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Little Dancer

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“Touch yourself,” he orders, and I reach a hand back to rub circles over myself. My eyes start to drift closed and I see him lift his hand. It comes down hard on my ass in a stinging slap. “Keep them open.” I yelp, and my eyes snap open.

It’s not long until I can feel myself close to coming, and starting to tighten around him. He notices and yanks on the leash. “No, you don’t. You come when I’m ready to come and not before. Whose are you?”

“Yours, daddy.”

“Who owns you?”

“You do, daddy.”

“Yes, I do. Never forget it.” He thrusts harder and I lean back into it, reveling in the feel of him, the way he makes me feel owned and precious, and how safe that makes me feel.

“Oh, babygirl,” he groans, “you’re such a good little fucktoy. Now you can come.”

I’ve been slowly circling the brink of orgasm, but watching him come, and feeling the sharp, hard thrusts as he does pushes me over the edge.

His grip on me slackens and he withdraws. I sink to the floor, pillowing my face on my arms as I try to catch my breath. I hear the clink of his belt as he does his trousers up.

“You look like a thoroughly fucked little fairy.”

“Mmph,” is all I can manage. He undoes the wings and slips them from my shoulders.

“Come here, babygirl.” He pulls me onto his lap and leans back against the wall, his arms tight around me. I’m still wearing the collar but he’s not holding the leash.

I put my arms around his neck and bury my face in his shoulder. He kisses my hair and whispers to me. “You were such a good girl. You made daddy very happy.”

I feel small and fragile, and weak as a kitten. He was every bit as unyielding as I thought he would be, but nothing could have prepared me for the actual experience. I finger the leather bands on his wrists. “You are...intense,” I say.

He puts a finger under my chin and lifts it so he can look me in the eyes. He frowns. “Did I scare you?”

“Yes. But nothing else does. Does that make sense?”

He thinks for a moment. “Did you like it?”

I clasp him tightly. “Oh, god. I did.”

He kisses me. “Do you want me to do it again?”

“Always.”

“Good. I’ve done my job, then.”

I put my head down on his chest again. “You’re a, um, very good dom,” I say.

“Thank you.”

“Have you had much practice?”

I hear the smile in his voice. “Enough.”

“Have you ever...” And I falter.

“Have I what?”

“Have you ever...had someone like me before?”

“There’s no one like you, Abby.”



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