in my power, father—just about any kind of thing, to see that we are safe and sound. I am doing it for you alone. Don't you ever overlook this! You have done as much as you can for me up till now, and I must do all that I can for you from now onwards." "That is so sweet of you, Daisy, my love." "Bye dad." I bring the call to an end at this precise note. I can't withstand to converse with him any further than I already have. I am mewling and howling out uncontrollably. I wouldn't ever want him to suffer and be in gross pain and also go though bad, vulgar times. To shirk away from all this, I am going to do exactly what Preston tells me to do. I am now his bitch and wife; don't forget! By the hour that he shows up, I am all prepared and in readiness to make love and lie down with him in our titanic, lush bed. He is looking a great much deal fagged and whacked and knackered tonight. His red ruby tie is not fixed and set up in its rightful position properly; the buttons on his black jacket are unstrapped and loosened; and even those on the flanges of his shirt are untied and loosed too. His hair is littered and cluttered about all over his head. His skin looks ashy and like death. I am wondering. What exactly the hell was going on with him? As he ensconces himself down on the bed, I settle down besides him and in charity and compassion ask him, "Are you alright, honey? You look ready to drop down dead and terrifying too. What happened to you?" He makes a face and glares back at me. "Don't trouble yourself asking. What is there for me to eat anyway?" "I made a luscious dish of rice and chicken just for you," I mention this with a thrilled and ecstatic smile, hoping that he will twinkle and smirk back at me. He doesn't; and it without fail and beyond the shadow of any doubt snaps and crushes my heart and soul likewise. Is this how I will be living with this unreasonably stony-hearted man for the imminent thirty-one days starting from tomorrow? I wish I can weep and sob out, but then I don't just do it. I mean who will be here to express sympathy and solace to me? One hundred per cent and absolutely no one! Preston has got no futile and despicable time for such acts and pretences. He is surely unkind and merciless indeed! "I think I shall eat that tomorrow. I will go and shower now if you don't mind." "Go ahead and take a quick scrub of yourself. I think that it will do you much more good." I am about to get raging and provoked up. I don't care about anything anymore. I wonder if we will even have sex tonight. I have exclusively thirty-one days to make a child or son with him—not more, not less than this. If I will not be shrewd and ingenious here, I won't ever get pregnant with him. I honestly and seriously do mean it. While Preston is off there showering, I gradually and by inchmeal degrees take off my clothing. I am uncertain and having some reservations as to whether actually do this, or not to. I fear and worry that I might be late in my judgment and reasoning. I have to do it anyway regardless. Every slipping-by minute is exquisitely priceless, and I have to make definite and certain that I sleep and have sex with him as much plenteous as possible. At least this will highly strengthen and enhance my chances of getting pregnant with him. Even as Preston is rinsing and cleansing himself, I can plainly and beyond question sight and catch a glimpse of him through the see-through glass shower barriers. His bareness and nakedness...it is all breathtaking and mind-boggling to look at. I don't think that I can get enough and as much as is necessary of him here. I customarily and unfailingly itch and tingle and tickle with restless and edgy desire to watch and lust at him all the never-ending and nonstop. His buttocks and behinds...they are so filled and loaded up! Not like a woman's, but exactly how just an average and typically sexual active man ought and meant to be. They are so appealing and making my mouth to water. I wish I was also there in the shower with him to seduce and lead him on and what's more caress and stroke and grab hold of those meaty butts up his thighs there. His slinky and titillating thighs...they are inviting and arousing! I am getting soggy wet and freaky damp inside my vagina just by eyeing and checking them out. I can feel my breasts swell and grow larger and puffed up too! All at once and in an instant, I wheel around my face and head away from Preston. I cannot curb myself anymore. Licentiousness and libido is fast consuming and devouring me. Even as I have my face switched away from a stripped buck-naked him, I can visualize in my mind I myself standing there in the shower before him, bashing and socking my lips straight against his while snatching and latching on my hands to his fully-stocked, sensuous, and kissable butts down beneath his back. Damn me! How can I be such a keen and vulgar cheap bitch? By the time that Preston comes forth out of the shower, I have stilled and quieted don my reproductive urges. It is no effortless and painless thing—but I have worked and carried it out successfully! I swerve and shift myself towards him quietly. He is clothed in an unpatterned white towel. His chest is wide and extraordinarily alluring and arousing-looking too, but it has so sparse and small an effect and upshot on me as compared to those smooth, furry, and spongy-looking buttocks of his. I slurp and swig saliva down my parched throat. I am every inch uncovered and stark-naked myself. I open and pull apart my thighs so that he can plainly and clearly see my clitoris and its salmon-colored inside down there. I have shaved and snipped away