Experimentation Vol 5 Expanded by Heartbreaker

I got Mistress home, and all she did for hours was sit quietly, moan, (the wrong sort of moans for me of course!!!), and nurse a headache worse than any she had ever known, or even imagined was possible. Once her headache finally subsided, I must have spent hours talking over with Mistress, what we had done the previous night, and while Mistress was embarrassed about the slutty way she’d acted, she didn’t deny the fact that she had enjoyed herself so much while she did. I commented on the way she looked when Jim and I walked into the hotel room, spotting the spunk sprayed on her pretty face and big tits, and catching Mike vigorously eating her sweet pussy. Mistress turned a deep shade of red when I did that, and it made her look even more beautiful, if it was actually possible to do so. I explained to Mistress just how much more beautiful her rosy-red cheeks made her look at that moment, as she at on the chair in our living room, and when she smiled, I gave her a passionate kiss. After which, I asked her if she would agree to recreate the moment for me, on the chair she was currently sitting on. She did, of course; removing her dress and bra, (we both gave our panties to Mike the previous night as souvenirs, to thank him for loaning us his bed,) and when she sat down, I took my place between her smooth thighs, eating that lovely sweet pussy and listening to those wonderful moaning sounds that Mistress had always made at times like that.

Following our escapade with Mike and Jim, Mistress felt a little dirty and quite a lot slutty, for a few days afterwards, but those feelings wore off as she thought about the amount of enjoyment she’d had, having sex with two men she didn’t know, and wouldn’t have to see again. After all, it wasn’t as if she was the first unmarried woman to have sex with strange men. One-night stands were common enough by then that no one was going to label her as anything dirty for it; it was part and parcel of being an independent young woman with no ties and a fat billfold! Many attractive women like Mistress had flings with attractive men they met, enjoyed the sex, and then moved on to a new man when the novelty wore off the old one.

Then came the day that Mistress and I were both dreading, and yet looking forward to at the same time; Mistress announced that she thought she might be pregnant! Her period had been due to begin within just a couple of days of our foursome, and it hadn’t occurred. A home testing kit gave us the indication that we thought we wanted, and an appointment with Mistress’ G.P. confirmed the state of affairs. Mistress knew couples who tried for months to conceive, and failed, yet she fell pregnant after a drunken one night stand. Mistress had sounded confident before our one-nighter that she wanted to have a child, but I wasn’t sure her thoughts would be the same once the reality sank in, and she accepted that there was a little human growing inside her belly.

I was happy for Mistress because she seemed happy at being pregnant. Morning sickness, of course, reared its ugly head, and there was a period when Mistress was tempted to abort her pregnancy because of the mixture of nerves and morning sickness, but I soothed her sensibilities and that period of her pregnancy passed. Then Mistress settled down to become an expectant mother like all the others. The further her pregnancy progressed, the happier Mistress seemed to become with the new life that was growing within her body. I quite enjoyed putting my hands onto Mistress’ swollen belly and feeling the small movements of her baby within her womb. Sometimes I was moved almost to tears by those small baby movements, and Mistress used to like to view the expression on my face. Mistress, however, wasn’t always quite so pleased when her baby leaned on her bladder, kicked her kidneys or punched her stomach. By the time she went into labor, Mistress was positively glowing with happiness and was looking forward to becoming a mother, and in my own way, I was happy at the prospect of becoming a surrogate father to Mistress’ baby. I sat by her bed in the delivery room, holding her hand and wiping her brow, all the way through the birth of our baby. Even then, we had decided that the unborn child within Mistress’ womb would be treated as if I was a man, and as if he or she had been sired by yours truly, in the old-fashioned way. I was going to be that child’s father in all but actual fact.

