Dawn Defiled Ch. 01bysoflabbwlvr©
I want to give special thanks to my editor, Alabasterthighs. Her assistance is greatly appreciated.
I rolled into the office later than usual for a Wednesday morning. Fighting an uncharacteristic midweek hangover, I sat at my desk, booted up the computer, and played back the messages from the night before. Nothing urgent; at least, nothing that rated a higher priority than my first cup of coffee. I opened the calendar and scrolled through the appointments. Again, nothing that would require delaying my morning recovery ritual. I glanced at the deadlines and, seeing nothing due today, went to the kitchen to get that longed for cup of coffee. Ten years ago I could have drank all night and been relatively unaffected the next day. Now, at age forty-five, a late night drinking binge has left me huddled in the office with the shades drawn, the door closed, the ringer on my cell phone turned to the lowest setting, and the DO NOT DISTURB light flashing on my office phone. If I could have turned the volume of the light down any lower, I would have.
As I returned to my desk I heard the last few bars of the cell phone ring tone assigned to my wife's sister, Bibiana. Bibiana is a gorgeous creature, in many ways a younger, smaller, and -- I hate to admit -- prettier version of my wife. Bibiana also has the good fortune of not being burdened with a conscience. This allows her the luxury of doing whatever she wants, whenever she wants, with whomever she wants to do it. Her lack of intelligence, however, has allowed her to make some very bad choices, and as a result, I have had to bail her out of some ridiculous situations, sometimes at considerable personal cost to myself. She is always quick to repay me for my troubles with her preferred currency: mind blowing sex. This arrangement has worked to our mutual advantage for most of my fifteen year marriage to her sister, Ileana.
By the time I reached my cell phone, it had already stopped ringing. I closed the office door and looked for a message. The inbox showed no new messages, so I called her.
"Ah, my hero," Bibiana cooed into the phone. "Coming to rescue me again?"
"That depends," I answered. "What's the problem this time?"
"No problem, actually. I was just calling to give you a heads up. Someone is going to be calling you today."
"I would say that someone has already called me today."
"Silly man, I am not talking about me."
"I ran into a friend of mine at the gym last night. We started talking, and she has a situation that requires some assistance. She asked me if I knew anyone who could help, and I suggested you."
"So I have to rescue your friends now, also?"
"It's not like that. I'll let her explain. I gave her your name and number, but I did not promise that you would help her. Whatever you decide to do, that's your decision. It makes no difference to me, one way or the other."
"That's a pretty vague explanation."
"I know. I'm sorry. I don't know if you will be interested in her proposition, but I believe it would be better if you heard it from her. I might not explain it properly, and that could influence your decision."
"You can't give me a hint?"
"Sorry. I'm not getting involved in this. You do whatever you like, and don't worry about me. I won't hold it against you if you say 'no'."
"Alright, I'll wait for her call. What is her name?"
"Dawn. Dawn Kennedy. She should be calling you sometime this afternoon. She leaves work at five, so my best guess is between five and five thirty. Good luck, and have fun."
"OK, thanks, I guess. Talk to you later."
* * *
I survived the rest of the morning, and after eating a bowl of soup at lunch, I started to feel better. The rest of the afternoon was uneventful. I was grateful for that, although time seemed to slow to an imperceptible crawl after three o'clock. At precisely five o'clock my secretary left for the day, and that was pretty much the end of my productivity, as well. I would have left by five fifteen if I were not waiting for Ms. Dawn Kennedy to call.
Finally -- at five thirty-one -- the generic ring tone sounded, and an unfamiliar number flashed on the cell phone display.
"Hello?" I answered.
"Hi, my name is Dawn Kennedy, I am calling for Mr. Santos," a soft feminine voice responded.
"This is Victor Santos. How can I help you?"
"I have a situation. Bibiana recommended you as someone who might be able to help me. Can we meet tonight to discuss what I have in mind?"
"Umm, sure," I answered, with some hesitation in my voice. "Do you know where my office is located?"
"I know where you are, but I don't want to meet you at your office. There is a supermarket located one-half mile south of your office. Can you meet me there in fifteen minutes?"
"Ah, sure, I guess. Is this urgent."
