A Father's Anger (FreeUse & Whisper Twice)

Name: David
Gender: Male
Seeking: Female

Tell us a bit about yourself.
I'm a successful divorced man looking to find a younger woman to spoil and have fun with. Tired of that young man looking shiftily at the check when it comes? Sick of your boyfriend not able to make it because his car might need some repairs and he doesn't want to drive it now? Want a man who doesn't need you to buy him things to make him happy? Then, send me a message.

What is your ideal date?
There's something magical about the water, being all alone on the ocean with no one around for miles. No one to hear you or see you. I would take you out on my boat, away from civilization, away from humanity. Just you and me. Wine. Cheese. Charcuterie. And enough empty ocean that no one will hear it when you cry out from the bedroom below decks.

What do you dislike?
I've been divorced. I saw how painful it was for my daughter. (Yes, I'm a Daddy. I can be yours too.) I don't like to see her in pain. I dislike serious relationships right now. Just looking to have some fun.

What kind of partner are you looking for?
I'm looking for the biggest treasure in the room. Because, unlike the other guys on here, I can afford it.

Anything else you would like us to know?
Send me a message. You won't be disappointed.

Dear David,
I wasn’t going to come back to this site. (I wrote my profile on a dare). But I am little tipsy as my graduation party was earlier… and somehow I am back and found your profile. You are really handsome, though a bit familiar. I am positive we don’t know each other; I would remember someone with a boat like that! So please feel free to write back. I will check again in the morning – I want to make sure all those zero’s in your “Annual Income” box aren’t just from my blurry vision!

--Becks <3
P.S. I will be at The Elegant tomorrow night. It's one of the places my dad owns. At least I think! lol They let me drink there so we can have a nice dinner. So actually never mind writing me back, just show up and prove how confident you are!
P.P.S. Here's the link to my belledates profile I wrote last week:


Name: Rebecca
Gender: Female
Seeking: Male

Tell us a bit about yourself.
I can’t believe I am writing one of these things, but my friends are adamite that I can’t go onto college without making a belledates(dot)com profile first. You can see by my profile picture that dating is never an issue for me. Not being conceited, it’s just I know I am beautiful. Kind of a prettier looking version of Rachel McAdams right? So I thank you all for looking at my profile, but I am sure most of you boys have already realized I am not an option for you.

What is your ideal date?
I actually would like to find romance for once in my life. Anyone under 30 seems to think their tongue in my throat is sweet gesture, but no thank you. I want to be spoiled and cherished. Show me some place new and exciting. Make me feel like your princess. For once I want to listen to Rihanna sing “Only Girl in the World” and know that a man feels that way about me while we dance.

What do you dislike?
I don’t like losers. That’s actually a personal motto in all things for me. For the next week I will be the captain of the only cheer squad to make nationals EVER from my school. After those seven days I move on to being the school’s valedictorian. There’s a ghetto song about “all I do is win, win..” or something like that - that’s me. So losers can just avoid contacting me all together. HA! I just had a funny memory of this one girl who thought she would make my squad last year…

What kind of partner are you looking for?
It’s doubtful I can find a man matching this here. But you read this far, and made it past the “loser disqualification”… so hope? I mentioned that my ideal date would include romance and pampering, but that needs to be my lifestyle as well. Prime athletes get massages. So, prime alpha women get shopping sprees. Strange, but I thought I just heard the sound of a thousand browser windows closing. Such coordination must be useful for them at the factory!

Oh and if you want kids, you’ll have to already have them. This is the figure I am going to have forever. I can be a cool step-mom. Just remember that the no loser rule applies to your kids as well! Ha. No, I am serious. I don’t want to have some weak daughter crying about how unfair life is.

Anything else you would like us to know?
I am actually impressed you made it this far. So unless you are overlooking something. Like a weak daughter! Haha No, you would have already bailed if that were true. That’s kind of an inside joke for me. I’ll tell you about it on our date. It was so on fleek! But to answer the question… the one thing you need to know about me is that I am not going to be some trophy wife.. Sweetheart, I am an f’ing Life Time Achievement Award.

David Moretti stared at the e-mail for what seemed like forever. The girl was young, too young in a way, if the mention of graduation and cheer squad meant what he thought it meant. Yet, he couldn't help but be intrigued. More than intrigued, he felt compelled. His elbow rested on the top of his desk and his chin rested on his hand as he read her profile again and again, then looked at the accompanying photograph. It, almost didn't matter how young she was, he decided. This was a prize he just had to catch.

