tagMind ControlThe Addicted Natural Ch. 06

The Addicted Natural Ch. 06

byblacknight99©

Chapter 6 – Dee's Diary – Old Scars

SATURDAY, MAY 5th (Continued)

Now, the events of the three nights and four days we were together were so numerous that I could easily fill the rest of this diary, but there's no time for that, and really no reason. Therefore, please allow me to meander for couple of pages with a series of short facts surrounding my time with Jay. It's necessary, I suppose, to explain this before relating "the event" which would ruin my life forever. I often think of those days, late at night when I'm all alone in my bed. They were the only days I've ever really been free. Totally free. And yet, I was tied up (or in some other way restrained) almost every minute of that time. Bound and free. Happy. Well, no probably not happy, but I kept telling myself I was.

I can't tell you how many times I came. Dozens, at least.

Jay came seven times: once in my mouth, twice in my ass, and four times in my cunt, counting that last time in the car (which I'll get to shortly).

I never came when his cock was inside my cunt. Not even once.

He preferred the cuffs with the long chain. I think that seeing my arms hanging submissively by my sides turned him on.

It turned me on, too.

On the first night, he bathed me, then he sat me on the edge of the tub and shaved all my pubic hair off. It felt SO strange.

Then he licked me, and I came very, very hard.

I was never able to take him very deeply into my mouth without gagging. This really disappointed him; and me too, of course.

The time he came in my mouth, he just made me suck on it while he rubbed himself with his hand. I didn't like the taste, but I swallowed as much of it as I could.

There was a hook in the ceiling next to the sliding glass door in the living room (for a hanging plant, I guess), and he liked to tie my hands above my head attached to it. He liked it best when my toes would barely touch the floor.

The nipple clamps hurt like hell, but for some reason I'd always cum harder when I was wearing them. After awhile, I got used to them. I think I actually started to like the pain, though that doesn't make sense, does it?

The nipple clamps with the extra chain had a clip that pinched one of the lips of my cunt. Once, he actually attached it directly to my clit. Oh God, it hurt! But when he took it off after an hour and rubbed me, I came so hard I couldn't even stand up afterwards.

The ball with the strap was for putting in my mouth. It fastened around the back of my head, and I couldn't utter a word when it was in. He'd put on the blindfold, too, and hang me from the hook and leave me for very long periods of time.

The frozen dinners were horrid, but I never complained, and even complimented him on his cooking skills.

I was naked all the time. You'd think I'd get used to that after awhile, but I didn't. I felt like I was blushing continuously.

What if I was pregnant? The question squeezed into my mind whenever I let it. I tried desperately not to think about it.

On the afternoon of the second day, we had a very philosophical conversation (if you can call it a conversation, when I could only speak when asked a question). He explained that some women were just MEANT to be slaves, that it was their destiny, and that judging by my reaction to all of this, I was one of those women. I had to admit, it made sense.

He made a new rule. I would call him "Master."

He worked the butt plug into me (using the lubricant) very, very slowly. It took him almost twenty minutes, using first his fingers, then the plug. He'd keep the plug in me for hours, sometimes. It's hard to describe the feeling. I've never felt anything like it.

After he took out the butt plug, he would put his cock in there. I think he really liked it.

I liked it, too. (Oh Geeez, I can't believe I just wrote that!)

Twice, he tied me up so that I couldn't move at all, roped from shoulders to heels, like a mummy, and then he would sort of hold me on his lap the way he'd hold a rolled-up carpet, and we would watch the videos from the store. The Story of "O" was especially good.

Once, after dinner, he untied me except for one ankle cuffed to the leg of the couch Then he put his head in my lap and made me read an X-rated book to him. I especially liked doing that.

He would sometimes tie me spread eagle to the bed for long periods of time, blindfold and gag me, then he would unexpectedly touch my clit with one of the vibrators. I would always cum violently.

I quickly discovered that sex is sort of smelly, and VERY messy. When he came, it had the tendency to drip out of me and it just got everywhere. Sometimes, he would clean me up with tissues or a towel, but often I would hang from my hook and it would dribble all the way down my legs onto the floor.

On the second day, my cunt started smelling sort of funny. It was better after he bathed me (did I mention he bathed me while I was all tied up and helpless?), but the smell came back again on that last day. I'll get to that.

