Playing Missy

Releasing her fat nipples, his hands landed on her hips with a smack that sounded like a gunshot in the close confines of the car. She yelped, eyes widening in panic for a moment, before regaining control. With one hand firmly on her hip, his long fingers just touching the upper swell of her ass, he touched the inside of her knee with the other. Slowly he worked his way up her thigh until something made contact with her pussy lips. It was his thumb, which he had extended. He held it there, at the very entrance to her pussy, feeling her gushing fluids, giving her a moment to digest just what he was about to do. Then he slowly inserted his thumb completely into her. Still holding her prisoner with his implacable stare, he began to work his thick thumb in and out of her tight pussy. She briefly wondered what kind of man he was, to be able to feel her entire body, make love to her like this, without ever glancing away or betraying any emotion at all. Then he spoke.

"What am I doing to you?" he asked.

At first she was so lost in the feelings shooting through her body that she didn't realize that he had spoken, or what he had asked her. But she rallied, trying to push down the incredible sensations shooting out from her pussy, and replied, "You're fingering me."

His thumb slammed into her, the bony parts of his hand mashing her engorged clit and pussy lips, and she bit down on her lip not to scream in agony and pleasure. "What am I doing to you, girl?"

"You're fingering me, Sir!" she spit. Another vicious thrust of his thumb let her know that she still hadn't gotten it right.

"You...you're FUCKING me, Sir!" she almost shrieked. Oh, God, she had to cum. Soon, she had to cum soon.

He shifted his hand back, the fingers splayed out along her ass crack, and began thrusting up and forward with his thumb, hitting her g-spot over and over again, driving her to the edge and beyond, into wholly undiscovered country for her.

"Yes, I am fucking you little girl, and you'll be allowed to cum all over my big hand as soon as you tell me exactly what I want to hear. Now, what am I doing to you, baby girl."

She knew he was giving her a clue as to what he wanted to hear. She tried to pull the fragments of her brain together to figure it out. The pressure was building and building and the question now wasn't whether or not she was going to cum, it was whether or not she was going to survive. She thought desperately back over the course of their correspondence, and finally gasped, "You...you...you're fucking my CUNT, DADDY!"

As she said this, he smiled his assent, and the tidal wave broke over her. Her climax convulsed her entire body in wave after wave of pleasure. Her pussy, naturally tight, pulled and pulled on his thumb as if she were milking it. He smiled, thinking of what his cock would feel like balls-deep in her tiny opening as her inner muscles milked him dry. She bit her lip to keep from screaming, barely held herself upright for a moment or two, and then gave up trying as she collapsed forward onto him. He kept his thumb inside her, caressing and teasing her g-spot, while her orgasm continued to roll through her. She drew herself up into a little ball, and while she continued to shake with the after-shocks he lifted her and placed her squarely in his lap, sitting side-saddle, her legs splayed over the arm rest between the two seats, just like a child.

As she calmed herself, he looked down at her and tenderly kissed the top of her head, marveling at how light and wispy her flyaway hair was. "Baby Doll," he said in a soft whisper, "we're late for our reservation. But you've made quite a mess here. We can't go in like this. You're going to have to clean up a bit."

With that, he withdrew his thumb from her soaked and overflowing pussy and pressed it to her lips. Without hesitation she opened her mouth a bit and sucked his thumb clean. She tasted her own juices, something she had never even conceived of doing before, and she found them delicious. Again and again he dipped his thumb and fingers into her opening and dragged them across her thighs, cleaning up her juices, and each time she sucked his digits clean like a hungry kitten. They repeated this ritual until all of her spilled juices had been consumed. She looked up at him then, wondering if he would kiss her, needing the touch of his lips, but he merely placed her back into her own seat as if she weighed nothing. A moment later he handed her jeans to her.

In moments she was dressed again, in jeans, blouse, heels, and jacket, sans bra and panties, and he led the way across Armory Square and to a Thai restaurant that had the reputation of being one of the finest in the city. The maître d greeted him by name, and escorted them to a semi-private table in the back. She began to wonder if this man she was with had any limits at all. He was apparently well-enough known, yet here he was having dinner with a young girl without the slightest care that somebody might see him and report the situation back to his wife. It made her wonder about his marriage, and how much of a say his wife had in his activities.

