The ascent.

I am sitting at the kitchen table, reading, trying to take notes. I have been here for what feels like eons and I know I will here for eons more. There is so much to read, so much to do. And with baited breath I wait, because I know I am alone in the house with Daddy.

He finally comes downstairs and sits beside me at the table, placing a soft hand on my back. I diligently finish the passage I am reading before I look and he waits quietly. I know he wants me to be diligent. I know he wants me to work hard. He is, after all, a Daddy.

I look up and smile at him and he tells me to stand.

"I want to make you mine today, baby."

I look at him, confused, bewildered, afraid that I have disappointed him thus far. If he does not know that I am his girl, that he owns me completely and fully, then I have done something wrong. "But Daddy, I am yours."

"I know baby. I just want to own more of my little girl."

I stand and he turns me so I face the kitchen table. I diligently pull down my panties and pull up my skirt for him. He kneels down and places a few soft kisses on the crest of my ass. I shiver, feeling his lips. He is rarely this tender and I am left curious as to what is in store. I cannot say I am not afraid that this tenderness is a harbinger of something more frightening to come.

He stands, reaching between my legs to begin rubbing me. I have been getting damper since he sat down and I am already quite drenched. The more he touches me, the more I can feel my clit swell. The more he touches me, the more I can feel myself start to drip.

He pulls back. "Touch yourself for me, baby,"

I nod and reach between my legs, which have opened as my feet have turned in. As soon as I ace my hand over my cunt, I am soaking. My hand is covered in the same thick, hot, wet juices which are coating my inner thighs. I begin to work my swollen clit, pulling and rubbing in small, hard circles.

I see Daddy stroke his cock through his jeans, and I watch as it thickens and creates a beautiful outline of what I will soon have inside me. He takes my other hand and places it on him, allowing me to squeeze him rough his pants. He breathes hard and I smile, pushing two fingers inside myself.

He places a hand on the small of my back, rubbing softly just above my ass. I push back and his hand slides to my ass, squeezing the flesh softly. I squeeze him harder, rubbing him firmly. He is getting harder and harder, more and more swollen.

Finally, he pulls back and opens his pants. He is behind me, and immediately he is inside me fucking hard.

"I want you to cum fast, baby, and you don't have to ask permission." I nod, working my clit as hard and fast as possible. I can feel my cunt pulsing and pumping around his cock and it makes my fingers work all that much harder. I want so much to be a good girl.

"Yes, Daddy. I'm all yours, Daddy."

"Not yet, baby,"

He keeps fucking me and I feel his lips touch the back of my neck. Hs sweetness makes me melt, and before I realize it, I am cumming. I am bucking and pushing and desperate to show him how much I want to give. He owns every orgasm, he owns every motion, every pulse of my cunt. I am all his.

He pushes hard inside me and I push back against him. "Are you ready, baby?" I nod, expecting him to pull out, to cum all over my face or legs or back or mouth like he does. "I'm going to cum inside you, baby, I'm going to plant my seed in my baby girl's cunt."

And I know. He owns my pussy, but he is about to own more than that. He wants to get his baby girl pregnant today.

I nod, my hand finding the back of his and gripping it tightly. I am scared, but there is nothing I will not take from him. I brace, pushing back all that much harder. I fuck him back with every stroke he gives me. He squeezes my hand back and I bend a little more at the waist. Hs free hand grips my hips and he pushes harder inside me.

With one more hard push, he cums, pumping wave after wave of his seed inside me. It is a strange feeling for daddy to fill me. Every wave releases another chance that he will fully, completely, own every bit of me in a way no one else ever has. When he is done, he squeezes my hand again, kissing the back of it softly.

"You are a good girl."

I smile as he pulls out and pulls my panties back up and skirt back down. I sit back down and thank him, holding onto his hand a little longer.

"Cross your legs, baby." I nod, holding his cum inside me, knowing that at dinner tonight we will sit across the table from each other. Our little secret dripping out of my cunt and into my panties while I try not to smile. While I try with all my hardest not to let Mommy know.

Playing with my toys

I like that she has no idea what to expect. I like how nervous she is, sitting in this restaurant across from me. Mostly I like that she thinks nothing will happen to her and that there is safety in public gaze.

Alas, I have no intention on being kind.

We have been in this restaurant before, with its hard wooden benches and loud anonymity. She likes it here because she gets to play and feel invisible to everyone else in the room. A they come and go with their lunches and meetings, she is not allowed to make eye contact, asking for bites of food, and then being fucked in the bathroom.

The food comes quickly and I gesture to her to begin eating. I can see her frustration mounting with how little I am playing with her. She was allowed to eat what she wanted, ask the waitress for whatever drink she would like, even allowed to take a bite of mine when she asked so politely.

I can see her angry and pouting. She wanted the attention and affection I usually give her quite freely. She is usually a good girl who simply needs discipline.

"Are you unhappy with me?" She finally asks.

"No, honey." I poke around my plate with my fork, nudging vegetables here and there.

"Ok." She nods and looks down, feeling frustrated by her own need. She is clearly not in control the way she was beginning to think she was.

I watch her begin to eat, and she tries to make small talk about what's been going on during her days. She tries to bat her eyes, tries to flirt, and I smile at her. That will not only fail today, it will always fail.

Finally she shifts, pushing herself back a little to stand.

"Where are you going?"

"Bathroom is all."

"No." I smile and look back down at my plate. "Sit." I gesture with my fork at her plate.

She stops. I've never not let her go. Her face fills with color, red burning into her cheeks.

"But I have to pee."

"You will, but not now." She nods and sits down, fidgeting just a little. I can see her mind whirring and her nerves growing. "Put your hand between your legs. I want you to finger yourself."

I watch as a smile grow on her face as the red in her cheeks deepens. Her eyes dart around. There is paper running across the table but not a full cloth, and she was going to have to navigate this properly.

Slowly, her hand descends below the table. I can't help but smile and cross my legs at the prospect of how wet she is getting. Her eyes flutter up to meet mine, and I wink at her. No matter how cold I strive to be, there is always a moment where I want to reassure her, and let her know she is being a good girl.

"Are you nervous, baby?" I pick up my cup of tea, holding it in front of my mouth. She nods. "Rub yourself through your panties first."

She nods again, and I watch at her eyes unfocus just slightly and then tighten. She takes her bottom lip in her mouth and I know her fingers are square on her clit, and her panties are soaked and growing wetter.

"Does that feel good, honey?" I take a bite as I ask her.

She nods again. I wait, cocking an eyebrow. She knows a nod is not an acceptable answer. "Yes."

"Yes, what, baby?"

"Yes, Mommy."

"Good girl." She smiles, but it is tight. I pick up another bite. "Mmm, this is wonderful. Do you want another bite, baby?"

She shakes her head. "No thank you." Her voice cracks a little as she speaks. I love watching her squirm. I tighten my thighs, putting just enough pressure on my clit to make my eyes lock on her nervous lip-chewing.

"Pull your panties to the side and run your clit directly."

"Yes, Mommy." I smile wider. She may be a challenging little girl, but she takes direction well. She knows what happens if she doesn't, though.

As I watch her face try not to contort, as I watch her cheeks turn red and then white, I can feel myself getting wetter and wetter. I can feel dampness soak through to my jeans and my clit swell. Watching her fight and squirm and try and ignore the shame and humiliation which is written so clearly on her face makes my heart beat harder. It does not, though, make me want to cum. It makes me want to play harder, it makes me want to watch her squirm more and struggle harder. I reach a foot forward and find her legs bound together. i can only imagine how tight they are, fingers shoved in awkwardly between her thighs.

"Open your legs, baby." She looks up at me with wide eyes. "Open." I see her mouth open. She's going to beg me not to. She's going to tell me that she still has to go to the bathroom. I put my finger to my lips and smile, giddy that I'm going to watch her struggle even more to keep composure.

She nods again, and I can feel her legs begin to move. I lean forward a little and push her legs further open with my foot. She takes a moment of staring at her plate but calms herself, relaxes, and continues to work her wet cunt with her fingers.

"Finger yourself, honey." She looks up and nods, knowing full well this was coming. I watch her mouth open as she drives her fingers into her pussy and begins to pump. I watch her arm move just slightly as she fucks herself under the table. I lick my lips slowly. She's being such a good little toy, I'm quite pleased with her, and I'm even looking forward to rewarding her later.

She looks down, and I can't imagine what is written on her face. "Look up, baby." She does, her eyes large and watery. She wants to cum but she doesn't. There are too many things weighing on her, and she is angry with me, humiliated. I continue to eat.

"Pl..." she stammers. It's adorable.

"What, baby?" I pick up pieces of food with my fork and continue to eat.

" I really have to go. Please." Her eyes are begging and she looks like she is ready to weep.

"You can go to the bathroom when you cum, baby." I put my fork down and my arms on the table. I smile. "You're doing so well, honey. Cum for me and you can go."

She nods, looking determined. She's going to make me proud.

"And no noise."

She nods, focusing her eyes and her mind behind them. I watch her face try and contort. I clasp my hands softly and watch. Every slight movement in her face emanates a seismic moment in her cunt that she is trying to control. Watching her struggle is what keeps me getting wetter and wetter. I squeeze my legs, but just barely. Just enough to see how wet I am as opposed to do anything about it. There is a Sir at home who will address that tonight.

Her mouth opens just slightly as her jaw tightens. I can feel her legs tremble against my foot. I know she is struggling with so many tasks. Keep her legs open, cum, make no noise, and not wet herself in the process. Her bottom lip begins to tremble and I smile at her.

"You're such a good girl. You're making me very proud."

I see her smile.

"You're never more beautiful than when I'm watching you struggle against yourself, baby."

And with that I watch her tighten her eyes and cum. Her mouth opens a little more and I notice the tiniest squeezing and twitching of her lids. I am wondering if she's going to cry, just to express something visibly. She shakes and trembles and I watch as she blocks out the rest of the world, the dozens of people around her, and cums while sitting across from me. It is a long moment where the world dies away and I am simply watching her explode, shoving her fingers inside her pussy.