all hair that was on my sex with a knifelike and jagged-edged razor blade. To make things much more stimulating and thought-provoking, I work in and slide my fingers into my vagina, rubbing and caressing it mildly and quietly smooth so that I can stir up and inflame Preston's sexual ache and appetite as a result. It works out admirably and proficiently smooth and fine. Preston just stands there for a transitory while, eyeing and peeping helplessly at my vagina which I am massaging and stroking and kneading calmly under my subdued, quiet breath. I study and eye him up too. I can take note of a solidified and unbending erection manifest and turn out between his legs. He saunters towards me inchmeal and in his own good time, and then goes ahead to perch and pew himself down here before my very short-winded face and self. "Are you masturbating and playing with yourself before my very own eyes and face?" The pitch of his voice does sound choked and snappy to some huge extent. Is he really all that annoyed and infuriated with me? I cannot preciously tell. I seize his hand and then thrust and poke his fingers direct into my vagina. They feel so balmy and temperate inside here...while my inside itself is this wringing moist and soaking dank. Preston rubs and raps them gently inside while I seal and slam shut my eyes so that he there and then withdraws and takes them out by the minute I unclose and unseal wide open my glad, satisfied eyes. He then in sincerity makes known to me, "It will not be tonight that I will fuck and hump you up, Daisy. As you can easily make out, I am all joking aside exhausted and spent to well-nigh death. Get a sweetened and delightful sleep, will you, baby?" Is that all that he has to voice out to me? That is so ugly and unpleasant of him. I watch him get up on his feet and pace to the other side of the bed before undressing utterly naked and then at full speed inching and writhing his way straight into bed. He afterwards places his head down on the pillow guiltlessly and bars shut his eyes to nap and slumber noiselessly. I am quite taken aback and bewildered with all of this. What does this all precisely symbolize? That he does not even have a small piece or scrap of time for me, right? Well—DAMN HIM! I squirm and worm my way into bed after him and gaze at him irately and angrily before finally flicking off the lights and tossing myself down right besides him. I should get some enjoyable and divine sleep. He won't touch or kiss me tonight, or fuck or bang me up like he is keen on doing with dissimilar women out there. Who knows? He might have so many bitches and wives and I might just be well, his fiftieth one. It all comes to happen by coincidence, or maybe it is not a stroke of bad luck actually. I jolt and jounce against his bare, soft buttocks with mine own and briskly drift away from him. He comes after me once again and slaps and bashes his ass right against mine. It makes me irate and wrathful by some means, considering the truth that he won't be having sex with me tonight, but I act and work out nothing against this. Next, he shifts and budges himself the other way round so he can look and face my back. I feel his thighs quietly and leniently brush and graze their way against mine, and then his hand lastly making a steadied movement towards my chest so that it is placed and lied right on my unsuspecting breast. I am amazed—I am startled and astonished, but I do nothing still. This is his home besides, and he enacts the rules here while I only bow and submit myself to them. I will let him do and conduct himself like he feels like—honestly! I must sleep...I must dream...I must fall asleep! Gracing and beautifying this new house of ours is much of a work as it obviously seems like. Not only this. It is highly-priced and splendid too, but I am intent and strong-willed on making my thirty-one day stay in this house as most satisfying and gratifying as I can best make it. Preston wouldn't care about me paying out a few good couple bucks on the ornamentation and beautification of his home. Of course! I could smoothly hire someone to organize the sweat and toil for me, but I would rather work it all out myself then. This way, I won't disburse and shell out all that much money candidly. Thirty-One Days a Bitch Ch. 02 Daisy feels estranged and companionless; kind of. Preston has fared off to work, and she is all friendless and forsaken in this giant and massive house of theirs, wandering this way and that other, checking how the pack of women and men that she has bade and summoned here are pulling off their business and affairs of gracing and beautifying everything up. Yes. They are honestly doing a serious and massive job. Daisy herself realized that she couldn't stand to get done and settle this up all on her own and so she appealed for a few more couple hands to relieve and back her up. Sofia Vaccaro is her darling friend. She is sylphlike-built, long-legged and lanky, flawlessly-shaped and exquisite looking in both form and appearance. Most plump girls back to college days envied and hungered to look exactly the same as her; Daisy herself taken into their account as well. Sofia's hair is all light blaze brown and gushing and streaming just like Daisy's, and honestly speaking, at times the two do look like actual blood sisters. Sofia has come here to visit Daisy and see how she is doing at her new home. She works with her at the Graham House of Paparazzi, and they both did the same Journalism course at Wotton University somewhere here in North Las Vegas. It is a brilliant and fresh morning at any rate. "Daisy," Sofia greets her with