Wbdp - Brianna Delivers

The final chapter of World's Best Diet Plan. Some of these characters will make appearances in other stories I have in mind, but for the most part, I'm saying goodbye to Sam and Marcia. I like them a lot. They are fun people. This is very, very loosely based upon a true story. It went a lot farther than real life ever did. Some very strange things happen in this chapter. I'm not sure if they're out of character or not, but apparently this is where they wanted to go.

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World's Best Diet Plan - Brianna Delivers, Pt 18

Everyone slept a little later than usual due to the activities of the previous evening. Dawn asked my permission to use the pool this morning. I had no problem with some freedom before we ended up cooped up in a car together for a couple days. She also said the purchaser of her car was expecting her to deliver it this afternoon and asked if I'd follow her to give her a ride back. I said I'd be happy to help. We could wash clothes before coming back to the hotel.

After Dawn left the room, I snuggled up to Chantelle. I tended to wake up every morning in the mood for love. I didn't require privacy for sex, not the way my life had evolved, but I still appreciated it on occasion. Chantelle was particularly passionate once more. It felt more like love making and less like fucking. Sparks were flying and level of satisfaction I felt after the sex was deep hearted and serene. Both sated by the fiery passion, we continued to kiss, and I would lightly caress her body while staring into her deep brown eyes. She was affectionate towards me in the same way, and it was enjoyable. It was the in-between moments I missed most with Marcia. The quiet moments before and after sex, the talks, the laughter, the loving touches. Chantelle seemed determined to give me every thing I was missing about my wife.

Chantelle was curled against me and I was stroking a hip and one side of her bottom, enjoying her curves, her soft skin and the almost purr-like sounds she made when I touched her.

"Monsieur, may I please tell you something?" Chantelle asked. Her head was down, almost as if she were afraid to look at me.

"You can tell me anything," I replied. "You know that. I've told you I'm always available to you. You can look up to speak to me, Chantelle." I put a finger under her chin, but she refused to look at me, turning away.

"I cannot, Monsieur. Not now. Promise you will hear me out, Monsieur, and not get angry?"

"I can promise to hear you out, and I can't imagine myself getting angry with you, but I suppose it depends on what you have to say."

She was quiet for several minutes, and I waited for her to speak if she wished to continue, resting my head on my hand, propped on my pillow.

"It is related to the reason I did not want to see Joe tomorrow."

I thought, okay. I knew there must be a reason, and I'm glad you're telling me, but she didn't speak for long minutes afterward and I wondered if she was changing her mind about going or why it was so hard to tell me. Plus, I didn't know why she thought I'd get angry about it. Why would I get angry if she wanted to see Joe? What she said next totally knocked me into next week.

"I love you, Monsieur. You are the only person I could ever imagine leaving Mistress for." I stirred, ready to say something. "I am not finished Monsieur; please listen until I am done." My mouth was still open and I knew I should say something, but I settled down and closed my yap, willing to wait until she was done. "I do not expect you to leave Marcia for me. I love her too, and I would never do anything to tear you apart. As much as I care for you, I care for her, though she is not and could never be my Dominant. If you were to accept me, both my submission and my love, it would have to be as a unit. You both must accept me. I would be willing to faithfully serve both of you to the fullest extent of which I am capable.

"It was not until I spent the last few weeks with both of you and lately you alone or with Dawn, did I realize how much I missed cock and wished it were a regular part of my life. You and Marcia are both generous and kind and and understand a slave's needs. Marcia because she's a part time slave herself and you because you are a Master. I was elated Marcia asked me to serve you while she was gone and it has confirmed what I already suspected. I am your slave. I do not expect you to return my love, Monsieur. If you accept me, I ask only that you treat me as you always have, as you do now. I am finished, Monsieur. You may speak."

I couldn't think of anything to say at first. I was too flabbergasted. I deeply cared for Chantelle. She was a lovely woman, and I enjoyed every aspect of her company, but this was so fucking far from anything I ever expected to hear her or anyone else say.

I tried to collect my thoughts, but had to ask, "Even if Marcia and I were to agree to your proposal, what would your Mistress say?"