I wait quietly until she returns to the world and once I see her come around, I pick up my fork again. She pulls her hand, which is covered in cum up onto the table and touches the brown paper, leaving spots of her juices as dots on the edge. I smile at her and she immediately wipes her hand on her napkin, blushing a deep, ruby red.

"Very nice."

She pushes back to stand up. "Thank you."

"Wait. You're almost done, baby."Her eyes get wide again and I watch her panic all over again. "You're so close, honey. I want you to just let out a little bit right here."

She pauses and I see her wrap her mind around it and finally shakes her head. "I don't understand." She does, she just don't want to do it.

"You're going to let out just enough so I see the spot on the back of your skirt when you walk over to the bathroom." I watch her struggle with the idea, fighting even a nod of understanding. She's thinking that if she doesn't believe it, it won't be real. Alas. "It's either that or I don't let you go and you just hold it until I dismiss you. And I'm going to guess that will end worse."

She ponders longer and nods. I watch her focus as I continue to eat. I hope she hasn't waited too long to attempt this. She fidgets, looking around and turning red, and then blankly white. I smile, knowing exactly what's happening as her eyes explode open. She squirms, frustrated and excited and ready to cry. But she was successful and I watch her face fill with pride. She will be humiliated in a moment but her success over avoiding a full-out accident is admirable.

"I did it. It's done."

I smile and gesture to the door with my fork. "You're a very, very good girl, baby. Mommy is quite proud of you."

I watch as she walks off, pride slicking off her saunter. She will be rewarded with a hard fucking and maybe, just maybe, I will let her taste my cunt with the knowledge that she has earned it. And she knows that this is in the cards now. And with every swing of her hips, I cannot help but stare at the wet spot decorating her full ass, which she wears without a hint of fear, knowing it is her badge of honor.

And she wears it well.

How he likes his girl.

I always start thinking I'm pretty. I always start thinking I'm perfectly made up for my Daddy. I take my time to make sure that I look perfect. My hair is always done, with a pretty bow in my hair. I like to wear a lovely, sweet, soft blue bra and matching panties, and a soft cotton dress overlaying it. I like my knee socks, and they are pulled up perfectly, with boots up to the knee over those. I took time with my eyeliner, dragging the soft bristles over the lid and perking up at the end. I drag beautiful soft golds and purples over my lid, and it makes me look like a big girl. I finish with soft pink on my cheeks and stroking my lashes with deep, rich black mascara. I never put on lipstick - my lips are dark enough - but simply some sweet lip balm.

It's how I feel perfect for Daddy. It's how I feel ready and deserving.

When Daddy comes home, when he comes into my bedroom, when he wants me and my mouth, I am ready. He coaxes me over and strokes my slicked back pony tail. I sit on his knee and he kisses my neck softly, making me melt into his arms.

And when he pats my ass, I smile. I kneel in front of him. This is when it begins to devolve. I look up at him, big, hopeful eyes and eager, swollen, pouting lips. He nods and I look down, pulling down his zipper and opening the button on his jeans. He is already swollen.

When I take him int my mouth, I feel his cock swell and twitch between my lips and against my tongue. I fill my mouth with his cock, sucking on the soft flesh as it hardens. I feel blood pulse into his cock. I pullback, running my lips back over the shaft and pushing back down.

As it swells, I feel the tip of his cock creeping towards my the back of my throat and I choke a little. The more I pump, the more I suck, the more I feel him getting longer, harder, more unrelenting on my mouth. My throat begins to twitch and ache.

My eyes water quickly as my body tenses. I gag slightly and my mouth slowly begins to fill with saliva. It begins. Daddy likes his girl messy. Daddy likes his little girl to show how much she wants his cock, and he wants it scrawled in tears and mascara and the most intense affection across my cheeks and lips.

The tears begin to run down my cheeks. I can feel as my mascara gets sticky on my lashes and blurs around my eyes. I know there are black lines dripping down my cheeks to my chin as I force myself harder down on his cock. I blink and squint and this only makes it worse, creating black rings and lines which tell and detail the story of my sucking my Daddy's beautiful cock. 

I suck his cock heartily. And though I struggle, I keep pushing. As Daddy puts his hands on the back of my head, it makes me want to work harder. I gag on his cock, simply to tell him how much I want to please him. I gag, I choke, I whimper, but I never let my mouth leave his cock. It is all I want right now.

Finally, the saliva which has pooled behind my teeth is overwhelming and I let it flow over my lip. It pours down my chin and runs rivers between my tits. It drenches my chest and I run my fingers over the stream, rubbing my own thick spit over my tits. It pools on the floor, and I know that my knees will slip on the wood floor when I try to adjust. There is a stream which cascades from my mouth to my tits, to the floor, and it pours form behind my bottom teeth. I don't acknowledge it as much as I continue to suck Daddy's hard cock eagerly, and force myself to gag on the head.

I lean back just slightly, looking up at him. My eyes are wide and watery. As I lean back he begins to fuck my mouth, I feel the tip of his cock pound the back of my throat over and over, and I struggle not to choke on him. My eyes water and tears flow, carrying black mascara and purple eyeshadow and wishes for him to realize how much I will struggle for his affection.

I hear him moan and I feel lifted. I hear him gasp and I ache to give more, no matter how much I fight to overcome the tightening in my throat. My body tightens and then relaxes and each time tears stream down anew. Saliva coats my chest. I have allowed buckets of spit to run down over my chest, and my make up is smeared down my cheeks and around my eyes. Daddy like his little girl messy.

He pulls back and I see him grip his cock and stroke one and then two more times and I poise below him. I close my eyes and open my mouth, ready and waiting. His pumps his cock once more and I brace before I feel him shoot his sticky, sweet cum all over my face. He sprays white droplets over my lips, over my cheeks, over my eyes (which he knows will hurt me so, so much). I taste his cum just barely and it leaves me hungry for more. I want it in my mouth but he wants to watch it smear over my lips and face and cheeks and hair. What were clean black lines of mascara and liner are now blurred more with white streaks.

Daddy has made his girl his and I couldn't be happier. But I know I am not finished being destroyed. I know not to move, not to even lick my lips and taste more of him, no matter how much I want to.

He waits, holding his cock in his hand and then when I am growing simply tired of waiting, mouth open, eyes shut, I feel it. He begins pointing at my mouth and I let his hot piss cascade in and out and over my bottom lip before he shifts. He shifts his cock up and I squint a little tighter as I feel it cover my cheeks, my lips, my eyes and then into my hair. Daddy likes his girl destroyed.

I hate this part. I whimper but keep my mouth open wide for him. He soaks my hair and I feel it running dripping down my back and shoulders out of my hair before rinsing my face once more. The streaks are gone and remnants of black and purple and gold and perfection are only left in their place.

When he is finished I lean forward to kiss the tip of his cock and I feel him bad my eyes with a soft towel so they don't burn. My lids flutter open and I can't help but smile when I see him.

"Thank you, Daddy." I say, with nothing less than a grin. He laughs.Seeing his pleasure, I am giddy.

Growing up

I'm in those moments between waking and sleep. Everything in the room is beginning to blur and fade into the distance when the door opens, and a waxing stream of light moves in. It is slow, and Daddy slips in, closing the door silently behind him.

I stir, fighting to find a space where I am either awake or asleep, but that choice is quickly made, when he sits on my bed, sliding in next to me, pushing hair behind my ear. He slowly rolls down the top sheet to see his little girl curled up, revealing knee socks and panties and a wet little cunt.

I shiver a little and the back of his fingers stroke my arm. I shift a little at the tickle of his touch and he leans down to kiss my temple. I smile and he sits back. I finally open my eyes, a single lamp dimply lighting the room, and turn to see him sitting over me.

"Hi Daddy."

"Hi, Baby."

I pause and smile up at him. "I was sleeping."

"I know, Baby, but there's something I need to talk to you about." His tone is stern and my smile fades, fear replacing the excitement that he has come to see me. "It's ok, Baby. I just need to talk to you." I have no idea what he's going to say, but I know there is no way out. There is nothing I can do but nod and follow where he will lead. "I know what you do when you're alone in your room."

I freeze. There are so many things that it could be but I know exactly what it is he means. I know I shouldn't have been, but there are moments where my discipline fails me, and no one watching means I am left to my own devices. I lay on my back to face him more fully. My nipples are already tight and in dire needs of his fingers and tongue. I pull my knees up, shifting to just touch his body with mine. I press the side of my ankles into his hip, seeking simply to touch him, to feel his body in any way I can.

His hands are on my sides, running up and down in the slightest of tickles. They run softly and smoothly down my thighs, climbing up until they rest on my knees. "You know what I'm talking about, Baby?"

I nod and he loops his fingers into the waistband of my panties. I lift my hips for him and he drags them down my thighs. They are already wet and I blush, feeling bashful for the first time. While I hope he doesn't notice, I know he will.  I can't get anything passed my Daddy.

He puts my panties aside and as he takes them in his fist, I see an eyebrow cock and blush deep red. "I want you to show me."

I cock my head, furrowing my brow. "What do you mean?"

He strokes the side of my face and sides fingers over my lips. I kiss the pads of his fingers and he slips them in my mouth. I suck tentatively, then earnestly, then heartily. "I want you to show me what you do that you think I don't know about." I look up at him, eyes large and nervous, lips still wrapped around his fingers. "It's ok, Baby. Show your Daddy."

I nod, taking a deep breath. I have never shown him, or anyone, this secret. My bottom lip is swollen and moves into a pout as his fingers leave my mouth and slide down to my knees. He pauses, looking me in the eyes, waiting until I am ready. He is the best Daddy a little girl could ask for.

His hands press my knees open and my cunt is exposed to him. I am wet, my clit is swollen, my pussy blossoms open for him. But even as my feet slide apart, and as I become wider and more vulnerable, his eyes remain on mine. This is not the last moment I will feel so lucky for my Daddy. This is not the last moment that I will want so much to kiss him.

Finally my legs are open and I give him the tiniest of smiles. He looks down, his fingers squeezing my knees, rubbing and stroking the flesh of my inner thighs. I love how his hands feel on my skin. They are powerful and strong. When he grips my wrist and holds it down, pinning me to the bed, I feel safe. Each finger presses into my thighs and knees and I know that my knees will not move. I love how calloused his hands are. The roughness on the most tender parts of me make me shiver and reminds me of the dexterity and skill of the hands on me. When he strokes and touches, the indulgent, rich roughness of his hands make me tingle.

