Puppy-girl Ch. 02

Thank you for all the support and kind words on the previous chapter! I'm so excited to continue this story.

If this is your first time reading this series, I recommend you head over to my profile and read the first chapter.

As always, constructive criticism is welcome! Tell me what you think - it lets me know if I'm doing a good job, whether the story is being well-received, and whether I should continue.

--

My mind was trapped -- it was like she was quicksand. I couldn't get her out of my head. I kept envisioning her coy smile, her little whimpers, her obedient puppy pose as she perched on my bed waiting for me. I threw out the bottle of orange juice the day after she left. Every time my eyes fell upon the half empty bottle, I remembered how cute she looked with her hands wrapped around the glass and her soft lips pressed together as she drank the orange liquid. I didn't need the reminder.

It had been nearly a week since she left my house and travelled back to her parent's house an hour out of town, and in that time, I swear I had jerked off to the memory of her pussy gripping my cock a billion times. I had tried to watch porn to get her out of my head; to try and distract my thoughts onto something else. All the usual stuff -- the face fuckings, the spankings, the gangbangs -- none of it worked. Every porn star, no matter what she looked like, ended up being replaced with Violet in my mind. My puppy-girl. Jesus, I had even gotten hard at work when I was busy laying some roof down because she was stuck in my mind that concretely. It was frustrating and distracting.

It was made worse by the fact that I had now gotten into a routine of texting or calling her before I fell asleep. She was funny and witty, making little jokes and telling me about her sociology degree at college that she was studying for. Her focus was on gender studies -- we both had a chuckle at the irony of her studying feminism and while enjoying being treated like a whore. Her parents, around my age in their 40s, were near impossible to live with apparently. She told me about how they were avid Christians and they forced her to go to church every Sunday, and afterwards she was forced to attend a church group BBQ. Despite my sympathy, I couldn't help but smile -- their pious little girl wasn't as innocent as they wanted her to be apparently.

Sasha sat next to me on my couch, her legs crossed, as she watched TV.

Eventually, her eyes fell on me. "Who are you texting?" she asked, leaning over to try and look at my phone.

I pulled it out of her line of vision. "I'm texting work." I quickly answered.

Sasha's eyes narrowed, and she attempted to reach for my phone. "Bulllshit, Joel. Why are you being so secretive? Who are you texting?"

"No one!" I insisted. My arm shot upwards, holding my phone out of her reach.

Sasha eventually stopped, returning to her place on the couch. She frowned at me, her blonde hair pulled into a bun that made her look severe, like a high school teacher. Despite her being the same age as me, somehow she seemed to have aged less than I had. Maybe all that pussy eating was a natural anti-ageing treatment.

She had a right to be suspicious -- we had been friends for years and generally, we shared every detail of our lives with each other. She ran by every girlfriend she had with me, and usually we debriefed each other after dates we had. I had tried it on with her years ago when we met at a party, but very quickly I realised that wasn't going to happen. That didn't stop us from having a drunken kiss every now and then, but I knew now that it was all in the name of fun, rather than expecting anything more to happen.

Her eyes felt like they were boring into mine. Finally, I relinquished.

"I'm texting that girl who turned up the other week -- Violet." I answered.

Her eyebrows shot up. "Really?" she said incredulously. "The girl who came to you for help from her psycho boyfriend?"

"Ex-boyfriend," I said quickly. "But that's not important. We're just friends. I'm ... supporting her."

"Joel," Sasha said, her voice flat. "How old is she, like 19?"

"She's actually 21," I snapped back. "And that's not important. We're just friends!"

"Did something happen between you two?" she suddenly asked. "When she stayed here?"

The question made me balk. I hadn't told Sasha about my evening with Violet. I had told her that I gave her some money to catch the train to her parent's house and she went on her way the next morning. I was sure guilt was written all over my face right now.

"No!" I answered and I internally berated my body for giving it away -- my voice, usually deep, came out cracked, like I was fucking teenager whose voice had just dropped.

"You've got to be kidding me, dude."

"Okay, fine!" I eventually said. My phone was in my lap now and I raised my hands. "But she seduced me. Not the other way around."

Sasha produced a dry laugh. "Oh yeah, and I'm sure you fought her off tooth and nail, right? You're twice her age!"

"I'm not sayin' I said no. I mean, Jesus, tell me you'd say no if a girl like that fell into your lap."