a rapt and blissful smile once she has opened up the door for her to make an entrance. Sofia is looking as renewed and breathtaking as Kim Kardashian. Frankly supposing, what brand of make-up has she put on this precise morning. Daisy's stomach is already starting to sting and burn from joy commingled with sharp, excruciating pangs of envy on the other hand; this girlfriend of hers? She is a beauty queen her exact twenty-six years of age and a spouseless and bachelor woman in addition. By the way, Daisy isn't positive whom Sofia is going out with at the moment after being junked by Landon Jonathan, whom she was romantically involved with just a couple of months earlier. The two ladies both peck on the cheeks and go ahead to lay themselves down in the exquisitely and aesthetically-pleasing furnished living room. It is flavorsome, grand, flashy, and all things good taste and polished-looking. Daisy feels that she will be at ease and relaxation here in her coming thirty-one days, starting from this very instant. After reviewing and eyeing about in consummate awe and adoration, Sofia looks at her in a beaten and baffled sort of way, and then proceeds to interrogate her this: "You did all this by yourself without grand mama's help, right, my sweet little girlfriend?" Daisy scowls and makes an embittered face back at her. "What do you suppose, sweetie? That I could execute and effect all this on my own? Well, I didn't. I hired a team of hands to lend a hand and succor me out. This place was wondrous and without contents at the same time." Sofia helps herself with a cup of tea from the glass-mold kettle laid down on the coffee table besides her. "What is this thing I am hearing about you being married and a bitch at the same time? Are you truly serious about it? You even let Preston—" Daisy nicks her short straight away. "That is no any make-believe tale here, girlfriend. Please, don't take the Mickey out of me for it. I have already had enough. You are the only one who can assist me at this very particular moment. I frankly need your assistance and counsel." Daisy is shocked and taken aback by this. She asks her nonetheless, "Tell me what is bothering you, dearest." "It is Preston. He wants me to get pregnant in thirty-one days. End of story! There are no more days added to this spell, or any wound down what's more. It must all happen in thirty-one days, do you understand me? Seriously speaking, I don't know what to precisely do here. Last night he didn't have sex with me, and that has got me so distracted and anxious. What do you think I can do to make him give in himself to me without any cutoff point?" Much in contrast to what Daisy is even expecting, Sofia starts to cackle and laugh powerlessly at her. Is she seriously mad? Daisy here is her best friend...seriously and deeply in need of her assistance and counsel, and she is laughing and poking fun at her like she is dumb-ass and brainless to open all this up to her in the first place. What does she think that Daisy is? A brute, right? "Stop laughing at me, Sofia, will you?" Sofia gives in to the plea. "Okay, best friend. Listen; there is no any sort of problem here. If the guy wants you pregnant for him in thirty days, do what he tells you to. I mean, if you are having any serious trouble seducing and getting him to sleep with you, then you frankly and are seriously this childish and stupid. Don't you know how to make a guy get his leg over with you, Daisy?" Somehow, Daisy does feel embarrassed and ashamed. "I know all that stuff, Sofia. But Preston is no easy a man as you think he is. He is dissimilar and unlike from most men out there, and malicious and indifferent and insensitive too what's more." "Aha! There you have it. Unusual! Do something unusual from what you are used to, girl. Show me that you have got some bit of brains and intellect in you." Daisy starts to feel and think that Sofia is right. Getting a man to have sex with her is such an easy thing after all! There is no love here; there never will be love here between the two of them. All that they have to do is make a baby, a son as a matter of fact, and that's just it. She has to do something different from what Preston expects her to do. Maybe then he will fall into her snare and give her the exact son that he wants her to give him. She will start by giving him some sex-kindling type of drink. Exactly! This very same afternoon, Daisy and Sofia go out shopping for their own exclusive fun and amusement. They both enjoy and adore it; they are like the two ridiculous but good best friends in the entire world; they do anything it is that feel like; they talk and chat on just about any kind of topic; simply put, they love and are mad about being stupid ass-holes. While they have lunch at some restaurant here in Downtown, the food of which it is exceptionally appetizing and mouth-watering, Sofia flatly asks her sweetheart pal, "And what is the name of that sex powder that you just bought?" Daisy can't clearly remember its name. It seems like she has forgotten it, but then in the coming moment, it is up there in her head, fresh and brand new like nobody's business. "It is something the sort Chinese branded and named. Something like, 'Quoi Zeugma.' Something like that," Daisy tells Sofia calmly and as hushed best as she can get her voice to be. Sofia then pinches her eyes and starts to think things over, and suddenly and abruptly mentions out to her: "I think that you should have gone for Lingui. It works best and efficient. Why don't you go ahead and give it a try, my dear girl?" "If you say and believe so." Following lunch, the two go to a lingerie