"Show Daddy what you do." He looks me in the eyes and I nod. He nods towards my hand, and as it moves down between my legs, he watches my face. My fingers find my clit and my mouth opens with the tiniest of gasps, and I see his chest expand just slightly. I begin to move my fingers on my clit, and I am again bashful. The pink rises up into my cheeks, and he puts a finger to his lips. I nod, knowing that our biggest rule is to be quiet so Mommy never hears. "It's ok, Baby." I close my eyes, taking a long breath.

I know I have been dripping, but now I can feel his eyes on me and I am flooded. My fingers begin to move over my clit the way they do when I am alone. I move them slowly but firmly, rubbing in circles over and over and over. I move in circles, rocking into my clit. My hips start to push forward, wanting more as I feel myself get more and more relaxed.

I can feel Daddy's eyes, though, and while it makes me more nervous, it makes me want to give him more. I begin to grind a little into my fingers, working my clit back and forth, just barely grazing the nail over the tender skin. His fingers squeeze my legs as my juices drip onto the bed below me. My leg is flush against his side, and as much as I am feeling exposed, showing him my secret, I just want more of his presence.

"You're a good girl for Daddy."

I nod again and with those words I am caught. My fingers move down and two slide without hesitation inside my dripping cunt. I can feel the walls of my pussy pulsing already, and there is electricity shooting up and down my legs.

I whimper, and immediately feel bashful. My eyes flutter open and as my fingers freeze, he looks up, seeing the embarassment written plain on my face. "It's OK, Baby. You're doing good." He smiles and I can't help but smile back. I do want to show him. I want to show him what happens when I think about him coming into my room at night and teaching me to be a good little cocksucker. I want to show him what I do when I think about how he's training me to be his perfect little girl.

And now he wants to watch his girl be exposed for him. To work her cunt just for him. And my Daddy gets what he wants.

I nod and close my eyes again. My hand is slicked with juices as I begin to fuck myself again. My other hand goes to my clit, pinching and teasing and flicking it back and forth. It's so swollen that fucking myself is part enjoyment and part simple pain relief.

I open my mouth and moan again. Daddy squeezes my legs, egging me on. I fuck myself harder. I begin to whimper his name, letting replace all the other noises. I want his cock in my mouth. I grind my clit harder, and I can feel my own pussy start to quiver.

"Daddy?" I whimper, pushing my hips up.

"Yes?"

"Daddy, I can feel it." My hips push harder, and I know I am holding on by a thread.

"You can feel it, Baby?" His voice is rushed. I nod. "I want you to wait... not yet, Baby." I nod, whimpering and pouting just a little as my cunt tightens on my fingers.

And then I feel him slip a finger inside me, sliding sight next to mine, fucking me harder. I cry out, thrusting my hips forward. "Please, Daddy. Please, please, please let me." His finger inside me is all I need to become desperate. He moves in and out with my fingers, and then a little faster. The fiction is driving me insane, and my toes curl tightly.

My other hand runs up my thigh to find his other hand squeeze it, prying it from the white flesh of my leg to hold my hand. As the pulsing in my cunt gets tighter, more demanding, I squeeze his hand. The more that I beg, the more I know he feels it building and growing. I begin to whimper a little more and I try and shut my mouth, try and remain quiet.

"Do you want to let go?" I nod, eye still shut, my fingers becoming harsher on my clit. "Will you be quiet for me?" I nod again, vigorously. I will do my best to keep my mouth tight. "Can Daddy help you stay quiet?" I nod again, thankful I will not fuck this up with his help.

His hand covers my mouth and most of my nose. The first time I gasp, I realize that I cannot breathe. I make the most staccato little nips at air, relaxing away the fear of noise as I struggle more and more for air.

"Let go, Baby. Show Daddy." The small noises I make are muffled by his hand as my cunt begins to explode around our fingers. I tighten so hard it hurts, but wave after wave after wave of pure pleasure floods me. I can feel his eyes on me the whole time, and they fuel me to cum harder, longer. Knowing that my Daddy wants to see, I want to show him how hard I can cum. I love showing him. Every muscles strains and tenses and tightens. My chest collapses in on itself, my lungs desperate for air as I stop breathing to focus on other muscles. My heart pumps so hard I worry that I am losing days on the end of my life in order to have this moment, but it is worth it. My fingers tighten around his his around mine, finger tips still fluttering.

I float back down into the bed as my muscles, one by one, begin to relax. My eyelids peak open before they flutter, and I see him watching me. I blush a deep red and before I can stop myself, I giggle.

"You did good, Baby." He pulls my panties back up, and then the sheet and I am glowing and giddy and exhausted. "Thank you for showing Daddy."

I smile again and nod, curling up against him. "Stay here til I fall asleep?" He nods and I shift enough to lay against him. I have done a good job tonight, and I will fall asleep without hesitation, already giddy for tomorrow night.

This is kind of like a tattoo.

When I think back, it makes me wet. I close my eyes and I'm consumed by it all over again. I try and be sparing with the memories, as I keep fearing that each time it will lose it potency. But I can't help it. I close my eyes and I am laying underneath you, Daddy, and the lights are dark. I look down, arching my neck so I can watch your cock pumping in and out of me.

But when I really lay back and want to think about that night, bathe in the feeling, relive every moment I can, when I am aching to taste you again, Daddy, I am on my back and my arm is around your neck. I am holding onto you Daddy, and I am cradled by your body. The way I am cocooned by you is immense.

My inner thighs are already soaking. I have cum over and over and over already, and each time I think I am spent until you press against me and my clit swells all over again. It makes me giggle. It makes me know that I am your girl. Each time I am reminded that I am yours, that you own my cunt, that Daddy has complete control, and that my body belongs to me only when it is allowed.

I am wet, and my cunt is swollen, aching, but desperate for more. There are a million things going on. The one dim light bulb is humming. The bed is cradling us. There is a dulling buzz of traffic downstairs. The world is collapsing around us. But in this moment there is only my Daddy, his touch, and my heart will not stop pounding.

I am cradled by one of his arms, slipped underneath my back. I know that as I shift and flex and writhe, I am cushioned and cared for and protected and held by this arm. One of my arms wraps around his shoulders, the other hand strokes his soft cheek. He has the sweetest stubble which tickles my cheek when I graze it and electrifies my lips when I kiss it.

His hand is between my legs, fingers moving in over and over and over, slowly, curling and filling me. Every time he slides his rough, immaculately calloused fingers inside me I feel like I am learning how I enjoy being touched. I feel like Daddy is not fucking me, he is opening me.

With each new finger I wince at first, feeling stretched. But his fingers do not stop, and with each and every thrust inside my cunt, I get wetter, enveloping him more and more. I want more and more inside me. As the number creeps to three, to four, I wince harder, tightening my fingers around his neck. He pulls out a little further and I shake my head. I cannot relax my eyes, but I can press my lips to his neck.

"Please, Daddy."

"More, Baby?"

I nod, opening my mouth to kiss neck neck, to whisper, "I want to hurt for you Daddy. I want to give you my hurt."

He pushes his fingers inside me powerfully, but not harshly. There is never a moment of harshness. I push down, aching for more of him inside me. My cunt is not large, but I want all of him inside me. I feel the ache already and I crave it anxiously. I am already excited that all day tomorrow, and maybe even the day after if I am lucky, I will ache and think about him inside me.

Four fingers work in and out of my cunt. He is curling them so that I know he must have made me squirt down his wrists and hands but I can't even think about that. I can only think about how his fingers are nestled inside me cunt, and how I want all of him. I want him to know that it hurts, I want him to know this dull ache, and I want him to know how much it pleases me to give this to him.

I can only crudely beg, and I feel ashamed of my desperate whimpering as I remember back. I whimpered over and over, almost boorishly "Please Daddy, please. I want to hurt for you." I am not proud.

He pulls out just enough to cup his thumb inside and pushes again.

I cry out, tightening my fingers harder, my lips open wide against his neck, muscles tightening and squeezing. He pulls back and I immediately reach down and pull his hand back. I push down, wanting more.

"Please Daddy, I want to hurt for you. You own my cunt. Please." I tentatively open my eyes to look into his. I am nothing short of trembling. As his fist pushes inside me, as I beg him to allow me to hurt for him, to ache for him, I am nothing more than an aching, wanting, willing, captured body trembling against him. I want so much to give him all of my cunt, and I fear that if it was purely enjoyment, if it did not feel like the ache and triumph of climbing a mountain, it would mean less. So I push down and beg for more.

I beg him to own my cunt, and I can feel my pussy get wetter and wetter around him. My body (his body), is welcoming him, struggling for him to come inside.

My legs begin to tighten and my cunt begins to build as he works his want inside of me. He pushes harder and I crave more and more, even as it hurts more and more. But as I struggle to take more, to hurt more from him, all I can hear is my breath, ragged and heavy. My legs open and I can feel blood coursing through me. I can feel my heart pounding. I can feel his skin, warm and soft. I can feel the light thatches of hair on his chest brushing my chest and ribs. I can feel the tender side of his neck under my lips. I can feel my cunt opening to take all he wants to give.

I have had (smaller) fists inside me before, and I have never truly cum while a fist is inside of me. I have reached little peaks and valleys, focused and acute. They are tiny, pleasurable pops which make me smile ear to ear.

And though I thought it absolutely impossible, I cum, and my full body shooting radiating something earth shattering from tip to tip and back again in the most expansive and enlivening of orgasms I have ever felt before. I feel like I am drowning and waking and dreaming. I feel like I have been unlocked. I do not scream this time... or maybe I do... but all I remember is opening my mouth, and letting my jaw tremble. I'm not sure I even wanted to make a noise, or simply allow a place for the incredible energy which is cascading through every nerve to leave, to stop shaking, to find the ground again. I have never truly cum like this before. And my Daddy, his arm under my back, his fist inside me, shows me that I have never truly cum before.