The Elegant was one of those nightclubs and restaurants that they feature in every movie. Dark inside, with a large bar area, a huge restaurant area that's always packed, wrap-around booths, waiters in tuxedos, and a sultry songstress on a low stage singing the blues in a dress with a slit that way up way farther than you could dream possible. David entered the elegant wearing a black, Italian cut suit. He was taller than average, at just over six feet, and he wore it well. He hadn't lost his touch after marriage, after kids, after the divorce. No, his cuff links were solid silver. His shoes were polished. His curly black hair with bits of grey was perfectly groomed atop his head. His olive skin matched perfectly with the darkness of the room. He smiled and entered the bar area.

It was easy to find Rebecca. "Becks." She was seated at the bar, surrounded by a gaggle of young men. They stayed close, but not too close, as if they were afraid to touch and scare off the gazelle. Young cubs. A real predator knows how to take down his prey, not play with it. He went to the far end of the bar and motioned for the bartender. "Two Ketel Ones. One with tonic and lime, one with cranberry."

Drinks in hand, he approached the pack. They saw him coming, but his confidence gave them no room to close ranks. They had to part. He set down a glass in front of the woman and set his now free hand on her shoulder. "I'm here to pick up my f'ing Lifetime Achievement Award."

Tonight seems like it might turn out okay at The Elegant. If this man doesn't show, there are plenty of pretty boys hovering about to pay attention to me. I'm the kind of a woman people just want to be around. In high-school, the unfortunate girls called me Queen B. I have to give them some credit because they used B for "Becks" - how creative right?

And then he walks in... Tall.. dark.. and hot.. Pictures really never do men justice, but this one... I will make a mental note to have his photographer sent back to Kinko's. The way that Italian suit ($3k? maybe $4k?) draped him in just that perfect way, and still tightened against him in all the right spots. Certainly this man is a panty-dropper. Will he be disappointed I forgot mine?

I watched for the social cues that come with high society. There it was! When he asked the bartender for his drink. They way the bartender's eyes jerked down ever so slightly when talked to, like a puppy putting his tail between his legs at the bark of a rottweiler.

He's coming over. "How is my hair?" I turn to a pretty boy only too see him and the others scooting off as though they all remembered something at once. Ah, weak men.. probably worried because they actually did remember to wear panties.

I adjust as though I meant to sit forward, but I really am just sliding my skirt an inch (okay two) higher up my thigh. Men always check the paint before the engine when considering a Ferrari.

I reach and take my drink from his hand. There is no need to ask, him to offer, or even a thank-you. Among alphas such practices are as trivial as two people nodding as they exchange shifts in the shoe store. I want to make sure my actions convey my own power; that I am also a bright star and together we might burn a little hotter in the night sky.

He opens his mouth and the silken husk of his words pour out like so much molten gold.. (fuck "bright star".. I am thinking supernova!) His bold taking of my tag line and instead using it for his own, only making my heart jump faster and the fear of sweating becoming a possibility.

But no, I stay cool on the surface. I'm built to be a winner and I always know what to do. A quick laugh so he thinks his joke was funny... but not too long, so he thinks it actually wasn't.. followed by the casual hair flip to say okay maybe a little.

He sits down next to me and I watch as his suit glides like the skin of a puma. Annastacia Steele's "inner goddess" would be in cardiac arrest at the sight. Lucky I have an outer goddess: myself.

We begin to talk.. Some men need to be reminded where to keep their eyes, but with the hawk-like movement of his across my body, I knew no one had ever dared to tell him. My cheek, my breasts, the curve of my hip and down to the white porcelain of my slightly exposed thighs... I imagine him on Wall Street considering what kind of return to expect on his investment.

The stories flow between us like beach waves at sunset. As the drinks warm us I switch my well honed timing to the "funny ancedote" cue. I share one of my favorites! The story of Kira More-Wetty. I have no clue what her actual last name was, but everyone called her More-Wetty because I found a way to spill orange juice on her pants every single day for a week. But I mess up the telling somehow. Did my slight giggle come out a laugh? The way the corner of his mouth shot up, almost snarl like, meant I missed a step in the formality of our informality. He's older.. of course he knows more of this game than me. A quick, smiling recovery drink as a counter-move and there... the sneer is gone. whew.

His eyes have began to move in that predatory manner again. Didn't he already have enough to eat the first time he looked at me?

Everything was going so well.

She had been everything he could dream of. Young, yes, too young, really, but didn't act that way in her attitude. She knew what she wanted and she wanted David. They had clicked immediately and began to spar. Where he would thrust, she would parry. Where she would slice, he would riposte. And so their duel of dominance, of heated flirtation, of sex in only syllables began in the night.

