During my illicit life , I threw a party.
This young, thick, red haired beauty attended but never left. I suppose I wanted her around because she was definitely my type. She was much younger than I. I was a wild 33 yr old professional man of leisure. She was barely 20, clueless. Impressed by pretty lights, she fell in love with my life .
She would embarrass me with her shameless attention seeking and insecurities. Eating and sleeping. Unhelpful, she would do my drugs and ruin business meetings I hosted. My clients and vendors would cringe at her neediness and whining.
At the time, I was only loyal to the Almighty dollar. I had begun to resent the cost of her presence. She would talk to real dancers, lying how she used to dance. Obviously amused with her blatant dishonesty , their glances in my direction made my face hot with anger and shame.
Fed up , in the middle of the party, for all to hear. I began to humiliate and degrade her embarrassing behavior. Calling her out for all to witness she burst into tears and ran to the bedroom as the party continued.
I didn't break up with her, in fact I was happy she didn't pack her bag and leave on her own. I'm sure I looked like an asshole, but verbally whipping her turned me on. I felt powerful in a way I'd never felt before. Her hurt feelings and tears stabbed my heart with pangs of guilt, yet my cock responded to the rush of newfound power.
After the party, I found her in bed, back turned to me. As I slide in beside her she turned to wrap her arms around my neck, sobbing gently into my chest. Pressing herself against me, she felt the effect her tears had on me. Her tears and snot smearing down my body as I pushed her head down. She resisted weakly at first, but still in tears, she began to deep throat me eagerly .
I fucked her harder than I've ever fucked anyone that night. Her entire disposition changed after that party. Waiting on me hand and foot, she became like an eager housewife, desperate to please, and relishing in my praise.
She was young and inexperienced in making a home , I corrected her harshly with my words and she would throw herself at me almost begging me to punish her. Just shy of actual domestic violence I would grab her by the shoulders and verbally berate her , all the while our hips would crush up against each other, giving away the lust inspired by the abuse.
She became submissive to my will. Letting a bratty or careless accident cue my disdain and discipline. Mindful of how she would behave. She looked to me for approval and sweetly began calling me daddy like a pet name. The name defined the power I had found. Weilding it, I began to love meticulously planning her tasks and my expectations. Doling out my discipline and affection, and without ever discussing it out loud; we took to our newfound sexual and social identities like fish to water.
