The Playeur

"Madeline," he says. A warning.

She whimpers and lets her hands fall to her sides. "I'm sorry," she says.

"Put your arms around me," he says.

She wraps her arms around his neck. Her fingers cling to his shirt collar.

"Good girl," he croons. "Are you ready to come now?"

She nods.

"I can tell," he smirks. "But you don't get to come yet."

His left hand pushes her bra up. His thumb brushes her right nipple. She gasps.

He kisses her ear. "Does this feel good?"

"Yes..."

"Which part?"

"All of it," she gasps.

"You're making me really hard, you know that?"

More gasps. She's a trembling mess of whimpers and wetness.

"Do you want to feel my hard cock inside you?"

She starts shaking her head before he finishes his sentence.

"No?" he asks.

"No," she whimpers.

"You don't want Daddy to fuck your virgin cunt?"

She whimpers. "No, please..."

"Do you want to come?"

"Yes, please, Daddy!"

He suddenly pulls his hands away from her. Out of her panties. Out of her shirt.

He puts his fingers to his lips and sucks her wetness off of them. She watches him in shock.

He picks her straight up. She gasps. He carries her to the kitchen table and lays her on it. He sits on a chair before her. Quickly, he pulls her panties off her hips and legs.

Just like that, she's exposed. She feels like she can't breathe. She's never had a man look at her sex. He licks her. She's definitely never had a man lick her sex. She cries out. It doesn't hurt. It just feels so unbelievably good.

He takes out his swollen cock. He holds her panties and fucks them.

He kisses her sex. He kisses her clit. He swirls his tongue on it and sucks it.

"Daddy, please!" she screams.

"No, Madeline. Don't come," he says. His voice rumbles on her clit. It makes everything worse.

She tries to wriggle away. He folds his arm over her hips and pins her to the table.

"Daddy!"

"Don't you dare fucking come, you gorgeous slut," he growls.

She holds back her orgasm. She hears him moan. Another moan. A sigh.

He lifts his tongue from her sex. Her sex still tingles, hopeful for release.

He closes his pants. He pulls her upright.

She looks down at him. He's holding her panties. The inside is smeared with something milky.

He sees her eyes get wide.

"You know what this is, right?" he asks.

She thinks so. She nods.

"You look so sure," he jokes.

"It—it's different to see it in real life," she says.

He puts her panties around her ankles. "Welcome to real life, little girl."

Her breath catches in protest.

He raises an eyebrow at her. "Would you rather I send you home wearing nothing?"

She looks away and shakes her head.

"Good girl."

He helps her off the table. She stands. He pulls her panties all the way up. She feels his stickiness against her sex. So, so dirty.

She pulls her bra back down over her breasts. It's tough to manage because she doesn't lift her shirt up, she just pinches at the bra through the shirt. She could put her hands under the shirt, but that would make it ride up, and as silly as it is, she doesn't want to reveal even that much more skin.

He leads her to the couch. He pulls her down into his embrace and cuddles her. He can feel how tense she still is. He strokes her hair. Slowly, she sinks into the comfort of his arms.

"Truth or dare, love," he says softly.

She tenses a bit. "Truth," she says.

"Do you believe in God?"

She relaxes again. "I'm Catholic," she says.

"So you believe in a narcissistic God?"

"No!" she giggles.

He loves how easily she laughs at his jokes, even the blasphemous ones.

"Really, do you believe in God?" he asks.

She looks up at him. She's confused. "Of course I do. Have you ever met a Catholic who didn't believe in God?"

"I was one."

She's surprised.

He smiles down at her.

"Then I started fantasizing about kidnapping girls and making them scream. I figured that if there was a God, he wouldn't want me claiming his image."

Oops, she thinks. She has fantasized about being kidnapped like that. She sends God a quick prayer for forgiveness.

Dave strokes her cheek. "If God made you in his image, he must be a very beautiful God indeed," he says.

She blushes and smiles.

"Madeline, this week, I need you to be a good girl for me. I want you to touch yourself every night. But just before you make yourself come, you have to stop. Do you understand?"

She shakes her head.

"Have you touched yourself before?"

She nods.

"Then what don't you understand?"

"Um...why do you—why?"

"Because I said so."

She's quiet.

"Can you do that for me?"

She nods.

"Good girl."

He kisses the top of her head.

• ⚙ ☸ ❂ ☸ ⚙ •

That night, Madeline takes off her clothes. She doesn't look at her panties before throwing them straight into the laundry.

