Little Dancer
He caresses my ribs and then slides his hands down to my ass and presses on the plug. I break the kiss with a moan, clinging to him. Why the hell does that feel so good?
He reaches his other hand under my dress and slides a finger into my slit, rubbing back and forth. I have to hold tight to him elsewise I’ll fall down. Let the neighbors see, I don’t care.
“You’re not to take the plug out,” he murmurs into my ear, taking his hands away and smoothing my dress down. “Go straight to bed and wait for my call.”
I nod, licking my lips. I like the taste of him.
He’s at the bottom of the steps when he calls, “Oh, and princess? No touching yourself.”
A few minutes later I am naked and in bed, clenching the sheets with both hands. This was not how I thought the evening would go. I thought kissing, hand-holding, some ground rules and then some time to think and recoup. I can’t think with this thing in my ass. I can only think about Rufus and the things I want him to do to me right now, except he can’t because he’s not here. I suppose the not thinking is the point. I just have to lie here and wait for his call. He’s doing the thinking.
Ten minutes later my phone buzzes. Send me a picture so I know you’re being a good girl.
I do, and send it to him. My first sext, and it’s not me in a cute top with my nipples vaguely showing, it’s my plugged ass.
He calls me straight away.
“Where are you?” I ask.
“Driving. What are you wearing?”
“Nothing.” I whisper, terrified my parents are going to hear even though they’re two rooms away, fast asleep.
“Good girl. How wet are you?”
I touch myself. “I’m worried about my hydration levels right now.”
He chuckles, a rich warm sound that makes me think of melted chocolate. “Do you want to come, babygirl?”
“Please,” I whimper.
“Put two fingers inside yourself. Feel how tight you are?”
I do, and he’s right. I am tight.
“Daddy’s going to fuck you with that plug in your ass very soon.”
I’ve felt the thickness of him through his trousers. “You won’t fit.”
“Oh, yes I will. What finger do you use to touch yourself?”
I’m still struggling through the pink mist that he’s caused by telling me he’s going to fuck me with the plug in my ass. “Um, middle finger. Right hand.”
“Take your fingers out and start rubbing yourself with that finger.”
He tells me what my ass looks like when it’s all red, what my whimpering sounds like, how hard he gets when he’s disciplining me, how hard he is now. Every time he can tell from my breathing that I’m getting close he says Stop, and I have to take my finger away. But he never stops talking. I hear what sounds like a door opening, a car driving past, a set of keys, but he keeps talking. When he tells me to stop for the fifth time my phone is sweaty against my cheek and there’s an ache between my legs.
“Please, let me come,” I moan.
I hear that chuckle again. “Ask daddy nicely.”
“Please, daddy, let me come.”
“Are you going to be a good girl?”
“Always, no matter what. I’ll always knock before coming into your office and I’ll never be late or miss a cue or anything at all. I’ll let you do whatever you want to me. I’m yours. Please.”
“Damn right you are. You’re daddy’s girl. Now you can come.”