Drinks were drained and stories were told. Truth be told, David couldn't keep his eyes off her. She could have been slow as a semi on a mountain road, or dull as penny lost in the bottom drawer and he would have still found her attractive. But instead, he found someone he gave as well as he did, and took like a champ.

Everything was going so well.

And then, Rebecca told David the tale of Kira More-Wetty, only David had heard this story before. It was a very different version, told to him by his Kira Moretti, David's daughter. David may have been a tiger seeking a gazelle when looking for a woman, but at home, he was a father to Daddy's little girl. And Kira was his world. He knew the tales of the awful bullies that had taunted Kira out of her school. Things got so bad that Kira had started cutting herself. Her mother found out, and that was it. David was blamed. Custody was lost. And now, an entire country separated David from his daughter as they lived on opposite coasts.

And here she was, the bitch who'd caused it all, still bragging about it to this day as if it was her crowning achievement. All of a sudden, all of the maturity this girl seemed to have disappeared, all of her charm and wit was lost. David saw Rebecca for what she truly was. And David knew one thing. She must be punished for what she had done.

He sighed. Everything had been going so well.

He bit his cheek in frustration and forced out a smile. If this girl was going to get her just desserts, he needed to play his part to the very end.

"This place is boring," he said. "You should come down to the docks with me, walk the boardwalk. I'll show you my boat. I think you'll love it."

When avoiding the losers in life, the most obvious red flag is a man without a car. I was willing to make an exception for David seeing as that he used a limo service to get around.

The walk along the dock was magical. I felt so little wrapped around his powerful arm as we strolled. The overhead lights danced on the water and for a moment I felt I was Cinderella... I always wanted to be Cinderella, but that was impossible dream when every store within a hundred miles knew my exact shoe size.

We passed by many impressive vessels tied up along the docks. Each one I thought must be his until I began to be almost sure that he might not have a yacht here at all. The final one was just too big... so impressive that I imagined workers scrambling at the gates of the Panama Canal waving flags and crying out "No, senior! Is to big to fit! Ayyeee you will break the Canal!"

There she is, Rebecca, he stated flatly. I know I bought a ship smaller than I wanted... but I needed to under-compensate for an extremely large cock. If he thinks that is under-compensating, then I fear for my own canal!

I never caught the name of the boat as I was too distracted by all the men scrambling, throwing lines, and crying out to make ready for "el Jefe." It was something with a "K".. Ke? Ki-something? Who cares: there was an f'ing helicopter pad at the back! No helicopter though... at least I know what to get him for Christmas.

We walked up the plank and entered a very glamourous room, it was almost like a hotel reception room in grandeur and size. After a moment a servant... My father said it is rude to say "servant" about the help, but I can't think of a better word for the way each employee leapt to obey his orders. So the servant comes forward with a glass of champagne. I can't hear wait David is saying to the man, but I can hear the servant emphatically repeating "Si, Si.." to every question David is trying to get assured.

Finally, my beau approaches me with the glass while motioning me to one of the couches. Yes, the room had more than one couch! I sipped at the delicious champagne while he excused himself to the bridge. The bridge? OMG.

I waited and waited... Okay it was his turn to have made a social faux pas. You don't keep a woman waiting this long and with her drink long since emptied. Standing up made me feel a bit wobbly. Is this what they call sea legs?

Doors, doors, so many doors.. I pawed at one hoping it would lead to a bridge. It opened easily under my smacking palm and I spun a little passing through it.

A horn blared out from somewhere. Twice more it blew and I thought that it will be the only thing getting blown tonight if he doesn't come get me. The hallway began to shake and my hands shot out against the walls to keep me from falling. Engines were roaring to life from somewhere below and I became even more disoriented. There was a surge, a pause and then another surge as the engines continued to catch.

"If you can't find 'em, grind 'em!" I blurted out in a spew of giggles as I leaned into a wall.

"Rebecca, ladies do not laugh at their own.. crude sillies," I continued to yell, "and ladies don't talk out loud to themselves in bigly boats..."

I fell. My goddess-sculpted ass taking the brunt of the fall as I plopped down onto the floor below me.

"If you can't find me, you can't grind me!" I laughed, snorted and then laughed in high a sieze - fighting to catch my breath while still choking out a stacato of giggles.

Legs? one.. two.. nine.. people above me? Blackness.

