by Lena Gordon
As if she knew what I was going to say, Abby half turned in an effort to meet my gaze as she defended her effort. “I know they’re not perfect,” she said. “But it’s really hard to do by yourself and—”
“Mrs. McClean would have helped you.”
I heard her gulp. “Mrs.…Mrs. McClean?”
“She’s my staff,” I said. “That’s what she’s here for. To assist.”
“But I…that’s just…”
“No matter.” I started to unlace the corset, straightening each lace. “I’ll take care of it. Stand still.” My fingers moved quickly, tightening and pulling until I was ready for the final pull. “Turn and hold the edge of my desk.” She did as she was told and I pulled firmly against the corset. She let out a gasp as I snugged it up and tied it firmly in place. “Stand up and let me look.”
When she turned around, her breasts had been pushed up even higher; her nipples were even harder and flushed from the effort of the tightening. Her waist dipped in to an enticing swell, and when I turned to examine it, her ass was presented plump and ready. “Perfect.”
Abby’s face gave her away.
“You really are eager to please, aren’t you, little girl?”
She nodded. “Why do you call me that?”
“Because that’s what you are,” I said. “How old are you, Abby?”
“Twenty.” I took a few years off after high school.
My cock pulsed.
“See? Such a little girl. And I’m old enough to be your daddy. Does that bother you?”
She shook her head.
“Good. Because it wouldn’t matter if it did.”
But I was about finished with the pleasantries. “Before we get started, I need to ask you a question.” She nodded, waiting. “Do you know why you’re here?” She nodded again. “Tell me.”
“I took money.”
“No,” I corrected her. “You stole from me and bartered yourself in exchange for your freedom and the cash. Do you know what that makes you?”
“A…that makes me…a…” She struggled with the words. With the knowledge of what she was doing. But I needed her to say it. I needed it to come from her mouth.
“Say it, Abby,” I demanded and pushed my fingers between her legs.
She bit down on her lip and groaned against my touch. She was dripping with need. She wanted release and she could have it, too. She just needed to say the words. I dragged one finger roughly over her clit, pressing it hard until she squirmed.
“Say it, Abby. What does that make you?” I circled my finger over her hard nub, flicking it for good measure before tracing along the edges of her panties and slipping my fingers inside and up against her hot, wet flesh. She groaned and ground her hips down on my fingers but I wasn’t ready to give her what she craved. Not yet.
“I…” She tried again.
She was so damn stubborn. So unwilling to admit to herself what she was.
I thrust a finger inside her, then another. She moaned and I knew she was close. She wanted to come badly. I twisted and pumped my fingers inside her and just when I felt her clench down, ready to come, I pulled them out. Her body sagged with the disappointment of a climax unfulfilled, but I wasn’t done with her. I held my fingers to her mouth and like a good girl, she sucked them into her mouth, tasting her juices on my hand.
While she watched, I unbuckled my belt and pulled my cock from my pants. Her eyes grew wide at my impressive size and no doubt the uncertainty of what was going to come next.
I kissed her hard on the lips, tasting her own juices on her tongue as I possessed her with my mouth. With one hand on my dick, I moved to suck and bite at each nipple in turn, driving her ever closer to her own release. But she wouldn’t have it. Not until I got what I wanted.
Her breath came in pants, her breasts heaving with every inhale. It was time. I pulled back and flipped her around, bending her over my desk so her breasts pressed into the polished wood. I know her nipples had to be aching after the attention I gave them and the thought made me even harder.
I ran my hands over her round, firm ass and smacked each cheek soundly. She groaned and pressed farther up on the desk with each strike of my hand. She moaned out her pleasure but there would be time for more of that later. Now I needed her, hard and fast.
With one hand holding her ass in place, I tore the scrap of panties away from her and nudged her legs open with my knee, spreading her beautiful, juicy pussy open for me. I pressed the tip of my cock to her opening and heard her suck in a breath. I knew how big I was, and I knew she’d gotten an eyeful as well. Her eyes had widened with appreciation and just enough fear to keep it interesting.
But she’d take me. Of that I had no doubt.
“I’m going to fuck you now, little girl.” She nodded against the table. “And if you’re a good girl, you can come for Daddy, too. Would you like that?”
She nodded again and I slid into her.
Fuck, she felt good. Hot, wet, tight and damn. I didn’t bother giving her any time to adjust to me before I pulled out and rammed into her again. Hard. She bumped against the desk, but I held her firm as I pumped into her. Again and again. I could feel her body contract around my cock and I knew she was getting close.
“Is there something you want to tell me?”
She nodded and gasped, “Yes.”
“Yes what?”
“Yes, Daddy.”
I increased my pace, moving faster and harder inside her. “And what are you?”
“I’m a whore.”
Fuck. Hearing the words from her lips was all it took for me to lose control. I reached down between her legs, found her clit and pressed, sending her orgasm crashing through her right as I took mine.
She sagged against the desk under me, physically spent. Still inside her, I lifted her. My left arm wrapped around her, cupping her breasts and pressing her against me while I stroked her hair away from her back and kissed her neck. “That’s right,” I whispered into her ear. “You’re Daddy’s little whore.”
