Katie's Austrian Adventure

"Katie's Austrian Adventure"

by J. D. Savanyu

My flight finally touches down at the Vienna airport, two hours after leaving London. I can't wait to see daddy again on my spring break from Oxford (clothed and unclothed.) As the jumbo jet taxis toward the terminal, I reminisce about our long steamy love affair back home in Connecticut, starting on my eighteenth birthday when he gave me a skimpy $900 bikini. A little spark that set off a powder keg of incestous desire, exploding in our big bubbling hot tub. He took my virginity on a cold February evening just like this one in the heart of Austria. Exactly one year later.

My phone pings with a new message after a long period of ambient atmospheric peace. It's daddy! My pussy instantly flares up with perverted desire.

Roger: Hallo, meine erregende Tochter. Willkommen in Österreich.

(A little German that mommy taught him, before she divorced his billionaire ass.)

Katie: English please, my sexy yankee father. Can't wait 2 CU.

Roger: I can't wait to -- you know.

Katie: I know damn well, daddy. I've been so naughty at Oxford, but I wished I was being naughty with you.

Roger: I'll punish you good tonight after dinner and Wagner.

Katie: You better ride me hard after riding the valkyries.

Roger: Careful Katie. Outside voices.

Katie: Don't worry, Mister Keofferam. Nobody is sitting next to me.

Roger: Whatever blondie. A limo driver is waiting for you outside the terminal. He'll take you to meet me at the Goulash Museum.

Katie: There's a whole museum just about goulash?

Roger: Not quite ;-)

I stroll through the terminal with my head in the clouds, hungry for old world cuisine and eager to hear some old world opera. My mother Leni grew up in the heart of Vienna, and she handed down her love of that archaic music to her only child in the ritzy New York suburbs. I miss her just as much as daddy, in a platonic way. I'm a straight father fucker.

A tall blonde driver greets me with a charming Arnold Schwarzenegger-esque accent near the entrance to the airport. I park my yoga-toned ass on the plush leather seat of a limo and watch the bland postmodern suburbs gradually morph into a classical Habsburgian wonderland. A light flurry falls around the massive gothic spires of Saint Stephen's Cathedral and the Votivkirche, making an awesome souvenir snow globe effect.

The driver swings around the iconic Ringstrasse boulevard where the city walls used to be, now lined with fantastical Baroque architecture. Many more ornate spires rise from the heart of town, inspiring many dirty phallic thoughts. My pussy gets wet beneath my luxurious silk panties, anticipating lots of rough sex with Roger Keofferam over the next five days in Vienna before I go back to Oxford and hit the dusty history books.

I picture the opening sequence of The Opening of Misty Beethoven, daddy's favorite 1970's porn movie which turned into my favorite too. I imagine Dr. Seymour Love visiting Paris from New York, strolling around the sleazy Paris red light district with funky instrumental music added in post-production. Entering a dingy XXX movie theater on Rue Saint-Denis and paying for a public handjob from Misty, a feisty expat American prostitute. Seymour went to a Paris brothel the next night and watched Misty fucking another guy while wearing nothing but a MasterCharge t-shirt.

Misty Beethoven was a porno chic reimagining of Shaw's Pygmalion, with smart-ass sexologist Seymour turning low-class Misty into a "proper" high-class hooker during a series of erotic adventures across several European cities. Roger gave me the same treatment during our incest adventures in Greenwich, Manhattan, and our private mountain resort in Maine. Using wild sex and white-collar playboy machismo to turn me from a bratty bitch nobody else liked to a sophisticated jet-setting playgirl that every man wants a piece of.

The driver pulls up to the Goulash Museum on Mahlerstraße near the opera house. It's a restaurant, not a museum, serving nothing but gourmet goulash. Roger is waiting for me in a plush red velvet booth beneath a portrait of Empress Sisi, looking like John Jacob Astor in a three-piece tuxedo. He stands up and grins from ear to ear with his arms open wide.

"Daddy!" I shriek like a giddy little girl, slamming right into his muscular body and planting a big wet kiss right on his smiling lips. "I missed you soooo much."

"I missed you even more. Happy birthday, Kay-Kay! You're almost the big 2-0."

I feel his cock getting hard beneath his overpriced pants. "I'm still daddy's ditzy little teenager. Is that my birthday present in your pocket?"

