The Young Master (Rated R)

1.16

It only took a day for me to find out just how much worse things could get. I was lying in bed, wishing I could stay there forever. Then I got my first text from Dale, reading, "Cum on up to my room. Isabella found a special outfit for you to wear." I cringed to think of what it might mean. I cursed my cock as I felt it throb in my lacy panties, hoping I could show more self restraint than I this when I got to Dale's room, but not betting on it. I slip on some clothes that I don't plan to be wearing long and take a long, hard look at myself in the mirror, telling myself I'll do whatever he wants me to, but only because he wants it. I told myself I would not beg, I would not kiss him, and I would not cum. I kept telling myself that all the way up to his room, and I had almost convinced myself I could do it. After all, I genuinely hated Dale, and I was pretty sure I still hated being humiliated and abused...the fact that it made me so horny I couldn't think straight was just a fucked up defense mechanism; one I planned to ignore this time. I would just have to suffer all the frustration, all the agony, and all the shame, and without the sweet escape of mindless pleasure...

My brave pronouncements fell to pieces the moment I saw what Dale had planned for me to wear and heard his plan for what I would do in them. "Aren't they cute? Isabella borrowed them from Bambi". He held up a pair of pink, ruffled rumba panties and one of her tiny, sexy-tea-party dresses. I realized I was going to get to find out how I'd look in her panties after all. And things just went downhill from there...

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"Oh pwease, Daddy Bear Sir, pwease punish your naughty widdle gurl with your big, bad Daddy-dick!" It wasn't my proudest moment...but after three hours of playing sissy surrogate for Bambi in his twisted fantasies, I began to get into the role. I had promised my self I wouldn't beg...and I really meant it at the time. But after breaking my promise not to cum at least eight times over and my promise not to kiss him an hour ago...and I broke it again and again and again...one more promise didn't seem to matter. Maybe it was Bambi's fault...I'd never realized how freeing it was to be a child-like whore, how strangely reasonable the contradiction seemed once I embraced it. Of course, my reasoning may have been influenced by a constant flow of pure 'wuv' gushing through me with every flutter of my heart. It went on for so long that time became as meaningless as dignity or manhood and I went in and out of the blank place so often that reality and unreality blurred. Every cell in my body hummed along to pornographic lullabies. I didn't so much break my promise, as fulfill Bambi's...of course I was the one that had to clean up Bambi's mess once the haze cleared.

It was like scraping myself off the walls. Slimy globs of me, pale and weak in the light of harsh reality. Dale's grating voice bouncing around in my head like a .22 caliber bullet. I couldn't stop crying, couldn't stop telling myself to stop crying, couldn't stop from hating myself when I couldn't. But I hated Dale more. And I vowed to myself that I would remember this the next time he had an outfit spread out for me, that I wouldn't forget it when he spread me out. That every time he forced me to cum I would hate him even more. I had to...it was my only hope...