I curl into my Daddy, and he holds me, slowly letting me descend back to the world. "It's ok, Baby," he whispers and I can only nod. Words are too far beyond what I am capable of. "It's ok, Baby." Each time he says it I believe it more and more. I want him to say it until it means that this moment will simply extend on forever, and I can just live here and feel like this. His fist slides out of me and I curl into the space that his curled body has made special for me.

"It's ok, Baby." This moment. Forever.

On top.

He is laying on his back as I straddle his waist. My thighs are tight against his sides, my hands planted on his chest. The skin is beautiful and lush but not delicate. Just firm, flushed, and alive. I can feel the strength of his heartbeat underneath my fingers.

I run my fingers on the underside of his arms, coaxing them up, wrapping my hands around his hands, wrapping his hands above a bar which is directly above his head, leaving him exposed.

"I know you're stronger than me." Which is probably true. He's larger than I am, and if he really wanted to hurt me, he could. "I want you to hold onto this because I know you're stronger than me." My fingers, nails rich red slicking over his fair skin, trail his fingers. "I'm not putting on cuffs or ropes because I want to test that you are as strong as me."

I lean down, teeth finding the lobe of his ear and biting, pulling slightly. "I believe you are. But we'll find out." When we first began, I would be tied up and bound in order not to move. My hands would be secured, and I could move and wiggle and strain and struggle as much as I want, but I could not move. But as I became a better and better girl, they became irrelevant. A good girl needs to bounds. And now I simply wiggle and strain, but never, ever move.

I sit up and press the pads of two fingers into my lips, and then into his lips. I shift back a little and feel his cock stir against my ass. I stroke his bottom lip with the pad of my thumb, softly, the tips of my nails running over his jaw line, which I always ache to kiss. His skin is soft and the tiniest pull of his stubble, the interruptions in the smoothness of his skin, make me want to taste him.

Instead, I pull back and slap him across the face, hard. I watch his eyes close and squeeze and open along with his mouth. His jaw tenses and I see his arms and hands do the same. The girl who has knelt at his feet, the dedicated babydoll, has just hit him. I watch as his muscles struggle against the idea. I watch him hold onto the bar and it makes me smile. I slap him again, harder, watching anger rise in him.

I stroke his cheek so softly. The back of my fingers move over the reddened apple of his cheek. His hands relax again as I shift a little further down, grinding down into his cock just slightly. I roll my hips and feel him respond.

I pull my arm back and punch him in the chest one, twice, three times in a row, watching him strain and buckle a little as my fist pound just over his heart. My hand finally comes down in one single slap. He finally yells, and I giggle, looking down and seeing my red hand print, looking like a bird with spread wings. He struggles to regain his breath and I lean down and kiss his chest.

I pause before I continue to punch, striking him over and over in the chest before finishing with a slap across the face. I have given him too long between slaps to calm down. I want to see him strain against himself, to struggle not to reach up and slap me back. I grab his face and squeeze, his mouth opening, and I spit directly inside.

"Swallow."

He does, his eyes tight on mine.

I spit again. "Swallow."

He does.

I spit again. "Hold it in your mouth."

He does. I smile and let go, his jaw staying lowered. His strength intimidates me, but this is just as much of a challenge as one of his beatings. But no matter how little I understand it, I am getting soaked. I love, I live to serve and be used. Serving him, being his perfect toy is tantamount to ecstasy and bliss for me. That being said, I catch myself off guard at how soaked, how drenched and dripping wet I get when I feel in control. I grind down, and even though he is still wearing boxers, my cunt in soaking through that fabric as well. He feel him push up against me, trying to distract me.

I slap my hand down on the other side of his chest, giving him a mirrored bird on the other side. As he writhes I lean down and take a nipple between my lips, letting my tongue lick teasingly before I bite. I am already imagining the marks I will leave. I bite down hard on his nipple, pulling until it wiggle from my teeth. As soon as it is gone I am down again, my teeth finding skin on his pale chest and clamping down, squeezing as he cries out, his arms still rigid and tight on the bar above his head. I bite down again and again, leaving beautiful red ovals cascading down his side and to his stomach, each time sliding down his legs further and further and further.

His boxers are soaked from my cunt. I pull them down and wrap my lips around his cock, tasting his cock and myself at the same time. Teeth scrape over the shaft as I run down and I feel him tense. He is curious. He is afraid. He is trusting, but there is a moment of question about how far I will go. I pull my teeth back slowly, pulling off of his cock, watching him sweat, below rolling my tongue around the tip, squeezing it slowly with my hand.

I sit up, stroking his cock slowly, softly. I shift my hips and slide up, moving up to straddle just over his cock. My hands moves between my legs, teasing my clit just enough to begin to drip over his cock, drizzling my cum over his head and down the shaft.

I shift off of him, turning to straddle his face, just above him, knees on either side of his face. I begin to stroke my cunt again, dripping down over his lips, into his mouth. He leans up slightly and I tighten my thighs, holding his head in place. I can feel him smile, and it makes me giggle.

After another long moment, when he relaxes his neck, I release his head and lower my cunt over his mouth. My hands sit on his chest, placing my palms back on the red spots I have already left. I tense as I finally lower and feel his tongue meet my clit. My hips slowly rock against his mouth. His lips suck on my clit, teasing my swollen pussy with his tongue. I fight to not moan, but my hips are not under my control. I grind down on his mouth.

His arms tense and tighten around my thighs as my hips start to move faster against his mouth. I press harder on his chest, letting my nails dig into his skin. My desire to cum is clouding my mind and I struggle to maintain control. I take his hands and pull them from the bar he held and place them on my thighs. He takes my cue and eagerly lifts his head, devouring my cunt as he squeezes my thighs. My hips begin to pump against his roughly, fucking his tongue over and over.

"Make me cum." I hear the grumble in his throat as much as I feel it. His fingers grip. "Make me fucking cum." I tense against him, fighting to grind harder into his mouth as my fist comes down on his chest again.

He tenses but it only makes him lick me harder. I punch him again, feeling electricity running through me every time I feel his tongue tense and then work to please me. He is rough with my cunt and I am demanding more.

I push him down before climbing off of his face. He sits up and I push him back down. I am not relinquishing this moment. I slap him across the face and put a hand to his throat, squeezing as I lower myself on his cock and begin to ride him. I tighten my fingers and my cunt until I feel him strain. His hands move to my hips and he starts to buck hard, his cock rocking inside of me.

I squeeze again. "Make me cum and you cant breathe." He nods, his eyes tight and vicious. His hips move hard and slow, forcefully pumping into my cunt over and over and over. I ache against him, my cunt pulsing as my fingers squeeze tighter. I can feel the muscles in his throat tighten, and I see his mouth and open ache for air in a tell-tale sign that I have felt but not seen.

"Fuck me." His cock fills me and I fight not to cum so easily. He does not get this easily. I rock against him, swollen and wanting to explode. I roll my hips, tensing my pussy, feeling it begin to tremble. I want to cum.

He fights hard to keep pumping in such a controlled thrust. He has proven himself as far as I am concerned, but I will not release until I cum. His hands squeeze on my hips, and I love how they struggle. He is fighting to make me cum, holding his own breath whether I squeeze his throat or not.

When I cum I release and he gasps hard. I scream, exploding over his cock. My other hand grips into his side and will leave red half circles from my nails. My cunt tightens hard on his cock, pulsing and trembling. I pump hard, once, twice. My bottom lip trembles as I lower myself down on his chest, pulling my arms in under my body. My lips find his skin.

"I pass?"

I nod, eyes sliding shut.

"You scared for next time?"

I nod, smiling and again kissing his chest.

"You should be."

Public/Private New York

He pushes my face into the glass of the window. The warmth of the sun roses my cheek until the pressure of his hand turns it white again. There is a small footstool, and he is so tall, that I must balance on top of it, still stretched on my toes.

I wobble a little as he pulls up my skirt and takes off my top, nipples crushed against the glass now. He is being more rash than usual. I would smile at his rush if my face wasn't crushed into the window. He wants to be inside me and this makes me happy. But in his rush, his brutality is laid bare.

I whimper a little as his arm flexes and pushes me harder into the glass. My fingers try and grip onto the metal at the base of the window, but all I succeed in doing it flaking the red which coats my nails. My toes dig into the footstool as I arch my feet painfully high, and in my precarious placement, I continue to dig my fingers into the metal to try and find some kind of hold. He pushes me harder into the window, which I imagine is what is really keeping my upright.

Finally I feel him release and I shakily plop down onto the foot stool, bracing myself against the window. His arms move around me as they slide the glass up, and there is nothing between me and the cold air of the encroaching winter. I am caught off guard, my nipples hardening to painful points, my chest losing air frighteningly fast, tipping forward and almost falling out onto the fire escape.

But with the window open I brace myself against the frame. I arch out, my ass sticking back into his hardening cock as I feel him unzip his pants behind me. I want him inside me, swollen and thick. I spread my legs, waiting. My breath is ragged from the cold, and I realize after a long moment that I am holding it in until he fucks me.

The pause is monumental. I am soaked. He is hard.

"Do you see him, baby?"

I look up. Outside I see my fire escape. I see the building that is across the small, kissing back yards of my building and the building on the street below. I try and make a quick scan but my mind is on the empty, dripping crevice between my legs.

"Look, baby." His voice is quiet and calm in a way which only frustrates me more.

I finally see it. I am bent slightly at the waist, tits pale and exposed to the cold, tipped out my own kitchen window, hovering above the fire escape, trying to keep quiet. And not 30 feet away, close enough to speak. Close enough to see. Is a man smoking a cigarette. He is calm, but watching intently. His cigarette has paused and I can imagine how it is slowly burning, unnoticed, towards his thick fingers.

"Do you see what I see?"

I nod. I try not to make eye contact while still staring at him and vice versa. I can't stop looking, waiting for him to respond. He simply continues to watch. After a long stand off between the two of us, he finally sucks on his cigarette, still moving in practically slow motion.

"I see him."

"Good girl." His hands grip around my waist and I feel his cock ram into me, the head of his cock claiming every inch of my pussy in a single swoop.