The little sigh that came from Sasha told me the answer before she did. "Probably not," Sasha said, smirking slightly. "So ... was she any good?"

I couldn't stop the grin that crossed my lips. "Yeah, she was alright," I answered.

"Come on, dude! If I'm going to ignore the fact that you're morally bankrupt, you've at least gotta give me some details."

I had to choose my words carefully here. As much as I loved Sasha and as much as I shared things with her willingly, the darker side of my sexual escapades were very much a personal detail that I kept to myself. I wasn't sure how she would react. Sasha was a feminist at heart. It wasn't like I wasn't one either -- I tried my hardest to be inclusive and to support women. But this was different. Sasha was right -- Violet was half my age, and she came to me for support. If I told Sasha that I fucked Violet like she was a filthy little dog, I wasn't sure she would appreciate that.

"It was ... kinky," I answered finally. "She liked it ... rough."

Sasha nodded appreciatively. "Good for her," she said lightly.

"Yeah, she wanted me to ... take charge." I was getting more confident after Sasha's response. A little detail wouldn't hurt. "Like with spankin' and stuff."

"Spanking?" Sasha said in feigned shock. "My, how kinky of you, Joel. Be careful you don't pull her hair a little bit next."

"All right, whatever. There was more to it than that. But I'm a man who don't kiss an' tell."

"Whatever, man. You keep your secrets. But I have to admit, I do like the vision I have of her being spanked. She was a hot little thing." Sasha smirked again before turning back to the TV. "Pass the remote. I wanna see what else is on."

--

My phone buzzed two weeks later, and I saw Violet's name flashing up on the screen. I tried to ignore the little flutter my heart did at the sight.

"Hey, sweets," I finally answered.

"Hey, Joel," came her trilling reply. "So ... guess who's coming back to your neck of the woods?"

"Mm, I don't know. The muffin man?"

"The muffin ma -- jesus, you are such an old man."

"Easy," I warned her.

"Anyway," she continued breathlessly. "I'm coming back, and I wondered if you wanted to meet up for a drink?"

Her voice was high and tight -- it sounded unnatural. There was something off here, I was sure of it.

"What's going on? Has something happened with your parents?"

"Um ... no. Actually, Hugo called. You'll never believe this, but he wants to try again!" Her response ended with a high lilt as if this were the most normal thing she could have said to me.

"Your ex? The psycho drunk you just got away from?"

I began to pace around my living room, my heart beating a little faster. As the silence extended over the phone, I found my spare hand reaching for a cigarette in my pocket. I lit it, still inside, before opening my sliding door and stepping out into the chilly evening air. The smoke exhaled from my mouth in lazy tendrils.

"Well, he's not really that psycho," she said quietly. "He was just going through a hard time is all. And he promised me he's not drinking anymore, so ..."

"Violet," I sucked on my cigarette again and found the two fingers it was pinched between were almost squishing the little foam end of the smoke. "You do remember what he did right? Throwin' stuff? Gettin' all angry and drunk? That don't just go away magically. It'll only lead to more bullshit." I hated how the twang of my accent returned when I was getting worked up.

"Don't be dramatic, Joel. I'm telling you, it'll be fine. Plus, it's not like I've got anyone else who wants me, right?"

The meaning of that statement was clear. The last time we had spoken, I had told her in no uncertain terms that our relationship was purely platonic from now on. Like I said to Sasha, we were just friends. Sure, I could fantasize about her, but in real life, we were nothing more than friends. She was too young, too addictive, and I knew we wouldn't be able to stop our relationship from becoming all-consuming. It was for her benefit and mine.

"Jesus christ, kid. You're killin' me here. I'm tellin' you now, it's a bad idea."

"Why can't you just trust me?" She was near yelling now. Her petulant voice being thrown into the phone abruptly. "What are you, jealous or something?"

"I'm not jealous. And you're pushin' your fucking luck," I growled. "Simmer down, Violet. Or else."

I wasn't jealous, that much was certain. If she wanted to be with that punk, then she was fucking welcome to it. He was a no-good loser, and she was an idiot if she thought running back to him was going to work out.

"Or else what? You gonna spank me again, Joel? You said it yourself, we're friends. Platonic. You don't get to be my Daddy anymore."

