tagBDSMA Perfect Fit Pt. 06

A Perfect Fit Pt. 06


Note: The characters in this story are both over the age of 18, as stated in Pt. 02 of this series. Jenni is 25, Mark is 34.


Jenni looks down into the street below. The snowfall doesn't appear to be slowing. She watches a car fishtail down the unplowed avenue. Only a couple of souls are trudging their way to destinations that must be important.

"What do you see out there?" Mark asks.

"Misery. I'm happy to be inside. It's pretty, though. It's still clean snow covering everything, like a fantasy painting."

He comes up behind her to look and holds her to him. He's so warm.

"You're pretty... like a snow painting, too." He laughs softly at his own clumsy compliment. "Come sit for me."

They go to the "living room" and he arranges her on the couch with a throw wrapped around her and one slim leg stretched out provocatively. She still has the thick sock pulled up her calf.

"Want me to take this off?" she asks.

"Nope. I like it. Ya remind me of one of Egon Schiele's women."

"Oh, my!" She was familiar with some of his more explicit drawings. Marks smirks.

"Uh-huh. I get to look at all of you... 'cause you're mine. Just stay like that for now."

He settles into an old easy chair, props his sketchbook on his bent knee, and begins the first confident strokes. Jenni observes him with equal fascination. The look in his eyes when he's in this mode is nearly predatory; the focus makes them appear to glow. He licks his lips from time to time. He's somehow even sexier than she's seen so far.

He's quickly captured her in that pose. "Give me another," he says.

"I don't know how to model, Daddy," she replies, flustered.

"Show me another piece of you. It ain't hard."

It was harder than he knew; Jenni wasn't crazy about her looks. She felt inferior to other women, even the bony and slightly grotesque Schiele models. She pulls the blanket and her sleep shirt neckline down to expose her shoulder and gives him her profile so she gets some respite from that glowing gaze.

"That's nice. You are good at this, baby girl."

"I try hard to be good."

"I see that," he says, knowingly. The way his eyes travel over her she has no doubt he sees everything about her. "And I know I got ya trapped here," he adds, reading her mind. He knows she can't get overwhelmed by the new intimacy and run away.

After a few more pages are complete, he tells her: "Now let the blanket fall open. Slide your hips forward so the hem of your shirt rides up. Higher. Higher than that. Good girl. You're blushin'. Are you still shy with me?"

"It's just that I think I might leak on your couch."

"Oh. Is it that time?" he asks kindly and his intense gaze softens a little.

"No, I'm just... wet again."

Mark smiles. "I think you like your Daddy lookin' at you more than you think ya do. Maybe you like bein' seen."

He's right. She does feel excited by being used by him in this way. If it pleases her Daddy, it's inherently exciting to her body and mind, even just sitting still, not being touched. "Yes," she admits in a small voice.

"Maybe tonight when it's dark, we'll put the lights out and I'll molest you in front of the window. We can make believe the whole city's watchin' you get dominated. Want that?" he purrs as his charcoal scrapes over the paper.

"Oh, god," she squeaks to elicit his raspy laugh.

"Yeah, I think we'll do that..." he says, clearly distracted by his work. His strokes are small and delicate now. He's focused between her thighs. Jenni can barely stand it and has no doubt she's making a puddle. His eyes flick up to meet hers.

"Your cunny is so fuckin' cute. Anyone ever tell you that?"

"No, Daddy. You're the only one who's seen it," she demures.

Mark likes this return to their fantasy and growls. "That's right. It ain't for anybody else." He turns the page. "Again like this, but open your legs more."

She groans involuntarily at the challenge but exposes herself further. That fact that it's uncomfortable makes it even more exciting. He's testing her limits in subtle ways that promise the kind of relationship she's dreamed about for years. It's clear he can see her aroused state. He's got some color in his face, too, and his eyes look far less blue.

"Think there should be color in this one," he says and leaps up to get some pastels. She remains in her pose, taking deep, deliberate breaths.

"Good girl," he says when he returns. "Are you keeping calm?"

"Yes, Daddy."

Mark begins the sketch with the same confidence as the others, getting her shape down, then slows to choose colors with care. For the first time, he takes long pauses, just to see. He smiles at her concern.

"You have one inner lip that pokes out a little, like a puppy's tongue. It's adorable. Gotta get that just perfect."

Jenni snorts. "I think women get that corrected nowadays. It's a defect."

"What, like plastic surgery on their pussy?"