5
Abby
I probably should have been embarrassed or ashamed when I’d walked into my suite wearing only the hot-pink corset and found Mrs. McClean there, drawing me a bath. The panties had been left in shreds on the floor, leaving me exposed. The juices from our mutual climax dripped down my thighs. My tits, fully exposed, bounced as I walked and despite my initial reaction to the lingerie, I liked it. It made me feel sexy. Dirty.
I should have been ashamed, but I wasn’t. Clearly Mrs. McClean wasn’t taken aback by my presence. It made me wonder how many times Mr. Conrad had entertained other women at his estate. Had there been others before me?
Of course there had been! Hell, he’d said he was old enough to be my father, late forties or fifty at least. Of course there would have been other women before me.
“Mr. Conrad has requested your presence for dinner in an hour,” Mrs. McClean said when I walked in. “The bath is ready. I’ll lay out your clothing for the evening.”
She left me in the bathroom, the tub overflowing with steamy bubbles. No one had ever drawn me a bath before. I couldn’t even remember my mother having done such a thing. And now she was laying out my clothing? It was nice to be taken care of for once.
I reached around and pulled on the ribbons of the corset, relieving myself of the tight garment. I took a deep breath and rubbed the red marks on my stomach from where the boning had pressed into my skin.
I turned to the mirror and ran my hands up my sides to my breasts, letting my fingers drag over my nipples. They were still sensitive from the intense stimulation Mr. Conrad had given them earlier.
My body vibrated at the memory of him inside me. The way he’d played my body, pulling my orgasm out right when he wanted to.
He knew what he was doing. Of that, there was no doubt.
I stepped a foot into the hot water and sank down into the bubbles. The water had an oil of some kind in it that made my hands slip over my skin as
I washed myself.
I could have soaked all day, but all too soon there was a knock at the door and Mrs. McClean was there, holding a fluffy towel and telling me to get out. She wrapped the towel around me and left me alone again.
It was strange to let someone else take care of me in such an intimate way, but at the same time, the fact that Mr. Conrad had ordered it was incredibly erotic.
In the vanity drawer, I found what looked to be an entire line of the most expensive brand of makeup I’d ever heard of. I carefully applied a touch of eyeliner and mascara, and a sheer lip gloss. He hadn’t said, but I got the impression Mr. Conrad preferred a minimal makeup look. The need to please him caught me off guard, but I went with it. I might as well.
As promised, my outfit for the evening had been laid out for me. It was the dress I’d admired earlier. I slipped it over my head and twirled, loving the sensation of the fabric hugging my skin. It fit perfectly. How Mr. Conrad had found out what my measurements were so exactly, I’d never know, but damn. He’d nailed it.
The black fabric, what there was of it, had a slight shimmer that reminded me of stars. The bodice was snug over my breasts, but dipping low between them into a very daring v-neck that felt as if it almost went to my navel. The back of the dress mirrored the front, only the cut went much lower, leaving my back almost completely exposed, and came to a point right over my ass. A slit up each thigh completed the dress, leaving me feeling very sexy but quite exposed.
“It’s a good thing he’ll be the only one who sees me,” I said aloud, and seeing that Mrs. McClean had returned, added, “And you, of course.” But she only nodded primly and handed me my shoes.
I had never worn such high heels before, but the moment I slipped them on, they were like magic to my legs. I spun and admired myself in the mirror. Never in a million years would I have bought myself such a dress, and there is no way I would have put heels so high on my feet, but it worked.
Damn, did it work.
“It’s time.”
I nodded at Mrs. McClean, who stood at the door. She handed me a beaded clutch as I walked past.
When I walked down the curved staircase, my hand on the railing as I descended, it was completely ridiculous but I felt like a princess. When Mr. Conrad looked up and saw me, I could see the look of appreciation in his eyes. My entire body warmed with the attention until I remembered why I was there.
A whore.
Daddy’s little whore.
That’s why I was there. But instead of feeling ashamed about it, the thought, and the memory of saying those exact words while Mr. Conrad fucked me, made me incredibly turned on.
“You look stunning.” He took my hand, flipped it over and kissed it slowly. “Shall we?”
We walked outside, where a limousine waited. The driver appeared and held the door. I slipped inside and Mr. Conrad settled next to me.
“Where are we going?”
“To dinner, of course.” He looked incredulous. “If you’re spending the weekend with me, I will take care of you, Abby. You realize that, don’t you?”
His hand slid along my thigh, pushing the fabric aside so his skin was on mine.
“Realize what?” I asked, momentarily distracted from what we’d been talking about.
“That I will take care of you,” he repeated. “Daddy will always take care of you.” He slipped his hand farther up my thigh until his fingers brushed along the lips of my bare pussy.
“Yes,” I breathed.
“Yes, what?”
“Yes, Daddy. I know you’ll take care of me.”
Satisfied with my answer, he pushed a finger inside my heat, making me moan. “I’m happy to see you aren’t wearing any panties.”
“There weren’t any laid out for me.”
“No.” He chuckled. “I’m glad to see you didn’t try to wear some anyway.”