and underwear store to peruse and browse through the never-ending and plentiful assortment of stuff here, all in hope and anticipation to pick one that might better suit and look gorgeous on Daisy tonight. The shopping assistant, who is all blond and willowy, offers to help them out but Sofia nicely turns down her well-bred proffer. "Don't worry about us," she reassures her with a vividly and dazzling smile. "We are bad sweet bitches and we beyond any shadow of a doubt do know how to get our way around here." Even if they are both now far and distance-apart from the dazed woman, she is still looking at them in that edgy and uptight kind of way. At noticing this, Daisy asks Sofia, "Was it really basic to add all that up to her?" Sofia is carefully and closely eyeing this product of black stockings, going on to grab and survey it directly with her touchy-feely hands. "I don't care. Well, if she believes that we are actual bitches, she must be one herself. It takes a bitch to know another bitch, you know, Daisy?" Daisy merely shrugs. "All I truly know is that it takes a thief to catch another thief, but this quote and saying of yours—it all sounds brand new and unfamiliar to me." "Okay! Try these out, will you? And don't you wear any kind of bra with them. I want you to look like an absolute and undeniable bitch." When work and labor liably and most likely becomes dull and mind-numbing and uninteresting at the same time, Preston Dick purely has got one remedy and relief to all this—masturbation. It is what he habitually and unfailingly does inside his office. At one time, he even worked and effected it out in a Board session and gathering full of people, and if not by a needle's break and look-in, the chairman would have straightforwardly and without any bit trouble caught him in the act. This afternoon, he is all weary and by himself, listless and sick and tired with all of the office task and function that he has to do. There honestly isn't any much left to do, and in his weariness and irksomeness, he makes up his mind and reaches a decision to masturbate inside here—a leisurely pursuit and pastime as he dubs it. Having unlocked and unfastened the zip of his fly, he tugs and draws his penis out, and out it stretches and unrolls, great and giant, extensive and immense in bigness and largeness. No! This is not the fruit and outcome of any surgery. He turns out to brag a huge dick naturally. How about playing some porn? Yes. This will aid him to masturbate well and successfully. He relishes the yielding and soothing screams whispered and soft-toned out by a woman during sex. This is sufficient and as much as is necessary to make his dick go up straightly upright. Shit! Young Preston is so large and massive. That is his name. Preston names his penis too without any speck of embarrassment and shamefacedness. For instance, in that very same meeting where he jacked off beneath the desk and almost got caught by the chairman, who was strong and an in-good-shape man too just like him, he went on to smile at him apologetically and openly confessed, "I was just monitoring on how Young Preston is doing down there. Hey dude, do you as well have a name for your dick?" While the porn video plays, Preston cuts and lets fall low its volume so that anyone standing or simply strolling out there will not overhear anything. The woman in the video has got giant, hulking breasts that are looking so arousing and kissable. Preston loves the manner and style that she caresses and has fun with them. If only Daisy can be able to do something like this. Daisy is his new bitch and wife at home. She looks great and irresistibly beautiful. But he hasn't disclosed and coughed out all this to her. As much as he wants to fuck and spank her up in his bed, he wants to afflict and rack her first. Daisy is one such wealthy, spoiled girl who has got some bit of womanly satisfaction and pleasure in her. All this must be dealt away with. Only then will he charm and cheer and gratify her as she deserves to be tickled and humored. For now, he just wants to crucify and torment her snobbish and egoistical ways. He is the Man after all, isn't he? Without taking the time or burdening herself to knock, Chloe Gonzales, his bitchy and barbed assistant, tosses open the door and swaggers and struts herself straight into his office, going on to shut the door behind her charily and discreetly. Outraged and wrathful, Preston leaps back in his present state of shock, but it is too late to feign or falsify anything. Chloe has seen and observed it all. He hurriedly stands up and drags his penis back into his trousers, then at last discontinues the playing porno video where this woman is all shrieking and squealing out in consummate pleasure. Chloe looks down at him with a bent, twisted smile. Her hair is all darkly red and far-reaching and extensive. She compassionately asks him, "Does your new bitch and wife make you die from lack of sex there at your new home? Is she any better than I myself am?" "Go out, you miserable bitch. She fucks me a lot more harder than you did." "Oh—really? Then why are you masturbating here? You should have by now quitted for home so you can fuck and spank her up as you feel like, or isn't it so?" "Mind the way you talk to me, Chloe. I am your boss, remember?" "Fine then! I will be going out. I just wanted to hand over this to you." She launches some files of paper work straight on his table and then smoothly adds on, "Keep this to your mind: I will not rest a bit until you fall back into my bed and loving arms. No, I won't." At this, she wheels around gracefully and tramps away like