While we could have been told our baby’s gender by the doctors, we wanted to be surprised when he or she popped out into the world. The words “Congratulations, it’s a girl,” were so nice to hear; as we’d both been girls in the past, we understood what girls went through in their childhood. We understood the emotional and physical changes a girl went through, as she blossomed into womanhood. The sight of Mistress feeding a baby with one of her tits was fascinating for me. Most mothers use bottles and fill them with milk powder mixed with water, but Mistress didn’t want to use artificial milk; she wanted to feed her baby with her own milk, and I discovered that I liked to watch her when she did.

The discussion for the next hour was about a name for our daughter. Despite the fact that the baby was no relation to me, I got an equal say in the name for a little girl who was going to grow up with Mistress and I as her parents. We finally settled on ‘Emma’, and filled in the birth certificate as such. I know that Mistress was a little embarrassed by not being able to name the child’s father, but she lied, and explained that the child was conceived in a test tube, and therefore the father was legally anonymous.

We wondered what we were going to tell Emma about her father, when she was old enough to ask and old enough to understand the answer. How were we going to tell her that she was conceived during a one night stand because her mother wanted to have a child; was curious about it might feel to have sex with a man, and ended up so drunk she could barely stand up, and had unprotected sex with two strange men?

There were complications during Emma’s birth, so while she was fit to go home after a couple of days, the doctors insisted on keeping Mistress in for observation for almost two weeks. For those twelve days and nights, I had our home to myself, and I hated every night of it. I was no longer accustomed to being alone on an evening, and I missed Mistress something terrible. I was lonely at home on my own, and miserable because I had to play with my own pussy, in my loneliness. I visited Mistress and Emma in hospital the way Mistress had visited me when I was in hospital, with flowers and presents, but I was glad when she and Emma were able to go home with me.

How many babies would grow up having two mothers willing to devote their every waking moment to her? Right from the start, I fussed over Emma like a mother hen; taking my turns with Mistress in nursing her, spending sleepless nights when Emma wouldn’t, or couldn’t sleep. I loved that little girl as if she was the fruit of my own womb, rather than of another woman’s! Mistress got a milk pump to extract milk from her mammary glands, so that I could warm it up in bottles to feed Emma when she was hungry, and when Mistress was asleep. The only thing about babies that I discovered I didn’t like was diaper changing, but when it had to be done, I did it, regardless of the foul smells. Mistress jokingly gave me a clothes peg to put on my nose when it was my turn to change Emma’s diaper. I even tried using it, but it hurt my nose.

I spent many long, sleepless nights, nursing Emma when she was teething, and for the first year after Emma’s birth my sex-life with my Mistress virtually ceased to exist. Yet, neither of us resented that fact because the sacrifice was worth it. We had a family; a family that we never thought we’d have been able to have, and that was worth losing out on the carnal pleasures for quite a long period of time. Mistress gave me a Rampant Rabbit with plenty of batteries, and I made do with that. She also ate my pussy on a regular basis for the pleasant taste of my juice.

Even when Mistress and I were certain that our daughter had settled down to sleep, it took us a couple of years to return the style of lovemaking had become accustomed to before having a child. Even at the start or our relationship, I had observed that Mistress was very vocal in her pleasure, but we didn’t want to make excessive noise in case we disturbed our daughter, and woke her up, and that was something we didn’t want! We wanted peace to make love for as long as we had the energy, and with Mistress’ stamina, that could sometimes be for hours at a time.
******
By the time of my ninth anniversary of becoming Mistress’ willing lover, I had saved up almost forty thousand dollars out of what Mistress had given me, and was about ready to approach my sister’s owner with an interest in buying her freedom. (I must have been gifted with an average of five and a half thousand dollars a year by Mistress, and I’d never had to pay for my motor insurance, automobile maintenance, or gasoline. Mistress gave me a credit card on her account for my motoring needs, so that I didn’t have to dip into my allowance for the maintenance of my car.) At that time, however, there was a motion in Parliament for the abolition of slavery. Many of my type had been dreaming of the day when we could throw off the shackles and be free. The funny thing was that I had stopped caring about that many years earlier. It would have made no difference to Mistress, or to me, if I was free or still her property; I would stay with her, and with our daughter, whatever may have happened.

