Arthur’s creamy back was the perfect ottoman for his daughter’s latex black boots.  Really, he was not functionally better than an ottoman, but it is highly doubtful that an ottoman should desire to please his Princess so.  His tight butt, the product of an exercise routine that included three sets of lifting 200 lbs. from a squat, 50 inverse squats, 50 oblique squats, an hour on the stair master, two hours jogging and a 20 mile bike ride once every three days, had at one time been instinctually trained to reject a foreign object by constricting the sphincter.  But today, the thought of his Princess driving anything into his brown asterisk made him grit his teeth underneath his dildo-protruding mask with pleasure and made his dick quiver with excitement.  He stayed perfectly still as she prodded him with her leather strap, hoping that she might punish his little asshole, or bind his testicles, or smack his dick with a paddle.  Though he had behaved, he was sure that he had sinned… and he looked forward to being absolved by being punished!<br/><br/>Had he been on a stable frame of mind, he would have found the question that his dear daughter asked quite ridiculous, on a number of levels.  It was not right for a father to want to watch his daughter fuck.  But he did.  It was so common that it was oft his expectation, an expectation often met delightfully by the sounds emanating from his dreams to reality as he awoke to find another man in their bed, in between his daughter’s thighs, pounding her lovely ladyhood into oblivion.  There was a hint of jealousy in his heart, but not because she was his daughter… but because she was his lover!  Yet the question remained.  Mistress was a very mindful Mistress, always right and always loving, so Arthur struggled to find the deeper meaning of the question so aptly posited.  The father loved watching his young daughter toy with the minds of men, or when she was engaged in a large seething mass of sweaty bodies, lying in betwixt the flesh and the juices, with three dicks inside of her.  Each time men took her to bed, he would watch dutifully at the end of the bed, his dick firm and his tongue ready to appease his sinful daughter’s every wish.  Each thrust wrought a steep breath to his chest, and he often found himself amazed at the sight of his lovely daughter revolting against the sex of man.  And truly, as every slave ought, each pump into her lovely hymen was imagined to be one of his own.<br/><br/>Clients were always welcomed into his home.  Strange men and women with whom his daughter had developed rapport, they too were welcomed with open arms.<br/><br/>Of course, perhaps the clients had not come to use Princess, but had come to use him.  Princess did not permit him to grunt, to moan, to seethe, to hiss.  The pain could be excruciating as her male clients pounded his asshole ragged.  Or his Princess might humiliate him.  But none of these things bothered him as long as his Princess desired it.<br/><br/>So he answered his Mistress in a certain voice, which did not quiver for fear of having to repeat himself:   “Your slave is at your disposal, my Mistress!  I come when you tell me to come.  I love what you tell me to love!  And I love my Mistress without condition, because she condescends to love an unworthy slave!”<br/><br/>