Hunter’s Baby Girl
Samantha Morgan
Edited by
Candy Royer
Illustrated by
Jay Aheer
Contents
Chapter 1
Chapter 2
Chapter 3
Chapter 4
Chapter 5
Chapter 6
Chapter 7
Chapter 8
Chapter 9
Chapter 10
Chapter 11
Chapter 12
Chapter 13
Chapter 14
About the Author
Copyright
Copyright © 2019 by Samantha Morgan
All rights reserved. No part of this book may be reproduced or transmitted in any form or by any means, electronic or mechanical, including photocopying, recording, or by any information storage and retrieval system, without permission in writing from the publisher.
This book is intended for adults only. Spanking and other sexual activities represented in this book are fantasies only, intended for adults.
Chapter 1
When we pulled up across from the BDSM club, I had no idea what I was in for.
I’d never done anything like this before; nothing even close, in fact. In all my twenty-six years, my sex life had been fairly vanilla. The kinkiest I ever got was a little light spanking or a blindfold over the eyes. So imagine my surprise when my best friend suggested I join her that night.
“Tonight’s the monthly open house,” Megan told me over the phone. “And the theme is age play.”
“What’s age play?” I asked, feeling like the world’s biggest nerd compared to my much more experienced friend. She was a regular at the club, visiting once a week, and had no shame when it came to sharing her experiences with me after the fact. I had to admit, some of the stories she told me were a little . . . exciting. More than once, I’d found myself fantasizing about being the one strapped to a table, spread-eagled, with a half-dozen pairs of hands stroking and fondling me.
“Age play is, like, when you pretend to be younger than you are, and the guy pretends to be the same age or older than he is. Think Daddy disciplining his disobedient daughter.”
That got my attention. One thing that had always turned me on was having my boyfriends dominate me a little. Not a lot, not rape fantasy or anything like that. But being called a bad girl and being “punished”, usually by being “forced” to suck them off or something like that. I always got off on that sort of scenario.
Not only that, but Megan knew about my penchant for older men. I guess you could call it a fetish, I don’t know. That was why she felt tonight would be perfect for me.
“These guys,” Megan stated, “aren’t necessarily old per se. But they dominate and dole out discipline, if you know what I mean, just like they would if there were actually a huge age difference. Maybe you could find a partner closer to your own age instead of the AARP card-carrying geriatrics you’re always chasing around.”
“They’re not that old!” I asserted. “Nobody over forty-five anyway.”
“Still,” Megan continued, “I really think that a visit tonight is just what you need. You could have a lot of fun, I’m sure of it. Live a little while you’re still young enough to do it!” I had to laugh, having heard her say this about herself too many times to mention.
She had never steered me wrong in all the twenty years I’d known her, and I knew she had my best interest at heart. Plus, from what she had told me, this was a club totally on the up-and-up. Even when they held their open house, they had a strict rule that any new visitor had to be in the company of a member in good standing. If the visitor acted up or broke any of the rules, both they and the member who sponsored their visit would be thrown out and never allowed back in.
“What do I wear?” I asked, and Megan laughed triumphantly.
She told me the dress code was “theme appropriate” – in other words, if I wanted to be treated like a younger girl, I should dress like one. I went to my basement, where I stored totes full of old high school and college stuff, and found my Catholic high school uniform: a pleated plaid skirt, button-up blouse complete with Peter Pan collar, and a cardigan. I even had a pair of saddle shoes. For once, I was glad I never seemed to be able to get rid of things.
Still, I thought perhaps I should sexy it up a little. So I pulled out the garter belt an ex had purchased for me years before, with the matching thigh-high stockings. We ended things not long after he bought that for me, actually, so I’d only worn them once. I thought a black lace bra and thong might work well.
After I put my hair up in pigtails, I realized I looked just like Britney Spears in the “…Baby One More Time” video. Only while Britney was blonde, my long hair was brown. And if I do say so myself, my 36C boobs looked better than hers in my plunging push-up bra. I left my blouse unbuttoned halfway to show them off.
The doorbell rang; it was Megan. Or at least I hoped it was Megan, or else I’d feel pretty funny answering the door looking like this. But it was her, and the second she got a good look at me, she just about lost her mind.
“Hayley!” she laughed and threw her arms around me. “Spin around for me!” I did. I had to admit, I felt pretty good about still being able to fit into my size-four high school uniform. “Girl, you look hot! I’m proud of you!”
“Then why are my knees knocking?” I asked her.
She took my hands in hers. “Listen. You don’t have to even do anything with anybody if you don’t want to. You’ll find out that this place caters to a whole range of people, and the number-one rule is respect and politeness. If somebody asks you to play and you don’t want to, you can say, ‘No, thank you’, and they’ll be on their way. And if they don’t respect that, well, I’ll point out the dungeon masters to you. They’ll take care of things if you give them the heads up.”
I gulped. “Dungeon masters?” She laughed again and assured me it wasn’t as serious as it sounded.
She had walked into my house wearing a long trench coat, which I thought might be a good idea for me as well. We climbed into her car, and she gave me a rundown of the rules of the club.
