I reached out and began rubbing her neck and shoulders...I could feel her relax...soft moans filled the air...as I massaged her neck...Betty would you...like a massage...Oh you would do that?...If you want, we are family...that would be nice, where?...I will meet you in the guest room in 10 minutes, I went to get the massage oil and a towel. Knocking on the door to the guest room, Come in...I opened the door and found Betty naked...laying across the bed...I moved to her side and dripped massage. I felt an ironic gratitude to my new love.Yes, love. For that’s what I thought of her. I knew that if she were to give me the option, I would eagerly choose a life of servitude to her - with or without (but preferably with) her twins - knowing that she would whip me. Whip me regularly, hard, and long.She’d told me that she intended to ‘un-man’ me. I’d never heard the term before and could only conclude that she meant I’d be psychologically castrated. Subjugated to her Goddess-like rule. A rule. A tremor runs down my spine as I watch you watch me, your eyes addicted to the site of my full burgundy lips stretched around your girth, my tongue working the heat filling my mouth. I maintain a slow tension building pace that keeps you swearing. For a while you watch me, mesmerized at the way my mouth slips up and down your hard cock. Suddenly you sit up and comb your hands through my hair to take hold of me once more. You guide me down onto you until I swallow you to the hilt. While you take. She was sexually freer with me than any other masseuse had ever been, hugging me longer and giving me more full body contact. I can’t express how wonderful it was to have my beautiful daughter do these things for me. I loved her already, but now I loved even more and in a different way because of the things she was doing for me sexually. In later sessions, I screwed up the courage to ask her more about her job and her experiences since she took the job. You have to imagine, for example, that we.
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