Of Virtue and Volition

This wasn't the first time her body had been pressed against the floor, ass up and supported by her spread legs. She was blindfolded and wearing only a nightie as she presented herself for her master and his guest. She didn't know who it was, and that was the point, but it was someone who knew her. It didn't occur often, but her master enjoyed her beauty and every now and then needed to share it with someone else. It could have been one of his coworkers, or one of hers, she never knew. Afterwards she would always be on the guard for the tale-tale knowing smirk, but it never happened.

Yet she knew the person had to be close, her master hated the idea of involving an unknown stranger. He wanted to make sure she was safe. Rules needed to be followed, he was still in control. He was always in control. The person would be someone he could trust. Someone who was in essence, just like him, and that's how she always pictured the guest, like his non-existent twin brother. Though right now, all she could picture was how she looked to them, her legs spread inviting with her moist sex glistening. Her master made similar observations as he showed her off like a salesman, grabbing her ass roughly to open her further.

Another hand gently grabbed her other cheek, a smaller hand. Having been blindfolded before, she's learn to tell the difference between touches. This hand was cooler, more closely matching room temperature than her master's hand which burned with hotter blood. There was also the slight tinge of conflict of desire overcoming fear, another contrast to the confident hand of her master. Her mental image of the guest shifted from a twin, to younger male.

Her mind raced as she tried to place a face with the hand. They didn't have many young people in their social circle. Could this be someone's son or nephew? The thought of being someone's introduction to manhood sent shivers through body, causing her sex to pucker and dilate for her master and guest. Her mind was disconnected, swimming in the same ocean of lust that was wetting her sex, never realizing that her masters hand had moved, and his guest was on the verge of mounting her. His intrusion soon woke her from her intoxication, causing her to gyrate to better accommodate him.

A dildo, as perfect as it may be, could never feel like a cock. Even the nice leather ones in her collection failed to perfectly simulate this. As her guest slammed into her repeatedly, she could identify his cock was a dildo of modest size. Had she not been blind folded and expected this, she could easily just forget it and let the feeling wash her away, but this only fired up her curiosity. Focusing on the brief period which their bodies collided, she could feel he still had on his undergarments. It wasn't difficult to feel the thong, perhaps made of leather. It was all she needed to confirm her suspicion. She was being fucked with a strap on. She was being fucked by a woman. With that realization, she was able to let her mind go, and soon found herself surrendering to her first orgasm that night, heightened with the knowledge of her sapphic lover.

The rest of the night was blurry dream to her. Master and guest each taking many turns with her in different positions. There were even long interludes between penetrations, where all she felt were fingers all over her body, keeping her sedated in perpetual bliss. Hours later, her mind was finally drifting back to reality. The guest had left, as did her blind fold, and she found her self in the tub being bathed by her master. Her muscles were wonderfully sore, and she couldn't for the best of her decide whither she was half asleep or just coming off a sexual high. Not that it mattered, as her master dried her off and carried her to bed.

The morning next was a different story. Her master went about life like nothing happened. Sure he was loving and tender, and though she always saw him as her master, he would suppress that part of himself. They would almost seem like a normal married couple, despite the constant newly wed glow. Least until the next time his urges erupted. Like the last time he excused them from a friendly dinner, to drag her to the ally and fuck her hard against a dirty brick wall. It was difficult for him to return to normal after that, and so he went back with and stated that she was ill and had to be taken home. Which wasn't inaccurate, she was taken home many times that night.

She understood him for what he was, a monster. A monster she loved dearly and belonged to. A monster who was forced to live in a civilized world, and thus needed a disguise. He would go to work, cheer on the local sports teams, then come home and feast upon her. She never could tell when her master would show his true nature. Truth be told, she'd rather wish he could always be himself rather than live this dual life. Even though she understood, she always dressed and fixed herself to appeal to his darker nature, often with the desired results.

So she made no mention of last night, she too lived a secret life. While she completely loved every moment of being ravished, she would never show it. She knew it affected him to see her become debauched. So she played pure and virtuous, knowing there was also a side of him that enjoyed constantly deflowering her. Not that she minded at all playing the virgin, the added role play only increased her enjoyment. In the rare case where his monstrous side lay dormant for too long, affecting his work and well being, she found often all it took to awaken him was merely to kneel in front of him.

She didn't have to kneel often, though they were back to being the model husband and wife once more for the next several weeks. The transition was easy for her, the love she felt for him was a strong devotional love. To the untrained, she would simply be a loving wife. Yet, someone more familiar would catch the ways her eyes longed for him, the way her body shifted to entice his eyes when he thought she didn't notice him looking. It was a selfless love that could also be misconstruded as worship, but worship was made for objects and ideas, not people.

