The Addicted NaturalChapter 7 Dee s Diary Consequences of a Shower
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The Addicted NaturalChapter 11: Dee's Diary - Her Best Friend's Husband free porn video
DEE'S DIARY
TUESDAY, MAY 7th (Continued)
Suddenly, I was sitting between Martha and Mommy. I had to look up at them because I was very small, but that was perfectly normal. All three-year-olds are small. And this was when Martha was my nanny. Of course it was! And now I was leaning slightly against Mommy and playing pat-a-cake with Martha, and I was laughing and giggling, and thinking "They look so YOUNG!" but I didn't seem to have any control over my actions. And that made sense, too. This was the past. The past couldn't change.
But it was also so... so REAL! Everything I saw was true. Mommy was laughing with us, and hugging me. Why was it that, until this moment, I hadn't been able to remember Mommy at all when she was happy? But she had been! My heart swelled.
"Time for your nap, honey," she said, and gathered me into her arms. I struggled a little, wanting to play the game with Martha (young Martha! Pretty Martha! She'd been so good-looking when she was younger!), but Mommy was so much stronger than my three-year-old self that she held me firmly, lovingly, and I relaxed against her and snuggled into her breast. She's not wearing a bra, I thought to myself, but of course three-year-olds don't notice things like that, and besides, she was so soft! I felt my eyes closing. Mommy was humming a lullaby, and after awhile Martha joined in. Sleep was coming. I closed my eyes.
And when I opened them again, I was sitting, naked, in front of a mirror and dressing table. Here, too, everything was very, very real. Too real for a dream, but it MUST be a dream! I would never, never sit like this. It was a big room, and there were other people walking around or sitting at other dressing tables. No, not just people, women. All women. All very pretty women. And all naked. Naked like me.
I looked into my mirror and said aloud, "This MUST be a dream. I should wake up now," but again I began noticing all the details that a dream would never include (would it?). My bare ass felt the coolness of the chair beneath me. The ornate frame of the mirror was, I would guess, 18th Century, and done in gold guilt which was flaking in some places. The mirror had some imperfections in it, but to my ever-growing astonishment, the woman being reflected in it was not one of them.
I was beautiful. I reached up and brushed my hair from the side of my face. It felt full and soft. My face was calm and pretty. My neck smooth. My breasts, usually much, much too big, were... well, they were still large, but for some reason, they didn't look THAT big. They... well, they just seemed to fit me. Big, proud. My nipples were very erect, and that seemed beautiful, too. Sexually excited women are pretty. Where had that thought come from? But it was true.
I was distracted for a moment as the girl next to me put down her hairbrush and, after one last enraptured look into her own mirror, turned to me. "We have to go now," she said, smiling. "They're waiting for us."
"Who?" I asked.
"Our Masters. Hurry!" She rose and put out her hand to me. She stood naked, not at all self conscious.
"I can't!" I said, shrinking back a little.
She smiled tolerantly and walked over to stand behind me. I turned naturally, to look back into the mirror as she looked over my shoulder into the mirror, too. "You look beautiful," she said.
"Yes," I replied stupidly, gazing at my reflection again. And suddenly I frowned. "But I can't! My back! My back is ugly! It will always be ugly! It's hideous!"
"Nonsense!" the girl said, laughing. "Your back is lovely! Get up. Look!" And I let her help me to my feet. I let her turn me away from the dressing table, and I tried to look back over my shoulder. Still smiling, she picked up a hand mirror from the table (had it always been there?), handed it to me, and I looked in wonder at my back. The scars were still there, but something had happened to them. What was it? I couldn't seem to figure out exactly what the difference was. They just seemed... they seemed... to belong to me, to be a part of me. My back was pretty (it was!), and the scars were part of my back, and so they were pretty, too. Does that make sense? Of course not, but that's what I saw. I suddenly felt very, very desirable. A man would want me now! My nipples were so hard that they hurt.
"Hurry!" the girl said, and she took my hand, and I let her lead me out of the room. All the other naked girls were hurrying out of the dressing room, too, into a huge marbled hall, where we all lined up, waiting, waiting.