I told him I love him two more times, and each time he reacted the same way, laughing nervously before telling me that he loved me, too.

On the third evening (the last), I had been tied spread eagle to the bed for at least an hour, when I heard him talking on the phone. He seemed patient but insistent with whoever he was talking to. I heard him more clearly as he walked into the bedroom, and he told whoever it was that he'd call right back. It was a cell phone, and he pressed a button to disconnect the call before walking over to the edge of the bed. For once, he hadn't put the blindfold or gag on me, and for once, he engaged in no preliminaries at all. He just crawled into bed, positioned himself between my spread legs, stroked himself several times to make his cock hard, and then he stuffed it right into my cunt.

By this time, I had pretty much taken it for granted that our life together would be one of master and slave, and that I would always be open to him, always ready for him. Even so, the suddenness of this was surprising to me. He began thrusting into me almost frantically, and I remember thinking that something must have really turned him on. After a dozen or so thrusts, he sort of half rolled off of me, but kept himself buried deep in my cunt, and I watched, flabbergasted, as he reached for the cell phone and pushed a button. He listened for a moment, and spoke.

"Yes sir, sorry about that, I'm back now. No, I fully understand. No, I'm afraid that's out of the question. Yes, yes, I'd be happy to see you then. Yes, certainly. Here she is."

And without a single word of explanation, he pressed the phone into the pillow beneath my head so that it was cradled against my ear and mouth, then he let go of it and began fucking me again.

"Dee?"

Oh, my God! Oh no, please! "Daddy?"

I looked up at Jay questioningly, but he had his eyes closed as he pushed into me over and over again. I tried desperately not to pant or make any of the other telltale sounds that just seemed to slip out of me whenever Jay was having sex with me.

"Tell me you haven't given him the strategy!" Daddy hissed at me. "So help me, if you've uttered one word of it to that asshole ...."

"Ugh!" I blurted. Jay was beginning to fuck me very hard now. He would be coming soon. "What?" It took my harried brain a few moments to understand exactly what Daddy was talking about.

Now, I'm not going to go into a lot of very mundane business stuff, especially when I'm describing the most embarrassing thing that's ever happened to me. But in a nutshell, the thing that makes a mutual fund tick is the fund manager's strategy. That is what people ultimately are investing in. Really, it's nothing more than a mathematical formula that is applied to variables that affect certain types of stocks. Daddy had invested a couple hundred mil into a new fund, and he'd established me as the manager. I'd come up with the strategy all on my own, I'd applied it and refined it and updated it daily, and it really seemed to be working. The fund had more than doubled in value in the last eight months and it was on several of Wall Street's "most active" lists.

And so this was the situation: His only daughter had run away from home with a strange man and had been turned into a willing, panting sex slave. But now, after three whole days, when he finally got her on the phone, the only thing he wanted to know was "Did you give him the strategy?" What an asshole!

"No, Daddy! Ungh!" I stammered. Jay was really pounding me. "Daddy, I love him! Ugh!"

"Love him!? You fucking little bitch!" Daddy screamed.

Jay was coming. Hard. I think I made a sort of gurgling sound.

Daddy didn't seem to notice. "Put the asshole back on! NOW!"

What I really, really WANTED to say was: "He can't talk right now, Daddy. He's just cum deep, deep inside me. Cum bucketfuls, Daddy. I can feel it all oozing out of my cunt onto the sheet." But what I said instead was: "Just a minute Daddy. I'll put him back on the phone." I sounded just like I did when I always spoke to Daddy. Meek. Small.

Jay took his time catching his breath before picking the phone up again. "Yes, sir? Yes, yes, that would be fine. We'll see you then." He pressed the off button again.

I couldn't help myself. "NO! No, please, Jay! Master. Please! We can't! I just can't go back there!"

He gave me a half-stern, half-understanding look, the way a parent looks at a rambunctious child in public. "I will not let the girl I want to spend the rest of my life with leave her family on an unpleasant note," he said in a placating tone.

I looked up at him questioningly. Did he mean that? "Please!" I begged again, my voice a whisper. "I don't ever want to see him again."

"Not another word!" he said sternly. "You are my slave. I am the master in this relationship, and I will decide what you will and will not do! Do you trust me?"

