Three Fathers

As quickly as it began, it ended. He stepped back, his dick sliding out of me. He zipped himself up and pulled my skirt back down. I stood up and he spun me around. I looked up at him and he smiled at me.

"You've got such a lovely cunt, sweetheart."

"Thank you, Daddy."

He smiled, before taking a fifty dollar note out of his pocket and putting it in my pocket.

"Now, this is a tip for your sterling work as a waitress. I didn't give it to you because you let me fuck you. Understood?"

"Yes, Daddy."

"Although, you are something of a whore, aren't you, Georgia?"

"Yes, Daddy," I nodded, just to confirm the fact.

"Good girl. Now, here's my card. I'd like to see you again, Georgia. More accurately, I very much want to fuck you again. But I'd like to see you too. I wasn't kidding, you have submissive tendencies and you need someone to take you in hand."

"Okay."

"I think we could have a lot of fun together. So, give me a call."

"Yes, Daddy."

He bent down and kissed me gently on the lips. Then he turned round and walked out of the marquee. I stood there, his cum slowly dribbling down my legs.

***

I'm not going to lie, I made zero attempt to play it cool; I rang him the next day and within the hour he was at my apartment, buried balls deep in my snatch. Over the course of the next eight hours he fucked me again and again and again. He would have me in whatever hole he wanted, then we'd smoke weed for a while, before he fucked me some more.

We hardly knew each other, so chit-chat seemed a little awkward; but the sex was out of this world. He really did use me like a fuck-toy. He threw me round like I was some kind of rag doll, bending me this way and that, slamming his dick inside me. He didn't bother listening to my preferences or desires. He was in charge, and I realised that was exactly the way I wanted it.

Nicholas Constantinou - Big Nick - quickly became my whole world. He was an obsession. He was an object of transcendent desire. He was my new Daddy.

With Mr Leaf, I had experienced a profound teenage crush that became a sexual affair. With Big Nick, I fell madly and hopelessly in love. This was the first time I truly understood what it meant to be submissive. I didn't call him master or ask for permission to speak or cum, but I let him lead me in whatever way he wanted.

God, being submissive must seem so weird to so many people. There will be some who read this, and they will be horrified by what I'm saying. Outraged that I defer to men in this way. But I love it. How can I explain? There's something so safe and secure about giving up control, letting someone else make the decisions. I want to feel protected. I like a strong, powerful presence that will take care of me and that I can trust implicitly.

Giving up control is a choice. I'm making the decision. In a way, I'm in charge.

After that extended debauched session in my crappy little apartment, both of us lay on my bed, exhausted. I was lying on top of him, my body draped over his. Our flesh was pressed tightly together. Our hands were linked, our fingers intertwined. He was examining them closely.

"Look at how different our skin is," he said.

"In what way?" I replied.

"Well, look at you. Your skin is so soft and youthful. You have the skin of a child. Whereas mine is old and leathery. And you're so pale. Your skin is creamy white. And all those freckles. You must have Irish ancestry."

"My surname is O'Rourke."

"Fancy that. How many times have I cum inside you, and now you tell me your full name?"

"Sorry. It didn't come up."

"No, I guess not," he answered, a little absentmindedly, before returning to the subject in hand, "and look at my skin. It's so dark and swarthy. People think I'm Hispanic, rather than Mediterranean. No one could ever confuse us for an actual father and daughter."

"I wish you were my father."

"You say that with my spunk trickling out of your pussy."

"And my ass."

"And your ass."

"I think I've fallen in love with you," I suddenly blurted out.

"Good. I would expect nothing less. I'm very loveable," he said, somewhat sardonically.

If I hoped he would return the compliment, I was to be disappointed. But he flattered me a little nonetheless.

"You've got such a lovely body, Georgia," he said, his now unclasped hands roaming over my naked, sticky back.

"Thank you, Daddy."

"You know who this body belongs to, don't you?"

I nodded.

"Tell me."

"You, Daddy."

Now he grabbed hold of my buttocks, squeezing and fondling them intently.

"And you have such a lovely ass, Georgia. Who owns this ass?"

"You do, Daddy."

Then he reached between my butt cheeks and began to rub my pussy.

"And you have such a lovely cunt, Georgia. Who owns this cunt?"

"You do, Daddy."