"You're so funny, honey." He quickly sits back down in the booth and covers up the bulge with an embroidered napkin. "I've heard a lot about this new place. They got twenty varieties of goulash."

"Oh gosh, so much goulash," I giggle. A cute redhead waitress in a traditional Hungarian gypsy dress stops at our table. Daddy orders the classic style with beef and paprika, while I throw caution to the wind and order the Teriyaki Dragon goulash.

"Leni would have loved the Goulash Museum," he muses, gazing longingly at my pretty face as I gaze right back at him with big blue Alpine milkmaid eyes. I look like those girls on the cover of Muesli cereal boxes in Austrian grocery stores.

"I'm sure she's going to lots of real museums with her new husband," I reply primly, twirling my shiny blonde bangs.

"Lots of operas too."

"She looks like a porn parody of Brünnhilde from Wagner's operas."

"So do you, blondie."

"That hot gold-digging milf really knows how to dig her claws into billionaires."

"You talk that way about your own mother?"

"Not to her face," I utter slyly, cocking my head with overpowering arousal.

"Of course," Daddy snickers. "So... how's your love life at Oxford?"

"Getting right to the good stuff, eh? Fuck that academic shit."

"I bet those balmy British blokes are lining up for your affections, halfway around the block."

"They sure are. I've lost count of how many boyfriends I've had during my freshman year."

"Another American swinger living it up on a 'grand tour,' like Bill Clinton back in the day."

"I did not inhale either," I remark sweetly. "Nobody compares to you, daddy."

"You're one in a million, Katie. One in a billion. I can't wait to have... fun with you this week."

"Even more fun than our little adventure at 30 Rock."

"God damn, that was such a crazy thrill," Roger murmurs with nostalgic lust. My clitoris throbs intensely, impatient for satisfaction. Estrogen and naughtiness take control of my hazy mind. I kick off my shoes under the table and slowly lift my dainty right foot toward his crotch. My big toe hits that long hard familiar cock. He groans gutturally and takes a suggestive sip of hearty St. Pauli Girl beer. I raise my other foot under the table and squeeze them together on his thick rod, foot-fucking him nice and slow from tip to balls. Driving daddy crazy, just like the good ol' days in Greenwich.

This place is full of European and Asian tourists who don't speak English and are completely unaware of our non-celebrity identities. Roger Keofferam's stock market wizardry made him the 79th richest man in the world, but to them he's just another Joe Blow playing dress-up in Mozart's old stomping grounds.

"Cut it out, girl," he mutters, pushing my feet back down toward the floor. "We'll have some nice juicy bratwurst later on, for a post-Wagner midnight snack."

* * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * *

Daddy leads me by the hand toward the Vienna State Opera House, soaring gracefully over the Ringstrasse. The interior is even more spectacular, full of lavish gilded plasterwork and paintings of gods and muses from the swingin' 1860's. He leads me up a grand marble staircase full of rich Eurotrash phonies. I feel like a slutty Cinderella at a royal debutante ball, making a grand entrance with my secretly incestuous Prince Charming.

We climb a smaller stairway, emerging at a cluster of private boxes twenty feet above the cheap seats, near a stage full of fake Black Forest trees somewhere in Bavaria.

"Are you ready to rock, Daddy?" I utter sweetly, stroking his hairy right hand.

"Hell yeah. Hojotoho!"

"I wish I bothered to learn more German."

"Opera is better when you don't understand the lyrics. Filling in the blanks with your own existential angst."

A huge crystal chandelier goes dim, and a huge orchestra pounds out a loud epic Wagnerian overture, sweeping the audience into a mystical realm. Siegmund meets his twin sister Sieglinde in a forest clearing, singing loudly and mostly incoherently to our American ears. Something about a dragon named Fafner who's guarding a vast horde of gold in a secret location, along with a magic dwarf-crafted ring that gives the wearer immense powers. The inspiration for Tolkein's much more entertaining fantasy novels.

I soon give up trying to make sense of it, and I just imagine Siegmund fucking his sister. Hiking up her vintage fur cloak and "stabbing" her with his long manly "sword." I've had that mythical masturbatory fantasy ever since I hit puberty while watching these operas during our family vacations. But not so much since daddy divorced Leni and subsequently deflowered me. Roger opened my eyes to a whole new world of erotic possibilities, greatly expanding my definition of pleasure before I graduated from Greenwich High School. Giving me the confidence I needed to get straight A's at the most prestigious university in the world.