David smiled as Rebecca awoke in the small metal chamber. It was painted white and had nothing but a few metal benches welded to the curved wall within. A massive, circular metal door stood between them, and they could see each other only through the thick circle of glass at the center of that door. He smiled at Rebecca and waved to her. The smile was devoid of the flirtation of before, devoid of the chase they'd been on. But it was broad and genuine.

"Good morning, Rebecca," he said, his voice muffled by the thick doors between them so she could barely hear him. David shook his head, and flipped a switch on the console and a burst of static echoed throughout the chamber. "Let's try that again." His voice came through much clearer this time, through a speaker in the roof. "Good morning, Rebecca. I'm sorry about disappearing last night. I had to make things ready for you. I can't say that I've ever done this before, but my family is Sardinia so I suppose it runs in my blood."

His smile vanished. "You see, we could have had such a wonderfully fun night, you and I. Drinks. Dancing. I dance, you know. And perhaps a wild night between the sheets. Or on the deck of this boat. Or on the verandah next to my private pool. And just had fun. But you had to try and impress me with your juvenile stories of so-called high stakes high school." He tapped on the glass with each of his next few words. "But. You. Didn't. Do. Your. Research."

He sighed and shook his head, looking down at the ground for a second before looking back up. "My name is David Moretti. Oh, no, I'm sorry, I meant to say, my name is David More-Wetty. And, if you read my profile, you'd know that my daughter was my world." He looked up and down at Rebecca's body. "Such a waste."

He fiddled with a few dials. "You're in a hyperbaric chamber designed for divers. With the machine I'm playing with here, I can increase and decrease the pressure at will. Feel that pressure in your ears? I've increased the pressure a tiny amount. So, we're going to play a little game. I'm going to slowly increase the pressure in there and it will slowly get very, very painful. Now, you're going to give yourself pleasure to avoid pain. Here's the rules. Every time you make yourself orgasm, I'll turn the pressure down slightly. If I think you're faking one, I'll turn up the pressure. How long will you last before passing out?" He looked down at his watch. "Oh, forgot to mention. Pressure's already starting to rise."

Who the hell does this madman think he is?

I ran to the glass portal smacking at it rapidly, “let me out you sick fuck!”

I have no idea what kind of sex room a hop-and-bare-it is, but my ears were starting to hurt. I stopped hitting the window and worked my jaw in attempt to pop my ears. An invisible corset cinched my chest closed and refused to let me draw a full breath.

“Okay, ass-ole..” my restricted airway not letting me say the h, “is this what you want?”

I lifted one toned leg and slammed a Manolo down on the bench. With that one leg hiked up and the other still straight on the ground, I pulled my dress up to my waist. I laid bare my clean shaven pussy for him to oggle.

“..h.. h.. ‘ave a ‘ood ‘fuuuuh-KING look,” I forced the words as I glared.

Not even an eye-brow raised, David turned his head away and said something I couldn’t hear. My ears popped suddenly and I could draw full breaths again. He looked at me holding my black dress up and let his eyes devour my womanhood.

“Can I go now?” I asked in neutral tone.

“You’re forgetting something, Rebecca.”

“What? You’ve got me here showing you my pussy. Ha Ha. Now let me out.”

“I want you to masturbate for me. I want to watch you cum – a real and solid orgasm. Then perhaps you will be let out."

“Fine, fine, fine,” I brought my right hand to my pussy while my left held the bottom of my dress up against my stomach, “fine!”

I began a slow rocking rub. I was going to give the pervert a quick show and get the hell out of here. My hand was moving back and forth like the top half of a talking shadow puppet.

He leaned into the intercom, “do it for real, Rebecca, or the pressure returns.”

I leaned my head completely forward as I switched to a clit circling finger. He would assume I was looking at my lady-business, when in fact I only wanted my hair in my face so I could plan. Hidden behind my wall of hair, he wouldn’t be able to read my expression as my mind raced to get me out of this. I am a winner and can always win. I’m not some pissy-pants loser like his daughter; unable to handle it when someone rubs them the wrong way.

Speaking of getting rubbed the wrong way… I fought back the urge to bring my fingers up into my mouth for some saliva. My outside was powder dry, but I didn’t want him to think I wasn’t self-lubricating. It would be a dead giveaway that I was actually not enjoying this one bit. I tried not to think of the itchy raw feeling that was forming on my clit, as I remembered to let a few fake moans sneak out from under my hair.

I got it! Oh, I will show this man how a Carson High woman fucks. I rapidly fell to my knees and leaned way, way back. My dress followed gravity up and over my arched torso until only the bottom of my breasts kept it from sliding completely off.