“Like I said, first and foremost is respect and politeness. If you want to watch people playing, you can with their permission, but it’s considered impolite to ask questions or stand too close – and you should certainly never attempt to join in without consent.”
“Oh, don’t worry. That’s not gonna happen,” I told her.
“Masturbation is frowned upon, unless it’s part of the play scenario,” Megan continued. “So you’re not going to see a bunch of guys standing around jerking off all over the place, in other words. There are specific rooms for sex, too, and they’re generally stocked with condoms, as well as toys,” she said. “Again, you do not have to do anything tonight. Just get a feel, whatever. No pun intended.”
“What if I . . . want to?” I asked. She grinned.
“Then approach somebody and ask them,” she said. “There are different colored wristbands distributed when you come in. If a person is wearing black, they don’t want to be approached for anything. If they’re wearing white, they’re open to meeting a new play partner.”
I mulled this over, and by the time we arrived at the club, my heart was pounding. What had I agreed to do?
“Don’t worry,” my best friend assured me and squeezed my hand. “This is actually safer than going to a plain nightclub. You’ll see.”
The bouncer checked Megan’s card at the door when we stepped inside, and girl in a corset and pencil skirt took our coats. Megan looked great, her curvy, petite figure in what could be referred to as a “sexy librarian” outfit. “Some guys like to be dominated by a strong older wom
an,” she explained. She looked sexy as hell, and I knew the men at the club would love it.
She put on a white wristband. “What color?” the girl at the desk asked. I bit my lip and seconds later was putting on a white wristband of my own. What the hell? I thought. When in Rome.
Within minutes, I saw what Megan meant and felt much more relaxed than I had prior to arriving. It really was just like a club. There was a dance floor and DJ, an area to just sit and chill out, and various rooms off the main area in which we now stood.
We got a drink – juice, of course. Little Girls weren’t allowed to have alcohol. I looked around at the other patrons. They were of all shapes, sizes, and ages. Some led others around on collars. Megan told me that was the typical Dom/sub situation. One man wearing footie pajamas asked if he could lick my shoe. I politely declined and was pleased when he smiled and wished me a fun evening. Then he asked Megan, and to my surprise, she let him lick her patent-leather fetish heels.
She looked at me. My jaw was on the floor. “What?” she asked. “He likes it. It’s not hurting anybody. Just relax.”
So, I tried to relax. I was curious to see what was going on in some of the rooms, actually. I told Megan this, but she was making eye contact with a burly, bald-headed man in a football jersey. “I think the captain of the football team has to do some extra credit work if he wants to play in the big game this weekend,” she murmured to me.
Just then, Megan noticed someone standing near the football player. She waved him over. “I want you to meet someone,” she told me. I was looking down at my drink, and when I looked up again, I saw possibly the most gorgeous man I’d ever laid eyes on.
I was average height, around five feet, five inches, and he had at least six inches on me, if not more. He was wearing tight leather pants, boots, and nothing else. His body was miraculous: fit, lean, and muscular. I could have licked his abs right then and there, I thought.
“Hunter,” Megan said, “this is my best friend, Hayley. Hayley, this is Hunter. He enjoys telling Little Girls what to do.”
“I prefer to think of it as guidance and nurturing, Megan,” he joked with a wink before shaking my hand.
“Well, you two have fun tonight. I’m gonna go talk to this football player over here and see if we can’t bring his average up,” she said. And just like that, she was gone.
“I’m guessing you’re new here?” he asked, and I nodded.
“How did you know?” I asked.
“Well, first off, you’re looking around with your eyes bulging out of your head,” he chuckled. “And second, I know I would remember you if you’d been here before.”
I couldn’t help smiling. “I’ve just never seen anything like this,” I told him.
“Don’t be scared . . . Little One,” he said. I looked at him, slightly confused. “Oh, I’m sorry,” he said. “It’s just that the white wristband . . . I understand if you don’t want to play.”
“No, no,” I said, not wanting to turn down the chance to have fun with this gorgeous hunk. “I was just confused. No, I definitely think you should . . . show me around, so I’m not scared anymore.” He grinned, revealing dimples in his cheeks, which were covered with a day or two worth of dark growth. It made him look even more roguishly sexy. His piercing blue eyes shone at me, even in the dim light.
First, he led me to a large room off the dance floor, which was full of equipment, like whips and paddles and restraints, hanging from the walls, two tables on which women were being spanked while others watched, and an X-shaped cross to which a man was strapped and being flogged with a leather cat-o’-nine tails. “This is where anyone can generally play if they want to, a sort of come-as-you-are thing,” he explained. “As long as you’re respectful, you’re good.” He nodded toward the corner, where who I assumed to be a dungeon master was standing guard. Of course, he was simply dressed like a regular person. I don’t know what I’d been expecting.
“Do you sometimes need a spanking when you’ve been a bad girl?” he murmured in my ear. I couldn’t help the shiver than ran up my spine at his words and the feeling of his breath on me. “Mmm-hmm,” I replied, biting my lip and looking up at him through lowered lashes. I could tell he appreciated the response.
