Fantasising About Emma - Donor Ch. 03

"So..." she says, and I feel her booted foot against my hard cock under the table, and she smiles, "...you're as turned on as I am right now?"

"You have no idea," I tell her.

She smiles at me wickedly, and it's so good to see, that I can't help grinning like an idiot.

"I'm not gonna do any gangbangs or anything, I'm happy just with you," she says, "but it's nice to know I have your permission to be naughty occassionally."

And, as if to celebrate, she pulls the top of her dress down to flash her tits at me, covering herself again quickly.

We both look around, checking there's no-one around.

The restaurant is empty. We can hear people walking past on the pavement the other side of the hedge -- if they stopped and peeked through a gap in the leaves, they'd be able to see us, but...

I reach across the table and pull her dress down again, leaving it below her ridonkulous rack. I hold both her hands, so to a casual observer it would look like we're gazing lovingly into each other's eyes, but I don't want her to cover herself.

"You are hottest fucking woman in the world," I tell her.

"Are you going under the table again? Because I promise I won't hit you like I did last night if you do."

I let go of her hands and am pleased to see she doesn't adjust her dress, and leaves her breasts free.

"I think your dress needs an alteration, it seems such as shame that no-one can see those fantastic boots," I say, grabbing a knife from the table. "You don't mind, do you?"

She eyes me suspiciously, but nevertheless shrugs and smiles.

I move from the chair opposite her to the seat next to her, and reach for the hem of her dress. "I think you should have a slit in this; show a bit of leg."

I saw at the flimsy material with the knife until the hem gives, and it tears easily now.

"Not too high," she warns.

"Well," I say, gently pulling at the fabric, slowly creating a slit that runs up the outside of her right leg, "I think it should at least go as high as the boots. I think an inch or two of thigh above them would be good?"

"That sounds high enough," she smiles.

The slit lengthens, and more and more of her sexy boots come into view, until I reach the top. I run a finger along her bare thigh, and she shudders and whispers, "I'm so wet right now."

"Oh God," I mutter, "I think it would look good if it was another inch or two higher. What do you think?"

"Only another inch," she breathes.

My trembling hands take hold and I pull, and the slit grows another six inches, up level with her groin. I push the flowery fabric to the side and her glorious pussy is exposed. We both moan.

Suddenly, voices and footsteps from behind as new customers are being shown to the table beside ours. Emma swiftly pulls her dress up to cover her tits and crosses her legs, which hides her cunt but shows an obscene amount of tanned thigh.

"I think it's time we got back," I say, and Emma nods in agreement, quickly gathering her things.

***

I paid the bill and we're walking briskly back to my car. Emma holds the front of her dress together so it doesn't fly open so much at the slit -- I swat her hand away.

She lowers her head, a little shy, but leaves the dress to float about her leather-clad legs, so nearly showing a lot more.

"You remember what you promised me if I got these boots?" she whispers.

"Yep. I'm looking forward to it," I tell her.

"I'm looking forward to it, MISTRESS," she says, encouraging me to repeat after her.

"I'm looking forward to it, Mistress Emma. Anything your ladyship pleases."

She smiles and speeds up, taking my hand and pulling me along until we're back in the street I parked on.

We reach my car and she takes a quick look around. It's deserted.

She leans back against the passenger door and pulls her dress to the side, revealing the inside of her soaking-wet thighs and her dripping slit.

"I need to cum, now."

She pushes me to my knees, though I don't need much encouragement, and I go to town on her hairless pussy.

"Oh God yeah, this won't take long," she says, and pulls the top of her dress down, displaying her gorgeous globes, pinching her hard nipples.

I lift her leg and put her foot on the wing mirror, opening her up. The dress is in the way so I yank at it, and it rips up past her navel to her sexy butterfly tattoo.

I stuff two, then three fingers inside her cunt, pumping them hard and she moans loud and long, then screams as her pent-up horniness finally finds some release, drenching my face in her orgasm.

I lick up as much as I can, then stand and hold her -- I love this when she's cum, I can feel all the little trembles and aftershocks, it's like I'm sharing it with her.

She kisses me, tired but happy. "I don't taste too bad, huh?"

"I fucking love the way you taste," I say, and I rub my face all over hers, smearing her juices between us until she's giggling.

"I don't suppose you could help me out?" I ask, looking down at the tent in my trousers.

