tagFetishPammy Submits Ch. 02

Pammy Submits Ch. 02


Pammy slept. She snored quietly lying sprawled half on her left side, half on her stomach her right leg drawn up. Her red hair covered her face. Her right arm half hid her tit. Light from the living room cast a glow into the bedroom accentuating, deepening all the shadows of her legs and ass crack. My prick stirred still aching from last night's engorgement. The memory of Pammy's wet welcoming mouth and her choking surprise when I spent myself flashed through my mind.

'Hey,' I called rapping knuckles against the doorframe. 'It's time. Grab a shower.'

She startled and rolled over on her back showing her breasts. Her bent leg flopped over giving a view of her red bush and the crevice of her pussy. Her nakedness dawned on her. She sat up quickly drawing her legs up and together, folding her arms over her breasts. That would not do.

'Nope, lay back down,' I ordered. 'Pull those arms above your head. Spread your legs.'

Pammy looked up at me.

'Anything, you said. Or, do you need a bus ticket? One thing I will do while you are here is look at you.'

Pammy obeyed. I looked at her arms thrown across the pillow. I looked at her breasts parted and flattened by gravity. I looked at her exposed belly, her bush, the way her straightened and spread legs shaped her thighs. She watched me examine her wanting me to be pleased. I was but I refused to show it in my face.

'Shower. I'll fix up something for breakfast.'

'Do you want me to make breakfast?'

I put a finger to my lips shushing her.

As she walked to the bathroom wearing only that light green skirt she'd slept in, I sat on the floor at her gym bag and began to rummage through it looking for things I wanted her to wear. I made sure she was aware that's what I was doing. In it, I found other things I could entertain myself with later. I pulled out what I wanted her to wear taking them with me to the kitchen.

I prepared a hardy British style breakfast, fried ham and sausage, eggs on toast, and pork and beans. Whatever might be said about British food, they knew how to do a breakfast. I put it on the table as Pammy rounded the corner holding a towel around her torso.

'Why the towel?'

Pammy unwrapped herself clinging to it with one hand. She slumped her shoulders – her only effort to conceal her breasts – but shift her weight to pull a slightly bent knee slightly before her other leg concealing her pussy but not most of her bush. Her eyes left mine shyly looking to the floor. I made an effort to scan her head to toe making her flush.

'Your clothes are draped over the chair. Dress and eat.'

White panties again, a blue skirt not quite as short as the one she wore yesterday, a white tank top. She stepped into her panties pulling them up quickly and tucking her fingers into the leg openings running them up to tuck in stray pussy hairs. She had to cock hips side to side to slide on the skirt pulling the zipper to the side to zip it up then twisted it to the back. She squirmed her arms into the tank top, slid her head into it and pulled the shirttail down. The tank top clung to her breasts and torso better than I had hoped.

She sat. 'Can I talk?'

'For the moment.'

'Why don't you want me to talk?'

'Talking is for later,' I said. That was only partly true. Talking was for later. Pammy burned for that – that connection, that returning to the business of the past. This was not the past. I liked what was happening now. Maybe Pammy putting herself in my net ensnared me too. I let her eat. I had a camera to fiddle with.

I took a few shots of her after she'd finished and went to the sink to wash the dishes. Side shots and over the neck shots of the tank top clinging to her breasts. Low shots catching her legs and ass. Pammy fought against the distraction of the camera so I caught a profile of the avoidance in her face.

'Come on. Let's go outside.'

'Where are we going?' Pammy asked.

'I'm going to let the camera have its look at you. Now is the time to stop talking.'

Pammy let out the smallest breath of exasperation. I chose to ignore it – for now.

My forth-level shell corporation rented me (anonymously) some 900 acres of woodlands deep within huge forests barely populated. I took Pammy down the path toward the gurgling stream that marked the southern edge of my property. The stream was not where I was taking her. Too cold. Winter was almost gone and the day was just a bit warmer than brisk. As we walked I took a couple of shots of how the temperature puckered up Pammy's nipples under the cotton tank top.