The line seemed to be moving pretty rapidly, though, and when I craned my neck to see forward, I discovered that a team of chefs from the kitchen were giving each of us a large silver tray. The girl who had helped me was in line in front of me, and just before her turn, she looked back and smiled at me. "Good luck with your new Master," she said. "I know you're going to please him! Bye!" and she took her tray and walked away to the left.
Suddenly it was my turn. The chef (Alphonse!?) gave me a large silver tray loaded with little crust-less sandwiches of various types. It took both hands to hold it. I started dumbly after the girl who had been in front of me, but he stopped me with a hand on my bare shoulder. "No, no... That way!" and I padded off in the indicated direction. The marble floor was cold against my feet, and I felt a little chilled. The temperature didn't do anything to help my nipple-erection problem.
The corridor led to a huge, twisting set of marble stairs that bent away below me to the right. Every now and then, there was a landing or wide platform to break the monotony of the seemingly endless staircase, and there were people there, talking, drinks in their hands. They were clothed in fancy evening wear, and I hesitated, wondering what to do. Two more naked serving wenches with trays bearing drinks and snacks passed me, and one of them cast a questioning look my way. "Hurry!" she whispered, a maid afraid of violating the house rules. "Our Masters are waiting for us!"
Uncertainly, I began to descend. Immediately, I became aware of an amazing feeling deep inside me. I was hypnotized! Who had done this to me? The girl in the dressing room? No. I couldn't seem to remember, but I was definitely deep under the influence of a hypnotic trance. This became very evident, because with each step I took downward, I went deeper and deeper to that state of complete and total hypnosis. And (oh my!) I liked it. It was wonderful! I contemplated for a moment that with each and every step, I was trading my free will for... for what? Beauty? Yes. Confidence? Well, no... something else. Acceptance. Yes. And oh! It was worth it!
But my reverie was broken when I came among the first group of partiers on the landing, talking among themselves. One man motioned to me, and I went. He reached out and took a little sandwich, and I felt like saying "No! These are for my Master!" but he was now totally ignoring me. I backed away, the way I'd seen serving girls do in the movies, and turned and started down some more of the stairs. Deeper and deeper.
At the next landing, another man motioned for me and I went. There were several men talking together, and several of them took some of my sandwiches. One man stroked my face, then my bare arm. "My, they're making them prettier nowadays," he remarked, and another responded "They're all still the same. Receptacles for our pleasure." I felt like running, but I stood, eyes downcast, as the men laughed. They started talking about the stock market, and I could have told them that they were mistaken about their opinions of using Mutual Fund performance as a predictor of GNP, but it was no longer my place. I was a serving wench. I backed away, and went lower. Deeper.
The stairs were narrowing as they went down. At the next landing, they branched, and I saw two serving girls disappear down one of them as I came upon three people talking. "Oh, my," said a tall, dark woman in a blue gown. "Aren't you a pretty!" and she put her arm around my waist. I stood meekly. A man took a sandwich and said to the woman, "You are much more attractive, madam. Perhaps, if you would accompany me to one of the rooms upstairs, I could show you how much more desirable you are." He made my skin crawl. The slender woman would not be dissuaded, however, and stroked my back and upper butt. "Perhaps I'll take HER upstairs," she said saucily, and I looked down and blushed furiously. Finally, she gave me a playful swat on the rear. "Go along, girl. Go to your Master. He's waiting," and she laughed gaily at my discomfort. I ran as fast as I could without endangering the tray, but I found that I was drawn irresistibly toward the opposite stairway that the two before me had taken.
Again, the staircase branched, and yet again, and each time I found myself being led by impulse rather than decision. I was going very, very deep now. How much deeper could I possibly go? The stairs narrowed considerably, so that when I came to the next landing and encountered the distinguished looking man with the goatee, I found it impossible to get around him unless he chose to step aside. That he did not do. I stopped in front of him and offered him the tray, but he ignored it.
"Would you like to come with me?" he asked. "I could give you infinite pleasure."
I looked down meekly. "No sir. Please. I must go to my Master. He's waiting."