I’d heard that there was to be a live television debate on the subject of slavery and its final abandonment. I managed to convince Mistress to apply for a place on that show for herself, and a further place for me. I figured that I was probably going to do my kind a disservice by appearing on that show, but it seemed as if we slaves needed a voice that we weren’t otherwise going to get.

Most of the discourse was about legal precedents, and business interests, and there was little concern about slaves’ feelings, until I was introduced as a surprise. I’d been backstage for the beginning of the debate, and didn’t take my chair for quite a while. Everyone else on that panel of individuals was very surprised to find a slave on the show, with her owner. I was an immediate celebrity in the room, and yet I had done nothing to deserve it. One part of the discourse was quite entertaining for me.

The host of the live show wanted to know about me. “What is there for a humble slave to say? I was born into slavery, sold for the first time while still in my mid teens, and I passed through several owners, until bought by my current owner.”
“You say that as if it means nothing to you. Surely you’ve got to think about it, and want that to change? You can’t want to remain the property of another person, even one who treats you well?” she asked.
“You can’t know what my life has been like, any more than I can know what yours was like. I don’t know what it’s like to go to school five days a week. I didn’t have disappointments like being refused an audition for the cheerleading squad because of my flat chest as a teenager. I have no idea how it feels to be turned down by an attractive boy I fancied. I’ve been a slave for forty one years, and it’s all I’ve ever known. I don’t know any other way of life and I don’t know any other way to live. If I got my freedom tomorrow, which I could if I wanted, I would have no idea of how to survive. All my education came from life, and none of it was academic. I didn’t learn to read until I was in my early thirties. What sort of jobs would I be able to hold down?”
“I hadn’t actually thought of that,” replied the host.
“I don’t want to think about it either. I’m happy with my Mistress, and even if she freed me, I wouldn’t want to leave her.” There were noticeable gasps around the room, from the audience.

“The man who bought me after I was separated from my parents taught me my place in life, and he did it with a broad leather belt! I was only fifteen, and he was a cruel son of a bitch. Seventeen years later, this beautiful young woman,” I placed an arm around Mistress, “rescued me from that sort of life. It’s been nine years, and I learned my place in her life, and I learned it in a much simpler, and much more pleasant, way. Mistress used kindness, kisses, nice clothes and multiple orgasms to show me my place. In those nine years, I can count the exact number of times I’ve been beaten by my latest owner, and the total is zero. Mistress has never hit me! I know that there are things that I have done, and got away with, that my previous owners would almost certainly have beaten me for, yet the only punishment that Mistress ever inflicted upon me, was almost unbelievably minor. I set her kitchen on fire once, and for that, I lost my privileges for a month; no shopping allowance, and no car keys, but that was all.

She picked me up when she bought me, and the first thing she did was give me a set of expensive clothes to replace the cheap garbage that my previous owner made me wear. The cost of the kinky boots that she gave me was higher than the cost of everything I was wearing at the time, probably twice over. When she collected her first, and so far only, slave, she asked me about the quality of my clothes. When she decided that I needed better, she kicked my bag of clothes across the floor in my private room, and then told me that she was going to take me shopping for a wardrobe full of new clothes, because the ones I had weren’t good enough for me. The cost of the two big leather coats she bought me was almost two and a half thousand dollars, and to me, that was a fortune that I could never equal! I couldn’t decide which coat I liked the most, so Mistress bought both of them for me. She took me to a restaurant in my new clothes, and bought me dinner. Then she took me home, and installed me in her own bedroom.” I looked around the audience, daring them to challenge my honesty.
“And then she raped you?” came the obvious, and expected, question from someone in the audience.
“No,” I replied. “I was her property, so it mattered not what she did to me, sexually, it couldn’t legally be rape. According to American law, a slave can’t refuse to grant her owner consent for sex. Even if it had been rape, Mistress didn’t do that to me, and promised me that she never would. She promised me that I would always have the option of saying ‘no,’ just like any free woman would. Sex was not why I’d originally been bought.” I looked at Mistress, and asked, “May I, Mistress?”
Mistress nodded her head and replied, “It’s as much your story as it is mine.” She understood the question without it being explained. “I was bought as a companion for Mistress, not as a sex slave. Then again, innocent virgins don’t have that much need for sex slaves; nor do they know what to do with them.