The thought hadn’t occurred to me. I’d just put on what Mrs. McClean had laid out without question. It felt kind of…nice not to worry about details.
“This dress wasn’t designed for panties,” he continued. “And definitely not for what I have in mind.”
“What do you have in mind? You said we were going for dinner.”
The limo was zipping along. I tried to peek out the blacked-out windows, but couldn’t see much and realized it didn’t matter anyway. I believed Mr. Conrad when he said he’d take care of me. I couldn’t rationalize it, but I wasn’t concerned to be with him at all.
“We are,” he said. I sat back against the seat and he reached forward to pick up a black jewelry box. “But first, a gift.” He put the box in my hand.
“Mr. Conrad.” I shook my head. “I can’t accept this. It’s too much.” I somehow knew it would be too much without even opening it. Everything about him had been too much.
“Open it,” he commanded.
I did as I was told and braced myself for a necklace of gold and diamonds or something equally extravagant. But that’s not what was inside.
“What is it?” I lifted the delicate chains from the box. It looked almost like a necklace, but instead of a pendant, a small triangle piece of plastic, almost like a little box, hung between the chains.
“It’s a toy.” The humor in his voice gave him away and I turned to stare at him.
“What kind of toy?”
His grin was wicked and made my nipples harden in anticipation.
“Put it on.” Mr. Conrad gestured to my lap, where he’d pushed aside the fabric of my dress to expose me. “Just slip it over your legs and slide it up to your hips.”
I understood at once what it was that I was holding and did as I was told. I bent down and put one leg and then the other through the thin chains and shimmied them up to my hips. The black triangle hung low on my pussy and the weight of it felt good.
“Perfect.” Mr. Conrad admired his gift before smoothing the fabric of my dress back into place.
I still wasn’t entirely certain what it was. Surely, if it was a vibrator—which I had initially assumed—it would be vibrating. As it was, it felt good under my dress. Like an erotic piece of jewelry. “How does it work?”
Mr. Conrad grinned again. Damn but he was sexy. “For this weekend, you need to trust me to take care of you, remember? Part of that is taking care of your pleasure as well.” He ran one finger from my lips, down one breast and up to the other. “Are you hungry?”
I was. But not for food. I wanted him with a ferocity that surprised me. Especially considering why I was there. But at the same time, there was no reason I shouldn’t enjoy myself for the weekend. Never again would I have the opportunity that was currently before me. I wasn’t going to waste it. I nodded. Hungry didn’t begin to explain how he made me feel.
6
Phillip
I knew she was wondering what I’d given her. I knew she was wondering what would happen next and what it was that she was wearing. She was a smart girl, but I could tell by the look on her face that she hadn’t figured it out yet.
I could tell her.
But I waited.
We got out of the car and walked inside, where I saw her reaction to the five-star restaurant where I’d made a primo reservation for the best table. It had only taken one call, and I’d skipped the three-month waiting list. She didn’t know that, and it may not have even impressed her, but knowing I could do what I wanted, when I wanted, had always been a turn-on for me.
As if I needed to be turned on any more than I already was. As it was, my cock had been in a constant state of erection from the moment I’d seen Abby in that dress.
Fuck.
It was an understatement.
And when she’d slipped my little present over her hips and settled it into place just over her clit—that I knew without even checking would already be throbbing in need—I had to look away.
A man could only take so much.
But I knew how much I could take. And it was a lot. The real question was, how much could little Abby take?
> I ordered a bottle of wine and still I waited.
We took our time looking over the menus and choosing our entrees. I could see her squirm a little in her seat. No doubt from the anticipation.
Oh, Abby. You have no idea.
“I think you’ll like the duck,” I told her. She was taking too long choosing her entree and I was starting to get anxious to move the evening along.
“I don’t think so.”
“You don’t?”
“Well, I’ve never had duck,” she admitted.
“So you’re willing to dismiss something without even trying it?” I challenged her, my eyes piercing her. “That seems a little shortsighted. What else have you missed out on because you’ve never tried?” I reached across the table and closed her menu as the waiter appeared next to us. “She’ll have the duck,” I said without looking at him. “The Kobi steak for me.”
“But I—”
“Trust me.” I held her gaze. “You’ll like it.”
There were so many things she was going to like. A weekend just didn’t seem long enough to explore them.
While we waited for our entrees, I asked her about school, what she was taking and what she hoped to do when she graduated. After a few minutes, she seemed to forget herself and the conversation flowed a little easier. A little bit. The edge of why we were there was still razor-sharp, just below the surface.
“What is it that you do, Mr. Conrad?”
“Pardon me?” I sat up sharply and tilted my head to give her a disapproving look. “What did you mean to say?” I chastised.
Her blush traveled down between her breasts. The red heat of them made me want to push the fabric aside to pinch each nipple until the flush of it matched in color. “Sorry,” she mumbled, looking down.
“Sorry, what?”
“Sorry, Daddy.”
My cock stiffened, almost to the point of pain, just from hearing her utter the word.
“Better.” I took a sip of wine to pull myself together. I would not rush things. I slipped my hand in my pocket and wrapped my fingers around the small remote I had there.