Chapter 3
Looking up at me, he stroked my loins, not only increasing my early pleasure but revealing himself ready to put a manual clamp on my bottom should I get out of control. All at once, I realized that this was to be no mere night of sex and sweetness with the prick I adored above all others lodged deep in my pleasure-mad hole ... but a test of my abilities to qualify as a practicing priestess on the Martin family tour. In his lucid way, Daddy proceeded to spell it out for me once more ... though never before had he read me the ritual under actual field conditions, as he was now with his darling dong in my suppurating hotbox.
Holding me perfectly still on his curving spire, he said, "Dearest Robin, you have qualified in every way but one as a full-fledged priestess of Pan-Priapus ... you are young, you are beautiful, you are intelligent, you are a true worshiper of the phallus that is the core and emblem of our cult. In only one department have you proved inadequate."
I murmured a "Yes, Daddy" through clenched teeth, so difficult was I finding it to continue the absolute stillness of body his light but firm touch on my loins demanded.
"Unfortunately, my darling daughter, this is a vital department: that of control over your own body while it contains a lingam in its yoni ... all right, a cock in your cunt. When you perform the actual rites, with adept or acolyte alike, it is essential that you be able to withhold your own ultimate pleasure while bringing your partner to a point where he can render his offering to Pan-Priapus in your womb."
"But, darling Daddy," I said, battling a spasm that racked me from head to toes, "what's the point of giving pleasure without receiving it? I mean, like I'm young and healthy and can go all night ... and all day too if I have to. So why do I have to fuck like a whore?"
"Because," he said firmly, "you are a priestess ... at least I hope you will be a priestess of Pan-Priapus. You may not know this, but the first prostitutes known to mankind were priestesses of various divinities of Central and Western Asia. They were trained from childhood, and in much of the ancient world temple revenues were dependent upon their earnings."
"Daddy," I said when he paused, "why can't I fuck all out without holding back a thing ... the way I always have?"
"Because" (it was his favorite word), "having found you, darling, I have no desire to lose you ... nor do I want Pan-Priapus to lose you to a sanitarium. Child, we need you."
"But Daddy ... I've been fucking and sucking almost every night since I was eleven years old. Why can't I just.. "
He interrupted me, saying, "I know, and I'll always be grateful to your stepfather for starting you so young. But, compared with the fucking you're going to have to do when we're on tour and in session, you've only been playing bean-bag. Twelve hours at a stretch is not unusual ... and without sleep. In that time, you may have to fuck a hundred times. If you gave yourself prodigally, you'd be lucky to last the ten days of a single meeting."
"Gee, Daddy," I said wistfully, barely conquering another minor orgasm that threatened to erupt into a Vesuvius of voluptuous delight, "why can't I use the salve Cherie gave me in Chicago, the salve that numbs my cuntal feelings?"
"Because," he replied patiently, "it would also dull the sensibilities of the prick of every man who got into your adorable cunt and string him out to last an hour or even more without rendering his offering. That was a special case in any event, one not to be repeated soon again, I sincerely hope."
Cherie was another of my sisters, a delicious French-Canadian girl, who had saved my life during a visit to Chicago with Leona, by use of the aforementioned numbing aphrodisiac ointment. A gifted painter of obscene murals, she had been engaged in decorating our Windy City "office," as we called our Pan-Priapic temples, and had moved on to do a similar job for our Los Angeles office. Mal and Duke had been with her in Chicago, but had returned to the Indianapolis headquarters to prepare for the tour with the main troupe. There were other brothers and sisters on the West Coast, I had been informed, to assist her out there...
"Why can't we forget all about my being a priestess, then, Daddy?" I begged. "I mean, surely I could do something else that would be useful."
"Do you wish to remain here with the old ladies," he countered, "or do you want to remain with your family?"
"Oh, Daddy ... oh, darn ... oh shit . ... '" I gasped as my self-control suddenly gave wav and my whole body convulsed with ecstasy that sent my sex-sap flowing freely and spread its sweet sticky thickness over both of our crotches and loins. There was no question of remaining still any more. The rupture of my repression had, if anything, made my reaction to holding Daddy's darling dong in my titillated twat even wilder than usual once the dam burst.
