Three Fathers

I gave it a couple of minutes before calling out to him. I knew there was little hope of trying to out wait him. He was so much more stubborn than me. Sometimes I pushed him as far as I could, but he always won in the end. He was in charge. I did what I was told. That's how our relationship worked. That's how we both liked it.

"Daddy!" I yelled, "Daddy, please!"

He didn't move. He just sat there, watching TV.

"Please, Daddy! Please untie me. I need to go piss!"

That prompted him into life, as I suspected it would. He may have been in charge, but I knew what buttons to push. He stood up and turned round, walking up to the foot of the bed, gazing down at me. He was a tall man and powerfully built. Broad-shouldered and muscular, but in his early fifties and slightly gone to seed. He had dark, swarthy skin and thick black hair.

He bent down a little and started stroking my legs, his fingers barely touching me. There was always a playfulness with him, mixed with a dash of brutal cold power. I laughed and joked with him in a way I never had with Mr Leaf, but he could be absolutely merciless when he was fucking me. He had made it clear right from the start that he would use my body in whatever way he wanted. God, I loved it.

"Now, what seems to be the problem, my little chickadee?" He asked, amiably enough.

"What the fuck?! I've been tied up here for Christ knows how long, and I need to go to the toilet!" I exclaimed.

Without warning he slapped my inner thigh. Hard. I yelped, then winced in pain. He wasn't afraid to hurt me. He slapped me about fairly regularly. Nothing too serious, nothing I couldn't deal with, but I picked up plenty of bruises. Usually on my legs or my butt. He very rarely slapped my face, but he had done it. And I didn't mind. If you are some sort of emancipated, do-gooder feminist, you might be outraged by that admission. Well, fuck you. I like pain. I let him hurt me. It was part of our deal. It was part of the love we shared. Me and my Daddy.

"Now, why don't you try that again," he said.

"Sorry, Daddy, but please...I need to take a piss real bad. I'm bursting!"

"Well, if you need to take a piss, take a piss," he said in a matter-of-fact tone.

He bent down further, bringing his face close to my pussy. He looked up at me and wiggled his eyebrows.

"Okay, Daddy, if you're sure."

I smiled at him and promptly relaxed my bladder. Soon enough a stream of hot urine was splashing all over his face. He closed his eyes and turned his head one way, then the other. I hadn't been to the toilet since the night before, so there was a lot to get rid of. And it felt like the pressure had built up to such an extent, I was hosing him down with a powerful intensity.

He opened his mouth and I pissed straight inside. He gulped it all down, practically licking his lips. Then he turned his head down, so I was pissing in his hair. The bed was soaked. His clothes were soaked. He was soaked. Eventually, with a final few squirts, the proceedings came to a close. Yellow liquid was dripping down his face, off of his chin and nose. He stood up, staring down at me.

"What a dirty little bitch, pissing on your Daddy like that."

"It's what you wanted, wasn't it Daddy?"

He didn't reply. He just unzipped his pants and let them fall to the floor. I could see his beefy cock, straining to break loose from his boxer shorts. He pulled them off, before tearing off his t-shirt. There he was, in all his glory, a powerfully built older man with a big ol' cock. I knew I was going to get seriously fucked. And I would have clapped my hands together in glee, if they weren't numb and tied to the headboard of the bed.

"You want Daddy's cock, you little whore?"

"Yes please, Daddy. Give me your cock. Your little girl wants it inside her."

"Beg me, slut."

"Please, Daddy! Please! Fuck your little girl. Stick your cock in my slutty cunt. Cum inside me. Claim this cunt. Claim your little girl. Make me scream. Make me your cum-slut. Make me your fuck-toy!"

He climbed onto the bed, and lined his dick up with the lips of my pussy. Then, with a bellowing roar, he slammed it inside me. I groaned as he instantly filled my gash with hot cock-meat. I could feel my own piss dripping down from his body onto mine, as he fucked me. His dick slammed back and forth, burrowing into my hot wetness, then retreating. He grabbed hold of my legs, steadying himself as he ploughed away at my twat.

There was nothing I could do but just lie there and take it. My limbs were out of commission, still shackled to the bed. I moved my hips as much as I could, trying to meet his thrusts with my own. My tits rolled back and forth across my chest, in rhythm with his lovemaking. God, how I wanted to grab hold of my nipples, to squeeze and tug on them, and send little bolts of electricity straight to my cunt. But instead I just let him ravish me.