"It's not urgent, but I would like to get moving tonight, while I have time to meet with you."
"Will this take long?
"Not more than fifteen or twenty minutes, I would estimate."
"Alright, I'll be there."
"Perfect. I will be standing in the wine section at exactly five fifty. Please don't be late."
"How will I know you?"
"It won't matter. I will know you."
The call ended. I shut off my computer, grabbed my jacket, and headed for the parking garage.
* * *
I entered the store and headed toward the wine section on the far side of the building. At exactly five fifty I turned the corner. The left side of the aisle was stocked with bottles of wine; the right with loaves of bread. I saw three women and one man occupying various places in the aisle. Not knowing which woman was Dawn, I decided to make one pass through the aisle; if no one stopped me, I would continue to the end of the aisle and head for the exit.
The first person I encountered was a young woman who appeared to be in her early twenties, talking on her cell phone. She did not even glance at me as I walked past her. The next person was a slim woman in workout clothes, whose age could have been anywhere from thirty-five to fifty-five; it was hard to judge her age due to the number of cosmetic procedures she had already underwent. That woman gave me a suspicious glance as I approached, then resumed her study of various whole wheat bread labels when I walked past. The lone male in the aisle was filling his cart with jugs of cheap wine and barely moved so I could proceed around him. That left two women, an older woman in a postal carrier uniform, and a plump woman in a business suit, who appeared to be around forty years of age. I had a good idea which woman was my target.
I ignored the postal carrier and walked toward the chubby redhead. Her green eyes met mine, and I knew she was the one. Bibiana is a gorgeous little size three, but she knows my personal taste runs toward plus sized women such as her sister and this well-dressed redhead holding a bottle of Argentinian wine in each hand.
"You're right on time. Walk with me."
I followed her to the frozen foods section, which was vacant. Walking behind her allowed me to investigate her figure. Dawn stood about five feet, four inches tall. She had a big ass that stretched her navy blue pantsuit to the limit. She had thick thighs, and wore black pumps with a conservative three-inch heel. Her shoulder length hair was red, and judging from her pale skin tone, the color was natural. Her face was lightly freckled. Her hair was cut in a long bob, parted on the side, and curled inward as it reached her shoulders. She was a very pretty woman.
As she turned around, I saw for the first time that her breasts were full, and her cream-colored open collar shirt revealed a generous amount of cleavage.
"I'm sorry for the cloak and dagger meeting. I imagine this is not what you are used to. I just wanted to meet you in a public place where I would be able to see you before you saw me. I needed to get an idea if you are what I am looking for. I have had bad luck so far with the other men."
"What are you looking for?"
"That's kind of difficult to explain here. Let's just say, I have a fantasy. You could be the one to fulfill it for me."
"I'm flattered, I think. Would you like to go somewhere else so we can talk about this privately? I know a little bar around the corner."
"I have a better idea. Follow me to my house."
* * *
It was a short five-minute drive from the supermarket to Dawn's home, which was located in a development about a mile from where I lived. I followed Dawn to one of the larger houses on the block; it had a well-manicured lawn and a basketball hoop on the side of the driveway. I parked behind Dawn's car, exited my vehicle, and followed her to the house.
"My husband is inside waiting for us," she said. "The kids are playing in the neighbor's pool. They probably won't be home until it gets dark. That should give us at least an hour to talk about my proposal."
"Your husband?" I asked.
"I'm sorry; I forgot to mention. This is all his idea."
I felt confused, and for the first time it occurred to me that maybe I should just get back in my car and drive home. Unlike Bibiana, I do have limits. I try to make decisions that do not cross those limits. But in the end, I am just a man, and oftentimes that means I have to think with my dick. My dick told me to go inside and at least listen to her fantasy. That sounded reasonable, so I listened to my dick.
I followed Dawn into the house. We were greeted by a man about my height, with dark hair and dark eyes, average weight, and who appeared to be several years younger than me. He smiled and offered his hand as I entered the door.
"Hello, I'm Tom. Thank you for coming over to meet with us."
"Hi Tom. I'm Victor. You can call me Vic. I have to say, I am totally in the dark as to what I am doing here."
"Didn't Dawn tell you anything?" Tom asked, as he looked in Dawn's direction.