I paused too long before whispering "Yes," but he chose not to notice.

I don't think I slept at all that night.

After a breakfast of toasted frozen waffles, he removed all of my restraints for the first time since we arrived and helped me dress in my blouse, skirt and sandals. I didn't say anything as I stood meekly in the center of the room while he walked around the house gathering up all the things we'd gotten in the sex store, putting them back in the blue gym bag. I sat sadly in the seat of the car, the bag in my lap again, as we sped back toward the home I thought I had left forever. I paid no attention to where we were or what we passed.

Suddenly, he turned sharply down a narrow back road, then quickly again, and yet again, and parked in a small dirt area beside a country access road. He jerked his door open, crawled into the back seat, and I sat bewildered as he began tugging his pants down. "Get back here!" he ordered tersely.

I had to open my side door, put the seat forward, and crawl back to join him on the back seat of the convertible. He grabbed my waist with both hands and positioned me above his lap with my knees on either side of his hips. It took me a few seconds to figure out what he had planned, since we'd never done it this way before. My skirt was really getting in the way.

"Help me, damn it!" he hissed.

I wasn't used to doing anything at all during sex. I was always tied up. I reached down between us, but my hand got tangled up in the skirt, as well. I finally got it free, found his prick, which was very hard (we hadn't done it since last night when I'd talked on the phone), and somehow guided it to my opening. I was sore, but very wet and slippery. I hadn't bathed since last night, either.

He began lifting me up and pulling me down with his hands, and once again it took me the better part of a minute to realize that what he really wanted was for ME to do all the work. I rose up and down, digging my knees into the rough leather seat and impaling myself on his stiff shaft. Once I established the rhythm to his liking, he just sat there, leaning his head back against the seat, his eyes closed. Fortunately, no cars came down that access road. I don't know what I'd have done if one had. I could see the traffic flowing in both directions on the main highway, which was only thirty of forty yards away through the bushes. The sudden thought struck me that anybody who happened to be looking our way could see us. Certainly they would know what I was doing. There was probably no other action on earth that resembled sex between a man and a woman. I felt very ashamed. I also felt very turned on. I wished he would reach down and touch me there. It wouldn't take much. I wanted it so badly. I leaned forward a little, trying to get the friction I needed, but I couldn't quite make it work.

And then he stiffened, grabbed me by the waist again, slammed me all the way down, and bellowed like a bull as his prick twitched inside of me. I tentatively put my arms around his neck and held him as he panted into my hair. I stroked his head and told him how good he felt inside of me. But after another minute, he lifted me off, set me aside on the seat, and pulled up his underwear and pants.

Too soon, I was in the front seat and we were driving again. I felt his cum dripping out of me and soiling my skirt, but I chose not to mention it. Again, I smelled the funny odor I'd experienced that second day, and I reluctantly had to admit it was coming from between my legs. We were moving fast in the little car, but the smell followed me like a cloud.

And then, I suddenly realized that I knew where we were. We were almost there! He seemed to know the way, know the house and where to turn down the winding drive. He braked to a halt before the house, came around to open and hold my door, and to my amazement, he picked up the gym bag. He took my hand and led me to the front door.

"What are you going to do with THAT?" I asked, risking a rules violation.

"Don't want to leave it in the car," he said matter-of-factly. "Somebody might find it."

I didn't know what to say. I wanted to argue, but one just didn't do that with one's master. He didn't bother to knock, and I was very surprised to find that the front door was unlocked. We walked in, and I let him look around a little. This is the reaction many visitors have. Most people have driven by big, big homes and wished they could see inside, and I never begrudged anyone the opportunity to rubberneck a little once they get inside ours. Where were Martha and Ben, I wondered.

He stopped by the first door he came to and opened it. "What's this," he asked.

"The waiting room."

"Waiting room?" He walked in and looked around, and I followed. I didn't come in here very often.

"For guests," I explained. "They wait here while our butler comes and announces them."

He nodded, looked around a little more, then he pushed the gym bag under the settee beside the door. "We'll just leave this here until we're ready to leave," he said, and I breathed a little sigh of relief.

Back in foyer, he told me to take him to my father, and I led him in the direction of the East Wing and then turned left down the Long Hall toward father's library study, which is where he could usually be found this time of day.