My face contorts and the man with the cigarette knows. I cry out, dropping my head and letting my hair fall into my face. I moan as my pussy tightens around him, begging him to stay inside me as long as he can. As my breath slows and becomes fuller, he pulls out and fucks me again, hard enough to slam my hips into the wall of the kitchen. I moan again, louder, whimpering as the moan decrescendos.

I grip the frame of the window as I try and hold back. He always tells me I'm too loud, covering my mouth or filling it with panties or his cock. This is the moment where he needs to do nothing and I will struggle to be silent. I bite my bottom lip, I press my lips together, I cover my own my with my hand, trying to react less, trying to make less of a spectacle for the man who is now lighting another cigarette. I wonder if he was a chain smoker before this incident.

He continues to fuck me, taking no notice of the man. His fingers slide over my hip to find and rub my clit in small circles, teasing me, making me pulse around his cock as I am filled over and over and over.

I finally gain the courage to look up, pushing the hair out of my face. I lurch forward with each thrust, hitting the kitchen wall over and over and over, tits bouncing. I look him in the face, in the eyes, and stare at him as I am fucked harder and harder.

My bottom lip begins to tremble but I hold my gaze. I am being destroyed, my cunt is owned and aching from his cock. I moan, letting them escape from the back of my throat.

I am taking it like a good girl should. I am being fucked like the best little cunt the world could imagine. I am being fucked by a man who owns me. And I am proud.

And as I feel that swell inside of me rise higher and higher, I stare at the man with the cigarette and let a snarl bloom on my face and a curl form in my lips. I am being fucked. I am being used and claimed and dirtied. And as I stare at him, his arm freezes and the cigarette fails to reach his lips. My hips push back for more of his cock, begging him silently to give me more. I want this man with the cigarette to dream of this moment, of seeing a wanton, willing, aching slut be taken, consumed, overwhelmed, controlled. I stare at the man with the cigarette and though I say nothing, he knows.

He holds my hair and pulls my head back, arching my body in a single, severe curve from my ass to the top of my head. "Do you see what I see now, baby?"

"Yes. Yes, I do."

It's November 6!

This is going to be a boring one, but as many of you know - I'm a political little librarian, and so you can't imagine that I wouldn't say something. I know I'm not supposed to put stuff like this up here, but it's important to me, and I'm hoping that elections are important to you, too. I'm heading off to vote after I finish this tasty omelet of mine.There are a million reasons to stay home an abstain and complain about everyone, which is fine, but whether you feel it's your civic duty, or you see real change, or the sticker is going to get you laid and cheap beer tonight - vote.

People throw around all these ideas about the founders and God, and their intention for large or small government, and a lot of it is absolutely convenient speculation based on the outcome you would like (sorry Scalia, I know your game). But one thing the Founders actually did was make sure that the people (well, at that time people = land-owning white men, but just go with me) could have a bloodless revolution every four years. It was their gift to every generation to come. Today is the day that we acknowledge and honor that gift.

So if that's not enough for you (and you were curious about my political beliefs), here's why I'm voting today:

1. The Economy: Romney's loves his tagline "the government doesn't create jobs." That is a dandy platform if you're running for CEO, but it's a cop out when you're running for President. I believe in a mix of capital injections, public works projects, and quantitative easing. I believe that an increase in social services to low-income folks which allows them access to job training and education is necessary to make sure that inequity begins to close, not expand. I believe trickle-down is pure fiction, and I believe if you look at the growing inequality and the implementation of trickle-down theory, there is a very clear correlation. I don't believe that we should raise the ceiling on profit potential with more opportunities for businesses, I believe we need to raise the floor with opportunities for people, including the un and underemployed, low-skilled jobs which have sunset clauses built in, and middle and low income communities. Which brings me to...

2. Education: I have always believed (much like Aaron Sorkin and Sam Seaborn) that education is the silver bullet. Investment in education at all levels of income is the only way to make sure we remain a strong economy. The shift to public education financing coming primarily for property taxes had dire structural impacts. Charter schools which use money from public funds, reduction in PELL grants, and additional pushes towards privatization mean increasing inequality, and a divestment from future competitiveness internationally. Education - genuine educational opportunities - means not only a practical guarantee that we will remain on par with education levels in other countries (we spend way less per child than most places), but it also means reductions in crime, structural inequality, and science and technology advancements (including medical care, which should really resonate with an aging Baby Boomer population who will face increasing risks for cancer). Among other things.

3. I don't have health insurance.

4. Reproductive Rights: This one should be pretty obvious. And this one should be enough to get you all to vote. Reproductive rights are not a women's issue. The right of every couple/family/individual to have access to basic family planning and medical care is not just a women's issue. The inability to access safe care, correct medical information, and to do it all without shame or stigma is just a serious issue.

5. The Supreme Court: Two nominations are likely coming in the next four years. And Scalia's relatively young and no one should ever hire Clearance Thomas, so they're both staying put. Which means that the next two put on the bench could mean a turning point. The next twenty years are going to be about privacy- the delineation between the corporate and the citizen, the line between the personal and the public. If you're reading this blog, that should resonate with you. They're not deciding on guns or voting rights anymore, they're deciding on limitations on search and seizure, on private domain. If you're reading this blog, I'm guessing you're going to err on the side of privacy as well.

6. Rape: Why the hell is this an issue? I rub my eyes and make a Scooby Doo "huh?" noise every time this comes up. And it may sound insane every time it gets discussed, as the concepts of "forced rape" or "legitimate rape" will never appear in federal legislation (except in the places they already do...) - but it will get tossed around a lot, and it will promote the idea that there are women who are just asking for it. And this stabs me through the heart. Look, I talk a lot about force, and how hot it can be. But I absolutely, 100%, cross my heart know that rape is not a subject to be glib about, and that rape, not consensual play rape (maybe that's the illegitimate form? I don't know), is a serious fucking thing which can cause serious physical and emotional trauma to you, your family, your friends, your partners, your future partners, your children, and your life. I refuse to have politicians (I'm looking at you Paul Ryan) who fundamentally misunderstand what violence looks like, and who are willing to delineate victimization between the deserving and the undeserving.

So that's the short list. There's also diplomacy with Iran, getting out of Afghanistan, an incredible love of Hillary Clinton, the fact that Obama was a community organizer (go team!), the eye-rolling at Romney's "tough on China" crap, the bill on credit card clarity, the first education bill, the push to integrate NGO work with law enforcement, Medicare, and how much more I like the Obamas than the Romneys. But whatever your reason, just go vote. I know you probably skip out on jury duty, so after paying taxes this is really all you're asked to do.

For everyone in the New York area! At my last check, 60 polling places had either closed or combined with other locations, so double check where you're going. Find out where to vote here.

Debussy's Arabesque No. 1. Andantino Con Moto.

The sound of a metronome is deafening. Every tick makes my heart race. It feels not like a beat but a cage. I often wish my heart would simply go in time, making it easier to find that rhythm with my fingers, but it never does. It simply speeds up, making every joint and muscle tense for the moment where I will make a mistake.
Because I will make a mistake.
My fingers tremble and trill over the keys, trying to keep my mind one step ahead of the melody and two ahead of my fingers. This is always my downfall. And always in my ear is the persistent, unending click of the metronome, waiting to prove me wrong.
I am quickly moving through the piece, fingers aching, ready to be at the end, ready to be released. As the notes trail on and one movement slides into the next, as majors descend into minors and my brow furrows trying to keep everything in pace, I realize I have been holding my breath through each section.
And then I hear it. It deafens me, and despite the seven notes that come after it, I hear only the whining misstep of a finger on a sharp that should have been flat.
I can almost feel his jaw tighten as I make this mistake, so close to the end. I can feel my own tighten. My forearms, hands, and fingers already show the red stripes and bloodied wear of my fuck ups that day.
"You were so close."
I nod.
"I thought you were going to do it this time."
My mouth opens and trembles. "I did, too, Sir."
He places a strong hand on my shoulder and squeezes softly. "Do you think I'm mean?"
I shake my head as more tears begin to well up. My cheeks are already streamed with the lines of halting crying.
"How many measures from the end were you?"
"I raise up an unsteady finger to count." Every measure not there is another reminder that I was almost done. I had almost completed my task. I was so close to standing and smiling and being told I was good and deserved my reward.
"Fourteen, Sir." This is far better than the last run through. But that was only marginally better than the run through before that. And it was the run through before that where the skin on the backs of my hands began to crack.
His hand runs down my cheek, the back of his soft knuckles grazing my jawline. I lean into it, eyelids drifting down. When I feel his hand leave my cheek, I let my eyes remain shut. I sit up straight and rigid, taking a deep breath and finding solace in stoicism. The pain is never as hard as the failure of a task before him. The white heat of his cane I can take. The loss of affection from his failure I cannot.
His cane makes a gentle sweep and comes down on the backs of my fingers as the metronome clicks away. My knuckles already crack with dried blood and shake with focus. The next swat comes down just slightly higher up and my muscles tense. there is nothing but skin and nerves here, and it will only feel like a gift when he finally moves up beyond my wrists. I focus on that. I hear only the tick tick tick, broken by the sweep of the cane through the air.
I focus on the numbers I must announce, eyes remaining closed. Even sitting I feel a loss of balance, my body beginning to dwindle in front of him, and I sway slightly.
Another swat comes down and then another until fourteen have been counted out and announced. My fingers shake, and the more they bleed, the more they will slick on the keys.
"Again."
I place my fingers on the keys before coming down, beginning again. I am shaking this time, my mind slipping off into the pain of welts forming and blood pooling in the lines of my knuckles. My mind is drifting off and away from the tick tick tick of the metronome.
When you topple off of the rhythm of the metronome, it is immediately apparent and today is no different. My fingers, shaking, begin to move faster than they should and I am almost immediately a full beat ahead of where I should be.
He places a hand on the back of my neck. "Stop. You know it's wrong."
I look up at him, eyes glassy with distance and tears. He looks down at me and then stops the metronome. The constant tick which has held me so steady since the beginning is now gone and I am startled by its absence. My eyes jolt to stare at his hand holding it in place. I breathe one ragged breath before I can feel my shoulders relax. I look up at him again, my mouth opening slightly but I have no words. Simply the wish to speak.
"Stand." I do staring at him. I am afraid. I know I was supposed to do it perfectly and I have tried so hard. I wish my face was still blank. I wish I was still in that submissive space where everything is a task to be done and discipline is simply to be endured.
But now that has cracked open and the ache of displeasure is written plain.
He strokes my hair, winding his fingers through the curls that escape from being pulled back. "You are trying so hard."
I nod, the corners of my mouth tightening and pulling back. He steps behind me and I turn back to stare at the music in front of me. He unzips my dress, slowly. He has been specific about clothing, from the dress he likes to the bra, garters and stockings underneath. He pulls the dress from over my head, and I rolls my body and lift my arms without a word. He places the dress over the back of the hair and I, without thinking, step my feet a little more apart. My cunt, which is perpetually wet and ready and exposed for him, touches the air ever so slightly and the slightest chill wakes my limbs and digits.
"Bend over."
I nod, resting my hands on the top of the piano.
"Fingers on the keys."
My fingers perch on the keys without pushing down, tightening my stomach to hold my place. I begin to breathe slower, but more forcefully.
"You are a good girl." I smile, dropping my head slightly.
I hear it before I feel it. The cane comes down on my ass in a searing tick tick tick of the rhythm. I feel it vibrate into my bones, creating a beat with my entire body. I fight every muscle to squirm as his strokes become harder and harder. He wants me to ingrain this beat into my muscles. Into my cells.
Without saying a word I begin to play, moving steadily and slowly, but never languishing. His cane continues, coming down smoothly, guiding my fingers in measure after measure.
He conducts, I follow.