My mind drifts away from Wagner's lethargic ancient narrative toward modern times, recalling my last sexual encounter at Oxford with a hot English redhead named Roderick Haithcock. Roderick flirted with me before a class about Henry VIII, and kept flirting afterward in the famous fourteenth-century dining room where they filmed the Harry Potter Hogwarts dinner scenes. I took him back to my gothic dorm room on King Edward Street, where he spanked and screwed me royally. I can't get enough rough sex with dominant alpha males, but I can never get it as good as Daddy gave it to me Stateside.

The setting shifts to a high ridge in the Bavarian Alps. Wotan meets Brünnhilde, his mighty blonde Valkyrie daughter, and orders her to protect Siegmund in his upcoming battle with Sieglinde's husband Hunding. My mental setting shifts thousands of miles across the ocean to a remote hilly forest in the Maine boondocks, where I had lots of naked fun last summer at Roger Keofferam's private two thousand acre retreat. Daddy fucked my brains out in a large lake and under a majestic waterfall. I can almost feel that cool crisp mountain water slamming against my skin on a hot sunny afternoon, while he pounds my pussy in the standing missionary position. Smacking my wet white ass over and over, making it hurt so good.

We had so much rough aquaphile sex that week, I could barely walk by the time it was over. Turning my wild outdoor porn fantasies into vivid reality. Imagining valkyries soaring through the star-studded Appalachian sky. Carrying our spirits away from the corrupt stock market battlefields of New York, flying toward a vague Valhalla.

I get hornier and hornier watching those sexy Norse sprites in full Viking battle gear, until I literally can't take it anymore. I put my pink $1,200 Gucci purse on my lap and masturbate discreetly behind it, rubbing my clit in slow circles through my blue $300 Prada dress.

"Hey, you naughty rich girl," Daddy whispers humorously in my left ear. "Jerking off to those hot blonde valkyries."

"I'm jerking off to you, daddy," I whisper back, clutching his right hand while flicking my bean with my own right hand. A moment later, a very naughty idea pops into my mind. I've always wanted to live out a famous scene from The Opening of Misty Beethoven, and this is my big chance!

"Hey, let's sneak out of here," I whisper eagerly to Roger.

"What do you mean?"

"Come on, I'll show you."

"But the best part of the whole opera is coming right up."

"You got that right," I utter seductively. I literally yank him out of his seat and lead him by the hand through a red velvet curtain and down an empty brass-lined hallway with idyllic 1860's paintings of Odin, Thor, and Loki.

"I want my birthday present now, Daddy."

I turn right and open a door with a stick figure person wearing half a pair of pants and half a skirt. "Gender inclusive" restrooms have made public sex so much easier for everyone, straight or bent.

"Are you fucking serious, blondie?"

I answer his question by shoving his back against a tile wall and kissing him hard. His reluctance quickly fades, and his tongue invades my mouth like a battering ram through the gates of Asgard. His huge cock presses hard against my flat yoga-toned abs while the Vienna Philharmonic Orchestra plays the thunderous iconic "Ride of The Valkyries."

"I'm so fucking horny, Mister Keofferam. I want to live out that Rome opera scene from Misty Beethoven."

"Oh my god, I've been dreaming about that too," he groans, squeezing my ass with both hands. "But that Roman orchestra was playing the William Tell Overture."

"Wagner makes a better soundtrack for blowjobs."

I drop right to my knees on the hard tile floor and fish that huge trout out of his fancy trousers. I shove it deep in my mouth, gagging right away. Just like frisky Misty going down on Dr. Seymour Love in a bathroom at the Teatro dell'Opera di Roma.

"Ohhhh fuuuuuuck," Daddy groans toward a mini chandelier hanging from the ceiling. Gazing incredulously toward the night sky above the Wiener Staatsoper while ten valkyries soar over the nearby stage. "We're missing the best part of that overrated opera, but I don't give a shit."

"Mmm-hmmm," I groan loudly on his nine inch bratwurst.

"Damn, I missed your great sloppy hummers. And your tight teen pussy."