She was lonely, after having recently been orphaned. Being the daughter of a very wealthy couple, she had few friends, and a friend was what she needed more than anything else. The attitude she showed towards me, earned her that friend; literally overnight. Imagine my surprise as I lay in Mistress’ Jacuzzi, when she knocked on the bathroom door, and asked for my permission to come in. I hadn’t actually thought about locking the door, because prior to that, I’d never been allowed to lock a bathroom door. I grew to enjoy long soaks in that bathtub, and occasion, Mistress knocked on the door and asked to use the toilet while I enjoyed the hot water because we only had one bathroom, and she didn’t think she’d be able to wait until I got out, and naturally didn’t want to wet her panties, or worse. Could I refuse permission for Mistress? Sometimes Mistress would shed her clothes afterwards and join me in the Jacuzzi, and that was fun, even if fitting us both into the tub was something of a tight squeeze. We’d sometimes make love in the tub as well!

We retired to bed on that first night, and I found that Mistress was a little uncomfortable in letting me be the first stranger to see her naked body. Personally I didn’t give a damn. I’d been forced into considerably more than just sleeping in my birthday suit, in my mid-teens, yet Mistress didn’t ask me for any more than that on the first night. If she’d wanted more, that would have been fine by me, but she was too embarrassed to ask. I’d never had a bed as good as the one I spent that first night in. I was surprised to discover that Mistress had an electric blanket for a cold night, and was pleasantly surprised at the feeling of getting into a warm bed. I’m sure you’ve seen all the movies about the treatment of slaves by their owners, but I’ll bet you’ve never seen one where the owner brings her slave breakfast in bed with a kiss! Mistress served me breakfast on that first morning, and that simple gesture all but took my breath away.

After three or so months, the weather was far warmer, so I needed new clothes. Mistress took me shopping and gave me ten thousand dollars in cash, in my hand, to spend on my wardrobe. She told me that I could buy whatever clothes I wanted, regardless of her tastes, and I simply bought what I liked the look of.

Two years after that first night, I could read, I could write, and I could even drive; all because Mistress took the time to teach me. She gave me an allowance to spend on whatever I liked, and she bought me a car for my personal use; a beautiful, vintage fifty seven Eldorado. Up until I met my current Mistress, many things that you take for granted were unknown to me. She gave me my first birthday card, with a present, and I’d never had that before. In turn, I taught my Mistress the art of making love to another woman, and we make love every day. I describe it as making love, because that is what I believe it is. Mistress makes love to me, because she is genuinely in love with me. I permit it because I feel the same way about her. I know it sounds foolish to you; I wouldn’t have believed it possible, either. I might once have been a person that Mistress bought, the way she bought a car, or a television, but that woman is gone forever. If I could simply get up from this table and walk away, a free woman, I wouldn’t do it; I would go home with the woman I love! When Mistress bought me, neither of us really knew what love was. We’d each had a crush during our early teens, but that was all we knew of the emotion of love, but it was something we knew we could learn about, and learn about it we did.

If this debate was held ten years ago, and slavery was outlawed, I’d have been away from the bully who owned and abused me, so fast that you’d have thought my panties were on fire, and I’d have worried about how I was going to survive, later, once I was away from him. Times have changed though. When Mistress began to give me an allowance to spend, she told me that if I saved up enough of it to buy my freedom, I could do so. At first I intended to do exactly that, but as I got to know Mistress, and realized that I was falling in love with her, I put that idea aside. I had enough money saved up to buy my freedom five or six years ago, but I didn’t spend it on that. If I get the chance, I’m going to release my sister from her servitude, and be content with that. I will die of old age, in Mistress’ bed, and she will cry her broken heart out when I do! If I ever have the choice of being a free woman, away from my Mistress, or staying a slave, and staying with Mistress, I’ll stay a slave because it would make me happier! I know that for a free person, that must sound crazy, but it’s how I feel.