Perfect triangle

I want to sit on his cock while I watch you fuck yourself.

I want to pulse my cunt around his stiff cock, breathing hard, feeling him pulse inside me, feeling his balls grow thick with cum as my cum drips down on them. While you fuck yourself.

I want to watch you dip your fingers into your swollen cunt, your other hand on your clit, rubbing in small circles while your face begins to strain and I begin to see your juices drip down, out of you, onto the floor.

I will tell you "harder" and you will fuck yourself harder.

I want his hands to hold my hips, just pulling me down hard on his cock and squeezing periodically, not fucking but simply holding there, feeling my cunt pull and wrap and curl around his swollen, beautiful cock as you sit on the floor, back arched up on pillows, fucking yourself.

I want to sit on his cock while you begin to whimper, dropping your head and rolling it back as you push your hands harder, moving them deeper inside your cunt, pushing your fingers inside your pussy.

I want to grind down on his cock, my cum pooling underneath me, drenching his lap and cock and balls as his hands move up to my tits, pulling on my nipples and pinching so tightly I wince, keeping my eyes just open enough to watch you debase yourself.

You will beg to cum and I will tell you to shut the fuck up and add another finger.

I want to watch you squirm as you push harder and wince, knowing your cunt is stretching over your own fingers, eager to heed my commands enough to where you are pained - I can see it on your face.

I want to watch you fuck yourself as he leans up and bites the back of my shoulder hard, hard enough to leave a welt which will turn into a purple bruise that I will stroke and push for days just for the electric shock of pain which will hit my clit and make me wet. I will touch it in the street, on the subway, in church, in front of people who have no idea that I received such a delight while I was sitting on his erect, hard cock, watching you whimper.

I will point to a large toy and tell you I want you to use it, seeing you get eager, seeing you get excited that a hard cock will be inside of you, too, and when you go to slide it in your pretty little dripping, open cunt i will tell you no. I will tell you I want you to put it in your ass and just sit - sit with it and rock your hips, knowing it is all the way to the hilt inside your ass.

I want him to lean forward once his teeth are removed and whisper in my ear what he would like to see. I will nod and you will be curious, but distracted, struggling not to focus only on the fingers bring shoved into your cunt, the large dildo which fills your ass, both moving under your hand but my control.

I want to stand, watching your eyes get big as you watch his slicked cock leave my pussy, cum dripping down over it, letting it stand straight and swollen and ready to explode in a wet, warm hole. You will wish it was yours.

I want to watch you fuck yourself hard as you get curious, watching me walk forward, wondering what is next. I will stand over you, legs spread, and tell you to look up, and to open your mouth. I want to watch you do as you are told, still whimpering, still wanting, still so curious what is coming next and still too nervous and too scared to ask.

I want to watch you tremble as a stream of my hot piss stream down into your waiting mouth, as you lap it up, as you whimper, as you hate it, as you take it, knowing it is the only way you will be allowed to cum, allowed to do anything more than stand, dress, and leave. I will watch you swallow, watch it run over the sides of your mouth, watch you struggle, and watch you take it.

I want to watch him stroke his cock, absent-minded as he watches and enjoys and lavishes his attention on the pretty cunt he will fuck, and on the girl he will cum on.

I want to kneel down, pulling your fingers from your cunt and slide my own in their place, and I will ask you what you are. You will tell me many things - a dirty slut, a cum slut, a warm hole, a pathetic little twat waiting for cum, but only when you get the answer right - that you are ours, will I begin to fuck you with my fingers, three then four in your tight cunt.

And while I am on my knees, he will come up behind me, and slide his still-slicked cock inside my cunt.

And he will begin to fuck - to brace himself hard with his hands on my hips, and pound me with his hips until it hurts, knowing that it hurts, knowing that I am struggling in moments with how hard he is ramming his hips, his beautiful cock inside my wet pussy, which is simply begging for his cum.

I want to push my fingers, four and then five, and then my whole fist, inside your cunt as you wiggle and squirm on the dildo still in your ass, knowing you are almost filled, knowing that you are being used.

I want to push you down on your back and use my other hand to thrust the dildo, fucking your ass as you buck against my hand, push against my fist, which is curled up inside your cunt, using you until you break, demanding perfection, excellent, and complete devotion with your cunt.

I want to push back against him as he fucks harder, knowing that we must use her mouth as well, knowing that as much as I wish he would fill me with his cum, it is more important now to make sure she is marked, dirtied.

I want to fuck you harder as he pulls from my cunt and moves to sit on your chest, locking your arms in place as he slides his cock deep into your throat, making you clean it of my cum, making you lick off my juices.

I tell you that you may cum after he down and you begin to suck his cock harder, knowing that he is already painfully close, already ready to explode in your throat, and you will swallow every drop.

You will swallow every drop because I wanted that cum, and if you waste it I will make sure you never, ever waste another drop again. I will give you regrets.

I want to watch as his shoulders flex and his lower back arches.

I want to feel you pulse around my fist hard, pushing, whimpering, struggling to breathe and be so good.

I want to hear him explode only seconds before you do, knowing that he is unloading his hot cum into your throat, knowing because you are struggling and shaking and cumming so hard it hurts to remain inside your cunt.

And more than anything, I want him to stand, and I want to see a single drop wasted.

And then I will smile.

"It's a green light Mr. Maxwell. That means you can go."

This morning was soundtracked by the 1969 film The Babysitter. It's an absurd movie which takes way too long to get anywhere interesting, but it had one of my favorite things in the world... the sweet good girl seducing the older man, which is the one thing that saves the movie.

I love to submit, I ache to bottom, to take someone's hand hard on my ass. I get antsy when the marks that are left begin to made and I no longer feel the sting on my thigh when I touch them. I beg to wear the red welts of a belt strapping. I squirm if it's been too long since I have been turned over and spanked and then fucked until I hurt. I want to submit, I want to be taken, I want to feel like I have no choice but to suck his cock, to clean it of my cum and feel it in my throat.

But as I am always quick to say - that every Daddy who adores his little girl... every Sir who owns his prized toy... is wrapped around that babygirl's finger.

There is something that just makes me light up when I know I'm turning on a top. When I know that I am getting him hard, sliding my skirt up just slightly and making sure to touch my thighs. I love to open my legs, brushing his so he knows that if he wants to slide a hand between, it is his choice. But I love to know when he's struggling a little not to.

I bite my bottom lip, letting it pop out slicked and full and ready to be covered in cum. I want him to think about what his cock will look like sliding over my bottom lip. I want him to picture my lip lowering to take the head into my mouth, staring up. I want him to lose track of sentences mid-way through because he can feel the pulse in his cock as I open my mouth to eat or drink or just to show him I want more, and I want it then.

I like to bend over for him. To pick things up off the floor, to show him am ass ripe for the beating. I arch my back and want him to long to grope and to touch, where ever we are. I want him to shift in his seat as he thinks about the spanking, the paddling, the caning, and the fucking which will ensue. I want him to get lost in his thoughts about how it will feel to squeeze the soft flesh of my ass before he takes it, claims it, marks it.

I love to tease. I love to sit on his lap and grind through my panties onto his stiffening cock. I love to feel it get hard against me, love as his eyes remain fixed on mine. I get wet knowing that I am turning him on. I get soaked knowing that I will give up all control; that I will give him everything, every hole, and still - knowing that may only be moments away. Nothing gets me wetter than knowing that no matter what is to come, and no matter how much he will push me, how much he will own and control and destroy and rebuild, that in this moment I have made him hard and I have made him want. This is where I am powerful.

An ode to functional furniture

The thing about bar stools that's always nice is that they're often a perfect height. Not just the seat, but also the bars on the bottom. Granted, I'm not too tall, but the way my knees bend and my heels can hook into the bar is perfect to open and close my legs.

It's ideal, though, to be able to order a drink at the same time that a man (or a boy, lets not discirminate) can get on his knees and eat my cunt right there. I can arch my back, lean forward into him, put my hand on the back of his head, unemcumbered by soft, squishing cushions or had wooden arms. I have a full range of motion to keep my legs wide, pull my skirt back, and slide to the edge of the wooden stool.

And he has all the access he needs. His mouth can stay on my clit for as long as I want, and while he may have to turn his head a bit to suck on my swollen cunt, it is only going to offer a fuller range of options ofr how he will make me cum. Because he will make me cum.

When I want his fingers all I have to do is arch forward a bit more. I shift my hips and slide, and he can immediately push his fingers deep into my cunt, curling forward as my shoulders drop back.