she is a famous model or something that class. Fuck her to hell, Preston thinks. Daisy can almost feel the rain out there as it cuffs and batters and thumps on the roof of her house. It is bleak and freezing even. She nearly congeals and hardens up into concrete, unshakable ice where she is standing right now. Preston is standing here with her, grasping and clinging her waist to himself with his convulsing but stout hands. Honestly speaking, she doesn't exactly know why he wants them to do this. But she believes and figures out that it is a magnificent and outstanding idea on the other hand. Making love in the brutal and untamed rain? This will be absolutely their very first time to ever do such kind of a thing. He looks down at her leisurely and gently, and then inches and drags his lips so close to hers such that cannot painlessly breathe or sigh out as she feels like doing. "Are you sure about this, honey?" She asks him in an unruffled but rickety voice. She is in some way afraid and terrified. What if she ends up catching a cold out there? And all that dirt and mud that they will have to crawling and wriggling themselves in? This surely does appall and sicken her in some kind of way. "Don't be scared, sweetheart. You will love and enjoy this. I promise you." Daisy gives in to him, and he hastily pecks and brushes his lips on hers delicately and smoothly for one nippy, straightforward moment. Then she watches him amble away from her to open the door and in due course walk out. Once he is standing out there in the plummeting rain, with the showers quickly splashing and hammering down on him so as to straight away make him immeasurably drenched and soaked to the very skin, he turns back towards her and calmly and peacefully stretches out his hand for her to get in touch with and dependably seize hold of it—what's more. She then marches after him silently and quietly without any furthered opposition to surrender her hand into his. It is much colder and unpleasantly icy here. Being with Preston makes her feel a bit safer and sound too. She quivers and wobbles as the rain flogs and whacks down on her, soaking and drenching her helplessly from head to toe, from left to right. Preston goes on to place his hands on her waist this time again, and while he glances and looks straightly into her eyes, he tows and hauls her towards himself so he can place and lay his lips against hers. Daisy can feel his breath whizzing and whistling out direct into her face. Then his lips are suddenly and rapidly sweeping and brushing hungrily and excitedly on hers. At this, she takes hold of the back of his neck and then starts to war and fight her lips on his impressively. His tongue sneaks its way out of his mouth so it can nudge and crash on hers, licking and lapping it up at the very same time, and all this makes her tingle and itch with lust and desire for him. She wants him now in his entirety! The world around Daisy seems to be not there and inexistent at all. She don't even care or give a slight damn about the thundering rain anymore. She solely craves to be Preston here and nothing else. While consuming and devouring his lips wonderfully, she begins to unbutton and undo off his shirt. As she does this, she realizes and figures out that she must shift and move backwards to get this eager task of hers done. Nevertheless, Preston is quick and fast alert to follow and hound her snatched, rushed-like movement. She then proceeds to feel and caress about his bared, wide chest. It feels...breathtaking and tantalizing! It is all hers tonight and no other bitch's. Next, she switches my hands to his behind there. His buttocks, that is. This is the chunk and piece that she idolizes and worships madly. Not that she brags and crows any dick to fuck and spank it up. It is just that powerfully and strongly thrilling and delighting to graze and caress and feel and brush as she feels like carrying out while he sports and has fun and amuses himself with her very own lips up there. His buttocks are the most velvety smooth and comfy stuff and material that she has ever clasped and braced and touched mischievously in her entire life. She all the time tingles and burns and twinges at their feel with this enduring lustful desire and passion that steers her to act insanely wild and crazy things. She can't imagine what life or sex would be like if Preston turned out to have no ass or behind in the first place. Honestly speaking—would that make him fully and every inch eye-catching and gorgeous and beautiful irresistible as he now for sure is. There she has them. His smooth like a baby's cheeks, elastic-seeming, and boggy style of ass. Goodness! It feels so enjoyable and great to touch and lay hold of. While she kisses and smooches him back, she taps and slaps and spanks it with her individual hands as she feel like carrying out, detaining and arresting her breath back at the same time. The rain is this heartlessly fierce and pounding. It doesn't seem or look like it will cease any time from now. This is also true with the libido and sexual tingling and tickles that Daisy is undergoing right this very moment. Her own breasts are swelling and hardening simultaneously. She thinks she is about to burst and erupt from this too great sexual desire and want. Is there any possible remedy for it? Is there really? Uh! She strokes and caresses hands about Preston's backside smoothly and gracefully. She what's more grabs and tweaks and pulls them to herself. He bites and nibbles her ear playfully and dubiously still for this mad, inconsiderate, and idiotic action of hers. Daisy grins and giggles out. Preston