I believe that slavery should and must be abolished, and in the modern world, it should be illegal for one person to own another. I’m not an animal; I’m a human being, just like all of you, and I deserve the same rights that you have! Ours is the only nation on this planet that still permits slavery into the twenty first century. However, the transition will be a social nightmare, which I presume is why it hasn’t been tried before. There are upwards of thirty million slaves in this country, and dealing with all of them will be very difficult. What this nation will do to facilitate the transition from slave to citizen, I do not know. How we’ll all manage to earn a living, I also do not know. For myself, with the life I have led, I would have only three real possibilities for an immediate job; chamber maid, cleaner, or call girl. I suppose that with a little additional training, I might make a half-decent delivery driver, but there’s very little else I’m really qualified to do, after all. Many of us have no skills at all; just being manual laborers. I suppose that a good proportion of them will remain at their tasks and carry on with the jobs they had before they were freed; just as paid employees rather than as slaves. Given the prices charged by modern day call-girls, I don’t suppose that even a woman as wealthy as my Mistress could afford to employ me on a permanent basis!” There were laughs from the audience at my last remark.
“You’re missing something out, here, Princess; the main reason why you’ll never leave me!”
“Does the audience really want to know, Mistress?” I asked.
“Yes!” shouted out several members of the audience, all together.
“Out with it, Princess.” ordered Mistress.
“As you command, Mistress,” I replied. “I won’t leave my Mistress, because when I left I would miss the little girl I’ve helped Mistress to raise!”
The room fell silent until one if the audience managed to find her voice, and asked, “She made you have a baby for her?” That simple question sent a flash of anger through my entire body; had the stupid bitch not been listening to me? I thought I’d made it clear that Mistress didn’t make me do anything.
“No, Mistress got a man to impregnate her because she wanted to have a child! It was strange for me, realizing that Mistress was growing large around the waist because she was carrying a child inside her body, even though I’d been with her when she conceived it.”
“You were there?”
“To cut a long story short, Mistress wanted a child, without going to a fertility clinic and conceiving in a test-tube. I knew what she wanted, but I also knew that she wouldn’t have the nerve to go and get it. I organized us two men for a night of passion, and after Mistress had consumed a considerable quantity of alcohol to bolster her flagging courage, the four of us shared a bed for an evening. Mistress was fortunate enough that she became pregnant from that first night, so that I didn’t have to share her with men again, although when she decides that she wants her second child, I guess I’ll have to share her again. When that happens, though, I intend to have my own share of the man, or men, involved; it wouldn’t be fair to let her have all the fun, while I get none!” There were more laughs from the audience, and I noticed that Mistress also laughed.

Surprised as I had been by Mistress’ instruction to tell the audience about our child, I was even more surprised when she placed two pieces of paper onto the big conference table and invited the nearest camera operator to zoom in on them. I looked at the two items on the big screen behind us. One was my freedom from slavery act, signed by Mistress, and the other was a check, in my name, for one million American dollars, also signed by Mistress. I looked at those two pieces of paper, and all I could do was cry! I was free, and I was wealthy, and the funny thing was that although I had dreamed of being free, when I was younger, it made no difference to me. My plans for the night hadn’t altered in the slightest; I was going back to the hotel with Mistress, and we were going to spend the night fucking each other’s brains out! It would be our only night without our daughter for months, so we intended to make the most of it.