She pulls her dress back over her breasts. "Maybe when we get home," she teases, "Though I'm not promising. You'll do anything to make me happy, remember? I never said the same!"

We get in the car, and she immediately starts rubbing herself. I laugh. "Still horny?"

"God yes. Now, let's go -- you ruined my dress so I think I'm going to have to teach you a lesson!"

***

When a teacher tells you she's going to teach you a lesson, it's not normally a good thing. But when that teacher is Emma... she can teach me all she wants.

I made a promise. And when she's finished getting ready, I'm going to keep it.

Not that I'll have much choice. I'm currently sprawled out naked on the living room floor, my hands cuffed (I love that she already had a pair stashed away!) and my legs tied wide open, each to a foot of the sofa.

And my dick is pointing in the air.

I hear her heels coming down the stairs, painfully slowly. I strain to see, to try to catch a glimpse.

Eventually, she struts into view and strikes a coy pose, biting her fingernail -- and my breath catches in my throat. I've never seen anything so hot in all my life.

She's wearing her Little Red Riding Hood costume -- a tiny red dress with white lace trim and a black bodice tied so tight around her narrow waist that her fabulous boobs nearly spill out the top; the red hood pulled up over her curled blonde hair; deep-red lipstick and heavy dark eye make-up that's way over the decency-line and firmly in "prostitute" territory; and the finishing touch -- the boots I picked for her.

"Fuck me!" I exclaim.

"I intend to," she purrs, "but first, a little fun..."

She takes one step closer and pauses again, teasing me. I can now see up the frilly black skirt, and she's not wearing anything underneath.

"Oh God. I love your pussy shaved like that, Mistress."

"Thank you, Slave," she smiles. "I still think it looks a little bare," as she rubs a finger over it, separating her lips, "but I love the way it feels."

"I love the way it feels too."

She grins. "Cheeky." She steps between my legs, standing near my groin. "You should be more careful what you say when you're tied up."

Testingly, teasingly, she rubs the toe of her boots over my balls. It feels so good that I can't help but moan.

"Did I tell you to make any noise?" she scolds, light-heartedly.

"No Mistress. Sorry Mistress."

"Do you like my outfit?" she asks.

"Best thing I've ever seen," I blurt out.

"You haven't even seen it from the back yet." She pirouettes and it's all I can do not to cum right there. The dress only covers half her perfect bum and, from my angle, I can see all of it.

Including the metal butt-plug she's got stuffed up her tight arsehole.

She looks over her shoulder at me. "Is it ok?"

"You'd better not touch my dick or I'll cum."

She giggles. "You'll cum when I tell you to, not before." She bends at the waist, looking back at me through her straightened legs, and blows at my dick. The gentle breeze is almost enough, and I have to shut my eyes and really concentrate not to cum right now. She giggles again.

Then, without warning, she puts one stilettoed foot onto my stomach and transfers her weight onto it for a couple of seconds, standing on me. It hurts, but I don't care.

She does it again, but this time steps on so her other foot is on my chest. I thank my lucky stars that she's so light and trim, but it's still painful.

And yet somehow enjoyable.

She steps off, examining the red marks left on my chest from her heels. "Oh, poor baby," she coos, and kisses each of them better. "Again?"

"Yes please, Mistress."

She smiles and steps onto my chest again, this time digging one of heels into my side. As a reflex, I recoil and nearly throw her off me.

"Keep still bitch," she spits, really getting into it now, and digs her heel into me again. This time I take it.

She twists her heel and it stings, and burns, but I don't move. To my own surprise, I groan.

Emma's surprised too. "Oh, you like that do you?"

Without warning, she kicks my vertical pole. I wince, but it feels good. She kicks me again; and a third time, harder.

She walks up and down my torso. I hope she appreciates the effort this is taking not to spin away from the pain, but I keep telling myself that it doesn't matter if I like it or not. She's done so much for me. This is nothing.

She stands on my chest and presses on of her 5-inch heels against my cheek, stabbing it.

"Swallow this, slave."

I open my mouth and eagerly take the heel inside, sucking on it. She fucks my mouth with it; laughs and takes it away, and walks off me.

"I think you were enjoying that a little too much," and kicks me in the dick at full force. It hurts like fucking hell and I try to protect myself as best I can considering my bindings. Which is to say, not well, because Emma gives me two more powerful punts with the point of her toe, then jabs her heel into my ball sack.

I cry out in pain.