"Each of her slaves always has the ability to leave if we desire. We are not bound to Mistress for all time, only as long as it is mutually beneficial. If I left Mistress, I would still remain on the estate if Monsieur and Marcia intend to live there. I could still help Mistress cook and serve as a model. Not much need change but my allegiance and service would pass to you instead of Mistress."

"Still, I would not think her happy to have you leave her for me," I said. "She may care for me, but she considers you as hers."

"Only by mutual agreement, Monsieur. We are not bound beyond our own consent. If you would take me, Mistress would release me to your care. Additionally, she is getting an additional slave now in Dawn. The need for her to keep me decreases. Mistress already finds it difficult to satisfy all of her responsibilities towards her slaves. Adding another without losing one makes the problem worse for those who remain."

"Chantelle, I don't know what to say. Please look at me."

Chantelle slowly lifted her head and looked at me. She looked me in the eye, then looked down, unable to look at me.

"You need say nothing, Monsieur. Please do not hate me. I need to be honest with you. I could not see Joe because I do not love him and I could not spend another moment with another man when I know you are the one I wish to submit to. I know you cannot make any decision without discussing it with Marcia, but it needed to be said, Monsieur. I have been happier recently than at any time since the cruise. Even then you were kind to a slave."

"I will speak to Marcia, but I don't know what she'll say. I'm overwhelmed, as I'm sure she will be as well. I've never considered accepting submission of any other person."

Maybe it wasn't strictly true. We'd wondered about Lynn, but only briefly. There were too many issues involved with her. Chantelle was more of a known commodity. I know Marcia also cared for Chantelle, but could she in this way; a fellow slave to share her Master and husband with on a permanent basis?

"We are moving there, Chantelle. If it's just cock you wish, it will be available to you."

"It's not just cock, Monsieur. If it were just cock, I would see Joe tomorrow. It is a loving and firm Master as well as his equipment. It is the love I have for you and Marcia, and not for any other."

"What will you do if Marcia and I cannot accept your service to us? Will you stay with your Mistress?"

"I do not believe I could, Monsieur. It would be hard, but I think I would have to leave. At this point in my life, I believe I desire a Master, not a Mistress. It is hard for me to imagine anyone but you to fill the role. It is not only I wish a Master, but I have deep feelings for you, Monsieur; feelings I may never develop for another. Being around you would be difficult, and I cannot seek another Master while with Mistress. There are no other men. Perhaps I would go home for awhile; I do not know. I will have the money set aside for me if I left. I would have time and opportunity to contemplate my future, seek the advice of Maman."

I put my hand under her chin and lifted her head, staring into her beautiful brown eyes. "I would hate to see you go, Chantelle. I want to thank you for your kind and unexpected words. I feel undeserving of the love you express for me. Hell, I feel undeserving of the love Marcia feels for me. To have two wonderful and beautiful people care so much about me is mind boggling. Obviously, I must think about this and discuss it with Marcia. Until I've had a chance to speak with her, I would feel uncomfortable having sex with you again. I feel our relationship has been changed and it needs to be reevaluated under the new circumstances."

"It is what I most feared, Monsieur; that the relationship I have with you and Marcia would be irreparably altered, but I had to tell you and hope you could accept my declaration and my service. To do otherwise was to live a lie I no longer wished to live."

I caressed her cheek, kissed her and got out of bed. At this point, I even felt weird being naked around her. Being naked for fun and games is totally different from being naked for someone who expressed their love for you. Somehow, the expectations of the meaning of the nakedness changed. On the other hand, dressing would seem insulting. I didn't know what to do. I could go into the bathroom and clean up. I would have done it even if Chantelle hadn't rocked my world. I guessed I could do it now, so I did, but it was the minutes and hours afterward which had me worried. Marcia would be in school now and it would be nine or ten tonight with the time difference before we had a chance to talk, which left about twelve hours of uncomfortable silence with neither of us really knowing what to say to the other. Or maybe it would just be me. I wouldn't know what to say to her, but she'd continue as she had before. Maybe she wasn't as weirded out as I was at the moment.

When I returned to the bedroom, I said I felt strange being nude around her now.

"Why, Monsieur?"