She steps into the shower. She hopes the warm water will wash away all of today's sins.

At bedtime, she says her prayers. Then she crawls into bed. She lies awake. Her hand drifts to her panties. So naughty, to go from having her palms together to having her palm on her sex.

She touches herself. Long-latent strokes, but still familiar. Never under her panties, always over.

She touches her clit. Her nerves jump to life. They're extra sensitive. Extremely sensitive. He harangued her clit with his hands, his lips, his tongue, and then he left her hanging. It wouldn't take much to send her over the edge.

She feels hot. Her breath gets fast, shallow. Her mouth drifts open. She needs more air. She needs more pleasure.

She pulls her hand away. She almost went too far.

It takes a long time for her breathing to return to normal.

• ⚙ ☸ ❂ ☸ ⚙ •

It's the next night. She's about to fall asleep. Then she jolts awake. She forgot to do what he asked. She doesn't really understand this game the Playeur is making her play, but she'll do it because he's the one making her play it.

She touches her clit through her panties. Lazy circles, sleepy strokes. It feels good. Before she can get close to orgasm, she falls asleep.

• ⚙ ☸ ❂ ☸ ⚙ •

Night three. She touches herself through her panties. She imagines that she can feel his hand. Like the first time he made her come. She replays having his fist in her hair. Pulling her head back. Forcing her to face him so he could push his tongue past her lips.

She moans. Then she gasps in surprise at her moan.

She stops touching herself. Her nerves reverberate with impatience.

• ⚙ ☸ ❂ ☸ ⚙ •

Night four. She counts how many more nights she'll have to do this—just three more after tonight, and then she'll go to him and hope he'll let her stop this.

She's never touched herself directly. Until now. She slips her hand into her panties. She draws in a sharp breath. Her clit is so sensitive. It feels so wet and hard under her fingertips.

"Such a bad girl," he said. She can hear it in his voice.

"This is what little sluts like you deserve."

She rubs a finger over her clit, left to right. It doesn't feel quite like when he rubbed it. What did he do? He moved it more. He stroked it lower. She does the same. Her fingers pull at a fold of skin. Her fingertip brushes her clit underneath that skin. A zing runs through her.

She whips her hand away. She feels ashamed. It's the apple she was never supposed to touch.

• ⚙ ☸ ❂ ☸ ⚙ •

Three more nights to go.

She touches the cover of her clit. Her clit tingles. She carefully moves three fingers down the length of her sex. She explores her folds. They're wet in the middle, dry on the outside. Where they're dry, they catch on her fingers. She slides her middle finger down her slit, starting at her clit and moving slowly between her lips. It's slippery. When she gets to the end of her sex, she goes back up. She didn't really find an opening. She wonders where he could possibly put...

"Daddy's big cock"..."Your little cunt is getting ready to take Daddy's big cock deep inside it."

She gasps. Wetness coats her finger.

She moves her fingers back to her clit. She massages it, presses it, a little more, a little harder. Her orgasm teeters on some brink inside her.

She whimpers in exasperation. She pulls her fingers away.

• ⚙ ☸ ❂ ☸ ⚙ •

Second to last night.

She slips her hand into her panties. She feels her wetness. She spreads it over her puffy lips, over her tingling clit.

She explores her sex again. She still doesn't understand where anything could fit.

She remembers how hard he felt against her backside when he pinned her against the door.

"Do you want to feel my hard cock inside you?"

She does. So badly, she does. But she wants him to force her. She wants to fight against him. Against her wants. Against her will.

Maybe God will forgive her if she keeps saying "no". She hopes she can count on Dave not to listen.

She slips her left hand under her shirt. With that hand, she massages her nipple. With the other, she massages her clit. Her left hand knows what her right hand is doing.

She feels herself getting close to coming. She briefly wonders how well she could hide it from him if she let herself come. Just this once...

She gasps and stops touching her clit. She puts both of her hands on her nipples. She scrabbles at them desperately, rolling and rubbing. She almost comes. She cries out in frustration and pulls her hands away.

She can't fall asleep.

A long time passes. She still can't sleep.

She moves her hands to her nipples again. She pets them. Plucks them. Pinches them. They twinge, and the twinges echo in her sex. But it doesn't make her come.

• ⚙ ☸ ❂ ☸ ⚙ •

Tomorrow, she'll see him.