Then I shot forward slamming a hand on the ground in front of me. I posed there on all threes with my fourth limb still rubbing frantically with hot, dry friction against my most sensitive point. Like any well designed garment, my dress played my partner in this dance of seduction. It had fallen to cover my ass, so now I arched my back letting it begin a slow slide toward my tailbone. First two slivers of curved whiteness were revealed by the dropping black curtain. Then more curve as my perfect heart shape was revealed behind me.
My head snapped back suddenly and the flair of my hair blocked his view of my ass. I shook my head back and forth frothing my hair until it stood out in wild abandon. What would take an 80’s pornstar hours and three cans of hairspray, I did in seconds.

Let him think he is driving me wild and then 1 Mississippi 2 Mississippi and shoot daggers from my eyes and scowl in hatred. That wasn’t hard to fake seeing as how bad my clit was in pain now. As I was bent in this whoreish way, I managed to slip fingers inside myself to steal a little wetness. Not much at all really, but it was helping some as I inched towards the finish line of this charade.
My eyes locked into his and I parted my mouth just a bit.. a bit more.. now cock my lower jaw to one side as the lines in my face soften. I transform the hate into a look of young girl just now realizing an idea. Kind of like what Kira’s face might have looked like when she realized, “Oh yeah! How cool! I really am an utter loser destined to suck the cocks of my dad’s factory workers.” She probably sucks her daddy’s cock too; the fucking pervert… Hate face again for a second and cue the slow return to bending over backward on my knees.

I continued to arch further and further back into a perfect parabola. From the side it might look like I was being pulled by the vagina. A vagina that was straining to pull away from my body and sail forward to his waiting mouth. The back of head finally touched the floor, but that detail was hidden by my dress which had found a way past my breasts to completely cover my face. I no longer looked like a person but a taunt, lithe body stimulating itself – my clit bright and engorged (though from pain and not pleasure).

I froze completely in that arc. The only thing moving were the frantic tips of my fingers and the slight tremble in my ass my as it completely supported the tension of my body. When I felt I could hold this position no longer (which would be just about right for the timing….) I collapsed like a bucket of water dropped onto the floor.

I lay there smiling. Right hand very (VERY!) lightly hovering atop my clit as my left hand kneaded and squeezed a breast through my bra. My black dress merely a scarf around my neck.

“Mmmm… that was sooooo good, David,” I said slowly in a sugar laced moan.

“You’re right. It was, “ his voice a sound of fair admission but then growing cold, “too bad it was all fake! If you doubled the number of people you have screwed over, you might get close to half the number of women I have seen cum on my cock. I know what a real orgasm is. And like everything else about your 18 years of life, it was all fake.”

A worried look dawned on my face.

“You had your one chance, Rebecca. Nothing more than a little humiliation in return for what you did to my daughter…. And one that might actually have felt good. Good night.”

I lay there on the floor, hands relaxed on my stomach, 90% of my body still exposed naked. I rolled my eyes away from the viewport and watched the ceiling.

“Oh goody,” I said to the roof of the chamber, “here comes the hop-and-bear-it pressure…”

A new voice came on the intercom, the voice thick with accent.

“El Jefe says for me to turn this on and off throughout the night, but pressure only. No oxygen mix. He say it will give you a Benz,” he paused as though he was making sure he had heard the word right. “When pressure goes out, your elbows and knees will hurt mucho. Like if pounded with hammer. Sometimes your skin feel like en fuego. He tell me not too long so you don’t a get an imposition in your brain.”

I lifted my head off the ground to look up at the window.

“Dios mi, senora. I hope you get some sleep in this. I have seen what Jefe is planning for you in the morning. Lo siento, senora…”

I felt the pressure release as quickly as it started. My legs did feel cramped from the performance.. I think? I lifted both legs above me and tried bending and unbending, bicycling the air to relieve the growing discomfort. I smirked to myself that the little fucker was probably grabbing his bulge in hopes of glimpsing my asshole.

I bolted upright as the first stakes of pain wedged between my joints…

David awoke the next morning feeling refreshed. He always slept well on the boat. It was large enough for minimal rocking, but he still felt it in bed and it helped him sleep. He couldn't deny being slightly disappointed with last night. He had wanted a fun evening and Rebecca had failed him on multiple levels. First, she'd failed on the actual date. Then, she'd failed in her first test. He shook his head. Young women just didn't know how to behave.