I pulled back abruptly, ejecting his penis with funny popsicle poof! sound. "Have you banged any other girls while I was at Oxford?"

"Just my secretary, Anne Hathaway. I've been fucking her on my desk at 30 Rock, just like I fucked you. But it's not nearly as fun."

"Holy shit," I giggle deliriously. Daddy grabs my head with both hands and shoves his schlong back into my mouth. Face-fucking me fast and hard, gagging me over and over.

"You're the best bitch I ever banged, blondie," he growls fiercely. "Daddy's little debutante, making a grand entrance on her knees."

I gladly take Roger's rough treatment, jacking my clit in harmony to his aggressive allegro tempo. I needed his skillful domination like oxygen.

"Are you gonna be my loyal servant for the rest of spring break? Doing everything I fucking say?"

"Uh-huh!"

"Good girl," he growls, gagging me even more. Long ropes of spittle ooze down on my fancy blue dress. The danger of getting caught raises the thrill factor to the Nth degree.

"You know why most people have sexual problems, Katie? Because they talk too damn much," he growls, borrowing a clever line from Misty B. He grabs my blonde bangs and uses them as a handle, whipping my face back and forth against his hairy ballsack.

"Fuuuuuuuuck," he growls gutturally, letting go and pulling back. I catch my breath with loud ecstatic gasps. "Are you still keeping those pink fuzzy cuffs in your purse?"

"Fuck yeah, daddy."

"Get 'em out, and get naked. I'm treating you like Siegfried's sex slave."

"Yes sir, Mister Keofferam," I beam sweetly, lifting my dress over my head. Nothing underneath, of course.

"Jesus Christ, you're even hotter than I remember," he groans, ogling my pale perky d-cups with pointy pink nipples, wide toned child-bearing hips, and blonde curly pubic hair.

"I've been hitting the Oxford Fitness Centre real hard," I giggle while whipping those novelty BDSM handcuffs out of my purse. Good thing this is the best part of Die Walkure, with no one else in the opera house daring to take a bathroom break. Daddy shoves my hands behind my back and binds the cuffs to my wrists, then he drags me over to a private stall and digs through my purse, pulling out a red rubber ball gag.

"Crazy kinky freak, carrying a big arsenal around for public perversion. I better silence your dirty tongue."

He jams that rubber ball through my teeth and fastens the black strap around the back of my head. Then he sits down on the toilet, patting his firm white thighs with both hands.

"Get that tight teen pussy on daddy's big dick. I know you fucking want it."

"Hooo-foo-fuuuh," I agree incoherently, obeying his order just like I've obeyed every order he's given me ever since I was a spoiled toddler in crazy rich Greenwich. I mount him like a classical Bavarian cowgirl on that twenty-first century toilet, groaning harshly as his massive manhood stretches my barely legal labia. Bigger than any British cock I've taken so far.

"Giddy-up, slutty valkyrie! Ride me all the way to Valhalla!"

I bounce frantically up and down, smacking my ass cheeks steadily on his hard hips. Sex with Daddy is just as good as I remember, but twice as fun in public. Daddy smacks my big titties like boxing bags, and my entire body surges with incredible kinky pleasure. Meanwhile, Wagner's strong female valkyries sing loud and proud while carrying slain military heroes to paradise at Valhalla:

"Reitet mit den walküren über das schlachtfeld.

Reitet auf euren pferden und kommt zu mir.

Ich warte darauf, dass ihr meine seele hoch in den himmel nach Walhall tragt.

Walküren, reitet über das schlachtfeld.

Ich sterbe und blute gern.

Denn ich weiß, dass ich heute meinen platz bei den Helden einnehmen werde.

Im Walhall der vergangenheit."

"Oh god, I'm gonna cum so hard! Get down on your fucking knees!"

"Oowuh phuguff," I garble obediently, dropping down on the hard gender-inclusive tile floor. Daddy grabs my blonde hair and yanks my face way up toward the ceiling, growling fiercely while masturbating frantically.

"In den Hallen Walhalls nehme ich endlich meinen platz ein.

Mit schwert und schild betrete ich Odins reich.

Ich bin nun ein unsterblicher geist mit einem herzen aus stahl.

Mit den Göttern in der höhe werde ich ewig leben und über die ängste der menschen lachen!"