and sex! She knows that he is good and a mastermind at this reproductive-touching game. It has taken him quite a length and breadth of time to be able to toss and hurl his cards freely on the table like he is doing now. He has eventually and at long last done it! That is what is more important than anything else in the world, she is imagining and assuming to herself in perfect, blissful silence. Thirty-One Days a Bitch Ch. 03 Daisy Bitch is one hundred per cent stripped naked as the day she was born while telephoning Sofia in the pleasant and comfy Jacuzzi. She is not telephoning her in fact, but phoning her on her individual cell phone while letting her hair down into the temperate, hot water and feeling at ease what's more. As she lingers for Sofia to pick up the phone, she carries on to stroke and caress her breasts and thighs steadily and in her own good time, furthermore going to eye a glass of sweetened orange juice that is laid down not far away from where she is. Sofia sounds a bit sleepy and fagged on the phone. Daisy is starting to question whether she did take a good, tolerable nap last night, or she dared not to do so actually. "You sound exhausted and fatigued. Are you alright, my dearest friend?" Daisy comments while supping her sugary glass of juice ploddingly. "Let's say 'yes'," Sofia howls and snaps out with some speck of annoyance. "I am not convinced with your, 'yes,' Sofia. Tell me what precisely happened to you. Did you come across your man fucking another woman right there in your own bed or what?" Daisy teases and makes fun a little bit. Sofia had her own auspicious and over-the-moon moments last night provoking and making fun of her after all—or is that not it? "That's miles away from the actual truth, Daisy. It turns out I am having my menstrual period. That's just it; I am not in any kind of pleasant mood today frankly speaking." "Oh," Daisy murmurs and drones out in outright surprise and shock at the same time. "Too bad for you, darling!" "Stop sympathizing with me, you candy bitch, will you, please? Tell me how it went last night with your man, Preston." At this, Daisy chuckles and cackles out in absolute pleasure and glee too. "Last night was so splendid and spectacular, Sofia. I wish you were here with us to see everything take place and come about. Preston was sensational and awesome at the same time. Can you believe that we fucked and spanked in the murderous rain out there? I seized and smacked and caressed his exquisite, divine-looking ass as much hard and energetically as I could get myself to carry out. Your opinion and instruction worked perfectly faultless and sound, my sweetest friend." Sofia gasps and sighs out. "That is heavenly and amusing to eavesdrop from you. If you are not bothered by it, I have to get back to sleep now. This menses of mine is so hurting and unpleasant at the same time. I have to escape and duck this awful discomfort and soreness as much as I probably can. For now, I simply have to sleep. Bye—" Daisy hacks her short—entreating out, "Wait, wait, Sofia. Don't hang on me please. I want to come there to your place for a BDSM lecture. Would you give a damn to coach and school me for not more than an hour or two? I will definitely be paying you for it. What do you say? It turns out Preston is engrossed and fascinated with all this kind of junk and kit, and I don't ever want to fail or let him down." There is a deep moment of silence, then a blest and cheerful, "Okay. Stop by my place, will you?" Sofia lodges and settles in a massive house—one that is enwreathed and dressed with flowers and roses and steep, towering trees and the like. She stays here on her own with her lovely and welcoming dog, Mia, and two exquisite black cats that unpredictably and shockingly get along perfectly fine and well with the arrogant, despotic, and tyrannical mannered bitch or dog. Here, she has got a large, bulky room filled up with BDSM devices and machines and apparatus that she makes use of in tickling and gratifying herself and her lover sexually. Sincerely put, Sofia likes being the principal and protagonist character when dealing with sex, gender, and facts o f sexuality. Daisy on the unlike hand loves being the slave and submissive. As she marches into Sofia's top secret sex room, Daisy is dressed and robed in nothing other than a man's business suit and outfit. She looks kind of manlike and masculine in this exquisite and stainless black suit of hers; though honestly speaking some attributes and facets of hers are markedly womanly and all things girlie and delicate. Sofia following her behind is having her giant, attractive breasts nude and uncovered, and she is clothed in nothing more than an erotic and titillating design of underwear. Her velvety smooth, spongy-like bums are indubitably perceptible and noticeable behind there. She even discloses to Daisy, "You know one funny thing, my fellow bitch friend? Whenever I am having sex here with my boyfriend, I don't dress or put on any grace of brassiere. I like having my appetizing breasts unclothed and exposed for him to straightforwardly see." Daisy busts a gut and chuckles out at hearing this. "That is so nuts and crazy of you. Don't you know that putting on a bra makes you bewitching and fascinating in the eyes of a man, Sofia." "I don't believe that, sweetie. I really and honestly don't." "Fine! Show me how they act out this BDSM thing of yours." Sofia is gripping a whip that is stretched and long-drawn-out. While Sofia steps and paces about, she all of a sudden and briskly chucks it towards her feet, and once the whip has reeled and cruised alarmingly and