I can pull his head forward as hard as I want, legs wide as I begin to grind on his face, as his knees begin to ache and as my skirt, no longer held back by my hands, delicately touches his forehead. I can grind my wet cunt into his face over and over as he sucks and licks me. I can whimper and close my eyes, as this stool is not moving. I can pull my legs forward a bit, not worrying that they will move, as my heels remain locked into the pole, so well placed on the stool for me.

And when I cum, when my cum runs out over his tongue and down onto the chair, over his lips and into his mouth and over his chin and down onto the slicked wood of the stool, clean up will be so easy. I will make him lick it up, every drop, before shifting my hips back, and finishing my drink.

Flight

"Walk slowly."
My hands grip a little tighter on the side. I consciously try and place each foot purposely on every step. Once the heel of one foot is securely on a step, then and only then can the step begin and I raise my heel on the previous step.
"Good girl."
He is behind me. I expect him to pull my skirt up. I was instructed to not wear panties (nor a bra) and so I know that if he walks far enough behind me, he will see the curve of my ass as I walk in front of him. If he looks hard enough, he will see the wetness that is spreading down my thighs.
Every step is achingly slow and methodical. I feel him come up behind me and know he is not interested in looking at my ass. His hand slides over my hip and stops at my stomach, holding me mid-step.
My breath catches and my cunt tenses. I can feel it begin to ache. His other hand moves under my skirt and my breath simply stops. It holds in my lungs, waiting. All energy, all thought, all blood goes immediately to my aching pussy.
I ache and I listen. Standing in the stairway of my apartment building there are 15 doors outside of mine and any could open and see. They could all see that I am him slut. That I belong. That I am weak and owned and a dirty little wanton cunt. I am dripping and at any moment, a door could open and people I must face, must live above and below and beside would know. I hold my breath to hear better, but all I can hear is his breath in my ear.
His fingers move against my swollen clit. I want to moan but I hold on. My mind is broken, trying to focus on the noises of the rest of the building but it keeps slipping towards my cunt. It is a tilting slab of slicked ice, and I am gripping desperately and failing miserably.
His fingers press and slide up and down my slicked, soaked clit. My hips move back and forth as I try and get more of his hands, more pressure. I step my legs wider, my hand covering his and pushing myself harder.
"You slut." I nod. God, I want him desparately. I would let him do anything to me, here or anywhere. "You're so wet." I nod again. "Is it because you're my little whore?" I nod vigorously.
I tremble as his fingers leave my clit and tap me on the ass to keep walking.
My feet begin to move fast but I quickly catch myself. Every step becomes slow and thoughtful again. I focus on the steps. I don't want to focus on my dripping pussy. I don't want to focus on him behind me, or the stiff cock that I want inside me. I just want to think about each step.
I turn, ascending another staircase. I take one step, then two, then three, then he stops me. My breath stops with my feet. My heart, on the other hand, pounds. My breath is quick, chest rising and falling in short staccato.
I feel his hands move under my shirt, finding my tight nipples. He begins to twist, to pull.
"Breathe, baby." I nod, my chest rapidly rising and collapsing. My heart is all I hear, thought I try and listen for doors. Recently realizing that I'm still afraid of the dark, I struggle to hear every sound and fight to ignore them at the same time. I can hear as someone turns on a television, begins cooking, openings and closing cabinets recklessly. My bottom lip trembles and I am consumed with fear that someone will see that I am a slut, violated by hands and fingers of this man.
That someone will see me for who I am.
I will give him everything. I will give him all my holes. I will give him boundaries and wetness and orgasms and spit and my throat and tears and pain and flesh and pain and whimpering and begging and absolute devotion.
My heart pounds as I hear more movement, as the genuine fear that someone will open a door and I will not be able to pull away are all very real. I desperately want to hide. I don't want anyone to see this vulnerable, shaking, needy little cunt. I cannot control myself with him behind me, around me, inside me.
And in this hallway, on this staircase, as I am fucked, as his fingers slide into my cunt and I grind down into them. I push downward and lower my head, giving up and hearing all the noises. I don't care. I want them to see. I want them to see how I will do anything for him. I grind down onto his fingers, my cunt dripping. I haven't been this wet in longer than I can remember but this moment has brought back everything. It has made my cunt swell. It has made my pussy ache to be filled by his fingers and cock. I fuck his fingers, holding with one hand onto the railing, a flight away from my apartment, knowing that I could not wait. I couldn't stop him and beg him to fuck me behind closed doors. I needed it now - needed to feel as he slides in and out, as cum drips down my legs. I drop my head, not noticing but also not caring if someone sees. I am a dirty slut. I am a begging whore. My cum drips down his fingers, down into his hand. This cum is his. This cunt is his. These painfully tight, cruelly pulled nipples are his. This open, gasping mouth is his. This tight asshole is his.
And in this moment, all my dignity, all my shame, all of it. His.

Seriously, though...

Seriously, though... tell me more about these same-sex spankings. I'm outraged, Texas. Tell me more.

She will wait.

She stands in front of me, wanting approval so badly. I unlock the leather cuffs which hold her hands to her thighs. She has been such a good girl, sitting in her chair and waiting. She has been rocking against the chair, her thighs pressed together. I have caught her, but I do not command her to stop. I find it endearing how she arches against the fabric of her panties, trying to get some relief.

But now she is standing and her hands are free. But she is a good girl, and they have ceased to move towards her cunt.

"Pull down your underwear."

She nods, reading up and pulling them down and off, looking up with hopeful eyes.

"No. I didn't say take them off, I said pull them down. To your knees."

I sit in a chair, legs crossed, the side of the tip a middle finger between my lips most of the time, a glass of wine in the other hand, resting on the arm of the chair. When I open my mouth, my tongue rests against that part of my finger.

I watch her put them back on awkwardly, watching at they momentarily catch in her heel. She is trying so hard, and it is endearing. But endearing is not enough.

They are quickly around her ankles, calves, knees. And then she waits.

"Come."

She walks forward awkwardly, trying to keep the panties in place, her feet never more than a foot from each other. She stands before me. I place the glass to the side with a soft tick.

One hand holds her hip as the other hand finds her cunt. Wet. She opens her mouth as my index and middle finger begin to rub her slicked clit, swollen and bulging and begging for attention. I stare up at her, watching her face change and stretch and display every sense of ache. I pinch her clit softly and then hard, slowly and then quick. Every movement I make is reflected in the contorts of her mouth and then tensing of her jaw.

"Do you know the rule?"

She nods. This is not the first time I have done this today. She knows that I will rub her clit, I will finger her sweet cunt, I will slide my fingers into her ass, I will tease her nipples, I will let her pump against my hand, I will make her fuck herself until she is ready to cum and then I will stop. She knows she will wait one hour. She will wait from a chair in the corner.

I stand, my fingers remaining on her clit. I move closer, my other hand lifting her chin, my lips so close to hers that I can see her trying to open her mouth to take in my tongue, my breath, anything. I let mine graze hers and hear the tiniest of squeaks.

"You're being such a good girl." her breath catches. "Do you know how proud I am of you?" Her lips pique slightly into what is almost a smile.

My fingers slide down and three delve into her cunt. I hear her groan and feel her push forward. My hand is soaked as she demands more with her hips. I begin to pump inside of her. She opens her legs more, pushing against me.

"You haven't come in hours... and you are so, so close...." She nods slightly, a noise just barely above a whimper breaking through her lips.

I slowly walk behind her, pressing my body against hers. I pump harder, my hips pushing against her ass, pushing her into my fingers, helping her fuck harder, demanding she fuck harder. I curl my fingers inside of her, stroking everything inside of her.

Her legs open slightly more, her voice getting more brazen in its whimpering.

I pull my fingers from her sopping cunt and I feel her almost fall as she continues to fuck hopefully. A finger slides slowly into her ass and she freezes, her mouth opening to moan.

"Put your fingers inside your cunt, baby."

She nods, her own hand diving into her pussy. She fucks herself with abandon as I take her ass. Two fingers find her mouth and she begins to suck. She is now filled. Her moans and whimpers are dampened by my hand in her mouth, the tips of my fingers grazing her throat.

"Fuck hard, baby, you're a big girl."

She nods, crying out a little louder as a second finger pushes into her tight ass. Her hips push hard back, and it takes all of my force to brace her, allowing her just enough movement to make sure that I am deep inside of her ass and that her cunt is being filled with her own hand.

"You're such a big girl, aren't you?"

She nods, a broken "mmhmm" struggling to come out. She wants to cum. I can feel her tensing. I can feel the muscles which press against me straining so familiarly.

"And you know what a big girl has?"

She pumps faster, and I can just imagine how tight her pussy is on her fingers.

"A big girl has patience." I pull my fingers from her ass and mouth and her hand instinctively drops from her pussy. Juices are not dripping but running down her inner thighs.

A hand goes to her lower back as I lead her back to her chair and re-tie her hands, close enough to her clit to just barely graze, but not to fully stroke.

The clock is turned back to 60 minutes and she fights tears as I kiss her softly on the lips and return to my work.

Daddy says Goodnight

When I think of you and I can't be near you, I generally have the same fantasy. I know it's silly, and I wish it were something grander with bruises and tears, but I guess I'm far more banal than I seem sometimes.

I picture laying on my side. I'm naked, dozing off to sleep, hands perched underneath my head, half here and half already gone. I feel you slide behind me. In my languid state I curl back against you. I like being overwhelmed by your body.

Your movements are slow and soft, approaching a tenderness that I cannot fully appreciate while I am half asleep. Your hands trail my sides, making me react just slightly, shifting towards you, tickled just slightly by the rough tips of your fingers. Your chin, your nose is tickled by my hair, splayed out on the pillow.

Your softness, though, is momentary. One hand clamps over my mouth while the other digs between my legs. I try and breathe in, to gasp heartily at the startle but I find only the choking clamp of your fingers closed over my lips. I fight, my body pulling away from yours but my hip is held in place by your elbow and I have no where to go.

Your long fingers bury themselves into my cunt, which is just barely damp. I cry out into your hand, aching, feeling you stretch my cunt violently. You don't fuck me yet, simply hold your fingers there, letting them curl inside me. I fight, feeling a few tears breaking forward and running down into your hand. Even though I know it's you, I can still feel my softest flesh breaking. Both my tears and my blood are yours, and all I can do is hope that you can take pleasure from them.