She slips her hands into her panties. She toys with her clit.

What will he do?

Will it be like the first time? Will he sit her on the couch and play with her? Maybe find her mysterious opening and push his fingers inside her?

Will it be like the second time? He'll kiss her down there, and maybe he'll let her come this time?

Will it be something new? A new game? Will he...make love to her? (Or is it "with" her?) Will it be like in the movies, where they hold each other and kiss while time fades in and out?

Or will it be something even better? Something even darker? Something close to the fantasies she has only begin to let herself imagine, the ones called...rape fantasies? This is her perversity: her desire to have her desires in reverse.

"Daddy..." she breathes.

It doesn't take long for her orgasm to draw near. She's so close to coming. But she's so close to the end of the assignment. She moves her hand away. She gives up on her pleasure. It's out of her hands now.

• ⚙ ☸ ❂ ☸ ⚙ •

The deadbolt locks.

He walks to the kitchen. She just stands there next to the door. He didn't descend on her like last time. She's slightly relieved. Slightly disappointed. Very ashamed that she should be disappointed at all.

"I'm making noodles," he says. "You like noodles?"

She nods.

"Have a seat, love."

She walks over and sits at the table. There's a book on it. Stories That Stimulate - A collection of cheesy romances by S. Rosa.

"I was just getting to the good part. Go on and pick up where I left off. I want you to read it out loud."

She picks up the book. She flips it to the spot that has a playing card tucked into it (the card is not actually part of the standard deck, it's one of those cards that has instructions or something that she never reads but still puts back in the box every time).

"Should I start at the top of the left page?"

"Top left to bottom right."

"Um..." she begins to read, "He checks to see if she's wet."

Uh oh, she thinks. This is probably about sex.

"If she isn't, he'll force himself to slow down. But boy, is she wet." She takes a deep breath. "Good thing, because he can't wait any longer. He lowers his body onto hers."

Dave sits in a chair to her right.

"He runs his hand along her left thigh—"

Dave puts his hands on Madeline's thighs. She gasps.

"Keep reading," he says.

She takes a shaky breath. "And...and pulls her knee up."

Dave slowly rubs her thighs over her skirt.

"She feels his...hardness pressing at her entrance. She gasps against his lips. It hurts, but she's determined not to show it. She clings to his arms. He slowly penetrates her."

Dave puts his hand under her skirt. She gasps. She presses her thighs together. She takes one hand off of the book and pushes at his hand. Her clothes are what keep her modest. He's not supposed to trespass against them.

"Uh uh," he scolds. "Hold onto that book."

She obeys. She holds the book, tightly. Her hands would be trembling otherwise.

He pulls her thighs apart. His hand crawls between them. She gasps.

"Keep reading."

She reads. Her voice is getting high. Weak. Shaky. "It feels excruciating. Every time she thinks he couldn't possibly go any further, he pushes another torturous inch deeper into her...her virgin sex." She wonders if that's what it will be like. No, not will. Would. What it would be like, if it ever happened.

"She wants to scream, but she suppresses her voice to a whimper."

He touches her sex over her panties. She whimpers like the woman in the book.

"He hears her whimper as a pleasured moan, and he groans into their kiss. They belong to each other, and it feels so..." so fucking good, it says. "So good," she says. She hopes Dave didn't notice that she skipped the bad word.

Dave toys with her panty waistband. She pauses.

"Go on," he says.

She stumbles over the words. "He withdraws his...his cock and slowly thrusts into her again, even deeper this time. She whimpers again. He lifts his head so he can look into her eyes, but they're closed. Her eyebrows are pinched together. Her head is tilted back, and her lips have fallen open. She's either blissed out or in pain."

Dave slips his hand into her panties. He touches her sex. She gasps. He's fingering a week's worth of built-up tension. But he's careful not to make her come.

She moans. "Dave, please," she says.

"Is that not what I'm doing?"

She can barely process his joke. She starts to lower the book.

"Uh uh," he says. "You can't put that down."

"Please stop," she gasps.

"Stop? You don't want to come?"

"I do," she breathes.

"Then why are you asking me to stop?"

"Because it's—it's too much," she whimpers. "Dave, please—"

"You don't get to call me Dave."

"Daddy..." she says.

"Yes, baby girl?"

Pleasure keeps swirling and simmering in her sex.

"Daddy, please stop..."

"You want Daddy to stop torturing you?"

"Yes, please, Daddy!"