"Oh, and this is how friends speak to each other is it? Screamin' down the phone about how they're runnin' back to their psycho ex?" I was fuming now, near chain smoking the cigarette that was pinched in my shaking hand. "I'm tellin' you, he's bad news. But if you wanna be a fool and make the same mistake twice, then go ahead."

"Fine!"

The dial tone beeped out continuously after she hung up on me. I threw my phone back in the open door onto the couch, reached into my pocket, and lit another cigarette.

--

Why was I doing this? It wasn't as though I could change her mind. She had called me the day after that phone call apologising for yelling at me, and the way her little voice almost trembled as she spoke broke me just a little. I relented, apologising to her as well, and said that yes, I was happy to meet up for a drink. At least I'd be able to make sure she was okay, if anything. And now I sat in the full bar, nursing two fingers of whiskey, waiting on her to show up.

My hands ran through my hair, trying to fix the strays that never seemed to flatten. June looked at me curiously.

"You waiting on someone?" she asked.

"Mm," I grunted, and swallowed some of my drink.

"A man of few words, aren't you?" she retorted.

The door opened behind me and cold air swirled inside. Then a small, cold hand touched my shoulder and some lips came close to my ear.

"Hey, Daddy," Violet said sweetly. "Buy a girl a drink?"

My eyes met hers as I swivelled in my seat. God, she was beautiful. Her auburn hair tumbled over her shoulders in long, soft tendrils, and her petite body was covered in a short yellow sundress, despite the cooler weather. Pulled over her upper half was a leather jacket, but her legs, long and smooth, were bare.

"Aren't you cold?" I immediately asked, looking down at her pale skin.

"I'll warm up," she answered with a shrug and pulled herself onto a seat next to me.

After a quick word, June handed her a vodka and orange juice. She sipped it, and once again, her eyes looked up at me through dark eyelashes. God, this felt eerily like Déjà vu.

"You look good, anyway," I said. Dammit, I berated myself, keep it platonic, you dimwit. "How was the train ride here? You get in okay?"

As she nodded, I noticed the flesh of her little breasts jiggle slightly. They were pushed together by the tight fit of the upper half of her dress, but I could see her nipples pressing urgently into the yellow fabric from the cold.

Her eyes followed mine. She snapped her fingers in front of my face. "Hey, eyes up here, Mr. 'We're Just Friends'. My friends don't get to stare like that."

"Oh, but you get to call me Daddy when it suits you?" I quipped.

A little smile played on her lips as she watched me. She tapped blue-painted fingernails on her glass. "Yeah, I'd say that's about right. You won't do anything about it, so I don't have to worry about any punishments, do I?"

"Mm, I guess not," I murmured.

Not that I didn't want to. That little smile made my hand itch to slap it off her face. Perhaps I just might end up doing that, the way this conversation was going.

"Do you wanna be punished, puppy-girl?" I questioned, pushing it slightly.

"That depends, Joel," she said, her voice quiet. I almost couldn't hear it above the din of the bar. "Are you going to let me go afterwards? I'm down for a one-off punishment ..."

She was pushing it, too. Both of us, sitting side-by-side, edging towards a repeat of the other week's events. Both of us teetering on the edge, but unsure of who would jump first.

I watched her neck muscles flex slightly as she downed her entire drink, her pale skin almost glowing under the dim lighting. Then she stood and placed a hand on my arm. "I need the bathroom," she finally said. Her eyes searched mine, trying to convey some meaning I hadn't quite gotten yet. After a moment, she rolled them and said, "I might need some assistance. That drink has gone straight to my head." Then she walked away, her little hips sashaying slightly as she walked towards the bathroom.

So she was jumping first. No surprises there, I thought.

I downed my whiskey and stood abruptly. June looked at me quizzically, her eyes moving from me to Violet's retreating back.

I smiled at her. "Bathroom break," I said quickly. "Keep my seat warm, June."

The bathroom cubicle was tiny and there were splashes of an unidentified liquid on the floor surrounding the toilet. Our bodies squished together in the stall and my feet stuck to the floor as I moved around, making a light sucking sound. I could hear music thumping through the wall and the sound of chatter. The cubicle walls didn't reach the roof, meaning anyone who came into the bathroom to use another cubicle would be able to hear anything happening in our little stall.

