Beg Me-Sold to My Dad's Boss

CHAPTER ELEVEN

Lindy

My time with Chris has been shocking, blowing through all of my boundaries … and so arousing too. Because I’ve been tutored by a master, Mr. Jones knows exactly what he wants and is always in control, taking, stroking, kissing, loving, making me feel good all over.

And it was shocking at first, I admit. I knew my ten days here would open new frontiers, that he was going to take my virginity, that I’d have cock in me every night. I just didn’t realize how sensual it would be, how much I’d want it every second of it.

Take rule one for example. I saunter around the mansion now in nothing but a lacy g-string and black patent heels, everything about me out on display, boobs jouncing, hips swaying, my little cunt so wet all the time that my thighs are constantly smeared with cream.

And the big man? It’s like it’s normal to him to have a conversation about current events, about what he’s making for dinner with me perched on the stool, totally nude. He acts like nothing’s wrong, sautéing away, putting together five course meals while asking me about school, my job, my interests and hobbies, except that my huge tits are resting on the table all the while, the white flesh creamy and enormous, my pink nipples pointed at him while we talk.

And he notices, of course. I see the constant bulge in his pants, the way those blue eyes trace my figure, watch my tits glisten, the curve of my ass generous and firm. But he goes right ahead with whatever he’s doing, cooking, cleaning, getting my bath ready, it’s all par for the course.

And I have to say that it’s changed me too. I used to be kinda shy and conservative, wearing clothes that covered me up, swathing me entirely so that I was shapeless and frumpy. But since rule number one, I’ve developed a new awareness of my body, loving the way it jiggles, how it’s able to turn Mr. Jones on without even trying, my curves out to here, my ass out to there, the big man’s eyes glued to me all the time, appreciative and hot. And the truth is, it makes me tingle inside, my pussy starts steaming, there’s a burning sensation that never goes away now, a slow, exciting arousal that’s with me 24/7.

So as you can see, we don’t leave the house much. I’m not sure how Mr. Jones is able to work from home so much, but he’s the boss so I guess he calls the shots. Obviously, I can’t go out because I’m not dressed, and it seems that Chris is more than happy just to have me trail him around, sit quietly as he works, watch TV as he lifts weights.

But that’s when rule number two gets put into play. Because I’m not reading in a chair, or watching TV on the lounger. No sir. I’ve got to respect rule number two and that means that even though I might have my nose buried in a book, I’m reading on my hands and knees, my ass facing him with my panties pulled to the side, cunt on display.

“Mmm, that’s good,” he rumbled the other day, seated at his desk.

And I giggled a little before shaking my kitty at him.

“What was that, Sir?” I murmured dulcetly. Mr. Jones likes to be called “Sir” or “Daddy” sometimes, and the names roll off my tongue now.

He frowned a little.

“Seems the stock market’s doing well,” he rumbled.

I pouted a little myself. I thought he was talking about my kitty, how it gleamed and ran under the low lights. So I went fishing for a compliment.

“Sir,” I murmured. “If the market’s doing well, maybe you could celebrate … right in here,” I said, sassily wiggling my cunt.

Okay, so my come-ons aren’t exactly masterpieces, I’m not gonna be winning a Pulitzer Prize any time soon, but you know what? It works. Because the big man groaned, his gaze hot on my ass, dick out, the tip leaking wetly as he stroked it slowly.

And I giggled again, shaking my sweet cunt, the folds open, wet, bare for him.

“Daddy,” I said naughtily. “This book on the Kama Sutra you asked me to read is so amazing, I’ve learned so much just looking at the pictures,” I purred. “See this one? The woman’s foot is way high up over here, and then the guy’s dick is … oh my god, it’s like he’s turned upside down! Sir, can you do that?”

And the big man let out a curse deep in his throat.

“Baby you gotta be a yogi to do some of that shit, you gotta be able to bend over double, grip your ankles all the while sticking your tongue out.”

And I giggled again. Chris’s words were so nasty, he talked dirty to me sometimes and I should have been disgusted but instead, it turned me on. Besides, I agreed with his comments. The Kama Sutra was ridiculous and I don’t know how people twisted themselves into those poses without having a Ph.D. in acrobatics. But that didn’t bother me.