He fixed himself a bloody mary at the bar in his bedroom before taking a leisurely shower and getting dressed. He wore khaki pants and a blue polo shirt, perfect for a day on the boat. He took his bloody mary to the bridge where he determined that they were deep in international waters, far from where anyone could find them.

He, then moved down to the bowels of the ship where Rebecca was enjoying her stay. One of his men, a different one than the one he'd left the night before, manned the console, and David could not hear Rebecca in the chamber anymore. He peered in and saw her moaning on the floor in pain. "Turned off the speakers? I don't blame you. I'll take it from here." He was left in peace and he turned the consol up dangerously high and saw Rebecca scream before passing out.

He returned pressure to normal and unlocked the chamber, opening the door. He walked in and put a leather collar around Rebecca's neck and chained the collar to the far wall, giving her about 3 feet of movement. Then, she handcuffed her hands behind her back.

He walked back out of the chamber and brought in some pancakes on a plate and some milk in a bowl and set them within reach of her. Then, he got a chair and sat out of reach. From his pocket, he pulled a small water pistol and shot it at Rebecca's face, causing her to sputter and awaken. "Good morning," he said. "Have a good night?"

I came to, unable to figure out what was real and what was nightmares. Residual pain lingered in my joints and on the surface of my skin. I felt exhausted, beaten, but my skin remained perfectly smooth and unmarked. It was as flawless as I always kept it.

I tried for a better inspection, but my hands were cuffed behind me. My neck had a collar and chain like those used on a dog. I was limber enough to get to my feet despite my bindings.

David sat there in fresh changed clothes while I stood in my badly wrinkled dress. My Manolos lay discarded on the other side of the chamber, both long since broken from pounding them against the glass.

“You should eat. You’ll need your strength for later,” he stated matter of fact.

“How exactly am I supposed to do that?”

“Like a dog. I wouldn’t worry about how stupid you look eating at my feet. You will look back on these moments as the height of your dignity.”

At this point I didn’t care anymore. I was famished and my body exhausted. I knelt down before the plate. My pride swallowed, I bent forward at the waist to bring my mouth down to the pancake.

He kicked the plate across the chamber. “Do you really think I was going to let you eat? I just wanted to watch you humiliate yourself before me. This is about to go exactly how you think it will go.”
He adjusted himself as he unzipped and pulled his flaccid, yet still impressively large penis from his khakis.

“You want breakfast? Then you will suck my cock. There is no way out of this for you, Rebecca. And know that if you try to injure me, I can use this chamber to kill you within minutes.”

He’s right. There was only one way this was going to go. I’d been in an impasse like this before with a man… I would need to blow him, and then in his boredom things would go back to my way. I walked forward on my knees as he scooted forward in his chair.

My head lowered slowly towards his lap. I was half hoping he would snatch his penis away from my mouth like he did my breakfast. That didn’t happen. I kissed the head of his member and it began to rapidly fill with blood. As I continued placing soft-lipped kisses on the head, it continued to grow in response. Veins pulsed along the sides, the whole thing reminding me of a water balloon being filled.

When it finally locked itself into a steel bar, I couldn’t believe the size. Was that 10 inches? A whole foot? More? What the fuck…. It surprisingly didn’t look disproportionate for his massive frame. Still it was an unholy marvel. Like it was carved from pink tinted marble to represent the phallus of a titan.

I had to straighten slightly to get my mouth up onto his ruling scepter of manhood. I leaned back forward as my stretched lips slid slowly down the length. He fortunately tasted clean and showered with a bit of soap aftertaste. I began to move up and down, keeping my lips tight on his cock. There was a trick I knew to get men to cum quickly, but a quick test of placing him the back of my throat proved that mechanically impossible.

I stared straight ahead trying to concentrate on anything other than what I was doing. I looked at his pants. I looked at his blue shirt. Anything but looking up at him. He wasn’t going to get the satisfaction of looking me in the eyes while I shamed myself as a woman for the payment of being freed. I wish I had my hands to help speed this up…

After five minutes of steadily massaging his cock with my lips, I risked a glance up. I was expecting to see his head thrown back whispering the name of disgusting daughter or something else equally creepy. But no. His arms were crossed and he was glaring down at me. He wasn’t in the throws of passion. The fucker was watching me whore myself before him! This was completely about power. The pleasure I am pretty sure I was giving him was all secondary. He wanted to make sure I knew that he was the better human being – that he was the winner now.

My eyes began to wet slightly and the first panicked twinges of embarrassment and shame knotted in my stomach. I think that admission of my defeat was all he was waiting for to go over the edge. Pulling out of my mouth he ordered me to shut my mouth and eyes. I did.