“Let’s go see some of the other rooms. We’ll see what sort of scenes are going on.” He took my hand and led me out of the room. Scenes of what? I asked myself.
Well, I figured it out pretty quickly as we walked into another room and were greeted by the sight of a woman on all fours on a mattress, with her hands and ankles strapped down. She was being fucked from behind by one man while another man’s cock was in her mouth. Several couples were seated around the room, watching in silence.
“Do you like this?” my “Daddy”, as I guessed I should call him, whispered in my ear. I had to nod. I was always turned on by the sight of a woman being taken by two men at once.
He took my hand and led me to one of the large, plush armchairs in the room. He sat, then took my hand and pulled me onto his lap to watch the scene.
He pulled me closer, so my ear was near his mouth. “Can I touch you?” he whispered. I thought about it for a moment, then nodded. I wanted to see where this would go.
Chapter 2
We both watched as the woman on the mattress was being fucked mercilessly by the two men. The one in front held onto her head and thrust himself in and out of her mouth. From this angle, I could see that she was blindfolded and wearing a little baby-doll nightie. The man taking her from behind was holding her hips and began slamming himself into her, their bodies slapping together.
“Do you like sucking Daddy’s friend’s cock? Do you like when Daddy does this to you?” the man behind her asked. She moaned, long and low, to signal how much she enjoyed it and was rewarded by even more powerful thrusts from both partners.
I felt Hunter’s hand on my arm, gently stroking up and down. Nothing more, just that one point of contact. But for some reason, every nerve was on edge. He might as well have been stroking my ass I was getting so turned on between what I was seeing and the feeling of his hand on me.
The scene was over before I knew it. The participants finished, and the spectators rose from their seats, including Hunter and me. “Did you like watching them fuck, Little Girl?” he asked.
“I did,” I whispered, leaning on him as we left the room. My knees were weak. “I expected more, like, whips and paddles and stuff.”
He laughed indulgently. “They might have already done that before we got there,” he explained. “There’s all sorts of scenes, all levels of play. Would you like to explore some more?”
I knew what I wanted, and it wasn’t to watch somebody else have fun. “Actually . . . I was hoping we could play a little,” I said, staring up into those big blue eyes of his. I had no idea where to go from here, and I was hoping he’d be kind and gentle with me . . . until I didn’t want him to be gentle anymore, that is.
“Do you want me to show you how to play?” he asked, touching my arm again. It was incredible, the way the simplest touch could feel so erotic. There was something about his hands that drove me crazy. I couldn’t help wondering what else he could do to me with them.
He took my hand and led me to a row of doors set farther back from the dance floor than where we’d already been. One of them was open, and he poked his head in. “It’s free,” he told me with a grin and pulled me in behind him. I felt a little nervous thrill at the sound of the latch catching when he closed the door behind us.
There was another table in the dimly lit room, which I came to associate with spanking since I’d seen two women bent over and being paddled in the common area. There was also a chair with arm restraints, and a table with both arm and leg restraints. I saw the condoms Megan had told me about, as well as an array of sex toys and sanitizers. They really did think of everything.
“I wanted to talk to you about what I heard from your teacher today, Little Girl,” Hunter said. Suddenly, his voice was very c
ommanding, authoritative. I guessed we were jumping right into it, and I wanted to play along. Something about him made me want to explore this further.
“She’s a liar,” I said, placing my hands on my hips and jutting my chin out.
He raised an eyebrow, his face smooth and unreadable as a stone tablet. “You were caught cutting class, and she wasn’t the only teacher who reported seeing you sneak out of school today. What do you have to say for yourself?”
“I say none of them can tell me what to do. And neither can you. I’m sixteen, and I can do what I want.” I crossed my arms over my chest, and I knew the way my tits squeezed together between my arms got his attention. His eyes roamed over my body, and I felt myself grow warm all over.
“I think you’ve gotten a little too big for your britches, young lady,” Hunter said. “You need to be taught a lesson, for your own good. Come here.”
He took a seat on the chair and pulled me toward him. “I hate to have to do this to you, you know. But you’ll never learn unless you find out the consequences of your actions. Get over my knee.”
I bit my lip involuntarily, my skin tingling before he’d even touched me. A spanking, huh? I pretended to be upset and reluctant. “I don’t wanna,” I told him, in the brattiest tone of voice I could manage.
“You’ll do as I say, Little Girl,” my Daddy said, then grabbed me by the arm and pulled me over his knee. I gasped, shocked at his forcefulness. He could do anything he wants with me, I realized. He could totally overpower me. Instead of feeling fear, however, I felt intensely aroused.
“I know you want to test the limits, because you’re growing up. But I’m the boss; what I say goes. I know better than you do.” I felt him pull up the back of my plaid skirt, and the soft groan I heard from him told me he approved of my smooth ass, fully on display thanks to my skimpy thong. One hand held me down, pressed firmly into my back to keep me in place. The other began a slow, teasing journey up the backs of my stocking-clad thighs. I felt the warmth between my legs turn to wetness as his hand crept farther up until it reached my ass cheeks. I was nearly trembling with desire now.
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