"Good girl. Don't forget it. You're Daddy's property now, you understand that, don't you?"

"Yes, Daddy."

And I did. I submitted to him completely. For the next few years, he was my guiding star, my father, my lover, my best friend, my confidante, my master. He was my everything. For a long time I told myself he was the love of my life. I know better now, but I believed it at the time.

And he also happened to be married.

This was a problem I had dealt with before. Mr Leaf had a wife and I was perfectly happy to fuck him behind her back. I didn't even really know Big Nick's other half. She was the slightly sour older woman with fake tits and overly tanned skin, that I met at the wedding reception. Her name, appropriately enough, was Karen.

He told me it was pretty much a loveless marriage. They'd been together since they were kids, but any spark between them had long since been extinguished. To begin with, she wasn't really a problem; I had my own apartment and we could fuck there. Also, his job involved a lot of travelling and I would often accompany him on his trips. We'd stay overnight in various hotels and we could fit in plenty of fucking and sucking.

My life with him was a journey. An intense, mind-blowing journey. He pushed me to my extremes. He expected complete and total obedience, and that was exactly what he got. When he told me I belonged to him, he meant it. When he said my body was his to use and abuse in whatever way he wanted, he meant that too. But I was happy to go along with it. Making him happy made me happy.

I remember one time, we were on a trip in the Midwest. We had stopped for something to eat a grungy truck-stop in the middle of nowhere. The two of us were sat opposite each other in one of the booths in this diner. He seemed kind of distracted, not very communicative, which wasn't really like him. He was usually full of conversation and bonhomie.

A huge articulated rig drew up outside and the truck driver waddled into the restaurant. He was a big fat guy, with a bushy beard and a bandana, wearing a denim jacket and a sweaty t-shirt that barely contained his huge belly. He sat at the counter and ordered a coffee. I paid him no mind and continued to eat my salad. Then suddenly Big Nick piped up.

"Princess?"

"Yes, Daddy?" I replied absentmindedly, between forkfuls of food.

"You see that guy at the counter?"

"Which one?" I turned round to look.

"The truck driver."

"Yes."

"I want you to go suck his cock."

"What!?" I said in a startled tone.

"You heard me. I want you to go suck his cock."

"Are you insane? Why the fuck would I do that? He's gross."

"You'll do it because I told you to do it. Now, go up there and tell him you want to blow him."

I stared at Big Nick for a few seconds, my mouth wide open in shock. For a moment I didn't move, but I knew I was going to do what he asked of me. There was no choice. He was my Daddy and he set the rules. I always did what he told me to do.

I stood up and slowly turned round, walking gingerly towards the counter. Each step felt like a marathon, each second seemed like an hour. My insides were churning, my anxiety levels were off the chart. But my cunt was sopping wet.

Finally I reached my destination, standing next to this fat truck driver. By now he'd ordered some food and was noisily slurping down bacon and eggs. I could see little droplets of yolk on his scruffy beard. He didn't notice me and for the longest time I just stood there, my hands behind my back, glancing nervously round the room.

Eventually, he saw me and turned his attention in my direction.

"Well, hello there little lady, is there something I can do for you?" He asked, his breath smelling of egg, nicotine and booze.

"Do you...do you want me to suck your cock?" I whispered.

"I beg your pardon?" He said, leaning towards me, turning his head to one side, so he could hear me better.

"I said, do you want me to suck your cock?"

Much like myself, a minute or two earlier, his mouth dropped wide open in surprise, his jaw flapping in the breeze, his eyes wide and disbelieving.

"What is this, some kind of joke?"

"No. No joke. I'm being completely sincere. Do you want me to stick your dick in my mouth and make you cum?"

"I don't know what kind of game you're playing, young lady, but I don't think it's very fucking funny," his tone now ice cold.

So far, no one has noticed our little encounter. Other than my Daddy of course, who was sat nearby, paying close attention. But this guy's voice and demeanour was becoming ever more heated. It wouldn't be long before other people did start paying attention. So, I reached out and grabbed hold of the front of his pants, fondling his already semi-erect junk. Then I brought my lips close to his ear.