Ten seconds later a warm splash hit my face. Then another and another. I had seen the healthy, solid balls at his base while I sucked him. Their mass spoke to the volume he must have stored for marking my face as property. More warm spurts splashed my cheeks and eyelids. Eventually he stopped cumming and I felt him grab the side of my head. I could tell he was wiping himself with my hair.

There were footsteps and I smelt fresh pancakes entering the chamber. I opened one eye (the other was too sticky) and saw a servant bring in a new plate and glass. David zipped himself, took the glass, and picked the pancake up off the plate.

“Are you ready to eat now, Rebecca?”

“Yes,” I nodded to him and then added for good measure, “Sir.”

“Too bad…” he smirked as he tossed the glass’ contents on my dress. It was orange juice!

He turned and walked out the chamber taking bites out of my pancake as he left.

“Oh, and be ready. Captain’s Mast is in 30 minutes.”

Wait, wasn’t I just sucking a capatian’s mast? What was he talking about?

David let Rebecca stew for the half hour, let the fear of what would happen next creep into her, and then two crewmen came in to grab her. They took off her collar and brought her out onto the deck of the ship. The sun was bright and shiny and the sea was blue. There was blue as far as the eye could see, blue in the water, blue in the sky. No land to be seen, no other boat, no plane. Rebecca was well and truly isolated.

Near the top deck of the ship hung a flag pole flying an American flag. The two crewmen uncuffed Rebecca just long enough to re-cuff her to the pole itself. She was surrounded by the entire crew and they faced her, silently. David was no where to be seen.

Suddenly, a set of steps sounded on the deck below and up walked David. He moved in front of her and stood there. "Gentlemen, this woman, standing before you today, has admitted, in the company of your Captain, to bullying the Captain's daughter." Murmurs of outrage and disappointment sounded throughout the boat. "I love my daughter, truly more than I love life itself. She was my world. When my wife divorced me, I gave her most everything she asked for, just to fight for custody of my dear Kira." Murmurs of pride and agreement in the crew.

David's voice became harder and louder. "But all of you know the story. You know how she was taunted and teased at school. You know how each day was torture for her, that her father tried everything to help her, but that she ended up cutting herself in the end. And you know that, when her mother found the marks, I was stripped of custody."

Shouts of "It wasn't your fault, sir" came from the crew.

"I know. I know, my friends. But that which was greater than my life was stripped from me that day. And this woman!" He turned and pointed to Rebecca. "This woman caused it all."

David paused and let his voice become calm and his breathing steady. "Kira More-Wetty. That's what you called her. Boys, make Rebecca much much More-Wetty than my daughter ever was."

The men advanced upon Rebecca with grabby hands. They touched her all over and, bit by bit, pieces of her dress were ripped off her. Next came her bra and panties, until she was tied to the mast utterly naked. She was surrounded by the crew of the ship. They crowded in tight, their ugly faces leering at her. One by one, their flies were unzipped and their cocks were set free. They began to jack off, staring at her naked body, turned on by her beauty. And then she began to get covered by their sticky goo. One by one, they ejaculated all over her until she was completely covered. When they were done and had left, David walked up to her. He looked down at her and shook his head. "Rebecca Far-More-Wetty."

You couldn’t imagine the terror I felt as my clothes were ripped from my body by the mob. Having my arms cuffed to the pole behind me made things worse. I was unable to defend myself as hands chose to rub along my smoothness. They cupped some parts of me, and smacked and pinched others.

Someone was filming what was happening to me on their cell phone. I had no doubt that video would end up on the Internet soon. One Hispanic man stepped forward and placed his hand on my vagina. He said a bunch of things in Spanish to the camera. I don’t know what he said, but it made everyone laugh at me. The only word I made out was “Trump.”

At David’s order, my humiliation began. The crew began to stroke their cocks while jeering and berating me. The fastest of the group squirted their semen onto my bare thighs. I slid down to the base of the pole. My knees covered my breasts as best they could. The squat really wasn’t as protective as I had hoped, especially now that my arms were now twisted taut behind me.

Again and again, the men ejaculated on me. I closed my eyes wishing it over, but I kept being reminded I was trash. Every 30 seconds or so, I felt a new drip or squirt on my naked body. Some warm, some cool, but all of it filthy.

Two of the crew were obviously gay men and in love with each other. They weren’t looking at me, just enjoying each other until they each came. They kept their eyes locked on one another as they shot their loads onto my hair. I wasn’t even a sex object to them. Just a place to drop their sick waste on.