I don't know how long he fucked me for. I passed in and out of consciousness several times. I knew from prior experience, he could go for a long time, and I've no reason to believe it was any different this time around. His dick powered its way inside me, forcing my cunt to accommodate it. I squeezed it with my vaginal muscles, massaging that glorious cock with as much love and attention as I could manage.

Eventually, he came. I could feel his prick erupt inside me, his dick pulsing and twitching as he flooded my twat with ribbons of creamy liquid. He didn't produce as much cum as I had produced piss, but he produced plenty. I had orgasmed half a dozen times or more, and when he collapsed on top of me, the two of us lay there in a blissful, post-coital serenity.

Both of us were drenched, covered in various bodily fluids, and our skin was flushed and sweaty. I felt his reassuring weight on top of me, and not a word was said for the longest time. Then, he pushed himself up and smiled at me.

"You want Daddy to let you loose?"

"Yes please, Daddy."

He got up and began to untie me. I knew I was going to be in agony for the next half hour or so, as my arms and legs came back to life. But it was worth it. He was worth it. He lay back on the bed and I snuggled up next to him, his muscular arm wrapped round my shoulder. The sheets were soaked and we both knew we'd have to ring down for some replacements. But for now we were content to just lie there, in each other's arms.

"You want Daddy to take you out for something to eat?" He asked.

"Like on a date?"

"Sure, like a date."

"Oh yes please, Daddy. That would be great."

"Well, go get cleaned up and find something sexy to wear. Then we'll go out for a meal. How's that for a plan?"

"Fantastic."

I got up and hobbled across the room, my legs still not operating at a hundred per-cent. He came up behind me and slapped the cheek of my ass.

"You might want to clean yourself out down there," he said, in a conspiratorial fashion, "I think I'm going to fuck you in the butt later. Okay?"

"Sure, Daddy. Whatever you want."

I disappeared into the bathroom, as happy and content as any submissive little fuck-toy could be.

***

I knew I was going to fuck him pretty much from the first moment we met. Within a couple of hours I had proved the point.

We were at a wedding. He was a guest. I was one of the waiting staff. After my affair with Mr Leaf, I kind of bombed out of college. I'd been studying criminology, but my heart had never been in it. College life was mostly a chance to get wasted and get laid. Something I took advantage of with tremendous enthusiasm and commitment.

To be honest, for want of a better word, I became a bit of a slut. I liked to fuck and I wasn't too fussy who I spread my legs for. In fact I developed something of a reputation. You wanted to empty your balls? I was your girl. You wanted someone to lick your pussy until you went blind? Ditto. I fucked other students. I fucked some of my professors. I fucked people I picked up in bars and clubs.

I'm not ashamed of it. I enjoyed sex. I enjoyed being desired. Somewhat to my own surprise I had become a bit of a hottie, and people wanted me. I liked being wanted and I saw no reason to deny my own desires. Maybe it was because I had lacked a proper paternal presence growing up. I was trying to find an emotional connection to make up for the absence of something else.

Or maybe it was just because I was a major slut.

I screwed around a lot, but I just didn't study all that much. Midway through my second year I was politely asked to leave. Ironically, the guy who had to do the asking was one of the staff members I had slept with. It'll sound bizarre, but after that slightly awkward conversation, I let him have me on his desk one last time. He was a nice guy and he had a nice cock. It wasn't his idea to kick me out of class.

So I ended up working in a bar. The owner was a heavyset guy called Buddy. To be honest, I got the job by sucking him off, and that was a regular arrangement from there on in. I didn't mind. I liked cock. In whatever hole. Buddy and I had a casual, hook-up arrangement for a few years. It was a mutually beneficial deal. We both, in dramatically different ways, got an easy ride as employer and employee. He didn't push me to work too hard, as long as he got to have an occasional fuck-toy to play with at the end of the day. It was a win-win scenario for everyone.

Buddy had a brother who ran a catering business, and part of the deal working at the bar (apart from having to empty Buddy's balls every now and then) was you might have to work some event for his brother, Joel. Just so you know, I never fucked him. I mean, I would have done, happily, but it never came up. I didn't spread my legs for every guy I met. Just most of them.