"Now, please pay close attention sir. Listen very carefully. This isn't a joke. This isn't a game. I am offering to blow you. I am being deadly serious. My boyfriend is one sick fuck who likes it when I fool around with other guys. It gets him off. And he's told me to fool around with you. If you say the word, we will walk out of here and go to your truck. There I will unzip your fly and pull out your little friend. Then I will lick and suck and chew on your little friend until you shoot all your filthy cream down my throat. And I will swallow every goddamn drop. Understood?"

He looked in my eyes and saw the sincerity there. He looked down at my hand, fondling his packet. Then he looked up again.

"Okay, sure," he said.

Somewhat in a daze, he stood up and threw a twenty onto the counter. Then we walked out of the diner and straight to his truck. He clambered up inside and I followed him. I could see Daddy through the window as I climbed up into the vehicle. The fat slob settled in the passenger seat. The rig was so big, there was plenty of space for me to kneel down on the floor, between his legs.

"You sure this is the real deal?" He asked. "This ain't some con to try and rob me or something?"

"No. It's the real deal."

To prove the point, I unzipped his fly and immediately wrapped my lips round his cock. In one way the whole experience was completely nauseating. Physically, he was disgusting: morbidly obese, unhygienic, and sweating like a pig. His dick was short but thick. He wasn't even that hard. Blowing him should have been akin to a particularly cruel form of torture. And yet in another way I had never been so turned on. Having to service this fat fuck, solely on the orders of my Daddy, was so outrageous. So exciting. My juices were dribbling down the back of my legs.

He didn't last that long and soon enough his dick spasmed inside my throat, a couple of squirts of piss-weak baby-gravy splashing against my gullet. Once he was done, I put his dick away and patted his lap gently. Then, without another word being said, I got down out of the truck and rushed back inside the diner. I sat down opposite Big Nick and took several gulps of water, desperate to clean out my mouth and remove the taste of fat boy spunk. I felt like I was going to be sick.

But then Daddy looked at me, a big beaming smile on his face, and he reached out and cupped my cheeks in his hands.

"Oh Georgia, Daddy's so proud of you. You're such a good, obedient little girl."

"Are you really pleased with me, Daddy? Really?"

"Oh yes, so pleased. I couldn't be more happy. You did exactly what you were told. You followed your instructions to the letter. Well done."

And just like that, I suddenly felt elated. My whole body swelled with pride and pleasure, delighted at being praised and complimented by my Daddy. I should have felt humiliated, degraded; after doing something so gross and tawdry. But it was the exact opposite. A few positive words and I was on top of the world. Floating on air. We left shortly after and, as we drove out of the parking lot, I blew a kiss to the truck driver, who was still slumped in his rig, a look of stunned disbelief on his face.

***

That wasn't the last time he pimped me out to other people. Daddy liked to share me around. He wasn't a cuck, he didn't get a thrill out of watching me with someone else. Or at least I don't think he did. But he liked knowing I would do whatever he wanted. He liked knowing I would never say no to him. I was his property and he would use me in whatever way he saw fit. If that meant letting others guys fuck me, so be it. I went along with it, without question or opposition.

On more than a few occasions, when we were away on one of his business trips, he would return to the hotel room, with someone else in tow.

I don't know if these were friends, business acquaintances, or just guys he'd met off the street; but whoever they were, I was expected to take care of them. Sometimes he would just look on, while I fucked and sucked these strangers. On other occasions the two of them would do me at the same time. I got used to being spit roasted or DPed. The sex was usually pretty rough and often degrading; but that was the way I liked it.

There were girls too. Hookers on occasion, or some chick we'd pick up in a bar. Like any red-blooded male, he liked watching me make out with another woman. I'm sure I've made it clear enough by now that I have no objections to eating a little pussy and I was always happy to do anything Daddy wanted. Again, making him happy, made me happy.

And then there was poker night.

Mostly, at least to begin with, I stayed out of his other life. His real life. We would meet at my apartment or the bar. I rarely went to his place. He was married after all. I was his mistress, his bit on the side; I was in a different world to his family and friends.

But then one week, he invited me over. He told me his wife was away visiting her family and we could spend some time together. I got there on the Monday evening, and we spent most of the next 36 hours in bed. He fucked me in every hole. Repeatedly. Sometimes it was rough, sometimes it was tender. I came again and again and again. It was bliss.

On the Wednesday afternoon, he told me some of his friends were coming over that night to play poker. He asked me if I was happy to wait on them a little.