Daddy's hands clamped down hard on my loins, seeking to help me regain control of my wild cunt ... but in vain. I was too far gone to be amenable to any such restraint now, my whole lower torso bucking and rolling and driving up and down on the curving scimitar of flesh that had caused the explosion. I heaved like a mare in heat and my boobs seemed to be flying all around the room, so frantic were my gyrations.
How did I feel? Wonderful, especially when my coming went into high gear on what seemed to be a permanent high plateau of close to unbearable pleasure. I flipped and flopped and flattened myself against the body of the man whose prick, now deep in my cunt, had given me life in a series of explosive detonations that filled the whole world with the most delicious insanity ...
Not until I came down from these heights, did I discover that Daddy had made no movement to join mine, that his eight inches of bliss-giving meat remained erect but otherwise unstimulated in my suppurating fucking piece. It so frustrated me to realize he had not come that I was tempted to beat on his magnificent chest with my fists ... but he read my mind and gripped my wrists tightly before I could put this idiotic plan into operation.
"Daddy," I sobbed, "why didn't you come?"
He sounded almost sad. "Dearest Robin, I just wanted to show you what true control means. If ever any man wanted to plant his seed in your womb, it was myself just now ... when, in less than ten minutes, you used up energy that should last you for an hour or more."
I began to feel sobs close to the surface in my throat and cried, "Oh, darling Daddy, I can't help being the way I am. So why can't I just go along as something extra ... you know, in a special capacity or something ... please."
He shook his beautiful greying head and said, "Honey, it won't work ... you'll wear out your brothers and sisters with after-hours fucking while we're in session."
"Then let me go back to Riverville where you found me!" I cried. "This is never going to work."
"Even if I thought you meant that, which I don't for a minute, dearest daughter, I'd do my best to stop you."
"Why?" I knew, of course, but I wanted to hear him say it again.
"Because, Robin, I not only love you but I need you. You alone of my children have real psychic rapport with me ... we can reach each other's mind under some conditions, even when hundreds of miles apart."
"I know," I murmured, taking a deep breath that not only filled my lungs but almost set my well-filled tunnel of love winging again. "Even close to, sometimes ... as when you read my intention to hammer your chest just now. We share the same vibrations."
"And that, dearest Robin," he said with the definitive manner and tone of a man delivering the clincher in a debate, "is why you must become a professional. Despite your extreme youth, darling, I have independent command in view for you. At times, while touring the smaller cities, we divide the troupe. Sometimes crises have arisen in which the unit leader has been unable to reach a telephone for advice. With you in such a job, there will be no need for any form of mechanical or electronic communication. So now do you understand, darling daughter?"
"Oh, Daddy!" I cried again, flinging myself flat on him and squashing my boobs against his beloved chest while putting my arms around his neck and hugging and kissing him. The prospect he had just opened for me delighted me, and I resolved right then to do whatever was necessary to learn orgasm control.
Of course, any such control was impossible just then, for the movements of my body in expressing my gratitude for the offer he had just made sent a thousand little wavelets of ecstasy radiating outward, ring fashion, from my tunnel of love ... each wavelet bigger than the one ahead of it until they became ripples and then waves and then great rollers that racked my entire being with rapture.
This time, to my joy, Daddy joined in the fucking, sending his Stradivarius of a prick winging in and out of my flooding hole from all possible directions. I began lifting myself in rhythm, high to be able to bring my cunt down in the greatest possible degree on darling Daddy's scimitar cock ... But Daddy, the devil, lifted his cock right with my cunt, keeping it buried to the hilt in my pulsing inner flesh no matter how I wriggled and writhed and pumped and pulsed on that curving lance of love.
Finally, he asserted himself more fully and, pulling me flat against his own heaving bosom, rolled me under him and, dividing my thighs so they stuck out almost at right angles to my body, proceeded to give my thus-exposed pubes a plumbing so prodigious that I thought they would never recover from the battering they were getting. He rodded me like a pile driver, ramming his prick right into me time after time, while I keened and convulsed and sought only to return as good as I was getting from my father.
