Editor's note: this story contains scenes of incest or incest content.
***
i lived the last years of my life enslaved body and soul to a man who broke me. He took all i was, and remade me in the image of his most loathsome desires.
It's easier for me to think about it that way.
It's easier to forget that i craved his afflictions as much as his affections. That i anxiously anticipated every twisted nuance. i mean, what reason could there be for a rational, self-supporting woman, a pillar of her community to grovel at the feet of a sadistic master for a little attention or cock to suck?
It's easier for me to think of it like that too, instead of knowing that i'm a bent puzzle piece that doesn't quite fit in anywhere. Knowing that i'm a sadly submissive fat lady in the corner behind the pretty people. Knowing that i've already blown two of the husbands tonight already, one in the bathroom, and one in a closet. i've plastered a smile on my face, because i can't tell for sure that if i have cum on the back of my dress or not, and i'm terrified. i'm offering to help in anyway possible because i'm so manic that i could burst into tears at any moment.
"Just tell me what you need, and i'd be more than happy to do it!"
i didn't have it in me to say no, i never have. A couple of the husbands in the community figured that one out before my master found me. More than a few married men had fucked the fat girl that couldn't say no. A month ago, at a community barbecue, they passed me around all night in the garage, fucking me one or two at a time so their wives wouldn't notice. None of them even have enough desire for me to keep me as a mistress. i serve them beers and whiskey, dressed only in high heels and a see through apron during their poker games. i suck their cocks under the table while the 'stakes are high' to calm them down. Usually, they never even finish the game, when betting turns to 'how many cocks can we fit inside her?' i am a community utility, cum dump, and toilet. They use as needed whenever and however needed.
i was miserable, depressed, and in reflection, suicidal.
It's advent, during intermission for the Chicano passion play. Couples engage in pleasant conversation, husbands with wives, many of the men i've known on my knees. Enough of the women suspect me for icy stares to grow. Mother, shamelessly flaunts herself to every cock that shows interest, married or not, in spite of the active hatred she inspires. Often, she'll take home a couple, cementing her infamy. That alone should be enough to make me a pariah, daughter of the unrepentant whore. i was often shunned on principle. i think i was hiding behind the punch bowl, filling glasses, trying to be smaller, be invisible, so I can get through the night without risking social suicide getting caught blowing another married man.
He stood in front of the punch bowl and i tried to give him a plastic cup of crappy punch. Setting the drink down on the table, he took my hand, and led me outside on to the terrace.
"Why do you let them do that to you?"
"i ... they, nobody..."
"I know who you are. Your reputation is well known among the men."
i couldn't hold his gaze any longer, my skin burned with mortification that boiled within me.
"So you know what kind of whore i am. Have you come to take your turn with me?"
Hot tears gathered in my eyes, i made tight fists of my hands, cutting into my palms with my fingernails.
"If I wanted to, I would have already. You'd be on your knees over there in the corner, praying that nobody saw you doing what you were born to do. No. Nothing like that."
Waving his hand dismissively, he stepped forward holding me from the small of my back resting his wrist on the curve of my ass, he pulled my breasts and belly against his torso. Surprised, i felt his hardness and length with the roll of my belly, just under my navel.
"There is nothing wrong with what you are."
He kissed me. Softly, insistently, he kissed me and my initial resistance to him fell away. He slipped his hand inside the cleavage of my dress, inside the cup of my no frills five hook monstrosity of a bra, he cradled my breast thumbing my nipple to hardness.
"Submissive."
He hissed into my ear. i should have slapped him. i should have run. My pussy throbbed.
"Whore."
No matter what the other men did to me, none of them ever kissed me. i tipped my head back, and reached up to his lips...
"The only problem you have little cunt, is that you have no master, no one to give yourself, to give all of yourself. No longer. You belong to me."
"Give me your phone number. Next Friday, eight o'clock, I'll pick you up."
He handed me his phone, an entry complete with a photograph of me sucking cock at the party, awaited my phone number. He had my name, email address, in addition to other notes, like my approximate height and weight.
"Wear a simple dress, I like those sandals on you. Keep your makeup simple. You never have to say yes to those men again. You belong to me, and dallying with them is no longer acceptable."
i thumbed in my number, corrected his estimate of my height, weight, shoe and dress size, as well as his frighteningly accurate guesses of the figures of my measurements. I handed him back his phone, then he kissed me again, leading me back inside from the terrace. i watched him leave.
i doubt he had even come to see the play. He knew what i was, and he wanted me.
Submissive.
It hadn't been five minutes when one of the more aggressive men came to me for "refreshments." This was the guy who pimped me out to his poker game.
"Hey cockhound, follow me out to my car."
For the first time ever, i don't.
***
That summer, kneeling before master, his hand tangling in my hair, i moaned, slipping sideways into that place of swift complete obedience. i loved that place that never required thinking, just doing, that place of inner peace i could never find for myself. My pendulous breasts brush his knees as he pulled me onto his cock, he rushes passed my lips into my practiced mouth.
He smiles ever so slightly at the gluck, gluck, gluck noices coming from my throat. He bottoms out, my nose flattening in his dark curly hair.
i couldn't breathe.
"Good. Good piggy. Don't struggle. Don't try to breathe. Just wait. Wait, and work your tongue under my cock, until i let you have some air again. Trust Daddy."
i did. i need him to use me. He cums in my face as i struggle to stay conscious.
"Never waste it."
He held me up by the hair as my fingers fumbled to push his sticky cream into my mouth.
"Yes, Daddy..."
"Put your little sundress on, no, leave your cummy face alone."
i had a skimpy dress that barely covered my pussy, letting my big fat ass hang completely out the back. Daddy loved that dress, and made me wear it out, because it humiliated me in public. If i pulled it down to cover my ass, i ran the risk of letting my fat tits pop out the top. There were cat calls and evil looks from women, often times people got in my face and Daddy had to intervene.
"Yes, Daddy."
i pulled the dress over my head, there was no way i could fight my way passed my thighs and belly stepping into it from the other direction. The thin worn elastic of the sleeveless scrap of cloth stretched to its limits and more audibly snapping stitches over the massive protrusion of my heavy tits. i held my breath and settled the loose elastic band into place. You could see the tea saucer sized dark color of my areola through the light material, the dress hung from my tits over my belly, so even though it was out of sight, my pussy felt very much out in the open. With my shoulders bare and much of my cleavage exposed, it always felt to me like that dress was going to fail at anytime.
"Come here."
"Yes Sir."
I stepped barefoot across the carpet to him, as he finished dressing. He stepped into his shoes and buckled his belt.
"Turn around and bend over."
He fondled my ass as i turned, i bent over, my feet a shoulder width apart as i'd been trained. His warm fingers coated with lube dug into my receptive asshole, preparing my dark channel.