When all was done and the crew walked off laughing, David came back to berate me. I don’t even know what he was saying to me - I was too caught up in the sheer humiliation of it all. I had lost and now I was nothing.

He uncuffed me knowing that I wasn’t able to resist at this point. I was led, naked and sticky to a large, decorative barrel in a nautical themed room. Within a few minutes, he literally had me bent over a barrel. My hands and feet were bound so tight I couldn’t even squirm. A gag was tied firmly around my mouth and head.

“I bet you think I am going to rape you now,” David said menacingly as he looked down at my helpless form, “but I spoke with your parents. You father has seen me break hookers before, and doesn’t wish you defiled to that life-altering extent. I am still free to do whatever else I want with you until they arrive in the morning to claim you.”

With that, he undid his leather belt. He doubled it in half and made a snapping noise with his new whip before turning to strike my upraised ass with it. The pain was mild, even a bit bearable.

A minute after that first strike, he began in whipping me in earnest. Full, hard strokes now fell on my exposed bottom. No pause to evaluate or for him to even savor what he was doing to me. Just a constant staccato that felt like two smacks a second. Sometimes the belt would land on both cheeks, and other times he would allot a series of strikes to one before switching to the other.

I bit down on my gag as hard as I could. I was already defeated by David, but I didn’t want to lose any more. I held for about thirty seconds before I started screaming into the gag. I couldn’t help it; my butt was on fire and continuing to get hotter. I could barely feel the strokes through the inferno raging on my naked ass.

I was tied too tight adjust even the slightest. The only part of me that could move was my neck and I lifted it as I screamed in pain. I shook my head back and forth as I only wish I could move my ass under the constant trashing. I could see David bringing his arm way back between each strike. Every hit was rapid and at his full strength.

His face was a mask of concentration – the belt a blur. For David this wasn’t about sex or kinky sadism. It was even far beyond dominance… It was all about him punishing me… Locking in my head through sheer terror and pain that he was the superior human. One person physically instructing the other that their mind and body were nothing. I felt that nothingness as he tanned my hide. Finally fully broken, even my consciousness surrendered…

When I came to, it was dark in the room. It was night and I was still fully tightened to the barrel unable to move. My butt still felt enflamed and prevented me from falling back to sleep. After an hour of lying there thinking about how far I had fallen, I heard whispered voices behind me. There were at least two maybe three men stifling laughs and whispering about my bright red, but still expertly shaped ass.

I couldn’t see them, but I could hear taps on a cellphone. After that, a few bright flashes from them snapping pictures. Something was pushed into my rear. I was too shamed at this point to even resist. My anus fought hard to protect me, but eventually it too surrendered and let the cool object slide in. I groaned as they toyed me, but didn’t cry. I never got to find out what they put in my body, because after a few more pictures and some thrusting of it, the mysterious crewmen pulled it out and walked off laughing amongst themselves.

Sleep came and when I awoke, still fully tight across the barrel. I heard my father and mother talking in the next room. Whatever they were saying, it was definitely a cordial and happy conversation with David.

David laughed as he sat, drinking a martini. "Oh, it was lovely charity function, Phillip, truly marvelous. You and Victoria must have been so proud that it went off without a hitch."

Phillip, Rebecca's father rolled his eyes. "Hardly. You missed the behind the scenes meltdown. Rebecca had berated a server so badly that half the catering staff had quite before the cocktail hour had even finished. It was a disaster. And when we had to fire the band before the event was complete because of Rebecca's dalliance with the drummer? Oh, it was a wonder that we had her sister be able to step in and play some songs on the piano and make it a more intimate affair."

Victoria shook her head and ate the olive out of her glass. "Phillip, please, David hardly needs to hear any of that. The Foundation received plenty of money in the end and all was well. Isn't that all that matters in the end?"

David raised his glass. "Indeed." They all raised their glasses. Clinks were heard. "Is the matter settled then? You are both satisfied with our arrangement?"

Victoria smiled. "Satisfied? David, we're pleased. Rebecca has always been such a handful and if this gets her out of our hair and into yours, you can have her. I know how much the endowment cost to put her into an Ivy League school. I don't want to think about how much it would have cost to keep her there year after year with all the trouble she would cause."

Phillip walked over to David and put his hand on David's shoulder. "I just hope that you're happy with the situation. She can be tough for any man, and you're not getting any younger. She won't be a bother, will she?"

David smiled and looked through the window where he saw a limp body hanging over a barrel. "No, I don't think so. Not anymore."