"Because before I was only your temporary Master and what I was doing was merely fucking a slave who I had momentary custody of. I did not know the slave loved me and wished to become my permanent property. I feel being naked now carries a different significance, knowing how you feel."

"I look at nudity as being a matter of comfort, Monsieur, which I do because it is more comfortable than wearing clothes. You love Marcia and know she loves you and being nude around each other carries no more significance than being clothed. It is a state of being, not a state of intentions. You may be equally likely to fuck her in either state of dress, depending far more on other factors than whether you are clothed or not."

Chantelle was a clever woman. Why was I so attracted to smart women? Of course, she was beautiful too. She was probably right. With Marcia, the matter of my clothing had no real bearing on what I wanted to do with her, though her nudity always reminded me how lucky I was. But Chantelle wasn't Marcia. She wasn't my wife and somehow it seemed different now. I suppose I could force myself to ignore it, but it would be like an itch I couldn't scratch.

"I suppose you're right," I said, "though I might still feel strange."

"I could get dressed if it helped, Monsieur."

"Your nudity does not affect me in the same way mine does. I don't suddenly look at you and think I have to fuck you now because you're naked. All the people at Brianna's were naked all the time and I didn't look at them like dessert, something sweet I had to eat. It is suddenly knowing what we do is no longer sport fucking for you, but a matter of emotions and feelings. This makes things different for me. I know it's not what you intended by telling me, but I can't change what I am and how I see the world."

"I understand, Monsieur. I apologize for any discomfort I have caused you."

"Don't apologize for your feelings, Chantelle. I appreciate your honesty; I really do. It's only it was unexpected and now I don't know what to do or say. I'm in an unfamiliar place." I thought for a moment. "On the off chance we did accept your offer; what would you tell your parents? Right now, they have accepted you are in a homosexual relationship with Brianna. What will they think if you tell them you're in a relationship with a married couple? Worse yet, one they know. I somehow feel like I could expect a visit from your father and all five brothers looking to pound me into the ground like a tent stake, if your mother's stare didn't vaporize me first."

Chantelle finally laughed. "I am unsure, Monsieur. They still do not know of my submission; only that I like women. I suppose changing a bunch of women for a man and a woman might be an improvement in my papa's eyes. At least I could give him grandchildren, which he might have thought he had to abandon when I told him I loved Mistress. It might be worse if he found I was your slave and you happily spanked and whipped me all the time and I enjoyed it."

Oh, good. Something more to worry about. I texted Marcia and asked her to call me when she was home from school. Right after, no delay, something incredibly important needed to be discussed.

It's a wonder how much difference those three little words made in my day. I love you. The really horrible thing was I loved her back. Not Marcia's level of love, but some level right up there. It had been easy to ignore before she declared her own feelings. It didn't make any difference if I loved her because it was never going to go anywhere. She wasn't mine and never would be, but I got to be around her and have sex with her, so it was eminently ignorable.

Nor was it true that by loving Chantelle, I loved Marcia less. If anything, I loved her more. Everything Marcia had done, from providing an opportunity to have children, to arranging for me to first have sex with Chantelle on the cruise in the first place while she was with Bill, to allowing me to have Chantelle the last couple weeks, only made me love her more. My heart did not have a finite amount of space for love which had to be divided up between all the people I loved. The more people I loved, the more space it had for love. It wasn't only Chantelle's declaration which had me so confused and screwed up, it was the feelings I returned which I was now forced to acknowledge. But I could not tell Chantelle; not yet. Telling her I reciprocated her feelings would only screw things up worse if Marcia couldn't accept Chantelle sharing our life, and I would never proceed without Marcia telling me she wanted it too.

It would die on the vine, unsaid, and things would never be the same as they were; casual and carefree. I would feel odd, strained. Marcia couldn't ignore it; knowing another woman loves your husband is damn tough to ignore. Even Chantelle was putting herself on an island with nowhere to go. She said she didn't need me to return her love, only continue treating her the same as I did now, but how does that happen? If Marcia feels differently about Chantelle after knowing, how can I continue treating her like I did? Chantelle had taken a big risk by exposing her heart, and now I felt shitty about it because I could not express the same.