slightly painful around both of Daisy's feet, Sofia yanks and wrests it backwards so that her mate tumbles and topples down to the hard, rocklike floor. Daisy is amazed and thunderstruck moreover. She cannot believe her own eyes and the certainty here. Just what exactly is Sofia trying to do to her? While squirming and wriggling about helplessly on the floor, Sofia arches and bows down towards her, seizing a pair and doublet of handcuffs and foot-cuffs with which she hastily and with all speed fix and lock up on her china's vulnerable hands and feet. Having finished this, she winds and leans down towards Daisy's ear to breathe and say softly to her, "Welcome to the age and realm of Bondage and Discipline, Sadism and Masochism; my sweet little Daisy." The music and singing is all too noisy and piercing vehement in Preston's ears. He does not seem to be concerned and bothered a little jot bit by it all still. Tyler Nicolas is plonked down and taking a seat right besides him, staring and gazing at the bitch of a woman that is prancing and dancing and swaying lavishly and bountifully on the soaring, high, and iron-designated pole. She is entirely and to the hilt bare naked and undressed. Her mammoth breasts are all stripped and in the raw, their nipples solely being covered up and concealed by what looks like pitch-black paint or the like in the sparkling and shimmering multi-colored lights. Her pussy seems to be trimmed and snipped—the hair that is—expertly and conscientiously. It cannot be obviously and distinctly seen however in spite of all this. It seems to be tinted and colored a deeply, acutely black too just like the nipples above. Apart from this, the woman has got charming, curled raven hair that is swinging and hopping and jigging too along with her. She is smirking and twinkling at Preston seated here what's more. "The lady seems to enjoy and love your company here, Preston," Tyler observes and passes comment. He smirks and grins happily at his friend as he states this out. Preston cannot plainly and without difficulty take his eyes away from the attractive and pleasing cute woman. She is so appealing and drop-dead he can even envisage and think up himself sprawling down in bed with her, her legs snapped and opened apart for him stroke and massage in between there, and he is keenly and tightfistedly gobbling and consuming her lips with his own like he has to work it out and wrap it up all before the world resolves and ceases any moment from now. Sex is sweet and sugar, isn't it? Preston imagines all this in his head while licking his lips ravenously like one famished upon seeing some delectable, luscious foodstuffs. Sex is so, so sugar and enjoyable indeed! "How about a freezing, honeyed drink?" Preston invites and solicits Tyler. He doesn't decline or turn down the kindly offer. "Sure, dude." "How much do you think I can spend to fuck this gorgeous lady here? I want decent opinion, and not some piece of flattery and false praise from you, Tyler." "I don't exactly know. But I think that a couple hundred bucks might do for this night. Are you really that curious into spanking her?" "She turns out to catch my eye and hold my attention at the same time. So yes! I am this curious and intent on fucking and smacking her hard on the butts this breathtaking night. Don't you agree with me that she is this brilliantly appealing and gripping too?" "I do. But I suppose and assume that you have left one more bitch there at your new house, or isn't that it? If you want her pregnant in not more thirty-one days, don't you think you deserve to spend all time in her companionship and fellowship, knocking and hammering her in every Kama sutra sex position and style that you can get yourself to think and picture of?" "That Daisy piece of shit! I am fed up and wearied with her. I don't even know why I married her for thirty-one days exclusively in the first place. Yes. It is all because of her attractiveness and symmetry. The first time I eyed and sighted her, I was like, 'I have got to fuck this bitch! I must do it!' And I have already been through that, Tyler. Right now, I only trust and keep my fingers crossed that she will give me a son as good-looking and winning in appearance as she is herself." "How many times have you spanked and fucked her up, if I may ask you, Preston?" "Only once!" "Once? You have got to be kidding me, man. Spank her so many times; more than twice in a day if you can get yourself to do it. That way, you will boost and strengthen her chances of becoming pregnant with you. You hear that?" "Kind of! I will see what I can do about it anyway. If you don't mind, I think it is about time that I make a winged, rapid but surefire move towards this charming, lovely bitch here. Excuse me for a little bit while please." While the woman looks and stares directly at Preston, he withdraws and gets out from his pocketbook a batch and roll of dollars stacked and bolted together. He waves and flutters it bit by bit and gently at her and then signals her to come over to him with a flowing, smooth gesture of his hand. She submits to his request and proceeds on to wander and step towards him, with just prefect poise and elegance as is necessary, prancing this way and that other, bobbing up and down, skipping and swaying left and right. Once she has made it to him, she creeps and inches up on the table steadily and taking her time and ease all in all. Her mega, pleasurable ass jigs and wiggles delicately but in silence behind there. At long last, she stops and pauses before Preston, checking and inspecting him closely, nibbling and gnawing his cute, appealing lips