'Stop here,' I said. I slipped the string strap off her left shoulder pulling it slowly down her arm until it dragged the cotton knit off her left breast. If possible, her nipple hardened even more. Pammy flushed again. I pulled her hand up to hold the strap as if she might pull it back up. Her seemingly shamed expression looked like pensiveness in the camera lens. I shot several pictures from various angles.

'Leave it like that. Walk with me.'

Pammy's one showing breast swung with the rhythm of her pace, juggling nicely when she stumbled over the uneven ground.

We strolled over to the huge ancient holly tree growing near the water. Untouched and growing free with limbs beginning near the ground, the great tree was my goal. I eased Pammy close to the trunk letting a few of the prickly leaves to brush across her skin. I turned her toward me, reached to pull the shirt back over her breast enjoying its softness, and replaced the strap.

I took her hand. She looked up at me expectantly. I placed that hand on a limb. It was not what she expected nor really wanted by the look on her face.


'I feel like you are making me your love slave. I feel like I should call you Master or something.'

Well, that got me flared up.

'Master is a title meant for posers. For pretenders who think the title makes what they do real. I don't need any of that to remind me of what I am,' I glared. 'And, darlin' Pammy, you are no slave. Slaves can't leave. Slaves don't volunteer. Stay or leave, Pammy.'

'I'm sorry,' she said flushing deeper, unable to meet my eyes once more.

She looked out at a distant sunny spot across the stream. I snapped a couple of photos.

'Climb up a couple of limbs. Do it slowly,' I said, not a request.

Her eyes questioned me for a moment. She did not see me relent. She fumbled a bit at first trying to turn to face the tree but Pammy was a tomboy and I knew it. My camera did not miss her awkward stepping. Pammy did have really nice ankles. She reached for limbs above her head and began to push herself upwards. I captured the play of her legs, the swaying of her shifting hips, and the reaching of her arms. I moved closer.

'Stop there.'

I concentrated now on her lower leg, its ankle and calf, the back of her knee, the taut thigh. Snap, snap, snap. I shifted to the other leg cocked to the side foot resting on a higher limb, ankle, calf, bent knee, the thigh stretching from knee to skirt lifting the skirt to show those nice cotton briefs.

I bent to step up beneath her getting pics of her panties bunching up into her crack – getting pics of her thighs. She bent, startled, to look down at me looking up at her. I took pics of that, legs and panties, tits pressed against the tank top, and her face looking into the camera.

'Turn around and take off your shirt.'

She struggled trying to do that and cling to the tree – more great shots. She dropped the shirt to me. I began to concentrate on her breasts. Breasts stretched tense as she held a limb above her head. Breasts hanging as she held a lower limb in front of her. Breast thrust forward as she hooked her arms over a limb behind her. Her expression remained preoccupied through it all but Pammy cooperated. I was having fun enough.

'Now the panties.' More great shots with that struggle.

For the first time since she arrived, I got to study her pussy. So did my camera. Pictures taken with legs more or less together. Legs parted. Pammy turned away from me and turned toward me, standing, climbing, and especially squatting. She did have a pretty, hairy pussy and a cute little knob of a clit. Her partially engorged inner lips peeking out when she stood, blossoming open, and hanging free and quivering when her legs parted wide or she squatted. I had her step down a few limbs to get closer to that pussy.

I noticed the intensity of her gaze out at the forest when that delightful full butt got about shoulder level.

'What, Pammy?'

'It's what you're doing.'

'What am I doing?'

'Looking at me. Taking those pictures.'

'So,' I said.

'So, it's making me horny.'

I grinned as she turned to look at me over her shoulder. I reached up to touch her bottom. My fingers felt the wetness on the hairy meat of her pussy. Pammy turned away.

'I believe you.' I said.

I turned my hand sideways and rubbed at her clit. After a couple of swipes she gasped at the irritating rasping. I inserted my middle finger into her pussy and worked it until it was wet. I worked at the clit again with the lubricated finger. Her head came back and lowered again. Her eyes closed, her mind focused on what was happening between her legs. I shifted back into her pussy fingering her slowly. Her back arched and her head raised eyes shut tightly, mouth slack, totally involved in the sensation. I slipped the ring finger in with the middle finger and really began to work it. I watched her arms stretch as she pushed her ass onto my fingers. I watched her face turning, bobbing. I watched her ass only half hidden by the skirt. I watched her bent legs. They began to tremble. Pammy began to moan.

