RE: Perverted Sugar Daddy System-Chapter 211: A Daughter

A tremble went through Denise at my words, her body wanting to shy away, but she kept her eyes locked and staring at me.

It was silent for a while, and then Denise answered,

"I've had some suspicions."

There was a difference between getting turned on from being hit with a whip and being a true masochist.

After the third strike, pure penetrative pain was what each stroke of my palm unleashed—and yet Denise had taken three more.

"Her stats spoke for themselves."

[Name: Denise Harther

Type: Milf

Trust: 64 → 42

Affection: 100

Fear: 39 → 58

Loyalty: 83 → 92

Horniness: -36 → 81

Comment: Desires power and revenge.]

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Some of these new stats came with her sudden boost in horniness and would fall back when her desire returned to normal.

Unfortunately, these changes came with repercussions. Trust had seen an above-average drop and fear an unhealthy rise.

"It must have been a long time since your body felt like this. What do you want to do?"

I wondered if I could get Denise to want to feel some dick, but she surprised me as her face twisted into one of hate.

"I disgust this feeling."

"Why?"

"It reminds me of that night, what I was, and what I am."

Bam.

Like a dam released out of nowhere, from Denise an aura of pure hate spread, and I barely controlled myself from showing any reaction.

"Has she always had this much hate?" I wondered.

"That's quite the feeling. What about me? I desire your body."

Denise went silent at my question, her eyes trembling, and then they hardened.

"I am yours. You can have me whenever you want."

Finishing her words, Denise moved to pull down the straps of her gown, but I raised my palm, a wave of dominance flowing out of me to reinforce my gesture.

"Will you hate me if I fuck you?"

Denise spoke of me having her whenever I wanted, yet she was unaware that other than a commanding aura, she also harboured one of hate, one which stemmed from and was powered by the memories of her night at the Richards'.

Denise's hate wasn't just directed at the man who had forced himself on her. No, it was also directed at herself—and if I sank myself into her, I would only be polluting my being and making myself another target of her hate.

Denise's brain churned once again, looking for an answer to my question, but this time, I didn't need an answer from her.

I desired to have Denise in my bed, and though today might be the last time I'd get to have the woman in such a state, I cared about not just her body, but also her mind.

"You can leave. Think about this some other time."

Denise wanted to speak, but I turned around and waved her away, figuring whatever she wanted to say was most likely spurred on by her feelings at the moment. But as she picked up her robe and departed, a system notification popped up:

[Ding!! Denise Harther's loyalty has reached 100.]

"This doesn't make sense."

Usually, I could draw up an explanation for the changes in the feelings of my women, but this sudden strengthening of Denise's loyalty was bizarre.

Even though I wasn't going to accept, I waited a few seconds for the system to notify me that I could make Denise a sugar baby, and when it never came up, I aptly guessed her horniness had fallen back to its usual level.

"That was quite fast."

........

"How much is the Richard Mille?"

"1 million dollars."

"Damn," I muttered, raising my head as Denise knotted my brown tie, looking at the watch on my wrist.

After I had taken my bath and dressed up, when Denise came out dressed and ready to go, one look at me and she took me to the mirror and began adjusting my suit.

The woman was back to her usual confident, unshakable state, and she had no woes driving her authority in the room.

"Daddy, why can't I come with you?"

"Because your parents have no idea you were here, and your association with him becoming public is not the best. Also, we agreed that you would listen to me and not go running around."

"I didn't ask you," Sophie grumbled, but Denise didn't care.

"You look cute," I complimented when Denise moved to fix the arms of my suit, my eyes on the white couch that was some steps away.

Resting on the back of the couch and staring at us, Sophie had on pink oversized pyjamas and was holding a pillow on which she rested her head. With a pout on her face, she looked very adorable.

Frowning and looking away from me despite my compliment, Sophie stared at Denise heatedly, and Denise, without looking back, spoke:

"Staring at my ass won't make yours as big as it."

"W... wh... what... fuck you, granny," Sophie finally let out, but I wasn't pleased.

"Language."

"But she started it."

"Don't swear."

Feeling targeted, Sophie stood up and marched out of the room, leaving just me and Denise, who soon departed once my suit was well patted up.

"That girl Sophie. She is not normal."

"How so?"

Leaving our suite in the hotel, Denise and I were now moving through the corridor, descending from our floor, heading for Gigs, who was waiting for us down at the parking lot with the car.

"She worships and adores you, yet is ready to be a headache to you."

"She's like a daughter," I said, and to this, Denise went silent.

"Is this how you want all your women to be?"

"Yes."

"Even Martha?"

"Did she scare you that much?"

"There are some people who are better left in the wild. That woman cannot be tamed. She will consume you."

.....

"Remind me again, why can't Sophie come, but I can?"

My blonde baby thought coming to a gathering of stuck-up important people was awesome, but I did not.

I was here walking in with a bunch of people dressed in suits and maintaining solemn expressions because Denise said it was necessary.

"These things can seem inconsequential and you can feel no one will notice you, but the truth is that they will—and already have.

Marcus Lawson, one of America's billionaires, was in London, staying well within the vicinity of Heathrow Airport, yet did not show up for the procession leading John Stokes' corpse from the morgue to the airport.

How do you think that will do for your reputation?"

"Hmmm."

"Also, we want to fit in, blend in, and avoid scrutiny of any kind—from anyone."