with her very own. Then she pants and puffs out seriously and deeply into his face noiselessly in best hushed tones. "What's your drop-dead name?" Preston inquires her charily and discreetly. "Cara Leigh," the woman answers back boldly but fastidiously. "You wouldn't mind if I hit and smack that fine good ass of yours tonight?" At this, she smirks and twinkles merrily and gleefully. "I wouldn't mind about it at all. You want to strike and batter it now? Go ahead and do it. The delectation and enjoyment is all yours, sir." Grinning and beaming to himself, Preston lays hold of it and ten braces and strokes and pats and bashes and batters it if as he feels like doing. Goodness! It is so tensile and elastic cushiony soft; he doesn't think or imagine that he is going to enjoy and relish it all until he gets painstakingly exhausted and done in to the vicinity of death. Daisy feels spent and done in. She has just stirred awake now, and yet she feels and undergoes these odd, rare, and funny sensations that make it seem like she is almost about to go out like a light into sleep right now. Is this how it is meant and obliged to be? In a slack and work-shy manner of behavior, she takes a seat gradually and leisurely on the spacious and comfy bed and then goes on to check for...Preston! He is not even there. Where did he sleep honestly? Damn him! Is this what he does to his sweet and affectionate wife? He has got some clarification and explanation to do here once he returns back home. Frankly, which bitch did he sleep with this time around? Does she even know that he is wed and hitched for these thirty-one exclusive days? Does she know this at all? Who cares! Bitches are unhealthy and unsound people after all! Furious, outraged and mad, Daisy fetches the phone and picks it up to make a speedy, express call to Sofia. Sofia is hasty and brisk to answer her likewise. "Sofia, can you believe what this mental dickhead has done this time around? He has both the guts and balls to sleep out of the house. I frankly and from the bottom of my heart don't know where it is that he slept and dozed off. I want to pound and smash him right now for this, you know." "Oh; my poor friend! What do you expect and think likely from men? This, just this, and nothing really awesome and enjoyable! You want some good piece of advice from me, Daisy? Fuck him and grab that sweetened, huge butt of his whenever you get the odds and possibility to do so. He won't spend all eternity in the world or universe with you alone, spoiling and messing you up and your sweet, aberrant desires. By the time he goes out there, you don't know which exact bitch it is that is going to raise his dick up and ride and sit on it what's more. That is just how men are, darling." "Too bad, you know? I really do want to punch him in the face for it. Honestly!" "Well—calm down. You are a stunning and attractive lady besides. While he is there tirelessly fucking and whoring as he feels like with his new bitch, why don't you be a two-timing and adulterous bitch here too? I mean you can simply do it for your own sole fun and amusement and nothing else. You are a lady, and which lady wouldn't want to be dealt with and looked upon satisfactorily and in a favorably kind od way and manner, huh? Don't stress out, honey. There are so many drop-dead men eyeballing and contemplating about you out there. I think it is high time you stopped being a good, saint-like girl and become more of bitchy and catty girl. It will do you much more good, honestly." Daisy has faith and even believes that Sofia here is having a genius and master-hand point. Being a bitch is engaging and loveable. Even Daisy herself knows it. Sofia is absolutely and verily right here. She must in reality start and participate in her own bitch co-linked games. When the pizza man bangs and raps on the door downstairs, she is not anticipating or even looking forward to it. She peers and sneaks a surreptitiously look at him down there from up here, and once she has noticed and sighted that he is irresistibly nice-looking and handsome, she grins and smirks to herself from ear to ear, quickly making up her mind to clothe herself in anything slinky and sexual arousing which the young man standing out there cannot countervail and fight battle against. When Daisy turns up out of the house, the young attractive man becomes scared and paralyzed with daze and stupor at seeing her. The woman turning out before his eyes is not seriously and to the nth degree solely tempting and lovely—she is utterly naked and in due course of action slipping on her nightgown rapidly and speedily too. In this snapping fast, accelerated moment; the young man sees even the underwear and sensual, seductive-fitting bra that she is having on. He from nowhere feels a whetted, cutting-like pang of lust smite and lay one on him all of a sudden and hurriedly. "I am really sorry, mister," Daisy states gravely while pulling back into the house so she can dress to finalization before daring to march and step out this time around. Goodness! The gentleman must have already laid eyes on the package that she has to carry and brag big-time about, right? Of course! He has beyond any slight incontrovertibly seen it all! "I have brought some pizza, madam, for Mr. Preston Dick; I will need you to sign here as fast as you can for him to authenticate that you have collected the delivery on his behalf," the dictates and instructions are all plain easy and understandable. Daisy doesn't even need to have a dictionary to translate it all perfectly well and smooth. Not at all! Or maybe she does need one really? Frankly—seriously?