Temptation's Confidence

Author's Note: This is the seventh part of a longer story. I have done my best to make this and each of its sister stories stand alone.

They were written in this order:

Conquest

,

Contempt

,

Constant

,

Contrition

,and now

Confidence

.

*

Anne Marie was the receptionist at my job. I always thought her eyes were sad, but now I know better. They were dead in a general kind of way. She had very little expression. She had the eyes of a girl who knew the ending to your favorite mystery (and the plot twist hadn't amused her). Those eyes were different colors, by the way. One was green. The other was blue. Her brown hair went down her back all the way to the crack of her little boy ass. She had subtle breasts that only found cleavage with the help of the latest in bra tech. That girl's belly had done enough crunches to make any washboard jealous. Of course, I'm sure, she'd have had no idea what a washboard was.

She was known around the office for her fucking --not her trivia.

And she had fucked me. Only once. But it takes only once for a married man like me to fear for his marriage. The whole life I had built with my wife and daughter were in jeopardy because of one moral slip.

At least that's what Anne Marie wanted me to believe.

My daughter had already thwarted the blackmail.

Yvette, my precious goddess, had brought to my attention the girl's interest in destroying me entirely. The pictures Anne Marie planned to use were now in my possession. The plan had been halted entirely and the reasons were simple.

Yvette wanted me to herself.

And I had given myself to her entirely. My prick, I guess, was offering enough to please my daughter. I had pleased her with a ferocious prowess I had never even given my wife. She'd seemed satisfied every time. And every time I had fucked my daughter, I'd agreed to all of her commandments.

I was to always respect her.

I was commanded to always defend her.

And I could never deny her.

These three promises had been easy to keep --even with my marriage tumbling away from me. I had obeyed my sexual superior and I had denied every other woman in the world. I had even denied my own wife sexually.

And now, weeks into the arrangement, I found myself crumbling. I was questioning my daughter's sexual methods and needs. I had observed on more than one occasion a smirk when I needed a kiss. She'd laughed when I needed something real. And she'd mocked me more than once. The taste of her piss was in my mouth and the smell of her ass rocked my nostrils.

I was hers to use and abuse.

I was questioning her rules. I wondered why she was allowed to fuck anything under the sun but I had to keep my mouth shut. I looked at her body, bronzed, blonde, blue eyed --perfect, pierced, tattooed --and thought about how I failed her as a father. I suddenly found myself wishing I could be a father and not a lover.

I wanted to

save

her.

There on the floor of the church, I stared down at her. I knew all of my thoughts were there in my eyes for her to see. That might have been why she wouldn't look at them. Both of us were damp with sexual ecstasy. My rod was still heavy inside of her folds, still drooling exhausted semen into the pool of her secretions. The blood was leaving my vein and in that breath, I said her name.

When she ignored me, I repeated it.

"Yvette?"

I wanted to be a father.

"This isn't another attempt to 'understand' me, is it?" Yvette asked. Her response was dipped in a familiar mold of irony as her naked breasts collapsed beneath my chest.

"Yvette... why are you like this?"

I felt my dick slip out of her pussy and onto the concrete floor of the church.

"Why..." Yvette whispered, "...are you like this?"

My eyes went to hers. I stared at her perfect blues.

"You should be better..." I managed to say.

"Maybe you should be better," she countered and in a flat second, she sat up and slapped her hands into my face.

I felt a sting in my nose as I fell onto my naked ass.

"Was it me?!" I shouted. My voice echoed across two scores of empty pews.

"You?!" Yvette countered, her voice could have shaken the pillars of hell. "You?! You... what? You made me start smoking? Made me lose my virginity? Kyle... are you asking me if every tattoo, every STD, and every other mark on me is your fault? Is that what you're asking?"

She clasped her naked knees between her naked arms and looked up at me.

This was the sort of confrontation I'd wanted to avoid --of course now that it was happening, I couldn't have imagined it going any other way.

"Am I a bad father?" I asked my naked, semen injected daughter.

"Are you asking me to forgive you?" She asked with a smirk.

"You know what I asked."

She snapped her fingers at her discarded, satin white dress. It had been left near the altar. I followed her unspoken command to the letter and retrieved the dress for her.

She stood up and looked at the ground, "dress me, Kyle."

