Paula the Perfect Pear Ch. 07

The rest of the day was a "Princess Paula" day for me.

He said that part of being a "real" woman was being pampered.

And I was.

Oh God, I was.

First, he drew a bath and bathed me.

That was one of the more sensual and intimate events of my life. God, having my body bathed, and my hair shampooed and rinsed, while I just relaxed was amazing.

When I was all squeaky clean and dry he laid me on the bed and gave me the mother of all back rubs. He rubbed oil into my skin and massaged until I was limp.

Then he rolled me over and gave me a front rub. The oil again, but, well, more sensitive places on the front.

When he was done my breasts ached but in such a delightfully wonderful way that I didn't mind.

My belly muscles were sore again from clenching with the orgasms he gave me. He learned that special place, right where I was starting to cum, and learned to hold me there, right on the edge, until I was begging for the release of orgasm. And I learned to beg very prettily for him that day.

He did my nails, fingers and toes.

He tut-tutted as he brushed my beaver with a hairbrush, making me giggle.

He brought lunch to bed and fed me again. I couldn't help thinking, as I laid back, sated, relaxed, and being fed, that I could get used to this.

Early in the evening he had me get up and sat me at my little makeup desk.

First, he did my hair. He brushed and fluffed until it really looked good.

Then he did my makeup.

I had never had anyone do that before and it was another region of pure sensuality that I decided I could really learn to like. He put on the makeup base and light blush, a little heavier than I normally did, but not too extreme.

Then he did my eyes. I have to say he was a real artist with eye makeup. When he was done I had a turquoise eyeshadow, much heavier than I normally applied it, that set off my auburn hair nicely. He had done something with the liner that gave my eyes a slightly oriental and mysterious cast.

The finishing touch was lipstick. He found the most scarlet lipstick I had, something I rarely wore. I pursed my lips for him as he applied it.

When I looked in the mirror I was amazed.

I looked hot. I won't deny it, I looked fucking HOT!

I couldn't stop the grin that spread across my face.

And I liked that he was grinning too.

He had been rummaging through my closet on and off all day and when I saw the outfit he had laid out I felt a blush start across my face.

My one sheer blouse was laying beside my one wrap-around skirt. The red bra beside it would show clearly through the blouse. There was a garter belt, and he must have snuck out at some point and bought that because I never owned one, in matching red with sheer black nylons. I noticed that there were no panties in evidence. And my one pair of high heels with ankle straps and open toes, my "fuck me shoes," sat on the floor.

I looked up at him and felt my eyes big.

"David, I'm not sure I can wear this out," I said.

He just grinned and told me to sit on the bed.

He wasn't done with the pampering. He knelt and put my right foot in his lap and then started working the nylon up my leg. I laid back and accepted the attention, loving the way it made me feel.

Both nylons on he had me stand and got the garter belt on me and hooked the nylons.

Next came the bra and it felt funny to have him put it on me rather than taking it off of me.

He then helped me into the blouse and carefully buttoned it.

The skirt was next and he did the button and zipper.

The final step was the shoes which he again put on each foot as he knelt before me and held the foot in his lap.

I started to stand but he said "stay put for a minute."

Then he was in my jewelry box. I don't have much jewelry, but there is some. He found the big gold hoop earrings, a dangly semi-precious stone bracelet, and my cameo locket and put them on me.

Then he helped me to stand and led me over to my full-length mirror.

I was stunned.

The fact that I looked a bit like a whore wasn't what struck me hardest. It was that I was hot. And I do mean HOT!

I enjoyed the grin on his face.

And in a way, I felt completely naked. I was aware of my lack of panties even as I admired myself.

"Don't move," he said and quickly undressed and then slipped into slacks and a button-down shirt.

"Okay beautiful," he said, drawing another smile from me, "let's go dancin'".

We didn't go to any of my normal haunts. He took me to one of the downtown hotels where the penthouse restaurant/bar had a spectacular view of the city. We ate a light dinner and had a drink, beer for him, and a screwdriver for me.

And then it was onto the dance floor.

He's such a good dancer that I felt like I might actually look good.

I was brought quickly back to a blushing reality when he spun me as part of a fast "bop" and my flaring skirt brought a whistle of appreciation.

We danced a half dozen dances and had another drink.

Then, as we were dancing a nice slow dance to "Moon River" he leaned down and whispered into my ear, "after this dance I would like you to go into the bathroom, and when you come back give me your bra."

I felt a rush of adrenaline when he said that, and that tingle again, deep in my belly.

"Davey," I whispered, "please don't make me do that."

"I'm not making you do anything," he said, his breath warm in my ear, "but I would like you to."

My knees were weak as the music ended. He held my hand, his eyebrows raised questioningly, and I looked down, blushing furiously. And then I went into the bathroom.

I closed and locked the stall door and took my bra off, holding it tightly in my hand as I stepped out of the stall and looked into the mirror.

God, it was so obvious. My nipples were hard and obvious against the material of the blouse. And the blouse was so sheer I could see the love bumps on my areolas.

I had second thoughts and went back into the stall.

But then I just sat, and peed, and wiped, and stood, and washed my hands, and took a deep breath, and went out to the table.

To my surprise, no one whistled.

He stood when I got back to the table, holding the chair for me. When he sat he looked straight at my boobs and then held out his hand.

I gulped, and handed him the bra. It was an underwire bra and so it really didn't fold all that small.

He took it, not hiding it but not flaunting it either, and slipped it into his pocket.

"Come on sugar," he said, standing, and leading me back onto the dance floor.

It was after midnight when we left and headed home.

I was exhilarated and excited and once again felt that wanton feeling.

It was cool and so the top was up.

I had never done anything like this before, but I managed to squirm around the floor shift and get my head into his lap, unzipping him and getting his already erect cock out. There was something incredibly exciting about both of us being dressed, well, me as dressed as I was, and taking him into my mouth. Part of it, I suppose, was it was such a goddam awkward and uncomfortable position.

This wasn't "making love." This was pure sex. A simple blowjob. And I was reveling in the pure sensation of it.

His fingers were light in my hair as he drove, taking the proverbial scenic route.

"You know," he said, lightly stroking my hair, petting me like he liked to do, "you are being a very naughty girl."

Those words hit me with a force that amazed me.

"Naughty girl!" Naughty girls get spanked. He wanted me to ask him to spank me.

And he felt so good in my mouth.

And I felt so good, bobbing my head, holding him with my lips, just using my mouth to masturbate him.

I could feel his breathing change, and the tension in his belly as he got closer. I was learning his tells, and I wanted to feel him cum in my mouth. I wanted him to ejaculate. Not making love. I wanted the sex, plain and simple.

And he did. I felt him start and locked my lips tightly around his shaft, feeling his warm salty semen on my tongue, filling my mouth. I held him like that as I swallowed, slowly, deliberately making swallowing sounds to please him.

I held him like that, in my mouth, as he started to soften, using my tongue to lick and clean him and when I pulled off of him with an audible little "pop," he was soft and I tucked him into his shorts and zipped him up and then squirmed around to get back into the passenger seat and sat up straight, prim and proper.

I tried to see him out of the corner of my eye, not wanting to look directly at him, but I couldn't.

He didn't say anything the rest of the way home.

And I knew that this was the night that I would surrender to him completely, just as he wanted.