"Blast off!" Daddy groans like Seymour. A big wad of hot splooge blasts my left cheek, making me groan triumphantly. That soothing cream keeps spurting and spurting, literally plastering my entire face and lots of blonde hair around it. He obviously hasn't masturbated or had sex with anyone for a while, saving up to make my nineteenth birthday present truly spectacular. I wish my mouth wasn't gagged so I could taste that big bitter reward.

"Oh fuuuuck, you goddamn classical skank!"

"Huh-huh-huh," I giggle through the red rubber ball. He keeps jerking long after his glands are drained, neither of us wanting this crazy scene to end. I picture Brünnhilde's pretty Bavarian face saturated with Siegmund's spunk, laughing at the absurdity of it all.

"Damn, you dirty high-class ho. Look at all that gack on your face and hair. I better flush it off."

Roger spins me around, then he grabs my head with both hands and dunks it underwater in the toilet bowl. Holy shit! I scream bubbles through the gag, incredibly exhilarated. The Wagnerian orchestra is oddly muffled by the cold Vienna water. Daddy flushes the loo while laughing like a cliché opera villain. Cold water rushes all around my head as he pulls it out of the bowl. I laugh even louder through the wet rubber ball.

"What's so funny, bitch?" Daddy grunts.

"Hoowa fuuuguuph," I grunt back, shrugging my bare wet shoulders.

"I better take that kinky shit out of your dirty mouth," he chortles. He unfastens the black strap and rips it out between my teeth.

"Oh my god, that was fucking awesome, daddy!"

"Even better than Misty Beethoven."

"Even better than Ludwig Beethoven, in the bottom of the Ninth Symphony."

"A grand slam with the bases loaded, and your hands tied behind your back."

"Come on, daddy. Take these cuffs off your dirty daughter, and take her back to your swanky hotel room."

"Good idea, babe. Let's get the fuck out of this boring opera house, and play some 'extra innings.'"

* * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * *

We amble down Kärntner Straße on a crisp snowy night, lost in a dreamy haze. Dozens of tourists admire my Germanic Americanized beauty, even though my long lustrous hair got all frizzed up by the harsh bathroom hand drying machine. Upscale Euro fashion boutiques line the Baroque thoroughfare, luring me with their haute couture siren songs.

"I want a real birthday present, daddy. That bitchin' pink Osette Burkin would go great with my pink Le Kasha dress."

"There'll be plenty of time for retail therapy tomorrow, and the rest of the week," Roger grunts. "It's all the same damn overpriced shit to me, made with pride by non-union slave workers in good ol' Guangzhou."

"You're so funny, daddy," I coo sweetly, resting my hand on his burly left shoulder while crossing Weihburggasse.

"Not really. You just pretend to like my jokes so I'll keep throwing tons of free money at you."

"You got me dead to rights, Daddy Warbucks. I don't like your jokes, but I love the way you deliver them."

Roger sighs pleasantly at my sexy double entendre. We turn right on Goldschmiedgasse and behold the stately gothic grandeur of St. Stephen's Cathedral.

"God damn, that's one hell of a church," Daddy remarks.

"Utterly divine," I utter dreamily, admiring the colorful rose window and the giant black Austrian eagle symbols on the roof. "We should go there tomorrow and repent our many sins. Make a big donation for the less fortunate."

"Amen, darling. In the meantime... let's dance with the devil in the pale moonlight."

I laugh warmly as Roger leads me across the plaza, soon entering the gilded lobby of the five-star Großartig Stephansplatz Hotel. We climb a shiny white marble staircase and turn a key at Zimmer Zwölf (Room Twelve.) Awesome Roaring '20s decor with a great view of the cathedral facade through a picture window.

"Sweet room, daddy! Really Lost Generation-y. It makes me want to write the next Sun Also Rises."

"Forget the sun, I just want your moon. Get naked again in the bathroom."

"Damn, Mister Keofferam. Your mind is way down in the gutter tonight."

I march into the luxurious bathroom and quickly undress, tossing my fancy dress onto a gleaming brass 1920's style sink. The silence is deafening after that three hour operatic onslaught. Daddy enters the bathroom a minute later, completely naked and carrying a suitcase full of BDSM toys.