"You'll give them drinks, snacks, that sort of thing. You don't mind, do you?"

"No Daddy, that's fine." I replied, not entirely honestly. I did mind. A little. I wanted it to be just us, me and my Daddy. Fucking each other's brains out. But I was trained to do as I was told, so I smiled and thought nothing else of it.

That evening, his friends began arriving. There were five of them, all a similar age to Big Nick. Different heights, different weights, but they seemed nice enough guys. I was sat in the main bedroom, applying a little makeup, when in he came.

"Okay princess, you ready?" He asked.

"Yes, Daddy."

"Stand up, let me look at you."

I did as I was told. I was wearing exactly the sort of outfit I would wear at a catered event. Black tights, a short skirt, a black blouse. He stared at me for a second, and then...

"Take off your clothes," he said, coldly.

"What?"

"Take off your clothes."

I was used to following orders, so I quickly disrobed. He came up to me, and I noticed something in his hand. It was a short apron. He tied it round my waist. Then he took a step back and looked at me some more.

"Something's not quite right. Something's missing," he whispered to himself.

Yes, my Goddamn clothes are missing, I thought to myself.

"Wait, I've got it," he suddenly exclaimed.

He walked over to the dresser and picked up my lipstick. Then he took off the top and pressed it against my chest. In large ruby red letters, he wrote the words fuck and toy on my tits. He grabbed hold of me by my arms and smiled broadly.

"That's perfect! You look fantastic!"

"Th..th...thank you."

"Now, you're going to be a good little girl for my friends aren't you? I've been telling them all about you. What a special little princess you are."

"Really?"

"Oh yes. And I want you to be a good girl for all of them. You'll take care of them, won't you Georgia?"

"Yes, Daddy."

"You'll do whatever they want you to do, won't you?"

"Yes, Daddy."

"Anything at all?"

"Yes, Daddy."

"Good girl."

So I did.

To begin with, I was more than a little self-conscious, walking round the kitchen, wearing nothing but a short apron round my waist. All of them copping feels, groping my ass or my tits. Pinching my nipples or quickly fingering my gash. Then Daddy ordered me down on to my knees, and I spent the next hour or so crawling around under the table, sucking one cock, then the next.

These were middle-aged men with unremarkable physiques and unremarkable peckers. But I enjoyed blowing them nonetheless. There was something so thrillingly tawdry and illicit about it all, moving from one man to the next. Feeling their cocks expand and erupt, then swallowing their respective loads. Mouthful after mouthful of cum, sloshing in my belly.

At some point, one of them pulled me up from underneath the table and made me climb onto his lap. He chewed on my nipples as his dick burrowed into my snatch. Then, once he was done with me, another guy bent me over the table and fucked me in the ass. I stared into the eyes of Big Nick, as his buddy sodomised me. He nodded approvingly and I smiled back at him in return.

Eventually, the actual playing of poker lost any appeal and they gang-banged me in the living room. I lost count of the amount of times a dick slid into my mouth or my cunt or my asshole. None of them were the least bit caring or attentive. They just brutally fucked me, as hard as they could, as often as they could.

I can't really describe what it's like to be used in that way. The physical sensations are just totally overwhelming. They passed me round like a piece of meat, not concerned for a moment about my preferences or comfort. I totally lost track of time, my mind narrowing down to a tiny ball of pure sensation.

Did I enjoy it?

Well, that's a difficult question to answer. In a way, no. But in another way, yes. It was painful, humiliating, gruelling. But I came so hard I almost lost my mind. I'd never experienced anything like it. In a way, I've never experienced anything like it since. Poker night became a regular thing; around once a month I would be fucked by Big Nick and his friends. But the sensations would never be quite the same.

You never forget your first gang-bang.

Big Nick insisted they all cum on my face, so I ended up lying on the coffee table, as six, middle-aged men jerked off in a circle surrounding me. They had all orgasmed several times by then, so there was precious little seminal fluid being produced.

After ten minutes of desultory masturbation, one of them suggested they piss on me instead. Big Nick readily agreed and soon enough I was covered in streams of hot urine, frothy yellow water splashing all over my body. I giggled and guffawed, as they hosed me down, semi-delirious and passing in and out of consciousness.