"There was no privacy," Dawn replied. "I figured it would be easier to just tell him everything here, where no one else would overhear us."
"OK, no problem," Tom said to Dawn. "Sit down, both of you."
Tom and Dawn sat on the sofa. I took a chair facing the two of them.
"Vic, how can I put this?" Tom started. "My wife and I have been married for almost ten years. We get along great, but things are getting a little routine in the bedroom, if you know what I mean. So, we want to break up the routine. What I mean is, we are interested in expanding our sexual horizons. We have already experimented with phone sex, chat room sex and web cam sex. That was fun for a while, but it left me-- uh, us, I mean-- somewhat unsatisfied. Those things provided a taste, but only a taste. We are ready to take it a step farther. We want someone else to join us in the bedroom. A man. A man who can perform certain things that we have been fantasizing..."
"He wants to watch someone fuck me," Dawn interjected.
"More or less, yes, that's it," Tom confirmed.
"Um, ok, I understand, I think," I responded. I was trying to get a handle on this situation; Dawn's secretive behavior had left me a little on edge, and I was not yet sure if I could trust these two.
"That isn't such an unusual request," I added. "A lot of couples are experimenting with threesomes. Most couples I know are looking for a bisexual woman to join them in bed, but lately more couples seem to be looking for a man to join them. I've done this before with other couples. There are all kinds of websites dedicated to that subject, you know?"
"We have looked at some of them," Dawn responded.
"What exactly are you looking for?" I asked.
"Well," Tom answered. "We want a man to come over on Saturday night and fuck Dawn while I watch. I won't be involved. At least not at first."
"I'm not..." I started to say.
"I'm not bi either," Tom interrupted. "Not at all. I just meant, when you are done with Dawn, I will take a turn with her. But nothing will happen between you and me. I think she is so sexy and it would be incredibly hot to watch her suck another man's cock and get her brains fucked out by a strange dick. Then I want to use her after she has already been used. I want her to cum more times than she thinks possible. That's it."
"Alright, just so we are clear," I asked, "Dawn, is this your fantasy, too?"
"Yes--more or less--well, not exactly. Let me put it this way: I want another man to totally take control and do whatever he wants with me. Use me as his toy. Make me do things I would never do on my own. Make me do things I could never do with Tom. Call me names. I want him to make me dirty."
"What do you think about that, Tom?"
"Yeah, um, that's pretty much what I said. Sort of. I mean, I wouldn't describe it in exactly those words. I can go along with that, I think. I just want her to have the night of her life, and whatever it takes for that to happen, I guess, is what has to happen."
I thought this over for a minute. Clearly, the two of them were not on exactly the same page. They had probably discussed this scenario generically, but I got the distinct impression that no one had ever specifically asked Dawn what she wanted from the encounter. That could cause a problem that I did not really need. Tom's fantasy was much tamer than Dawn's. I have done Tom's fantasy before, and doing it again did not really interest me all that much. Dawn's fantasy presented a different kind of problem: that was not really my personality. I was not into the Dom/sub scene. I prefer to make love to women, treat them like goddesses, worship their flesh while I fuck them in every hole and give them more pleasure than they have ever experienced in their lives. That is my style. I wasn't really sure that I could perform in the role Dawn required, or if I was interested enough to try.
I looked at Dawn. I stared into her eyes for a second, then evaluated the rest of her. She was a beautiful woman, prim and proper on the outside, yet secretly hiding a filthy whore just waiting to be released. She offered to do whatever I wanted her to do, and the nastier it was the better for her. I started to remember some fantasies that lay buried within the darker side of my conscience, some scenarios that I considered mere fuel for masturbation, but which I never expected to experience. I looked one more time at Dawn's cleavage and made my decision.
"I'll do it," I answered. Like I said, sometimes I just have to let my dick make the decisions.
"Great," Tom replied. "We're happy that you'll join us. We've had bad luck so far in our search."
"Really?" I asked. "How so?"
"The first guy we contacted was a younger, twenty-something guy, good looking, built like an athlete," Tom answered. "He could have been an Olympic swimmer. Dawn was all hot for him. We met, talked, made a date. We booked a room on the beach, overlooking the ocean. Made dinner reservations. Hired a sitter for overnight. Got all dressed up. He didn't show. Didn't call. We never heard from him again."