"Ooh, goody. You brought your bag of tricks along to Austria."

"Hell yeah. Get your ass in the tub, bitch. You need a good hard round of water bondage."

"Yes sir, Mister Keofferam."

I step into the big smooth marble tub with jacuzzi jets scattered around. He turns the faucets on, and warm water starts rising against my feet.

"A nice hot bath is exactly what we need."

"Shut the fuck up," he grunts, assuming his usual gruff Christian Grey-esque sexual character. "Spread your legs nice and wide."

I stretch my legs with ease to a tight inverted V-shape, thanks to the rigorous gymnastics, tennis, and yoga training that Roger insisted I undertake ever since I was a pigtailed cutie at Greenwich Elementary. He pulls out a stainless steel spreader bar and fastens it to my ankles with black straps, shortly before the rising water reaches the straps.

"Put your hands together, and stretch them out toward me."

I promptly obey his order. He slides a red leather bondage sleeve between my outstretched arms and ties the laces tightly, completely demobilizing his daughter's limbs. The hot water rises to my knees while goosebumps rise on the rest of my naked body on a cold February night in the heart of Vienna.

"Are you gonna gag me again, daddy?"

"Fuck no. I wanna hear you scream."

Roger uncorks a bottle of fine red Danube river wine and pours it into a glass on the bathroom sink. He takes a pensive sip while admiring my perky d-cup breasts, masturbating slowly with his free hand. A minute later, he reaches into that high-end designer suitcase and pulls out a long beaded metal flogger. Dozens of tiny aluminum bead chains woven together and attached to an ergonomic cedar handle.

"Oh shit," I groan eagerly.

"I drove you nuts with this thing back in crazy rich Greenwich."

Roger pulls out his smart phone and plays the overture to Wagner's Gotterdammerung ("Twilight of the Gods") on a portable bluetooth speaker. Another thunderous composition that inspired Jerry Goldsmith's Universal Studios theme song which debuted in Jurassic Park: The Lost World. The bath tub is nearly full now, lapping against my upper thighs. Daddy turns off the faucet, turns on the jacuzzi jets, and splashes warm water all over my body with his hands.

"There you go, baby-doll. I got you nice and soaked, to make it hurt twice as much."

WHACK!

"Oh fuuuck," I groan delightfully, with sweet pain radiating across my large breasts.

WHACK!

"Errrrrrr!" I groan louder. Those little beads pack a big punch, firing many nerve endings on all cylinders. "Make it hurt, daddy!"

"You know I will, bitch!"

WHACK! WHACK! WHACK! WHACK!

"Shit, shit, shiiit!"

WHACK! WHACK! WHACK! WHACK!

"Whip my pussy, daddy! Punish my dirty fucking twat!"

He aims that metal flogger downward, delivering a square blow right between my tightly stretched legs. Burning my wet vagina so good.

"Oh fuck, just like that! Just like you whooped Leni!"

"Like mother, like daughter," he growls sarcastically, then he swings even harder, over and over. Hundreds of metal beads assault my sensitive pink folds, sending me to a masochistic cloud nine. The same kinky treatment he gave me hundreds of times, made fonder by absence.

"Don't fucking stop, Daddy! Oh god, I'm gonna cum all over those fucking chains! OoooowwwAAAAAH!"

My body shudders violently in the hot bubbling water, wailing in harmony with Hitler's favorite operatic overture. Seeing stars on the white marble walls, blasting my own hot feminine fluid on his long dong. Never feeling so good before.

"Naughty fucking bitch, cumming without your father's permission. I better spank you straight, blondie."

"Fuck yeah, Mister Keofferam. Pound your daughter's ass with her favorite paddle."

Daddy laughs warmly, then he goes to the suitcase and grabs a heavy black silicone paddle with the words FUCK TOY boldly emblazoned in red.

"You're a great little fuck toy, girl. But you need to learn more discipline to become a woman."

THWAASH!

"Oh shit!" I moan with intensely enjoyable pain. That huge paddle really hits the spot, literally kicking my ass. Sending powerful shockwaves right up to my whip-raw clit.

THWAASH! THWAASH! THWAASH!

"God damn that hurts, daddy! Oh fuck, more!"

THWAASH! THWAASH! THWAASH! THWAASH! THWAASH! THWAASH!