Naked before God and all that's chivalrous, I found the right way to replace her dress. She stood there, motionless and uncooperative as I slipped the silky fabric over her amazing form. The fabric slipped over her enormous tits and it pinned the rings of her nipples to the tanned flesh. I felt the solid form of her stomach as the dress went down and down, stopping at her thighs.

"You. Kyle. Are a brilliant father." Yvette said. "You do exactly what I say."

She turned to face my blubbering, stupid eyes and she commanded me again.

"Get dressed," she said. "Carl is going to have me tonight."

Her words carried a sting. I wanted nothing to do with her latest sexual protégé. The man was a cowardly churchgoer who was ready to denounce everything he believed in for one opportunity to fuck my daughter. She was here to meet him and not me. I was her ride over and nothing more.

I grabbed my clothes and started to pull them on. I dressed in silence and Yvette swirled her thumb over her Ipod impatiently.

She'd left her purse on the marble alter. I heard the techno-music ringtone of her phone bursting out of the bag; the vibration that accompanied the sound seemed even ruder. I could see that she didn't hear her phone because her earbuds were blaring the same rap. I grabbed her purse and brought it to her. She seemed annoyed at first, but I soothed her with the universal sign for a phone call.

Immediately, she dropped a white earbud and placed the phone to her ear.

"Yeah?" She said as her hands dug around in her purse.

I couldn't hear much from the phone --it just sounded like a man.

"Well, where the fuck are you?" She mumbled as she placed a cigarette in her mouth. She glared at me to cue my lighter. I lit the post-coital cigarette for my daughter there in the church.

"Start again, Carl..." Yvette said as she turned her back to me. "...start with an

apology

."

She gave a short pause before she interrupted him: "You're sorry what?"

I realized she was waiting for him to use her title. I had no idea if it was "mistress" or "goddess" or even if it was just her first name. He corrected how he addressed her quickly.

"Fine. We'll do it there then..." She sighed smoke at the floor. "What's the address?"

She pulled a Sharpie out of her bag and turned to me. She wanted me to produce something for her to write on, but my pockets were empty. In frustration, she grabbed my arm and pulled my open palm to her. On my hand, in black marker, she wrote: 417 Corey Cove Drive.

"Yeah," she said, "give me forty-five minutes. You just keep her there."

She hung up her phone and looked up at me.

"You have to drive me to an apartment complex."

There she was again with another demand.

I wasn't allowed to deny her.

The drive over was a bit of a fog. My daughter said nothing. She only smoked and stared out the passenger side window. I let the radio keep me company. As we drove, I kept wondering if there was any way to break the contract with Yvette and maintain any sort of face or relationship with her. She had told me she could destroy me. I still couldn't tell if it was an empty threat or the vengeance of a jealous god.

"What apartment is it?" I asked Yvette when we got to the community.

She didn't hear me so I tapped her knee.

The look she gave me was total annoyance.

"Which... which apartment?" I repeated.

"Just..." she rolled her shoulders and closed her eyes. "...park by the pool."

I did what I was told. It was well after ten o'clock and all of the windows in all of the apartments were dark. The rainstorm from before had left the air wet with the scent of oil and the damp fog of pollution. Yvette stepped onto the wet ground and slammed her door.

I chirped my car locked.

She led the way to the pool. I stepped behind her, uncertain if I had any role to play in what she had planned. It felt very much like I was on the clock, waiting for the boss to send me home.

"Repeat my rules to me, Kyle," she breathed and placed her hands on the gate to the pool.

I was taken aback. She hadn't asked me to repeat them to her ever before. I didn't know if it was a reminder or some queer foreshadowing for what she had planned.

"Never deny you. Always defend you." I coughed. "Always respect you."

"And never judge me, right?" She looked over her white shoulder strap at me.

That was never a rule. "Yvette... that's not a rule."

"Really?" She seemed a little shocked. "Then I'm adding a new one."

My eyes must have registered some kind of protest because she cut me off, "...don't deny me."

I pursed my lips and she turned to face the pool.

"Open the fucking gate," she said a little too loudly in the serene setting of the sleeping apartment complex. I heard the heavy footsteps of Carl. He walked as clumsily as he spoke.

"You brought you... your father?" Carl said in his stuffy tone.

"Don't question me," Yvette said evenly.

The gate was opened and Yvette's high heels clicked across the stucko-painted concrete. I followed quickly, but was almost hit by the gate.

The pool was still, black, and looked a little cold.