She kneels beside me, stroking my face, comforting me, "Oh baby, I'm sorry, hush, hush."

She unties my legs, which I move and stretch, and then uncuffs my hands. I stand, uncomfortable and unsteady.

She takes my hand and leads me to the glass coffee table, using me to keep balance as she steps on top of it. Then she cuffs my hands behind my back and orders: "Kneel."

I do. She squats, pulls me closer, and lays my dick on the table top. Uh-oh, this can't be good.

Using the toe of her boot, she presses my somehow-still-hard dick into the hard surface. It hurts, but not as much as I thought, and is actually pretty hot. The sight of her insanely sexy boot on my dick is a major turn-on, as is the click of her heels against the glass.

She puts her hand on my head, steadies herself, and puts all her weight on my dick. Though still sore, it's so hard, it stands up pretty well. She wiggles back and forward, which feels really good.

She steps off, giggling, then teases my rod with the heel of her boot. She puts some weight on with the point, and the pressure of that stiletto hurts a lot more, pain shooting up my dick. I struggle.

"Stay still," she orders, and stamps on me.

"Fuck!" I scream out and pull away.

"Hey! Get back here this second!"

Slightly hesitantly, I do.

"We're going to keep doing this until you can do it without making a noise, ok?" she tells me.

I nod, "Yes Mistress".

She lines me up, teasing me, running her heel along my length.

Then stamps on me with her heel, suddenly. I can't help but grunt at the pain.

She sighs. And does it three more times, quick and sharp, and though it hurts more than the others put together, I keep quiet. Or it might be that my scream was so high-pitched it could only have been heard by dogs.

"Ok," she says, and I collapse onto my side, really struggling to hold back tears. She lands next to me, crouching, consoling.

"How about I kiss it better?" she whispers.

I shift to allow her access and wince as she puts my cock straight to the back of her throat, her saliva initially stinging where the skin has been damaged, but it soon becomes soothing and feels fantastic. I moan.

She purrs: "I'm so wet, I can't believe you let me do that to you."

I shift to stare into her eyes. "What will it take until you believe I'll do anything for you?"

She smiles, slides up and kisses me, tenderly. We make out for a good five minutes until she tears herself away and unlocks my hand-cuffs.

"Do you think you could fuck me now?" she asks, fluttering her long eyelashes.

"I don't think I'll last long," I warn.

"Neither will I!" She sashays to the dining table and leans forward over it, legs straight, arse in the air, inviting me in.

I stand and stretch my stiff limbs properly. She sways her bottom side to side, impatiently.

I move behind her, and rub my cock up and down her slit, bumping her little nub. We both moan. She's right, she's soaked. I ease inside, pushing as deep as I can, enjoying being able to feel the plug in her arse from inside her, then pulling back out and stabbing in again hard.

"Stay there!" she tells me, and I do, balls deep. "It feels so amazing, I don't know how I've lived this long without it." Then she laughs, "Oh God, I've become obsessed with sex. It's your fault!"

"I would apologise, but I think that's a good thing!"

I twist the butt-plug in her arse, making her buck back against me, groaning loudly. I swat her on the bum, and again. I can control myself no longer and begin pounding into her hard, the table shuffling across the room.

"I'm not gonna stop this time."

"Don't stop. I'm so close." She rubs her clit furiously.

"Where do you want my cum?" I pant.

"On my boots. Cum on my boots," she blurts between thrusts.

"Oh God," I mutter, and slam into her, and she screams, one long scream until...

"I'm cumming!" she cries, and her cunt pulsates around my cock as she cums, her ejaculate squirting everywhere and all over her boots; and I lose it, pulling out and firing my hot load to mix with her's down her leather-clad thighs and calves.

I collapse forward on top of her, and we stay like that for what feels like an age. Eventually, I shift her blonde curls to one side and delicately peck her on the cheek.

"I love you so much," I tell her.

"I love you too," she says.

I shift, pick her up, cradling her, and carry her over to the couch. I sit, cuddling her on my lap. Dressed and made-up like a complete slut, metal butt-plug still up her arse, cum-covered fuck-me boots halfway up her thighs -- she's never looked more cute.

"Was that how you wanted it?" I ask.

Her smile is a mile wide. "It was pefect," she says. "I want to thank you for doing it."

"You don't need to. I enjoyed it too."

"Still, it was my fantasy." She stares into the eyes, open and full of love. "Let's go get my pussy pierced."