This moment, I wanted to pound walls, or run screaming down the street, but I couldn't do any of those things. I'm a grown up. Right; a grown up. A man who can't decide to stay naked or get dressed and would feel strange either way. A man who doesn't know what to say, or what to do, and whose head feels likes it's going to explode. Damn.

"Please get dressed, Chantelle. I'm going to get dressed, too. I'm fucked up. I can't begin to tell you how fucked up I am. I simply have no idea what to do or say to anyone, especially you. I feel I'm in limbo at the moment with no clear path laid out before me. I've never felt this way before. I want to talk to you, but I can't, because I don't know what to say. I want to talk to Marcia, but can't because she's in school and it's going to be almost twelve hours before I can. Right now, I don't even know if I could talk to Dawn because my whole life is upside down."

"I am sorry, Monsieur. I wish I did not feel as I do, but there is no accounting for love, is there." She started putting clothes on. I kept seeing her lying naked on our bed, our legs entwined, my cock fucking into her sweet cunt, kissing. Closing my eyes didn't help.

"Nope. Not at all," I said. "No accounting."

I sat on the couch for the next 90 minutes, immobile. I couldn't check the stock market, I couldn't read, I couldn't play games. I was a fucking zombie. Chantelle started cooking lunch at 11:30. Dawn came in at noon, taking her swimsuit off.

"Man, I expected to come in here and see you guys fucking like rabbits," she said. "You're not even naked. Are we going somewhere, Master?"

"To drop off your car, later. Everything else is personal matters," I said. "Nothing to do with you, but I'd appreciate if you put something on."

"Ookkkaaaayyyy. I can do that. Am I detecting a chill in the air, Master? Are you guys fighting about something?"

"What would we fight about?" I said. "She's a slave. I tell her to do something and she does it. What could we fight about?"

"Nothing, I guess. Okay, Master, maybe it's just me, but you guys are acting weird, and it's freaking me out."

"We are people, Dawn. We are as entitled to act weird as anyone else," Chantelle said. Fuck, I think she was crying when she said it.

Dawn saw it too. "Are you crying, Chantelle?"

"Onions. I was cutting onions to go in these crepes with ham, cheese, chorizo sausage and mushrooms."

Except I don't think I'd ever seen Chantelle cry from cutting up onions. I'd helped her cook numerous times and I'd never seen an onion affect her. Shit, shit, shit! The last thing I wanted to do was make her cry.

"It smells delicious," I said, lamely.

"It does," Dawn said, hugging Chantelle awkwardly to avoid disturbing her while she was cooking. "It smells fantastic. How would you say that in French, Chantelle?"

"Fantastique. Il sent fantastique. Kiss me, Dawn. I need to be kissed. J'ai besoin d'être embrassé."

Dawn leaned in for a kiss, and Chantelle turned and grabbed her face and laid one on her, though it only lasted a couple seconds.

"Merci, Dawn. I needed that."

"Don't mention it. I'll go get dressed. You know, to drop off the car."

"Bag up all the dirty clothes," I said. "We'll wash them on the way back."

"Lunch will be ready in ten minutes," Chantelle said. "Please hurry or the crepes will get cold."

Dawn was back in less than ten and I helped set the table, the huge weight of my silence between us, sitting like a huge stone in the pit of my stomach. We ate in silence, punctuated by brief bursts of noise when Dawn tried to start a conversation, which quickly died. I didn't even know what to say to her or do with her. Continuing on as if nothing had changed with her when everything had changed with Chantelle seemed heartless. After about the fifth time trying to speak and getting nothing but the most curt of answers in response, she finally gave up with a sigh. After lunch, I helped clear the dishes and it was as awkward as the lunch. Every time I accidentally touched her, I jumped back like I'd been scalded. She was miserable and I was miserable as a result. I didn't want to hurt her, but everything I wanted to say, I couldn't; and there was nothing else to say.

Clean up over, I asked Dawn, "Did you get everyone's dirty clothes or only your own?"

"I got everyone's, Master."

"Let's go then. Give them to me and I'll put the clothes in my car and follow you to where we're dropping off the car. Is it far?"

"It's in Cape Coral."

"Text me the address in case we lose each other at a light. Chantelle, are you coming?"

"Do you need my help to wash clothes, Monsieur?"