She didn't have to wait long. From the first day of there return to normalcy, his hunger grew. Not that she had to wait for his darker nature to show in order to enjoy their love making. They made love every night they could, and if she could entice him, again in the morning. It was probably because of this that he was able to pretend to be normal for even longer periods. However their love making, while enjoyable, was nothing compared to when he dominated her. The pure rapture of knowing she manifested his desire, brought soul to new wondrous heights.

With each day, his hunger grew, until she could feel his eyes burning her. The effect made her only more endearing, knowing her master would soon be born again. She made sure to wear something simple, yet sexy. Her hand passed over her garter belt and stockings, pausing as she fondly remembered the night in the alley. A wicked thought crossed her mind causing a thin smile to appear. That night her master came home to a freshly cooked dinner, which she eagerly served him wearing only one of his dress shirts.

He could barely keep his mind on the meal, but the burning from his eyes told her it wasn't a problem with the food. She began to wonder if perhaps she should have left just one more button undone, but that would be too difficult now without drawing attention. Instead, she went over to collect his empty glass, but before she could reach it, she was caught by surprise as his hand jutted out and grabbed her wrist. Her heart pounded in alarm, before she realized, her master was home.

Calming herself, she surrendered to his hand as he brought her over his lap. The shirt barely covered her bottom when she stood, and now did much less. He didn't merely bend her at his leg, but brought her off her feet so that her bottom would be centered before him. She hadn't had enough time to steady herself with her arms before the first smack landed on her ass. It was just a warming stroke though, giving her time to brace herself as he surveyed her behind.

In her position, her legs dangled in the air making it easy for her master to handle them. Even spreading them, sent trembles through her body. The act, no matter how subtle, required initiative. It allowed her to more easily relax, leaving everything to him. When the next smack came down, she was ready to enjoy it. The sharp, yet harmless pain flared in her mind. Another slap, and sex began to water from the stimulus. Again, and she was quickly loosing herself to her own lust.

Was it ten, or a hundred swats? She couldn't remember even if she tried. She knew he would have an accurate count. The record so far approaching three-hundred, and she loved the stinging reminder each time she sat down. She was still in a state of half consciousness between bliss and reality. She realized he moved her to the bedroom, but doesn't recall how or when that occurred. Only that now, she was biting her lip as he tugged roughly at her nipples.

Her mind was racked with sensation. She couldn't explain the place he took her on nights like these. It was as if her true self was discovered only when her shell was overwhelmed with pleasure. Fire burned through her veins, exposing herself as a random jumble of moist nerves hungry for more. By now her sex was completely flooded, making her feel like she would tear in two if he didn't fuck her that moment, never knowing how long these aching moments lasted.

Her eyes opened again some time later. Perhaps they were always open and information was just now able to work its way through her clouded mind. One hand clinched the pillow as the other soothed her sore clit. Her sex tingled with the after glow of being throughly used. She smiled weakly knowing her body was beginning to relax again. Well, except for her ass which was under heavy assault from his undoubtedly well lubricated shaft. There was a tinge of regret having missed the work in which he would get her anus relaxed enough to accept him. No doubt the effort aided her dream-like high.

She didn't recall ever going to sleep, but realized she must have now as she woke. Surveying the damage, she noted several sore muscles with some bruising along her breasts and thighs. As she sat up, the sharp pain made her realized there was likely some purple marks left behind. Marks of pride every one. She was his, and was pleased with every impression that declared that fact.

Looking over, she saw her white knight enjoying his well deserved rest. No doubt when he awoke, he would return to being her loving husband, possibly regretting his actions from last night. Now was her small chance though to really reward him before returning as his innocent wife. Diving beneath the covers, she inhaled his morning scent with relish. Gingerly, she held his cock as she made a point with her tongue an ran it along his shaft, tracing each curve.

Grinning wickedly he began to stir from his dreams. She knew if he had the choice, he would pull away from her, to protect her of course from his terrible nature. However, she wouldn't wait for him to fully wake. With well practiced suction, his head disappeared instantly into her mouth. He woke up quickly after that, but it was too late, the beat within him awoke as well, and was hungry. She continued appealing to his darker nature with expert skill that otherwise lay dormant.