"I need to use the bathroom," I said in a small voice, pausing by the East Wing downstairs bath. I didn't really have to, but Jay's cum was dribbling down both of my inner thighs and the "smell" seemed to be getting stronger (though that may have been my imagination).

"Not now," he said tersely. "We can stop here on the way out."

So I continued down the hall and hesitated outside the closed door. But Jay opened it without knocking (something no one was EVER allowed to do) and I found myself shuffling uncertainly after him.

Jay marched right up to Daddy, who was sitting behind the huge desk, and put out his hand in greeting. "Jay Johnston. Pleased to meet you, sir."

Daddy didn't even look up, just kept writing on a yellow legal pad. After a few long seconds, Jay lowered his hand, but he kept that silly, patient smile pasted on his lips and didn't move or say another word. I wondered who would blink first in this war of wills. To my astonishment, it was Daddy.

"Sit down," he grumbled. I immediately went to the large sofa and sat in the center of it, giving Jay the opportunity to take either side he chose, but to my amazement, he walked to the big leather chair in front of the desk and sat there. He still didn't say anything, and a very, very cold feeling began to creep all over me. Why didn't Jay sit beside me? Why wasn't he telling Daddy he loved me? Why wasn't he telling Daddy that he was taking me away, and that all the money in the world didn't matter? Why didn't he say SOMETHING!?

Finally, Daddy looked up and locked eyes with him, but his most withering look didn't seem to faze Jay, and I felt a small flash of pride. They just sat like that for the longest time. Then, slowly, Daddy looked back down, opened his bottom drawer, and my heart sank even lower when he took out the big leather checkbook. I might have made a little noise of surprised dismay, but if I did, neither of them seemed to notice. The atmosphere in the room was electric. I wished (oh, how I wished!) that Jay's cum would stop dripping out of my cunt.

Daddy wrote out a check, tore it from the large volume, and laid it on the edge of the desk in front of him, and then he leaned back and glared at Jay.

No, Jay! Please, Jay! No! Please, no!

Jay got slowly out of the chair, walked forward, picked up the check, then backed up, always maintaining eye contact with Daddy, and sat down again. Suddenly, I felt nothing. Nothing at all. I felt hollow. Artificial. I wasn't real. Nothing was real anymore. The tears started then. Quiet tears. Silent tears. My "Daddy tears."

Jay glanced down for a split second and right back up at Daddy again. The silence stretched on.

Finally, Jay said: "I will require one additional thing."

"Not one cent!" Daddy screamed, spittle spraying across the desk, his face crimson. I've never seen Daddy that mad.

Jay acted as if he hadn't spoken at all. "You, sir, have the power ruin any man you wish. I would need your word of honor that you would leave me and my affairs alone."

Daddy suddenly calmed. He regarded this young adversary with sudden respect. "Done," he said solemnly, "provided you never, ever invest, bargain for, or do business with any of my companies, holdings or financial instruments ..." he paused "... including her." He jerked a thumb in my direction without looking at me. I had become a financial instrument.

Jay nodded slowly. "Done," he said clearly, then hoisted himself out of his chair and walked to the door.

"I've given the maid and butler the day off," Daddy barked. "You found your way in, you can find your way out!"

Jay didn't answer. He opened the door and walked out. He had never once looked at me or even acknowledged my existence since we had entered the room. The only thing I had left to remind me of him, at least for awhile, was the smell and feel of the sexual juices he had deposited in my body only 30 minutes before.

Daddy began writing on the legal pad again. I sat there. Something was going to happen. Something terrible. My tears continued without so much as a whimper.

Finally, he set the pad aside and stood up. He went to the door, then finally turned and motioned for me to come to him. I did so without question or hesitation. He grabbed my wrist and led me out into the hall and down toward the West Wing. I simply allowed myself to be led. Nothing seemed real.

He opened the door to the basement, flipped a switch, and led me down the steep stairs. There are several corridors down there, and more than a dozen rooms. I never showed any inclination to explore below the main floors as a child. I always thought it was spooky. Scary. I did know, somehow, that the door we finally stopped in front of was always kept locked. Sure enough, he took a small set of keys from his pocket, selected one, and opened it.

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