Of course, he ordered for them both. Coconut shrimp for an appetizer, Kobe beef with black cherry cognac reduction for him, and vegetarian Pad Thai for her. She was very self-conscious throughout the meal. After her amazing orgasm in the car her whole body still tingled. Her silk blouse cradled and caressed her breasts, outlining them perfectly, and her super-sensitized nipples grew long and hard once again at the continual touch of the material. Missy felt that everyone in the restaurant must be staring at her. She felt like hunching over, and she wished that her leather jacket hadn't been checked when they walked in the door. She knew that David wanted her on display, though. Why else would he have insisted that she leave her bra and panties in the car? So, she fought down the urge to hide and sat up straight, proudly throwing her shoulders back. She did catch one or two diners staring at her, but she refused to back down. She ignored them. She had never been particularly proud of her looks before, but here, with David, she felt beautiful and she didn't mind who knew it. It was, she realized, his gift to her.

Throughout the meal they conversed easily about mundane things: his classes, her family, the piece that she was trying to learn. She felt so comfortable with him, something she never would have believed possible on a first date. She smiled to herself, thinking of the things she had done with a man she had never met in person before. She felt like such a... a whore...and it was an amazing and liberating feeling. Before long the decadent desert was in front of them, an amazing confection consisting of layers of hazelnut chocolate mousse, raspberry layer cake, Frangelico white chocolate truffle, and Concord grape sorbet.

She was startled when she reached for her spoon and heard him sharply order, "Stop." She froze, hand in mid-reach, and looked at him inquiringly. He cocked an eyebrow at her and reached for his own spoon, then sampled the rich desert. He nodded in pleasure, then took some more. Missy sat there, watching him eat, wondering exactly what game they were playing now. Feeling silly with her hand hanging halfway to the treat, yet not daring to pick up her own spoon, she finally put it back in her lap.

He nodded in pleasure, this time at her reaction, and without looking at her said, "Hands clasped behind your chair." When she hesitated, he repeated himself and added, "Be lucky I don't have you clasp your hands behind your head, or kneel by my feet." She flushed with shame and immediately transferred her hands behind her chair, right hand clasping her left wrist.

David continued to sample the desert, taking small bits of each layer to taste them in turn and then taking larger bites to combine textures and flavors. Missy stared straight ahead, not daring to look at him or at the delicacy that was quickly disappearing. Finally, he put down his spoon, paused, and took hers. He scooped up some of the softening sorbet and raised the spoon to her mouth. He was going to feed her, right here in public!

Once again she flushed scarlet, but her lubrication betrayed her growing lust. She could do nothing. She craved his control, and his humiliations. They took all responsibility off of her shoulders. She no longer had to be perfect. All she had to be was...his. She willingly opened her mouth and accepted the luscious sorbet, feeling the icy chill and tasting the rich sweetness. He played with her, feeding her steadily from the remains of the decadence in front of them. She knew that people were watching, even though they were tucked away in the back. Conversation at the closest tables had ceased. She felt humiliated anew, and yet another surge of need forced its way through her only to settle in her pussy.

David finally came to the last of the desert, a half-melted blob of sorbet, which he scooped up onto her spoon and directed toward her mouth, open and waiting. He paused, letting her sit there with open mouth, like a child waiting for the bottle...or the breast... Then he raised the spoon even higher, forcing her to tilt her head back, mouth still open, silently begging for the last bite. "End it," she thought. "Finish me off. Do it!" And he complied with her silent wish, slowly dipping the spoon into her waiting mouth, the last taste of the sweet flooding through her.

A small dribble from the bottom of the spoon landed on her lower lip and slipped off, down toward her chin. She flinched, almost letting go of her wrist in order to grab her napkin. But she recovered herself, and lowered her face to look directly at him as he lowered the spoon and put it onto the dish. He gazed back at her, impassively, as the drip of sorbet made its way to her chin and hung there, threatening to land on her white blouse. Finally, he reached forward, slowly, not with his napkin but with his finger, and scooped it up. Then he offered it to her and she hesitated not a second before opening her mouth once again and, still holding his gaze, licking the drop from his fingertip. She continued, parting her lips ever so gently and brushing them over the end of his finger, sucking it inside her mouth, swirling her tongue against the underside, demonstrating to him another of her talents.