Mark shakes his head. "Now I heard everything. Who decides this shit? Probably a plastic surgeon needed some more business."

"Is it just on one side?"

He sighs. "You can see it when I finish this drawing. It's exactly what I see and ya ain't gonna be mad at it."

"Okay." She adds, "Yes, Daddy," at his raised eyebrow. Mark doesn't seem to like single-word responses to anything pertaining to their relationship and her self-image was one of those things.

He works longer on this last drawing than the others, then concludes, "I think this is a good place to stop for today. Know why?"

"Why, Daddy?"

"Because I need my hands on you now."

Jenni opens her arms to welcome him. She's eager to see the drawings, but that can wait. She wants to hold him more than to look at his vision of her.

He closes the distance between them and just as his lips brush hers, there's a knock at the door. Mark is startled enough it's obvious he doesn't get many surprise visitors. "Godammit. Who the hell is this? I better see, honey. I'm sorry."

"Should I put on clothes?"

"Nah, just cover up. You're decent."

Mark goes to the front door. "Who is it?" he barks, not welcoming at all.

"Mark? It's Freek."

Mark's posture relaxes. He opens the door. "Hey, man. What's up?" he asks standing aside to allow the man inside. He's in from the cold, but his Viking looks suggest it doesn't faze him. He's got thick red hair and a full beard, but doesn't come across as a hipster with his brawny build. He speaks with a slight European accent.

"Someone just put out an excellent drafting table. It looks older than this building! I was wondering if you wanted it? Seems a shame to let it get ruined in the snow. I'll help you carry it in."

"Yeah. I need somethin' like that for her. Thanks! You wanna get it now?"

"If you aren't occupied," the stranger says, smiling politely at Jenni.

"You don't mind if I step out, do ya, baby?"

"No, Daddy."

Mark turns away from his friend to flash her a conspiratorial grin; he's excited she'd dare to use the nomenclature in front of company. He trades the bunny slippers for boots and the men head down to the alley.

Jenni immediately does what any girl would in a moment of privacy. She uses the toilet.

The guys return after several minutes and struggle to carry in the massive table, grunting and swearing. Jenni stands out of the way, wrapped in her throw. They set it by the window she likes.

"You have very good light to work," the Viking remarks to her.

It hadn't sunk in that it was meant for her.

"This look like something you can use? You need your own spot to work."

He'd just made a space for her in his home. "It's wonderful! It's got compartments for all my stuff!" she exclaims like a little kid would. "Thank you!" She embraces Mark, letting the blanket fall and squeezes him tight. "Thank you, Daddy," she says more softly. Mark is so pleased by her reaction she can feel it seep into her.

"That's okay, baby," he says, stroking her back. She feels him twist a little in her arms. "You want a coffee, man? Somethin' Irish perhaps?"

"I would not say no to an Irish coffee on a day like today, if it's no trouble."

"Nah, it's no trouble. I'll hook you up." Mark pulls away from Jenni and glances at her in her long tee shirt and socks. It's obvious she's nude underneath and he approves of her appearance. Was he showing her off? He leaves her with the stranger to make the coffee.

"I should say thank you to you, too, for finding this for me. I didn't catch your name." Jenni could have sworn he'd called himself "freak" and that couldn't be right.

"It's Freek. Two Es. As in Frederick, but a Dutch version."

"Oh, that makes sense." Not a Viking, after all.

"Yes, I know how it sounds to Americans. I don't mind that, actually," he says warmly. "It's good to be different."

"I agree. You must work in the building."

"Yes, I'm a woodworker. I make furniture, so I appreciate an honorable table like that. They don't make things like that anymore."

"No, they don't. It would be sad to have it out there all covered in snow."

"Yes, it has too much character. It needs an artist to make use of it."

"I promise I will."

"You take milk and sugar?" Mark calls.

"If you have it," Freek answers.

"What about you, darlin'?"

"Yes, please."

Mark carries a cutting board with three mugs and a bottle of whiskey to the coffee table. She realizes he's hospitable, keeping it on hand for guests though he can't partake. She likes that about him, that he's classy like that. They sit and Mark covers Jenni's lap with the discarded blanket, aware she's vulnerable. She hadn't forgotten; she's still dripping wet from being about to fool around with her lover right before the knock at the door. There's really nothing to be done about her erect nipples. Mark doesn't seem to mind that display.

"So Mark, I didn't know you have a daughter," Freek begins the polite chit-chat.