"It's too much for you?"

"Uh huh," she nods.

"Would you rather I just skip to fucking you right now?"

"No!"

"I could just bend you over the table and show you what 'too much' really is."

"No, Daddy!"

He brushes her clit. She whimpers.

"Read."

She grips the book. She keeps reading. Her voice is strained. She's almost wailing. "'Sweetie, you're shaking,' he breathes! 'Is this good for you?' She doesn't answer immediately. Which means he knows the answer. He pauses his thrusting. She opens her eyes. And he's startled to see that they're wet with tears. 'Please keep going,' she whispers! She can barely speak!"

"You want me to keep going?" he asks.

"No!"

He massages her clit. She moans.

Then he slips his hand out of her panties. She breathes heavily. He licks her wetness off his fingers. One at a time. She tries not to watch.

"Mmm," he hums.

He stands up. He looms over her. Her heart jumps. But he just walks to the stove.

She sits there. Body shaking. Breath trembling. Hands shivering.

He puts two bowls of noodles on the table, along with forks and napkins.

"No reading at the table," he says.

He plucks the book out of her hands and tosses it behind him. It spins through the air and lands on the couch.

She looks down at the bowl. Steam rises from it.

"Don't worry," he grins, "you still haven't earned roofies."

She takes a deep breath. She bows her head.

He realizes that she's praying. Man, his parents would love her.

She finishes praying and picks up her fork. He starts eating once she does.

The noodles are delicious. But they're not sating her hunger.

"What do you think?" he asks. "Too salty?"

"No, it's good," she says. Her voice is quiet. "It's amazing, actually."

He smiles. He likes that he can please her this way, too.

"So you're going to church tomorrow?" he asks.

She nods.

"What's that like?"

She looks at him. He looks so genuinely curious. "Haven't you been?" she asks.

"Not since my dad kicked me out for a night for turning a statue of a cross upside down."

She giggles.

He looks at her. He's amused. "You're laughing? You really are a naughty Catholic."

She tries to look serious.

"Can't fool me."

She smiles.

After a pause, she says, "Maybe you should come to church with me sometime and find out what it's like."

"Hell no," he says.

She scoffs an embarrassed laugh at his cursing.

They soon finish their noodles.

She tilts her head thoughtfully at him. "What happened after your dad kicked you out?"

"Oh, nothing," he says. "I just snuck back in through the window, turned every cross in the house upside down, left through the front door, and never looked back."

She looks at him with wide eyes. "Never?"

"Well, I went back to egg the place on Halloween," he says. "That was before I got mature." He puts a scallion on his fork and flings it at her.

She squeals and bats it away. After it lands on the table, she puts it on her napkin.

"How old were you?" she asks.

"Eh, sixteen or something. Whenever kids usually rebel against the people who are just trying to look out for them."

"Do you still talk with your parents?"

"Talked to them this morning. I told them all about you," he says.

She stares at him.

"Told them you're a raging sex addict I'm trying to convert to Catholicism," he grins.

Her eyes get wide. She doesn't know what shocks her more. The entire lie, the sex addict part, or the fact that he mentioned her to his parents at all.

"What did you call me, your 'sub'?!"

"Of course not," he says. "I told them you were my girlfriend."

She stares.

"They wouldn't stop nagging me about getting one," he says. "Had to get them off my ass. Figured you wouldn't mind, since you're so good at playing pretend," he grins.

"So it's just a ruse?" That's fine with her. She just wants to be clear.

"Just like all your 'no's and protests. When really we both know how much you're dying to be taken," he says.

She avoids the subject. "Where did you go after you left home?"

"Here and there. Wasn't hard for a smart, handsome guy like me to find his way in the world." He smiles a smart, handsome smile at her.

"And you've never been back to your parents' house?"

"Why, want to come with me?"

She quickly shakes her head. "I couldn't face anyone who thinks I'm a...a 'raging sex addict'."

"I actually said you're a prostitute."

"What?!" she shouts.

"That's exactly what my mom said."

"Oh my goodness, Dave," she says.

"They don't call me a player for being serious all the time," he grins.

He stands up. "Do you want more noodles?"

"No, thank you," she says.

"Do you want more orgasms?"

She blushes and looks away.

"Coming right up," he smirks. He takes the bowls to the sink. "I want you to go wait for me in my room." He nods towards a hallway.

"Okay," she says meekly.

So sweet and obedient, he thinks.