It couldn't last forever, of course ... even though it seemed to and the prospect was scarcely terrifying. I simply rode with the storm, coming so rapidly that my orgasms at last flowed into one superbly enduring super-climax. And then, at last, I felt the convulsive leap of his cock in my creaming coozy and knew our time was fast approaching. The better to contain his cream and blend it with my own, I thrust my cunt upward as high as I could so that his saber-like prick pushed against the right side of the top of my womb, remaining there while it sent the semen winging into its target of desire ...
When, after a long ease-off period, we at last disengaged our fucking pieces, we were bathed in sweat and semen and sex-sap, so Daddy pressed another button and the paneled door to the dressing and bathroom did open. As in the downstairs crapper, the actual John was set off from the other fixtures in a sort of double stall shower ... for in this, as in the remaining implements with which it was so lavishly equipped, everything was in twos, save the big, half-sunken oval tub, which could comfortably contain a pair of amorous duets.
He emerged from the shower while I was still flushing out my crotch and cunt on the bidet and looked down at me with a mixture of love and concern. Although Daddy was then in his early forties, he was still the handsomest man I had ever seen, not merely in face but in body. His superbly conditioned torso and limbs, his long, unlumpy muscles beneath skin of a radiantly healthy tone, were monuments to a lifetime of careful conditioning. As I well know from experience I would never forget, his strength of prick, his delicacy and his stamina were outstanding even among the younger men of his own family.
Earlier, explaining his remarkable fitness, he had told me, "Ever since I was a boy, I have conditioned myself for sex ... and every sport requires its own kind of conditioning. The football player, for instance, requires development and training very different from that of the boxer. In both cases, since in both of these sports, actual danger of bodily harm and even destruction is involved, long courses of simulated action are required before the body is deemed fit for the brutality of competition.
"But the golfer or the tennis player, who faces no such peril in combat, gets his conditioning from actual play, whether in sporting matches or tournament ... once he has mastered the techniques of his game. Thus it is with the lover ... once he has learned how to fuck, there is no better method of keeping in trim than by fucking. Do I make myself perfectly clear?"
He had, of course ... he always did. Daddy could make the most complicated problems and situations as simple as X Y Z. So now, as I wriggled my butt to get the fullest possible cleansing effect from the jets of water splashing up into it from the bidet, I sensed that he was pondering my problem and seeking some means of translating my inability to control my reactions while being fucked into a simple problem and solution.
"Daddy," I said, forestalling him, "what can I do?"
He laughed his lovely silent laugh, which as always made his face glow from within, and gave his limp cock a pull and said, "Don't stop fucking, whatever you do, darling Robin. Just between the two of us, you are the most."
I knew what he meant ... that I was better than any of my sisters ... and this caused me to do some glowing, too. But, as I turned off the bidet and sat there, waiting for my crotch to dry, the weight of my problem returned to weigh on me heavily.
"Dearest Daddy," I said, "how am I going to control it?"
"You went to dancing school when you were very small, he said. "Your mother, my sister, told me. She said you could spin like a top on your toes without ever getting dizzy. Do you know how you did that?"
"Of course," I said. "You simply fix your gaze on something that spins with you ... like a ruffle on one of your shoulders. Thus, you don't see the room whirl around you. And, since it is your eyes that make you dizzy, you don't get dizzy."
"Exactly."
"But how is that going to help me from coming when I fuck, dear Daddy?" I asked.
"Fuck dear Daddy," He smiled at me again. "I like that."
"You won't be doing it with your eyes," he told me. "You do it with your mind. While a man has his prick plunging in and out of your cunt, you think about something else. You think about it before he fucks you, you think about it while he fucks you."
"But what sort of thing should I think about?" I asked doubtfully ... I couldn't believe it would work. It sounded terribly difficult.
"Anything at all ... as long as it will hold your interest and has nothing to do with sex."
"Golly gee!" I cried, "That's a large order, Daddy."
"Oh, come on," he said. "You had dolls, didn't you."