“There you go, babe, you can leave your owner now!” came a shout from the audience.
“I’m not going anywhere,” I replied, “even though I now can.” I turned my attention to my Mistress and asked, “Mistress, would you like me to stay with you?”
“I’d like it if you did, but think of yourself for the first time in your life. I love you, but I don’t own you anymore. The money’s there for you to support yourself on, Princess; for the nine years of happiness you’ve given me. I’m probably short-changing you with such a paltry sum, but the check won’t bounce! Even on three percent per month, there’s enough there that you’ll never need to find out what sort of job you can do. I could, however, do with a housekeeper, Princess; a live-in one preferably. I’ll give you a bedroom of your own, if you want one, although I would rather you stayed in mine with me. I’ll pay you well, especial…” Mistress’ voice cracked and I saw something that day that I’d never seen before, and never saw again; Mistress openly crying.

I picked up the freedom document, and put it in my purse, and to the surprise of everyone in the room, I tore the check into four pieces, and threw it onto the floor, like the worthless paper it was after I tore it up. I put both arms around Mistress and reassured her of my intentions. “I’m staying, Mistress. If you want to give me money, then I’ll use it to free, and set up, my family, but I won’t leave you. If you think it’s time, I’ll give you the second child you want, in return for my family’s freedom; I’ll even carry it in my own womb for you.” I dried her eyes with the cuffs of my blouse, and then I kissed her, right in front of the cameras. With the simple sheet of paper stating me to be a free woman, I could register myself as a legal citizen of this country, and have the microchip removed from the back of my neck. I could have things I’d only ever dreamt about before. I could have my own bank account, job, home, passport; I could even have my own slave if I could afford one, and therefore, once I had the money, I could finally buy my sister’s freedom.

There were cheers from around the room, at what had just occurred, and many people wanted to congratulate me.

When the live debate was over, and the transmission was off-air, Mistress and I returned to the hotel we had rented a room in for the night. As we walked through the door to the restaurant, Mistress gently nudges my side and with her head indicated two handsome men sitting at one of the tables. I knew what she meant by that gesture, and therefore I thought it might be a better night than we had originally intended! All we then had to do was convince our target men to sleep with us, but I didn’t think we’d have a problem with that, if they were straight men. After all, Mistress was still young and gorgeous, and while I’m not quite up to her standards, despite my age, I’m not exactly unattractive, myself. Unfortunately, we discovered, as we observed our ‘prey,’ that they weren’t straight men. Damn; I’d been looking forward to a good dose of real prick, and so had Mistress. Mistress suggested that we wait a few hours and then hit one of the local hotspots to have a few drinks, scout out some talent, and bring them back to our hotel room!

So off we went to a local nightclub, where we danced, we drank and then we pulled ourselves two men in their early twenties, and in possession of lots of stamina. They didn’t leave us until nearly four in the morning, and by then, both of us had our pussies full of spunk. During the talk in the club, we told them that we were bi-babe lovers, who enjoyed a bit of man on occasion, and therefore we were on the pill so that we wouldn’t get pregnant. They took us at our word, although it was unlikely that they’d have acted any differently if they didn’t believe us. After all, they hadn’t told us their full names, and we’d have been unable to track them down and demand child support if either of us became pregnant. They did have condoms with them, but seeing as we weren’t bothered about making them use those condoms, they were quite content to spray their spunk inside our pussies.

I hadn’t had the entertainment of watching Mistress give her first blowjob, but the second one was probably just as entertaining, especially as she had little memory of what she’d done to convince the prick in her mouth to spray the contents of the attached balls. It quickly became apparent that Mistress, being inexperienced, gave very bad head! I did, however get to watch her first spit roast, and her first double penetration. I even got to take part in her first triple penetration! I got her rear entrance before either man got to fuck her up it, and it was definitely better than sloppy seconds in her otherwise sweet tasting pussy!