After a moment, they realize he's completely serious.

"I don't," Mark replies.

"Oh, I was sure I heard her call you 'Daddy.' My mistake. You do look very young," he explains to her.

Jenni realizes she might look young enough to be Mark's daughter, if he was a little older than he looks, too, and he started young. And then there was her attire.

"You heard right. I'm her Daddy, but she's not my daughter. It's a BDSM relationship," Mark states in a tone that apologizes for the TMI, but nothing more than that.

"Oh! What an idiot I am. Well, I'm happy for you both!"

"Thanks. Sorry if we gave ya a shock. It's new for us, too."

"How exciting! How does one go about this? If you don't mind my asking. I don't actually know anyone in a full D/s relationship."

Jenni and Mark exchange a quick glance at the facility with which Freek used the term "D/s."

"I guess you start with figuring out what you really want and need and find the person whose needs match up."

"Ah. Like puzzle pieces," Freek says, adding a touch more Irish to his coffee.

"Yeah, I think with the right person it clicks into place."

"I should try this. I've spent so much time working then I looked around the other day and realized I'm alone at the holidays. It sucks."

"That does suck," Jenni says, empathetically. "Maybe it can be your New Year's resolution?"

He laughs. "I have to figure out what my puzzle is. But yes, maybe the one holding the missing pieces is out there," he says gazing out at the falling snow.

"I know she is, man. You could try the fetish websites."

"Is that how you found Jenni?"

"No, she was a gift. We got lucky enough to be introduced by someone who knows us really, really well. I would've tried it though, if my girl hadn't appeared."

"Maybe when I'm ready you can help me out with that. You know, get me drunk and I'll tell you all my kinks and you can make me into an attractive prospect."

"That sounds fun," Jenni says, grinning at her Daddy.

"Yeah, we'll make an evening of it, fill out kink forms and brag about you while you're tipsy."

"Okay. I'll bring the booze... well, I'd better let you two get back to it," Freek says good-naturedly. "Thank you for the warm-up. That was nice."

"Thanks for helping us out with the table."

"It's perfect," Jenni adds.

"It's been a pleasure," Freek says. "I'll call you when I figure things out?"

"Yep. Do it," Mark says. "We're serious."

"Okay. Bye, guys."

Freek goes on his way and Mark flies to Jenni like a magnet. He's more amorous than he'd been when they were interrupted. Heat pours off him and he smells faintly of sex like it's coming out his pores.

"Baby, that was so hot," he breathes as he lovingly manhandles her.

"What was?"

"You. The way you acted. Bein' my good girl like you're so damn proud of it."

"I am proud of it. I'm proud you let me in your life."

"Ya looked so beautiful and sweet. I almost died when he thought you were really my little girl." Mark's hands roam almost desperately over her body. "I know it's shallow, but when he found out what you really are and he wanted ya, it made me hard, knowin' you're mine."

"I don't think he 'wanted me,' my love. He wants something like what we have."

"Pfft. Ya got no idea. That's okay, modesty's a nice quality."

"I'm not sure Freek's a Dom, even," Jenni muses.

"What? But he said..."

"He said he has to figure it out. He's kinky, though, I can tell. It would be fun to help him out."

"Oh, really? Maybe let him play with us?" Mark pants into her neck and nips.

"No, Daddy! I didn't mean it like that! I only want you." Jenni looks in his eyes, mortified.

"I know, I know. The thought crossed my mind. You were just bein' friendly, not flirtin' with him. Honey, did some guy make ya feel like ya weren't allowed to talk to other men? I ain't like that."

"It's happened. I felt dirty afterward when I just tried to be nice to his friends."

"You're a nice girl. He should have been proud. My brain went there all on its own when I saw you two talkin'. Have you ever wanted two guys at once? 'Cause there are certain things l can't do for you... because of my size."

"Can I have a sip of that whiskey?"

"Ya need it?"

"It will help."

Mark climbs off her. "Just a little to settle your nerves. If this don't work out, the rest of this goes down the drain."

"Yes, Daddy."

He pours about one shot into her empty mug. "That should be plenty."

"Thank you, Daddy."

"That's okay. Now what about anal sex has ya needin' a drink to even talk about it? That is what we're talkin' about, right?"

"Yeah," she rasps through the traces of burning liquor in her throat.

"Someone hurt you like that?" Mark pulls her tight into his warm side so they can talk, still connected.

"Uh-huh. Yes, something bad happened."