"Shit, shit, shit, sssssSACHER TORTE!" I wail pathetically, uttering our old tasty safe word. Daddy stops the paddle in mid-swing, and gently caresses my wet burning ass.

"Good girl, Katie. You really earned that sweet reward. I can't wait to taste the Sacher Torte at Steffl."

"Me neither. I'm gonna chug some chocolate after chugging your cock," I giggle playfully. "In the meantime, I need another kind of 'treat' from you, daddy. Fuck me in the asshole, hard."

"Damn, you're such a dirty rich bitch."

I get down on my knees in the soothing bubbling jacuzzi water, knocking the metal spreader bar against the marble tub. Wiggling my heart-shaped rump just above the water line, urging him onward. He grabs some KY jelly from his suitcase, then he steps into the hot bubbling water and lubes up his cock and my sphincter with plenty of silicone.

"I'm tired of getting screwed by Washington liberals. I'm taking out my frustration on your New York Ivanka Trump-wannabe ass."

Roger grabs my heart-shaped rump with both hands, and rams his rod right up the wrong hole.

"Ooooh shiiiit," I groan gutturally, getting my sphincter stretched taut. He keeps slamming my ass against the wet white marble, spanking my sore ass cheeks over and over.

"Fucking take my big dick, you dirty daddy fucker!"

"Tear my ass up, Mister Keofferam! Make me your obedient fucking daughter!"

Daddy's all-out anal assault makes me feel so alive, enhanced by all that hot soothing water sloshing against my throbbing clit.

"You've been shagging all your British teachers to get straight A's. You better clean up your act, and hit the books harder!"

SPANK! SPANK! SPANK! SPANK! SPANK! SPANK! SPANK! SPANK!

"Faster, Mister Keofferam! Make me cum with that big fucking cock!"

He screws me as hard and as fast as he can, literally bouncing off my hips, splashing water all over the marble floor near the tub. I soon reach another epic climax, hitting another high note like Brünnhilde in the Black Forest. My entire body buzzes with crippling ecstasy as daddy keeps slamming my shithole.

"Gimme your fucking cum, daddy! Shoot it all over my pretty face!"

"Don't forget your manners, blondie," he growls, smacking my ass harder.

"Please give me your cum, Mister Keofferam!"

"That's better, Miss Keofferam."

He grabs my shoulders and yanks my body backward, submerging everything but my head in the hot bubbling water. He assumes the same finishing pose as our first hot tub bang, exactly one year ago. Crouching down in the tub, wrapping his muscular right arm around my slender neck, and masturbating vigorously with his huge gun pointing right between my eyes.

"Happy birthday, bitch! ErrrrrrrUUUUUUHHH!"

"Oh shit, that feels so good," I groan triumphantly, sticking my tongue out and savoring my 'birthday present.' He smacks my cheeks with his cock, then he uses it to smear his splooge evenly all over my face. Making me feel like his perfect kinky fuck toy. He frees me from bondage and I sit on his lap with my back against his chest. Sighing simultaneously in dreamy aquaphile bliss.

"Great job, daddy. You've been learning some new moves from Anne Hathaway."

"That stuck-up twat loves crazy kink. com shit."

"A classy dame in public, but freaky as fuck in private. Just like Shakespeare's wife."

"To bind or not to bind, that is the question."

"You can bind that slutty secretary all you want, but I'll always be your favorite sub."

"No doubt, Katie. My daughter doth protest too much, but I fucking love it."

"We're gonna have sooo much fun in Vienna this week."

"The fun won't stop there, baby. I'm gonna dominate you again on your summer break, on our private beach in the Bahamas."

"Sounds like a barrel of fun, Mister Keofferam. Another great offshore stock tip."

"Shut up and kiss me, smart-ass."

I giggle sweetly, then I turn around on his lap and smooch him with tender loving care. Wagner's Twilight of the Gods keeps playing on his bluetooth speaker, with the Vienna Philharmonic Orchestra's haunting strains muffled by the sloshing gurgling jacuzzi jets. Filling us with a strange sense of melancholy in a thick haze of endorphins. Reminding us that the harsh "real world" lurks just outside of our shimmering perverted one-percenter fantasy realm. Like the rainbow bridge to Asgard, fading fast after a torrential downpour.