"The next guy was just gross," Dawn said. "He looked nothing like his pictures. That's why I met you at the supermarket. I wanted to see what you looked like before I brought you home. If you were disgusting, I would have just turned and left. I also wanted to see the look in your eyes when you first saw me. Most men do not appreciate a full-figured woman. Their eyes tell the truth even when their mouths are lying."
"Did I pass inspection?"
"Most definitely. You're here, aren't you?"
"Anyway," Tom added, "the next two guys were total creeps. One was a skinny, balding, smelly jerk that was all into being called 'Master.' I don't know where Dawn found him. We were tired of him five minutes after meeting. The next guy wanted to be called 'Lord Darkness' or something like that. More like 'Lord Dorkiness,' I thought. He seemed to really hate women. At least, that was the feeling we got from him. Right, baby?"
"Yes, completely," Dawn answered. "You are the most normal guy we have met since the first guy--and the best looking, too. I'm so glad I mentioned my problem to Bibiana. She didn't make any promises, but she thought you would be perfect for us."
It was becoming increasingly clear to me that they both wanted something, and I was their best chance to get it. Tom wanted acknowledgment that even though his wife was overweight, she was still sexy looking and a hot fuck. He probably overheard derogatory comments directed at Dawn's weight. He needed confirmation that despite her size she really was the type of woman that any man would be lucky to get into bed. The only way to prove it to himself would be to see it in action. More than that, however, he needed to demonstrate that he was man enough for her by first sharing her, and then surpassing the performance of the man with whom she was shared. He would be the more virile man if he could satisfy his hot wife after she already worn out another stud.
Dawn, on the other hand, wanted to let herself go and not be responsible for what happened. She needed to be desired --and appreciated-- on a purely sexual level. She wanted dirty, filthy sex. She wanted to be used like a whore for the sole purpose of giving another man pleasure. Most importantly, she did not want to feel guilty about giving that pleasure, and enjoying the process while doing it. She wanted to have her cake and eat it too, as the saying goes.
Once I understood their motivations, I understood how to gain control of the situation. That was the only way I could approach this -- in control. I realized that there were three different agendas in conflict. Tom and Dawn had very different ideas about what they each wanted from this encounter, and I had my own idea, as well. I decided it was time to let them both know that one agenda would take precedence. I did not tell them it would be my agenda.
"Here's how it's going to work," I said. "Dawn, you will do exactly what I want, when I tell you to do it. There will be no hesitation. If at any time I detect that you are resisting or failing to cooperate to the fullest extent possible, it's over. I will leave, and you will never hear from me again. Do you understand?"
"Yes, Sir," she replied.
"Don't call me 'Sir.' We aren't playing by any rules you might have read about elsewhere. There will be no collars, leashes, masks, hoods, or any other silly accessories. This is not about props; it is about sex, pure and simple. Dirty, uninhibited sex. You are going to give me all the pleasure that you can possibly provide. And I will see that you have the time of your life. Do you understand?"
"Tom, you will not interrupt. I am going to do everything to Dawn that you have ever imagined, and then some. Dawn will experience things she has never experienced. She will feel things she has never felt. She will do things she has never done before--things neither of you ever imagined that she could do. And you will have to sit and watch until I am finished. I will not tolerate any interruptions from you. Can you do that?"
"I think so."
"Not good enough, Tom. Unless your answer is an unqualified 'yes', I am walking out that door right now and you are never going to see me again. This is your only chance to get this right. Now Tom, for the last time, can you do that?"
"Any questions?" I asked.
"Just one," Dawn replied, her eyes brightening. "What time do we start?"
"We already have."
"Wait, wait, wait a second," Tom interrupted. "I have a question. What's in this for me?"
"Tom, you will get exactly what you wanted. No more, no less. You will watch your wife suck my cock. You will see her swallow my cum. You will watch me fuck her and use her for my pleasure. I will do everything that you wanted to see done to her. It just won't happen in precisely the manner you expected. When I am done with Dawn, I'll leave and you can do whatever you want with her. I don't care. Now, any more interruptions from you and I am gone, forever. Do you understand?"