"What a bastard. I'd like to kill him."

"It was my mother."


"Yeah, it's messed up. She was a nurse and a demented one. She did 'medical' things to me. The worst was the enemas... it was violence, not medicine. So yeah, I'm a little skittish about people going near that part of me."

Jenni's voice is calm. She's told this story before in therapy. She was even in a survivors' support group, but dropped out. The idea that her abuser was a woman was too horrible for the others in the group and she never was fully accepted. It was almost like they didn't believe a mother could really do that.

"I'm glad you told me. Your anal training is gonna be good for you. I'll make sure it is."

"What?" Jenni is a little shocked. She expected him to tell her she didn't have to do that stuff.

"I still want all of you. This don't change that. I'll just make sure it never feels like it did before. You know, she wins if you let her ruin that part of it for us."

"No, I won't let her," Jenni answers, sounding miserable. She doesn't ask for another drink, but part of her wants to drown in that bottle.

"What if I give you an enema? Not like your mother did it, but like a Daddy does it. We can replace the old memory with a new experience. I know you'll be more comfortable in your training if you feel clean inside. You gonna let me take care of you like that?"

The idea chills her to the bone and he can feel it as he holds her close. Jenni can't believe how far he's pushing her. Still, he's right. She does need all her training and maybe sooner was better than saving it for later and worrying about it in the back of her mind. Part of her knows this is psychologically risky for a traumatized person and they should know each other better. Still, if she reacts badly, or he does, she hasn't lost too much; she'd only been in love with him since yesterday and could still fall back out with minimal heartbreak.

"Would you want me to do it in 'little space,'?" she asks. "I mean, people have done things to my butt before and I got through it, but I wasn't anybody's little girl. I don't know how I'll react, to be honest. I'd hate to freak out on you."

Mark considers this. "Yes. I do prefer you to be little when I'm in caregiver mode. 'Cause that's what this is meant to be. It won't feel like you're bein' raped. No one's holdin' ya down or forcing anything. It really is something you do for a loved one. Parents do it for children when they need it, not because they're sadistic maniacs."

"Okay, Daddy. I'll let you try it."

"That's my good girl. I won't be mad at all if ya say no, just think it's better if you don't. I think it will be a healing experience, if I do it right. Which I will."

"Okay, when you get the stuff, let me know."

"I have the stuff."

Jenni clambers back on the couch, sits up straight to look at him. "Is this... something you like to do with people? Like a fetish?"

He shakes his head. "No, it's not a fetish, but it'll feel like it when I do it to you. I had a partner who liked me to do it to her as a preparation for anal sex. Don't worry! The equipment is all disposable. Nothin's touched anybody else; it's like what they use in the hospital."

Jenni shudders at the word 'hospital.'

"My little one has so many fears," he whispers, touching her face. He continues: "Mostly I have them for myself because I like to be clean before play. Oh, that surprises you?" he teases.

"You mean you like..."

"Yeah, there are things I like that one day I'll teach ya to do to serve me. Would you like that?"

Jenni's warmed up visibly at the prospect of exploring her Daddy's body and giving him intense pleasures.

"Yes, I do want to learn everything."

"See, this won't be bad. Do you feel ready now? If you need to wait until tomorrow..."

"I'm good," she interrupts him, not wanting to make this any more scatological than absolutely necessary.

"Come on to the bathroom," he commands softly. Jenni puts her hand in his trustingly and tumbles down through the years into a child-like state with her adult self looking on protectively from the edge of her awareness.

Mark lays several towels on the floor. "That's just for you to be comfortable. This won't make a mess," he explains. He gets a sealed pack from the cabinet that does look like hospital supplies. "Now, I'll get this ready. It's just warm water and a little castile soap. I'm not puttin' any chemicals in you."

"You're going to clean my insides with soap?"

"It's recommended. It even comes with the right amount included, but it's the same as the stuff I wash with," he explains and adds the contents of a small packet to the vinyl bag. At the clanky sound of the faucet, Jenni jumps. Mark keeps talking in his calming manner. "This will feel real warm and nice. Bet it didn't before."

"No, everything was cold." The tiles had been cold, the hands on her were cold. Even her mother's inexplicable rage had been cold.

Mark's ready. The expression on his face is pure kindness as he stands there, holding the prepared bag in one hand, the end of the long tube in the other. "This is lubricated, so it won't hurt when I put it in. No part of this is supposed to hurt. We'll go real slow."

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