So, I was working this wedding at a golf club on the outskirts of town. It was a big event, with hundreds of guests, and a series of large marquees had been set up near the clubhouse. I was one of dozens of waiters and waitresses who had to serve those in attendance. It was hard work, with plenty of demanding patrons to deal with, but the tips could be out of this world.

I saw him early on. He was a big tall guy, accompanied by a much shorter woman. And he saw me too. When the guests first arrived, they would mill about in one of the larger marquees, or out on the lawns. I was one of the waitresses passing out glasses of champagne or orange juice. I caught his eye a couple of times, as I moved around, and he smiled at me. I smiled back.

A little later on, and everyone was sat down, waiting for their appetisers. As I moved amidst the tables, I noticed him again. He wasn't in my area, so I wasn't going to have to to deal with him. Which seemed kind of a shame to me. So I went over to one of my fellow waitresses. A rather stern brunette called Emma.

"Hey, Emma, can we swap stations?" I asked.

"Why?" She asked.

"Well, there's this guy, and..."

Emma harrumphed sharply, interrupting me.

"Oh fuck it, if you want to flirt with one of these assholes, fill your boots. Sure, we can swap."

"Thanks, Emma."

A few moments later I was handing out prawn cocktails, when this mysterious man took hold of my hand.

"What beautiful nails you have." Said this guy, smiling at me once more, and stroking my palm with his thumb.

"Thank you, sir. You're very kind," I replied, giving him my most dazzling grin.

"And do I notice a little ink under that charming outfit of yours?"

He pulled back the sleeve of my blouse, revealing some intricate tattoos on my skin. I had started getting inked when I was at college. The first couple had been fairly small, a tiny rose on my wrist, a star on the nape of my neck. Over time, I had more and more stuff done. It became almost an obsession. I love the sensation of being tattooed and I love the look of it when a new piece of art is completed. Both my arms were pretty comprehensively covered, and I had a tramp-stamp at the base of my spine.

I could wear sleeveless tops at Buddy's bar and my tattoos were a source of great interest and amusement to almost everyone. But when I was at an event like this, I had to mostly cover up. This guy must have been paying quite close attention, to notice a little bit of coloured illustration on my wrist.

"Yes, I have a soft spot for tattoos," I replied, blushing slightly.

"And how much of your body is covered with these charming designs?"

"That's quite a forward thing to ask, don't you think, sir?"

"It is indeed. Why don't you give me an answer?"

"Gee, I don't know. I've had quite a few done, here and there."

"Here and there?" He said, an eyebrow raised.

"Yes, here and there," I replied, more than a little flirtatiously.

"Nick, leave the girl alone, will you!" Said the woman sat next to him.

She was an older woman, probably late thirties or early forties. Kind of pretty, but in a fairly plastic sort of way. I suspected she had undergone a bit of work. Her skin was very tight, tanned and kind of leathery. And those tits looked fairly unnatural too.

"Sorry, honey."

He let go of my hand, smiled a sardonic smile, and watched me walk away. There were a few more interactions throughout the rest of the meal, but little more was said. Later on, the main space that had played host to the meal had been transformed into a dance floor, and most of the tables had been cleared to let people boogie. The hard work was mostly over for the staff, but drinks still had to be served, plates and glasses had to be removed.

I was in one of the smaller marquees, scraping some food into a large garbage pail, when I was suddenly conscious of a presence behind me. I turned round and saw him standing right in front of me. He was very close, only a few inches away. He had another one of those wry, half-smiles on his face.

"Can I help you, sir?" I asked.

"Oh, I'm sure you could," he responded, "although sir is very formal. My name is Nick. And you are?"

"Georgia," I replied.

I was already wet and my nipples were hard. I didn't know why this guy was having such a profound effect on me, but clearly there was some powerful magnetism at work. My legs felt weak in his presence.

"That's such a delightful name, Georgia. Charming."

"Thank you, Nick."

"Like your tattoos. Are you going to show me more of your tattoos?"

"Do you want to see them?"

"Very much. But the question is, do you want to show me them?"

"Yes," I whispered.

"I thought so. You know, Georgia, from the moment I first saw you, I knew exactly what kind of girl you were."

"What do you mean?"

"You're a very specific kind of girl. I see your type all the time."

"My type?"

"Yes. You're the kind of girl that needs guidance. Control. Don't you think?"

"I don't understand."

"I think you do, Georgia. I think you do. You have submissive tendencies, don't you?"

"I do?"