My lasting memory of that session is one from the very start. Mistress was naked and lying on her belly. Her legs were bent at the knees, and she was holding her ankles. One of the men had her hair wrapped around his hands as he pushed his prick down her throat, announcing that a right dirty little bitch like her should swallow all his spunk! As one guy was fucking Mistress’ face, the other was fingering her pussy as I fondled her tits as best I could in her position. Mistress didn’t like the idea of swallowing spunk and struggled to get the prick out of her mouth, to protest. Taking what I saw as the biggest gamble I had ever taken, I grabbed Mistress’ ponytail and told her to, “Do what you’re told and suck the prick, you filthy little slut! If he decides to spunk in your mouth, instead of in your sweet little cunt, just swallow it all. It probably won’t be your last mouthful of spunk tonight, but don’t worry, you’ll get used to the taste eventually!”

Neither of us got pregnant, though, even though there had been a good chance that I would have. I was hoping that I would fall pregnant, and therefore I could give Mistress a child. She’d had one, and had been miserable at the beginning of her pregnancy, yet had become very happy with her baby. She wanted another one, so I thought it would be a wonderful present if I could give Mistress that child, without her going through the unpleasant symptoms of early pregnancy. We did discover another problem though; one of our partners had the pox, and he gave it to both of us, and probably his mate as well! I also expect that he tried to blame it on us bi-sluts, too. With Emma at school, we had to visit the local pox doctor and get ourselves cured, and it was hugely embarrassing. After that, we swore off men for life! We decided that if we ever wanted more fun in bed than we could get from each other, we’d stick to pussies and strap-ons from that day onwards! So far, that was our last swinging session. We’ve remained faithful and had no extra-marital fun! Obviously we’re not married; it’s not possible, but we live together the way a married couple would; we have rings on our left hands, and with help, we even conceived a child between us. If that isn’t a basic description of marriage, then what is?
******
I bought my sister, with a little financial help from Mistress, and a little later was able to buy both parents. They were both getting on in life, and although my mother was virtually worthless by then, my father was still a valuable administrator, and Mistress had to part with almost fifty thousand dollars for him. I know I only got them for such a low price because of the doubts about the continuation of slavery, and the effects on the value of that which may have been banned in the very near future. In the long run, Congress voted against the ending of the slave trade in the Confederated States of America, so I think I did well in buying my slaves when I did; the prices didn’t take long to go back up again!

I got my sister quite easily, and when she arrived at our home in the specialized slave transport van, she very surprised to realize that I owned her. My freeing her after that, wasn’t a surprise, though. We settled her into the spare bedroom, and outfitted it for her. I took her shopping for clothes, and she began to get an education at night school. Mistress put one million dollars into a high interest bank account, and gave my sister the interest to live on, until she found herself a job paying enough to live on, and just like me, she was stunned at the generosity. Mistress also bought her an apartment to live in. The reason for such generosity was pretty simple; Mistress wanted to make me happy, and she did. It took three years until my sister got her first job. Just over a year later, she fell in love and got her first boyfriend! Meeting someone that my sister could describe as ‘the man I love,’ was wonderful. She’d found herself a place in life where she felt that she belonged.

She married that fine man, and fell pregnant soon after the honeymoon. Now I have a nephew to go along with my two daughters. Mistress and I were both surprised when my sister sold her apartment to move in with her husband. What was surplus from the sale, she kept for herself and her husband, but every dollar we paid for the apartment she tried to return to us. The apartment was a gift and Mistress refused to take the money. In the end, we agreed that the money would be put in a trust fund for my nephew, to be given to him when he turned eighteen, because one child was all that my sister wanted. It was the only way we could convince my sister to keep the money, and not try to pressurize us into taking it back.

That was when I discovered just how rich my lover was. I hadn’t realized that if we totaled up the value of Mistress’ investments, savings and properties inherited from her parents, she was worth more than two hundred and fifty million dollars, and she hadn’t even reached her thirtieth birthday! I was staggered to realize that less than two months after she bought me, Mistress made out a will, and in that will, Mistress was planning to leave me everything she owned, so that I would be well provided for, if I ever lost her! (Currently, the instruction is to sell off everything except the house I live in, and split the proceeds evenly between myself and our daughters. I also get sole possession of all the money in our joint current account, and all of Mistress’ many high interest savings accounts, with the exception of one; my parents get that if they’re still alive. If not, then Mistress’ nephew gets it all as long as he’s reached adulthood. If not, he’ll have to wait. What he’ll do with two million dollars, I have no idea, but that’ll be his choice!)