They had definitely drawn attention now, and she could feel the eyes upon her as he withdrew his finger. She wondered what kinds of people came here. Maybe lawyers that she waited on at the bakery, or members of her orchestra. Yes, of course, perhaps somebody she knew was sitting nearby, watching her virtually prostrate herself before this magnificent man. She didn't care. It was well worth it. Just to spend a night with him was worth any humiliation. It seemed to take forever for the bill to come and for David to settle it, but not because she was ashamed. Not because she worried who had seen them. Only because she was eager to see what came next. Surely this could not be end of their date?

As they rose to leave the restaurant David did a remarkable thing. He reached out, but instead of taking her hand he took her by the wrist. Gently, but firmly, his thumb extended along the back of her hand, he led her to the entrance and out into the night as if she was a small child. To her great joy he did not head back to the car, but took her walking through Armory Square. They window shopped, people-watched, and enjoyed the brisk night. To the casual observer it would no doubt seem as if they were simply holding hands, but they were not. His gesture was one of utter possession. He steered her, this way and that, taking control of her very movements by directing her wrist just as if he had her on a leash. And at that thought she suddenly found it hard to breathe, the image of her being collared, being on his leash, in public...it blotted everything else out. She was weak at the knees, and almost walked into a light pole. David noticed, and pulled her aside, then into an alleyway.

"What is it?" he asked, his voice carefully neutral. "Is there a problem? Do you want to go home?"

"N-No!" she sputtered, realizing what he was saying.

He nodded once, then repeated himself. "Then what is it? Tell me."

Her mind reeled at the enormity of what she was feeling, of all she had to tell him. But her mouth worked of its own accord, and her heart perfectly knew what it was that she needed. "I want...I want to be yours. I want to belong to you...Daddy."

He smiled then...truly smiled, for the very first time that evening. "And so you shall be," he said, dipping his face to hers, their lips meeting, his strong tongue entering her mouth and exploring her, lashing at her tongue. The kiss stole her reason, and it was a moment before she realized that he was tugging down her zipper. She gasped, hesitated only a moment, and then continued to nibble and suck at his tongue as if it was a tiny cock. If her daddy wanted to fuck his little girl right there in the alley, who was she to object?

He crouched down and pushed his semi-erect cock through her open fly. It felt so hot, like it was almost on fire. She gasped, but didn't open her eyes or break the kiss. Not even when the spongy head nudged her achingly hard clit. Not even when it slid further down, to nestle between her soaking pussy lips. Not even when the first spurt of fluid, hot and acrid, gushed over her sex. He broke the kiss then, and pushed her head back against the brick of the alley wall with a large hand clamped around her throat. He looked her in the eyes just as she realized he was not cumming; no, not at all. Instead he was...marking her. His hot piss washed over her cunt and down her thighs, soaking her new jeans and the tail of her silk blouse. She gasped, started to struggle, and then relaxed and just looked back into his eyes. She wanted to be his, no matter what that meant.

He must have been just about to burst. His flow was strong, despite the fact that his cock was semi-hard, and it was incredibly hot. Her pussy and ass were soaked, and his piss ran down her legs and into her shoes. She could feel rivulets between her perfectly painted toenails, and it not only soaked down her jeans but also up, into the waistband, and further into her shirt. When he was done, he released her and stepped back. She stood for a moment, letting him take in the sight of his new slave. Then, noticing that her daddy still hadn't put his beautiful cock away, she stepped forward and knelt in front of him. Looking up into his eyes once again, she leaned forward and extended her small, delicate tongue. She caught a drop of urine on her tongue from the tip of his cock, and she savored the acrid, salty taste as she swirled it around her mouth and swallowed. He leaned forward, nudging her lips with his hardening cock, and she opened her mouth and took it in. There, in the safety of his slave's mouth, David released the last spurt of piss that he had been saving for her. She immediately swallowed, taking it down into her belly, part of him, safe within her.

After zipping himself up and adjusting his huge erection, he took her by the wrist again and they continued their walk. The sidewalks were crowded. It was obvious that most people thought she had wet her pants. The dark, wet stains on her jeans and the smell of piss were unmistakable. They looked at her, disgusted, sorry for her, shocked, angry...and she did not care. She wore his mark proudly, as she knew she would for as long as he would have her.

Finally, Missy Harand had found the man of her dreams.