For any real action, one had only to look at the hot tub. It bubbled full throttle. I couldn't make out the shape of the woman inside, but I assumed it had to be Nadia. Nadia was the woman Carl had to fuck in order to fuck my daughter --those were Yvette's rules.

Carl wore a polo shirt and shorts --the JC Penny catalogue for casual. I put my hand into my pocket and felt my near-empty pack of cigarettes.

"Did you bring the shit?" Yvette asked.

Carl nodded and indicated the table. There was a drinking glass best left for bourbon sitting there. Next to it was a syringe and a glass pipe. The hair on the back of my neck stood up. I had always expected Yvette to be using drugs, but I had never seen it for myself. And like a good father, I had ignored any of the evidence that would lead to a further complication to our relationship.

Yvette went directly to the table and produced a tiny plastic bag from her purse. She set it down and opened it. Immediately, my baby girl bent over and examined the contents.

"Nadia?" She called as she prepped her crystalline drug.

The woman in the hot tub rose from the bubbles. She had black hair, wet, and cut to her chin. Narrow dark eyes set off her olive-toned complexion. She was a good deal taller than Yvette. She wore a bright red one-piece. I could barely make out the areola of each of her breasts. Her large nipples were pinned flat between each. Her tits reminded me of Angela's.

"Is that it?" Nadia asked. Her accent was distinctly Russian.

"Yeah," Yvette said. "This isn't dick dope. Better than what Carl showed you."

"Better?" She betrayed her excitement. "How much did it cost?"

Yvette snorted in response. Nadia was quite the comedienne, apparently.

"You don't pay?" Nadia asked the question like she was getting one on one time with Jesus himself.

"No, honey..." Yvette said and looked at her for the first time. "I don't pay."

"Nadia," Carl interjected. "This is Yvette. Yvette? This is Nadia."

Yvette looked at Carl. Her eyes widened at him and seemed to say, "Are you kidding me?" She then shook her head and turned her attention back to the drugs.

I tried not to watch her break up or mash or squeeze the drug in whatever way was appropriate. I just stared, limp and disapproving, but also in no shape to draw a moral line. She brought up a glass pipe. Her hands went to her purse and an instant later she had a lighter --a complicated lighter. Propane.

Immediately, she offered the glass pipe to Nadia. The Russian took the glass into her hand and she also took the lighter that Yvette held limply.

I stood on the pool deck and watched Nadia light the end of the glass pipe.

I took in the scene as she inhaled crystal meth in front of at least two total strangers. I looked at Yvette and rubbed my palms together. I sought any form of distraction I could. My daughter wasn't looking at me, so I looked back at Nadia.

Nadia breathed from the flame and she exhaled. The smell was a nearly pleasant plastic burn.

My eyes turned back to my daughter. Her smirk was lighthearted and nothing about her eyes betrayed anything for all of us. "What do you think?" She said lightly, her open palm was ready to see the glass pipe returned.

"Outstanding," Nadia said with a brogue so thick with Russian that I had to think twice to realize what she'd just said.

"Outstanding, yeah," Yvette chewed. "Like getting into heaven's

outstanding.

"

Yvette's glassy eyes had zeroed in on me. I realized that I hadn't noticed. She stared at me with her lips flatly amused. "Have a seat, daddy..."

I just swallowed and looked at her.

She patted the pool chair right in front of her. "C'mon..."

I did as I was told. As I approached, Yvette kept her hand out to Nadia. She still waited for the glass pipe and the lighter.

"Is that really your father?" Nadia asked, obviously feeling high.

I sat down and Yvette stood right in front of me with her thighs apart.

"Lift it, daddy," she cooed as she raised the glass pipe to her lips. I ran my hands up the outside her thighs. My fingers pressed the white satin upward, one side higher than the other. The other side was quickly catching up. My baby stood before me, her pussy the right height to tongue, nuzzle, or sniff. Bald and beautiful. With her legs apart, I could see her plump, perfect lips pout at me.

"You let your father see you... naked?" The Russian asked again.

"What a moral point you just made, Nadia... you

do

go to church afterall!" Yvette grinned down at me. "I'm sure that makes you uncomfortable. I'm sure it makes Carl uncomfortable... so... Carl? In my purse. Throw him the red panties."

The panties struck me in my lap.

"Help me get dressed, daddy..."

I leaned forward and she raised one foot to hook into the red fabric. She raised the other right away. I didn't know what her game was. I just obeyed as best I could.