"You could choose me," he said soothingly. "I will grant you this choice. I can make you writhe. I can make you beg for more." I looked up, questioningly, and he stuck out his tongue at me. But it was no ordinary tongue. It stretched on and on, longer, snake-like, and he waved it in front of his face sinuously. I could suddenly imagine it inside of me. I could almost feel it. Almost. Ahh. Yes, feel it! My nipples throbbed.
"No!" I said suddenly, shaking my head to clear it. "I don't love you!"
He laughed uproariously. "LOVE! Who cares about love? You have never loved!"
I felt the tears on my cheeks. I could still feel that tongue inside me. Almost. He could do things to my body that would make love unimportant. I could surrender, and my body would take over. My body would betray me. It had betrayed me before. It would be so easy to let it happen again. But I shook my head. "No. Please," I begged. "Please let me go to him. Please!"
"Very well," he said. "Go to him. I can always find another," and he stepped aside, but reached out and took the tray."
"No," I said meekly. "Please, sir. I'm taking that to my Master!"
"He has no interest in this," the nasty man said, plucking a sandwich off the tray and popping it in his mouth. "He only wants you. Go!"
And I hurried past him and plunged down the steps. They became very steep and the passageway was so narrow now that my bare shoulders and hips often scraped against the cold marble walls. Deep. So deep.
And suddenly I was standing in a small room, a little dizzy, since the stairway had spiraled round and round so steeply for the last short way down. I looked back, but oddly, the steps had disappeared behind me. The walls of the room were hard and smooth and alabaster white. In front of me were two wooden doors. On one of the doors was the name "Brenda," and below it, etched deep into the wood, were the words "Submit and Obey." On the other was my own name, but below it, the "Submit and Obey" was painted on, not etched.
I smiled. Fred! He was to be my Master! The first door must be Brenda's "special place," and this other one must be my own. Fred the hypnotist! Why hadn't I figured that out before? And now, I'm sure he was presenting me with a puzzle: one that I must solve before I could become his. I tired the door. Just as I expected, it was locked. Oh, this was too easy! I'd solved it already! If I closed my eyes and envisioned him hypnotizing Brenda, I could almost see it... her lips moving... muttering something I couldn't hear. But now I knew what it was. Submit and Obey. Submit and Obey. In my mind, I could make her lips match the words perfectly. Solved, Master! But still I hesitated. Did I want this? Did I really, really want what Brenda had?
Oh yes!
"Submit and Obey," I said. And the door opened.
I can't remember. I really, really can't remember what was in my very, very special room, but I know without reservation that it is the best place I've ever been, awake or asleep. I LOVE that room. I think there is a bed. There are other things there, as well, but I just can't remember! But that doesn't matter. I'm just happy I was allowed to go there. Brenda was so right! Even though my life will end today, I have experienced an amazing thing. I'm so very happy I went there! I think I went somewhere else, too. Not outside the room; not really, but somewhere... beyond, I guess. I can't remember. It doesn't matter, anyway.
But what happened when I woke up DOES matters. It matters a lot.
I remember very distinctly Fred telling me to wake up, and I obeyed, just as I obeyed everything he'd told me to do. I opened my eyes and stretched languidly, yawning, waking up by degrees. I felt WONDERFUL! I was on my back on the sheepskin rug by the fire, and its warmth felt luxurious. Fred was lying on his side, stretched out beside me, his eyes fixed on mine. The way he was looking at me made me blush, but I didn't drop my gaze from his. The firelight lit his face in an almost wondrous way, making his eyes darker than I remembered, his face stronger and leaner, his features sharper. Or had he always been like this and I simply hadn't noticed until then?
That feeling was back; the one I'd had before (hadn't I?). What was it? It was alien, whatever it was. I'd never felt it before tonight. His face was very near mine. His lips looked soft. He had a five-o'clock shadow; a faint beginning of whiskers making his cheeks and chin look... manly. I suddenly had an almost overwhelming thought: what would his face feel like between my thighs as he licked me? I shuddered. Better to think about something else. His lips seemed less threatening. Nice lips.
Vera
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