My parents got the same treatment from Mistress, enabling them to survive easily. However, my parents didn’t approve of my relationship with Mistress, and made it quite clear. It was as much about Mistress’ gender, as it was about the fact that she’d paid money for me in the first place. The fact that I genuinely wanted to stay with her just didn’t seem to sink in. The facts that she’d had one child to a man she didn’t know, and was already expecting a second, (in this case, my baby,) also didn’t seem to make much difference. (Mistress insisted on carrying our second-born, the way she did with the first, and, due to my memories of her puking her guts up with morning sickness during the first pregnancy, I didn’t protest very loudly when she did. Besides the discomfort, I was past forty, and for mothers in their forties, there are additional risks to the baby. Mistress was only twenty nine, and therefore wouldn’t be subjecting the little girl within her to quite such risks.) We had discovered it was possible, with technical help, for a couple of women to conceive a baby between them, and we did.

The surgical procedure was somewhat humiliating; or at least it would have been for someone else. I know that Mistress found it to be awfully humiliating to sit in the abominable contraption, minus her panties and with her legs splayed wide apart by the stirrups, as two male doctors pushed some weird looking surgical contraption up her pussy, to her ovaries, to harvest eggs from them. If it hadn’t been for the time spent on the med in maternity, giving birth in front of several male doctors, I don’t think that Mistress would have been able to tolerate the humiliating event, even for a reward as valuable as going full term with my daughter. Due to the means of conception, we couldn’t have a son, and that would spoil the surprise at the moment of birth. It would also have been nice for Mistress to be able to pass on her family name to the next generation, but once her daughters get married; if they get married; their children would get their fathers’ names.

For a couple of weeks after I freed them, my own parents tried every trick they could think of to destroy my relationship with Mistress, but I simply wouldn’t let them, until it finally sank in that they couldn’t split us up. I ended up tearing a strip off them, in private, because I was genuinely ashamed of them. Mistress had bought them, freed them, given them a two hundred thousand dollar house, and an allowance to live on, for as long as they lived, and how did they repay that generosity?

They tried to get me to abandon Mistress, despite the fact that she was three months pregnant with my baby, and find a boyfriend! What sort of parents did I have? For the only time I can think of in my life, I swore at my parents. I told them that I simply wasn’t going to take that sort of shit from them, and gave them an ultimatum; they could either accept my partner for who and what she was, or they could fuck right off, and back out of my life again; I would have nothing more to do with them if they couldn’t! Oh, and they could forget about seeing their biological granddaughter, too; they’d never see her; I’d tell my own daughter that she had no grandparents; her family consisted of just Mistress, myself, and her half-sister! My sister would probably disown me, too, for that, but what did I care; I had what I needed in my ‘wife’ and our children. What need did I have for a man in my life, when I had a woman who loved me enough to have a baby to me, regardless of what she had to go through to get it? I couldn’t leave Mistress, and I especially couldn’t be an absentee father!

Mistress had a far easier time in the delivery room the second time, and her labor was much less unpleasant. We christened our second daughter ‘Silvi,’ and despite how happy I had been holding Emma, I was even happier with Silvi in my arms, because she was mine. I hadn’t thought it possible that I could be happier, but I guess it must be something to do with the biological bond between father and daughter.

That was three years ago, now, and I still haven’t gotten over the incongruity of being addressed as ‘daddy’ by my daughter. Daddies should definitely not have smoothly shaven pussies and forty inch D-cup tits, although I got mine boosted during the early stages of Mistress’ pregnancy! While Silvi’s still a little girl, it’s obvious to both her parents that she’s going to be ‘Mistress junior’; a proper little madam, when she grows up!

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