My back sat against the cubicle door, and the backs of her knees were against the cold porcelain of the toilet. She shifted uncomfortably. But I wasn't interested in that right now. Right now, all I cared about was wiping that smug smile off Violet's face. If she wanted to be a dirty little puppy, then I would make her a dirty little puppy.

"Get on your knees," I instructed.

She moved to squat on the filthy floor, almost through an automatic response to my command, but then faltered. "Maybe we should find somewhere cleaner?" she suggested, second guessing her decision to come into the bathroom.

My hand moved into her hair, and I scrunched it tightly, eliciting a pained whine from her lips. "On your fucking knees," I repeated. "You're a little puppy-girl, aren't you? Be a good dog and obey."

Still gripping tightly in her hair, my hand followed her as she awkwardly knelt on the ground. Her bare knees stuck to the linoleum floor and the lower half of her legs sat to each side of the toilet basin. I could tell she was uncomfortable, with her little face scrunched up in disgust, but like I said, I didn't care about that. By this point, I could feel an erection growing in my pants, and what better way to silence this slut than with a cock sliding down her throat.

My hand moved away from her hair and I gently gripped her chin, forcing her to look up at me. Her face was flushed with shame at being made to kneel on the ground like a common whore, but that's what she was right now. Her dark eyes were hesitant.

Slowly, with deliberate movements, I unzipped my pants and pulled them down slightly, freeing my cock. Its length wasn't accurately displayed due to its semi-hardness.

Violet didn't need to be asked -- she leaned forward and obediently placed her lips around the head of my cock. Her little tongue created wet, swirling movements, lapping over the head. Her hands wrapped around like a warm little blanket. I sighed, growing harder, as I looked down at her. I couldn't stop myself from stroking her hair and down the side of her face, until I rested my hand under her chin; I could feel her jaw working steadily in my palm as she licked the head of my cock.

"Good girl," I grunted breathily.

The dank toilet cubicle smelled like piss, and the thought of her lowering herself to her knees amongst a stranger's stray urine made me even harder. I wasn't one for scat play or anything like that, but there was something psychologically pleasing about her degradation in this moment. She had been running her mouth to me for the past week and a half, virtually and in person just moments earlier, and it felt good to know I could shut the slut up.

As I became engorged, I felt her struggling to hold me in her mouth. Her jaw started to stretch obscenely and with an apologetic glance, she moved away so she only held the head in her mouth again. I growled deeply, and my touch shifted to a firm grip on her chin and throat. I pushed further into her mouth once, and she gagged audibly as my cock prodded at the back of her throat.

"Good dogs swallow all of their treats," I instructed through heavy breaths.

Her eyes gazed up at me, welling with tears from the intense jabbing sensation. They pleaded silently with me as I thrust myself once more into her mouth which now opened obediently. I felt myself stretching her jaw open as I moved part way down her throat. I was sure that if she were laying backwards and I thrust just like this, I would be able to see that satisfying bulge where my cock had buried itself in her oesophagus.

She was gagging harder now, each slow thrust pure bliss for me, but torture for her. Her loud, throaty sounds seemed to echo around the stale bathroom, announcing her whore-status to whoever might enter.

"Be a good girl and poke out your tongue, Violet."

She extended her little tongue as far as it would go while I face fucked her. I could feel saliva dripping all over my cock and when I looked down, her chin was slowly being covered by slobber. I could just see a peek of her red tongue hanging out underneath my length.

My thrusts came harder and faster now, jabbing into the back of her throat. I was close. She seemed to realise this, and her sucking became a frenzy -- I was sure she was doing it to end this escapade a little faster.

"Open ... your mouth," I gasped as I desperately pulled out of her mouth.

Her hands went to my throbbing cock, but I slapped them away and gripped it myself. She looked up at me, gasping for breath, and opened her mouth, her puppy-dog tongue hanging out, ready to lap up my cream.

The orgasm was so intense that briefly I couldn't control where my cum was distributed. It shot into her open mouth, spreading across her tongue, and then down her chin. The white spunk dribbled down her throat, coating her chest and coming to a stop at the edge of the neckline of her dress.

"Don't fucking swallow," I growled. "Keep your mouth open."

She did. Her mouth remained open as her red tongue swirled my cum around in her mouth -- a small bit of it seeped out and ran down her chin to join the rest of the stray drippings. I stroked the side of her face, and my hand ended up smearing some of the dribbles further onto her skin.