"Of course you do. It's something I think we should discuss. At length."

He looked at me intently, holding my gaze for a few moments, before I looked away.

"That's a very sexy outfit you've got on," he said.

"You think so?"

"Oh yes, very."

We didn't really have a uniform as such. We were told to wear black, so that's what I did. I was wearing thigh-high stockings, a short, tight skirt and a black blouse. The top few buttons were undone, accentuating my cleavage. There was no harm in dressing sexy, it helped with the tips.

"Thank you," I said.

"Why don't you give me a twirl?"

He stepped back and looked me up and down. I spun round, then faced him once more.

"Interesting, very interesting," he muttered to himself.

"What is?"

"Well, I couldn't help but notice the complete absence of a visible panty line."

"Really?" I blushed, barely suppressing a giggle.

"Yeah, I mean that's quite a tight skirt you've got on, so it would show up VPL quite easily. But there wasn't a sign of it. I suppose that begs one question."

"It does?"

"Yeah, it does. It's quite a delicate question, but I think we know each other well enough by now, to feel comfortable with delicate questions."

"Yeah, I suppose so."

"So, what is it? G-string or no panties?"

I gasped, bringing my hand to my mouth. I don't really know why I was acting like some virginal innocent, but he was being pretty aggressive.

"I tell you what, why don't you show me?"

"What?"

"Why don't you show me. Lift up your skirt."

"I..I..I don't think..."

"Lift. Up. Your. Skirt."

I did it. Without a second's pause. As if I was being hypnotised. My hands moved to the hem of my skirt and I started tugging it upwards, revealing my naked thighs and then the sopping wet crotch of my black panties. He lifted a finger up in the air, spinning it round. Seeing it as my cue, I turned round, showing off my buttocks. Whenever I did bother to put on underwear, I always opted for a thong or g-string. Today was no exception.

I was stood there, leaning against a table, with my skirt hitched up round my waist. I felt his hand grab hold of my butt cheek, squeezing it firmly, then caressing it softly. He leant forward, his lips coming close to my ear.

"You on the pill, sweetheart?" He whispered.

I nodded.

"Good. Daddy's going to fuck you now."

"Okay...Daddy," I replied, meekly.

It all happened so fast. Within a few seconds, he had unzipped his fly, pulled my panties down my legs, and slipped his dick inside me. I came almost straight away. His name was Nicholas Constantinou, although everyone called him Big Nick. That was mostly because of his height and his stature, but I could verify it was also because he had a big dick. He had a monster prick, easily the biggest I had ever had inside me. At least up till then.

He took a firm hold of my waist and began to pound away at my cunt. The dull thudding sound of dance music, emanating from the ad hoc disco next door, drowned out my screams and moans, as he hammered away at my body. My juices splashed and splattered down the back of my legs, as his cock sawed in and out of my tight gash. He was like a god. A monstrous god. Fucking me with a ferocity and savagery that Mr Leaf couldn't manage. I'd never experienced anything like it. He was using my body like it was some kind of sex toy. He didn't seem particularly interested in my pleasure or comfort. I was just a hole for him to use and abuse, his cock burrowing inside me.

It felt amazing.

I can't really explain why I let him fuck me so quickly. Sure, it had happened plenty of times at the bar, a drunk customer screwing me in one of the restrooms, I was a self-confessed slut after all. But this was something else. Like I said, almost from the moment we set eyes on one another, I knew I was going to fuck him. He had this charisma, this power I didn't even try to resist.

And the risks we were taking was outrageous. There were literally hundreds of people milling around, only a stone's throw away from us. Men, women and children; wedding guests dancing and talking and laughing. And all the time I was bent over and being brutally fucked by this complete stranger. Anyone could walk in, a guest, one of my fellow waiters, anyone.

All that was irrelevant as he pounded away at my snatch. The only thing I could concentrate on was that beefy cock burrowing its way into my hot, wet cunt, and the strong, powerful hands gripping my waist.

After ten minutes or so, he exploded inside me, swamping my twat with his slimy jizz. I could feel his dick erupt, spurting gobs of cum inside my unprotected cunt. Yes, I was on the pill, so an unwanted pregnancy was unlikely, although I knew from personal experience it wasn't impossible, but he could be riddled with sexually transmitted diseases. At that moment, I simply didn't care. I wanted to be fucked. I wanted to be conquered. Everything else was irrelevant.