Slowly my body adjusts, and instead of fighting you I begin fucking you back. I arch into the fingers as my cunt gets wetter and they begin to slide in and out, slicked with my cum. The pain from before now makes my cunt all the more sensitive. His thumb finds my clit and I push back against him.

My hand reaching back around to pull him closer. I reach to squeeze his hip but my fingers slip and simply grab onto the fabric of his shirt, simply inching it from the waistband of his trousers. I want to feel him. I press my lips into his hand, which is still tight on my mouth. I kiss, even as I struggle to breathe against his thick fingers. I want the taste of his fingers on my lips just as I want the ache of his fingers inside my cunt.

And they do ache. As he pushes in a third and then a fourth thick finger I struggle to keep composure. I cry out as my cunt hurts and wants more all at the same time. I will be so tender, so sore. His fingers are unrelenting and I whimper in full voice as I begin to hurt all over again. He wants me to hurt and I want to give him this hurt. He pulls the fourth finger out and I am so tender that the pleasure it creates is explosive. I am trembling.

His lips find my ear as he feels me about to cum. My pussy tightens and I struggle to speak, to beg to cum against his hand. His fingers relax as I choke out "please." I feel his breath on my ear as he whispers "cum, baby," a lilting drawl he tries so hard to hide coming through. He tries to hard to mask his roots, even in these moments, even though I love the sound of his voice, even as it betrays his cosmopolitan exterior.

I finally cum, shaking, dripping, and finally breathing. I curl against him as he pulls out his fingers, cloaked in my juices. He puts them into my mouth and I obediently suck and lick them clean, thanking him with my tongue. I breath deeply, slowly, letting the feeling of his breath guide me. My eyes remain closed.

I feel him pull back and I startle a little, trying to move towards him, trying to rectify the loss which was so instantly created. I hear him unzip his pants and pull out his cock and before I can open my mouth to say something, anything at all, he pushes me down and thrusts his swollen cock into my cunt.

I am so sensitive it feels like I am being torn apart from the inside. After his fingers, after cumming so hard for him, every nerve is tight and already tingling. I am writhing, over stimulated and too sensitive to feel anything more than overwhelmed. My eyes tighten and all I see are the flashes of light from my brain begging me to relax. I want to cry. There is too much happening to process, and I feel out of control of my body. There is tingling, there is trembling, there is tightening and all of it feels completely out of control.

I open my mouth and cry out into the pillow, begging him to stop. His hand is on my shoulder, his forearm over the blades, and his cock is pounding me. He is thick and rough inside me. My cunt is still dripping, still tensing. I can feel myself pump around him involuntarily. I have no control over the way my pussy tightens and quivers around his cock. I feel the weight of his chest as he strains. I feel the shudder of his groans.

His fingers squeeze so tightly on my shoulder I can practically see the purple welts begin to form. He strains, arching up and groaning louder. I still tremble underneath him, and I wonder if I am losing consciousness as the energy drains. Every time my body quakes, I feel less and less alive. The over-stimulation has made me at  best docile. He fucks me harder as the tensing in my cunt is slowly becoming less and less forceful - an echo of a fucking. I try and push back against him but I am so drained all I can do is receive his cock and then his cum. He holds my neck down as he thrusts on more time, draining wave after wave of hot cum into my cunt, which now whispers out the slightest of pulses.

He pulls out, zipping his pants up again and kisses my earlobe. "Sleep, baby." I have not the will, nor the energy to do anything more.

The girl has earned a gift

I sit on his lap, legs together, pretty heels with a peep toe pointed forward. A pretty floral skirt floats over my thighs and drape over his lap. My hands, perfect pink nails aching to scratch on my knees. I am perched with my back arched, excited boring on giddy.
His hands rest on my hips, softly, tentatively. His legs are together underneath me, perfectly still when I want to tremble. I feel his body press against me. I feel myself grow wet.
"Are you excited, baby?" I nod, my head bobbing slowly. I can feel his smile as his chest lifts and relaxes at the same time. His smile makes me feel held while his hands stay relaxed on my hips.
I have been waiting for this, and it's not often that I get to cross things off my list of experiences, especially anymore. There are so few things I haven't done that I want. This is one of them. And now it is mine.
"Tell her what to do, honey." He whispers, his breath soft against my shoulder and neck.
"Get on all fours." The girl in front of me, dark hair pulled back but cascading. She wavers and I can tell. I can see the breath hold in her chest. She sees the corners of my mouth move to command her again, something that should not happen, and practically collapses onto the floor. She gets on all fours and looks up, staring, excited, nervous.
There is one mission today. One moment that all of this is for. I will cum. I will cum in the way that I want.
"From here on out you will not speak, you will bark. One for yes. Two for no. Understood?"
She opens her mouth and pauses, and then smiles. She barks once. His hands squeeze my hips and I begin to grind on his lap. He is my Daddy and it is my job to get him hard.
"Good girl." I smile at her and wink. She knows she must be a good girl for me. She will try hard. She must be up to task. "I want you to stand take off your clothes." She nods and begins to rise. "Slowly. Give him something to watch."
I slide off his lap and stand in front of him. I smile, my Daddy's eyes not leaving mine as she blurs behind me. I kneel before him, opening his legs. I slowly open his beautiful black leather belt, feeling the softness of the leather, the perfect coldness of the buckle in my hands. He smiles at me, his hand propping up his head. I love his smirk.
I pull down his zipper, my eyes going to his mouth, his chest, and then his zipper. I open his pants, and I can feel his hand softly on the back of my head. I look up at him, and I can't help but smile at him. His warm eyes tucked behind glasses, his soft hair perched behind his ear, his cruel and beautiful smirk all make my heart leap.
I pull out his cock and lower my mouth on it, his hand guiding me down. I lower my mouth until my nose rests against his pelvis and I can go no further. I hear him release a breath, his fingers tighten in my hair.
She strips slowly behind me and I hope he is watching, enjoying the show. I hope she is performing as she know she must.
I behind to suck softly, feeling him harden in my mouth. I lap at his cock, my mouth sliding up and down on his thickening shaft. My lips pulse, tightening and releasing, bobbing softly. I roll my tongue over his cock, squeezing and pumping. I want my Daddy to be swollen in my throat. I want to gag on his cock. I want to taste his precum in my throat. I want drool to spill from my lips, brimming over my teeth and roll over his balls.
I feel his fingers squeezing, shifting his hips forward to push further into my mouth and throat. I am desperate to get more of him in my mouth. I begin to pump my mouth, bridging on frantic. He pushes me down onto his cock and I whimper, tears brimming against my lashes, spit rolling over my bottom lip to caress his balls.
I finally pull back, staring up at him, chest heaving, gasping for air. He smiles down at me and I giggle just barely.
"How was she Daddy?"
He smiles at me, his hand caressing my cheek and then chin. He knows that even in this moment, I serve him. His thumb caresses my lips and I kiss the thick pad softly. I close my eyes, reveling in his affection, owned and comforted by this moment. I rise on my knees just slightly. I look up at him, my breath taken.
"She was mediocre. She took off her clothes too fast and without finesse."
I nod, nuzzling his cock with my cheek. "Yes, Sir."
I stand slowly, walking over with the click of heels. "Kneel, honey." I softly stroke her cheek as she kneels back on the floor. I immediately begin to beat her with my bare hand. I begin with her ass, and move to her thighs. She collapses onto the floor and the palm of my hand comes down over and over in thick wails on her thighs, ass, calves.
I roll her over and straddle her waist, slapping her tits as she begins to cry. I slap them over and over and over until her nipples are red and swollen.
"Put your hands over your head." She does. "Are you sorry you failed?"
She nods, opening her mouth and whimpering "Yes."
I slap her hard across the face. "You don't speak, cunt."
She begins to cry again and I continue to smack her. She will remember. The sooner, the better.
Finally she barks once, loudly and my hand pauses.
"Are you sorry you did not serve him properly?
She takes a breath, her tears ceasing. She barks once, softly.
I push the hair from her face, wiping the black tears from her cheek. "You learned your lesson, didn't you, honey?" She nods again. "And you're sorry." She barks, nodding.
I smile down at her, my thumbs slowly cleaning up the smears of makeup which have appeared. I push back her hair, stroking her face softly. "You're a good girl and you're going to try harder."
She nods again and I slowly stand. I walk back to him and lean down to kiss him. He knows that I am in a powerful place and allows me to lean down to kiss him. He accepts my lips, opening my lips with his tongue.
"Take off your dress, baby." He finally whispers against my lips.
I nod, standing to strip off my soft gauze. It floats to the floor and I push it aside with my foot. I stand in front of him as his hands and finger tips stroke my hips. His fingers move to my cunt, feeling how wet I am. His cock stands at attention and I am ready to have my moment.
"My sweet girl, you have earned this moment." I almost giggle, trying to close my lips back into this smile. "Come."
I smile, his legs coming together. I turn around, my legs opening around his as I slowly lower down, guiding his cock into my cunt. I slide onto his cock, my mouth opening in a soft moan. As soon as the shaft is inside me, I wait, holding onto this moment. I ache. I want. I drip cum onto his cock and balls.
His hand moves around my hips to rub my clit softly. I move towards his hand, rocking on his cock, my pussy squeezing his shaft.
When I am settled onto his beautiful cock I motion her forward. She moves to get up. "Crawl."
She barks, crawling forward on all fours. She crawls to his knees, using them to rise up. His hands keep my in place as I am desperate to wiggle, to really feel his cock.
"Lick."
She leans forward and her tongue is on my clit. I catch my breath, letting out a whimper as his hands hold my hips.
I can barely move, but the two of them do. Her tongue rolls hard over my clit, sucking and licking and teasing and aching. He begins to shift his cock, pushing into me and pushing me harder against her. His hands are tight on my hips and I tremble. My hands are tight on the arms of the chair. I want to move and I can't. I want to fuck him. I want to make her drown in my cunt. I want my ache to be theirs.
I want to move. I want to writhe. I can only tremble.
Until I cum. I want to cum.