I had to stop then. I didn't want her to come right then. I didn't want to come myself for I was about to, right into my britches.

'Don't. I do not want you to cum now.'

She turned look at me seemingly assaulted more by my stopping than by what I'd just done to her.

'Put on your shirt. Carry your panties. Let's go back.'

Back we went. I enjoyed the cool breeze. I needed it. Pammy's fine skin and drippy pussy definitely warmed. However, it was nice to get back in the house. I broke out some Irish and ice. My favorite but not Pammy's, still she drank it well enough.

'Lay back,' I said. She turned toward me and fell back to rest her head on the arm of the couch. I reached to pick up her left leg by the ankle, lifted it to remove her shoe, and placed her leg to rest on the couch back. Good view, that. I am a leg man – a thigh man actually. I loved the expanse of skin. I love the sculpture of knee. I love the play of muscle and tendon. I ran my palm gently from knee to crouch thumbing the loose meat of Pammy's pussy lips. I ran my hand back to her knee and took a sip of that good whiskey.

'Why are you needing a place to say, Pammy?'

She took her on pull on the glass, not a sip. Pammy did like to drink.

'My boyfriend... well, I had to leave.'


'He beat me up.'

'Just that?'

'He beat me too much. He punched me in the face. Men should not hit and slap women in the face. Not in the face.'

'How did you get mixed up with that guy?'

'I like him at first. He was wild, reckless, kind of like you only crazier maybe. He was flirty like you used to be. He was rough when he took me. I kind of liked that. Sometimes. But he got worse...'

'So, you came here?'

'You're the first man that's been nice to me in a long time, Dirk.'

'This is nice?'

'You haven't hit me.'

I started again to pet her thigh, to stop at her pussy to tickle at her pussy hairs, to pet her thigh again. She took the last of the whiskey and lost herself in what I was doing. Her head fell back. Her eyes sought the ceiling but she was watching inside herself.


'God, yes,' she breathed.

'Pleasure yourself, Pammy.'


'Jill off. Masturbate.'

She turned her eyes on me then tentatively, pensively, lowered her hand to her pull up that blue skirt a bit. She touched herself, held herself, a moment. Her fingers began to move as she watched me watch her.

'Do you want me to get my dildo?' She asked. 'I brought it.'

'Another time. I'd like that – another time,' I said remembering that big, rubber, fake, dick from searching her stuff.

I simply watched her finger herself until I knew she began to lose herself in what she was doing. I knew that by the way her eyes strayed and looked at nothing. Her other leg started to work curling up, stretching out. Toes worked.

I reached out to take Pammy by the hair sitting her up. I reached around her, got a good grip on her hips, and pulled her bottom half off the couch. Instantly, she was bent over the couch seat on her knees. In a motion I stood to drop my pants. I knelt. I forced her knees apart with mine and thrust into her. She was so slippery. She was always so slippery.

I grabbed her hair again and forced her face down onto the couch though I saw the grimace. I saw her mouth open. Her hands gripped the cushion. I pounded her. I pounded. She moaned. She arched. Her head came up eyes tightly closed. I pounded.

'Uh, uh, uh. Ohh! Oh, God. Oh, God. Oh, God,' She called. She convulsed again and again and again. 'Oh, please. Please!'

I removed myself from her wet, hard, and not finished. I couldn't be sure it was what that last guy had done but it seemed to get the job done – for her.'

'Damn, Dirk,' she said.


'God, yes.'

'Then it's time for that blow job you told me about.'

She made a quick glance at my hard on, maybe surprised that I had not gotten off. I sat down beside her. She shuffled sideways on her knees until she knelt between mine.

Her legs still trembled. Nice.

She put me in her mouth. I watched her hair, her back, and her full ass as she worked on me. It didn't take long. I blew my load deep down her throat. Pammy gagged coughing air and jizz from her mouth eyes open. My cumming always seemed to surprise her. Still she worked me. The head of my dick, so tender with the orgasm, screamed in pleasure and pain. I'm afraid I screamed a bit too.

She had gotten better.

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