I looked up at her as I raised her g-string red panties up her calves.

That was the moment she was waiting for because started the propane burn beneath the pipe and brought the heated crystal into her lungs. She blew the plastic plume down at me with a sigh of euphoria as I dragged the string of her panties over her pristine thighs.

I covered her pussy with the red panties.

"Are these panties dirty... daddy?" She asked me, the glee in her eyes reflected the chemical hard at work.

"I don't know, sweetie..."

She stepped closer to me.

"Smell them for me then..." She hissed, offering the pipe back to Nadia.

I leaned forward and pressed my nose to the silken material that covered the glorious dime of her clit. I inhaled her lightly and wondered if now would be the time to stop.

"Go on, daddy..." she whispered. Her voice was wet, almost hypnotic. The spell she was floating in was intoxicating me. "Deeper. Smell me more."

The whiff of the silk was profoundly dirty. Sweat from before. A hint of days old piss filled my lungs. But I felt my heartbeat accelerate.

"That's it," she sighed and pressed her pubic bliss into my face. She began to fuck against my nose. I could feel her pussy's widening folds part over my nose through the fabric. "...oh daddy...you're making it smell better now, aren't you..." Her voice shook, a mixture of sexuality awakening and crystal meth flowing.

She was right. I could smell the juices of her dank pussy as they saturated the material and the tops of her thighs. The texture of the panties felt damp against my nose as the unlaundered scents mixed with the fresh discharge of her horny hole. The material was fluid now, stretched and pulled from side to side. The fresh fuck of my own semen was evident in her taste now as she swabbed my cheeks with her fleshy pubis lips.

"Is he really your father?" Nadia asked, high and fascinated.

"Oh yes..." Yvette mumbled and her hands went to the back of my head. "I am his... begotten... his precious little baby girl..." And then she looked over at Nadia and Carl. "...but I'm the parent..."

She laughed at this conclusion. Her laughter and the taste of her arousal forced my blood to the helmet of my cock. I felt it throb between my thigh and my jeans. I felt its growth spurts as each sniff, taste, and feel of her nimble nectar brought me closer and closer to a full gorging erection.

"Oh daddy... my sweet, sweet boy..." She grumbled down at me.

"Why..." Nadia's morality was starting to sound strangely sober. "...why do you do this with your father?"

"Show her, Carl..." Yvette giggled.

"Show her what?" He said, unable to look at her.

"Show her your

limp

dick..." Yvette moaned as my tongue forced the fabric into her sopping pussy. I tongued the g-string into my mouth and pulled her panties down with my teeth. Once they were wrapped around her knees, I let go and licked my way up every stain until I could tongue the source again. My hands went right up to her ass cheeks and I gripped her hard. I wished I could push my entire face into her --just so that I might drown in Yvette's ever widening fuck fountain.

I felt one of her hands leave the back of my head. The hand that still held me gripped my hair hard and jerked my face against her. In that second, she granted my wish. I couldn't breathe anything but her juices. In that fantastic second, I wished for her to smother me to death with her taste in my nose.

"Hey!" She shouted. "I'm not fucking around... Carl... drop your pants and show her." I looked up to see her snap her fingers at the church dick. She wasn't looking at me. Only after she had commanded him did she lessen her grip on me.

I fell back into my chair with a gasp.

Nadia burned the pipe and turned to face Carl.

Now all of us looked at him. Yvette slinked into my lap and wrapped a lazy arm around my neck. She didn't weigh anything at all, my baby girl. I held her nineteen-year old form against me. My face was slick with our combined dribble. She grabbed my hand and forced it between her legs. Her thighs rocked and forced the tips of four fingers into her prick pleasing pussy.

But both of us watched Carl.

He did what he was told to do and dropped his shorts. He knew enough to drop his underwear right away. With his drawers and shorts around his ankles, Carl looked at the ground.

Yvette's laugh sounded almost like a melody as she pointed at Carl's inferior cock. I'd seen it before. There was nothing impressive about it, but it seemed especially defeated there in the cool night air.

"See what I mean?" Yvette coaxed Nadia.

"That's not kind to laugh," Nadia objected. With uneven footing, she turned to face my daughter and I. "That is the penis God gave him."

"That is the penis God gave him," Yvette impersonated Nadia's Russian accent. That made her laugh again and then she snapped her fingers at Carl.