"Natch."
"Then dress and undress them while you fuck ... remember every little detail and keep on remembering. Or, if your dolls don't work, try something else until you find one that does. Try extracting the cube root of a million."
"I was always lousy at math, Daddy ... No, I think the doll bit might work. Oh, thank you, Daddy, thank you . ... ! "
I ran to him and hugged his body close and flattened my sensitive boobs against his lower ribs and then looked up at him and said, "Daddy ... can't we go once more for kicks before we put your theory to the tests?"
His prick was rising against my belly, but he shook his handsome head and said, "No, darling daughter ... we need some sleep. We have a hard day ahead tomorrow, especially you."
"What does that mean, Daddy?" I peered up at his so-handsome face through the light covering of fur on his chest.
"You'll find out, darling," he replied, picking me up and carrying me lightly and easily to a broad chaise lounge close to a sidewall and covered with water-proof material. There, laying me down, he said, "Now, let's see how well you play with dolls."
"Hello, Dolly," I giggled ... a limp remark that was greeted with the dignified silence it merited.
Still carrying me, he reclined on this piece of furniture and placed me athwart his loins for the prospective piece of tail. "Since, according to the customs of ancient times," he told me, "the primary position had the female in the driver's seat, almost all of our ritual fucking is done in this posture.
"Therefore," he continued as he lowered my rump, using his hands for a chair and spreading my tailpieces wide to make insertion easier, "I think we'd better do it this way during rehearsals. Now," and with this he worked his curving codpiece slowly into my creaming coozy until its tip exerted that sweet, murderous pressure against the upper right-hand portion of my womb, "think about dressing your favorite dolly ... "
"Hello, Dolly," I said again and barely suppressed a giggle ... which, in turn, brought me within a hair's breadth of detonation as the effort caused my whole body to shake with highly erotic results.
"That's not funny!" snapped Daddy with a whiplash in his voice that I had never heard before. It scared me sober for a moment and, desperately, I thought of my old Barbie doll and of the various outfits with which I used to dress her when I was a little girl in my pre-fucking years in Riverville.
It took a lot of doing, because Daddy was not wasting time downstairs. He was strapping my cunt with his prick in a number of ways, rolling his loins, bridging to lift me high in the air and then sliding his hands under my buttocks again so that, when he lowered his cock, all but the tip of that canted lance of love was out of my hole ... then, after teasing my labia and nymphae abominably with its purple and pink crown, digging his fingers into my underflesh and lowering my cunt on his cock until the insertion was once more as complete as insertion can be. After this, he launched a slow-sweet series of thrusts and rolls that flooded my crotch with pussyjuice, adding to the overwhelming erotic stimuli thus afforded me by rubbing and pinching the most sensitive unoccupied portions of my crotch, not neglecting the little pink button of my clit, which had stiffened outrageously under his erotic mastery.
Yet, Daddy's prescription worked ... at least up to a point. Bit by bit I selected Barbie's outfit from the cardboard bureau in which they were kept. The clothes were all out of date, naturally, since I hadn't played with Barbie for some seven years, but in my imagination, I pulled on a pair of pantyhose and then a clinging sweater-blouse of pale turquoise blue and then I selected tiny, shiny black boots and a coral colored miniskirt with a broad leather belt complete with silver buckle. I thought she looked very smart for her own era.
And all the while, the man I loved and lusted for most in the whole world was giving me the full treatment with his terrific dong plumbing the very depths of my being. I knew I couldn't hold out much longer, so I cast about for something else and remembered he had suggested I undress as well as dress Barbie.
So I began removing her garments, piece by piece ... but, try as I would to slow the process down, she got undressed faster than when I put the clothes on her. Before I really wanted it to happen, she was stripped naked, and I found myself looking at her little pink crotch with my mind's eye and placing a cute little hole in its middle with little red lips on either side and a button above and an arsehole below. And then, out of nowhere, I seemed to see a tiny, pink prick run right into her imaginary hole and out of sight ... and Barbie exploded in a series of violent orgasms.
That was the point at which I exploded, too ...