She's said and done some things that have shocked me, but I don't think anything will ever top that.

"Are you sure?"

"Well, I do prefer it clean-shaven, and it does look a little bare, and Cathy says her's is amazing... You aren't going to try to talk me out of it, are you?" she teasingly smiles.

"Hell no."

***

Before she changed, I got some photos of her. I don't think she liked the idea to begin with, but when I convinced her that I needed something to wack off over until I got to see her again, she got into it, licking our cum off her boots and teasing the butt-plug from her gaping hole.

We shared a quick shower. Knowing we had to hurry if we were going to get her pierced before The Boyfriend came home, we unfortunately had to forgo any playing, but I still enjoyed cleaning her. It was a very sensual experience and, although I've fucked and cum in all her holes, I've never felt so close to her.

So we're on our way. I'm driving us to the same place Emma accompanied Cathy to when she got her's done.

Emma's wearing the pink Tinkerbell t-shirt she started the weekend in; a short denim mini-skirt; and sparkly pink ballet shoes with a kitten heel. With no make-up and her hair pulled back in a loose ponytail, she looks like a different person from just an hour ago; with the slut hidden away again, the cute girly-girl I've always known is back. Except...

I know she isn't wearing any underwear. And our topic of conversation is a little racier than it used to be.

"If this can take like four weeks to heal... I'm going back to work in a couple of weeks," she says.

"Yeah, so?"

"I don't know what it's going to feel like wearing underwear with it."

"So don't wear underwear," I shrug. "I thought you prefered that now anyway."

"Yeah, but not for work. I'm not sure so it's a good idea for me to go into a class of horny teenage boys, feeling turned on."

"Why? What might you do?"

"Send all the under-sixteens out of the room!" she giggles.

"You're such a slut, I fucking love it."

"Y'know, anyone else called me a slut, I'd knock their teeth out."

"That's because when I do it, it turns you on. You love being a slut for me."

She pinches her thighs together. "Stop it, I don't want to go in there all wet."

We laugh. To think I was worried before the first time that sex might make things awkward between us.

"I suppose I could get some smart trousers that are a little looser..." she ponders.

"Terrible idea," I say. "Dresses and skirts, definitely. They don't have to be short. A knee-length leather skirt would still be hot."

"I'm not supposed to be dressing hot! I'm the teacher!" she giggles.

"Doesn't mean you can't look nice."

"Are you saying I don't normally look nice?" she teases.

"No, you always look fantastic," I tell her, "but, I do think you could change up your wardrobe a little. A leather skirt, some low-cut tops, some wet-look leggings..."

"I'm not really sure about those," she says. "The leggings -- they sometimes look like bin-liners."

"I'm telling you: on you, they'd look amazing. You've got the legs and butt for them."

"And you think the boys would like that?" she smiles.

"Fuck yes!" I exclaim, and she laughs.

"Maybe I'll do some shopping before our next get together."

"You should go back to see your brother's friend; you'll definitely get good service there!"

She laughs. "God, I don't know if I could look him in the eye again after I swallowed his cum."

My eyes pop out my head. She giggles, shaking her head, still a little embarrassed.

"Yep, that was pretty much the look he gave too!"

I love this woman.

"Ok," she directs, "turn left here and then take the little alley on the right, there's a car park round back."

I go as instructed. The car park's empty but for a Harley Davidson so, out of a new habit I've now learned, I pick the darkest, most secluded corner. I catch a slight hint of a smile from Emma.

Emma takes hold of my hand as we walk toward the front door. Nerves seem to have struck her suddenly, and she's the cute, slightly shy, girly-girl I first met six years ago. I want to look after her, protect her.

I stop her as she's about to push the door open. "Are you sure you want to do this? I don't want you to do it just because I'd like it, I want you to do it because you want it." I ask.

She kisses me and smiles. "I'm sure," and she leads me into the piercing and tattoo parlour.

There's only person inside and, from the Harley outside, it isn't the bearded stereotype I'd expected. It's a tiny young lady with messy chin-length blonde hair, red vest top, matching red platform ankle boots with a stiletto heel at least 7 inches high, and wet-look leggings in the style I've just been trying to convince Emma to get.

She also doesn't have the plethora of tattoos and piercings you might predict. I can't see a visible tattoo, and only her ears and nose are pierced.

"Hi guys," she smiles -- oh, and a tongue piercing -- "I'm Leah, what can I do for you this afternoon?"