Whimpering as he pulled out of her mouth with a loud pop. She had already lost herself to her lust for his cock. Looking up, into predatory eyes, she remembered her original intent. As he lunged for her, she tried fighting back in fright. Not that she wanted him to stop. Reflexes from her natural defensive instincts. It didn't matter though as he soon pinned her against the bed. It was possible the morning wrestling made the whole experience even hotter. However she couldn't think of that right now, as his penis bore into her, ready or not. All she could do was cry, "Yes."

Their daily life didn't begin until after they showered together and toweled off. He went off to work, and that was it again for several weeks. They continued their love making, which would keep normal people happy but it never took her anywhere. No fire in her veins. No lost time. A purely tender, passionate dance in bed. Her devotion loved this side of him as well, no matter how much she longed to be violently taken. She knew though to be patient, in time she would be his dish once more. Until then she filled her days with the usual chores and idle social activities with the other wives of the neighborhood. Wives who she realized she had come to pity, for this was their only life.

She continued to watch for the knowing signs of her female lover, but none ever showed. In fact, it was almost doubtful these women ever knew there was more to life than counting ceiling tiles. Then again, perhaps they were each as apt with their disguise as she was with her. Over discussions of casserole recipes, she imagined what it would be like to fuck any of these women. How did one even go about it? She had no idea how her master found more partners, nor did she wish to ruin her image by asking. While she did fantasize about a different life, she knew it was just that, a fantasy. Far to great was her enjoyment of being fucked to ever take someone else's place.

Pretending to be normal wasn't the same as pretending to be bland. No, her master loved her deeply no matter which side showed. After a few weeks since their spanking session, a package was delivered from her master. Inside was a beautiful gown, along with a note inside telling her to get ready for a night at the opera. Her cheeks instantly flushed upon reading and she hurriedly began to prepare even though it would be several hours before her master came home. For her, there was no such thing as being overly ready for a nights like these, as it was one of the few times she could be presented as his princess while still donning their normal visage.

There was not a happier woman in the entire opera house that night. It was like like sex, without the overwhelming sensation. Keeping conscious was necessary as she allowed herself to be shown off before the show and during interludes. While she was often the dish to feed her master's lust-filled hunger. Tonight was her turn to fill her hunger for attention. Her master was certainly an attentive man, but one always needed a unbiased confirmation. The attention of the crowd, both men and women alike, felt like hands dragging all over her body, and she squeezed every drop of that experience. By reflex, her body posed her in various forms to communicate that she was sexual, alluring, and most importantly his.

After the performance, there was a smaller get together back stage. The thrill of being some place normally off-limits added to her enjoyment of being displayed. Her master however grew bored with the small talk over crackers and decided to lead her deeper into the music hall. She couldn't tell one part from another, nor their significance, but she wasn't suppose to be there and that was all that mattered. The whole experience was revving her body up, and little did she suspect, her master as well.

Many floors up, in what was either a practice stage or a ballet room, together they looked out from the full length window. Swiftly he wrapped the drapes about her wrists. It wasn't tight, but it was enough to signal her master's presence. She gripped her bindings tightly as she stared out below, nervously watching as the patrons exit. Soft tender kisses along her neck, melted her will, allowing her to relax in her predicament. One which quickly escalated as he began to tear off her dress. Her heart raced, not from fear, she loved what he was doing, though she would be sadden the next day from the short use of the lovely outfit. No, as more strands were ripped off, her knees tingled, as her eyes stayed fixed on the people below, knowing any moment one might look up. At that moment, in fact one did.

A pale woman from one of the wealthier families returned her gaze. All at once she realized the purpose of their daily charade, to hide their true selves from the sort of woman now watching them. She almost lost it right then, knowing that shame tomorrow would bring, but as her master hungrily took her, she would let that shame wait. As her body stretched to accommodate him, she returned a very defiant look at the woman, not caring for now what she thought. Instead of disgust however, their voyeur, simply licked her lips. Such a bold tell almost brought her to climax, and she would easily drift off into bliss had her eyes not locked with the woman's.

Her master grunted furiously through his nostrils as he pumped into her, not knowing and likely uncaring that anyone was watching their heated performance. Their audience was not alone and her husband, tipped off by the woman's rapt stillness, looked where to what caught her attention, then grinned widely as he realized his eyes weren't deceiving. As the rest of the people had left, the male voyeur decided to return the favor. Biting the woman's neck, his hands mauled the other woman who had quickly submitted as she would have. One hand openly groped a breast, while the other exposed plenty of thigh meat to the exhibitionists on high. As her own breasts were being flattened against the glass, she watched helplessly as the couple below let down their guard and showed that hers wasn't the only couple on the block which hid their essential nature.