The Daddy Games: A Filthy MFM Romance

by JB Duvane

  The whole thing took my breath away. I’d had a crush on Jessica’s dad for a long time but I never told her about it. I was too embarrassed because he was a dad. But he wasn’t anything like my other friend’s dads, or any dad I’d ever seen. He was so hot. Every single time I saw him, he looked like he had just been in an Armani photoshoot, with his chiseled jawline and his sexy, dark eyes. And the thing was, the older I got, the hotter he got.

  I’d known Jessica since I was really young, and I didn’t really start to notice her dad until I started high school. Maybe even before that. But once I started to see him differently, I couldn’t talk to him anymore. I would just stare at him as I came and went, barely able to say more than hello and goodbye to him. There had never been a single boy in any grade, not in junior high or high school, that I ever had that kind of crush on. Ever.

  But now … now that I’d seen him in those intimate pictures with his cock in his hand, pushing it into his wife’s asshole, I couldn’t stop thinking about him no matter how hard I tried. And I started thinking about sex a lot more too. Especially the kinds of sex I’d seen in those pictures.

  I was surprised that the memory of finding those pictures had come to me while I lay there in the room I was being held in, but as I continued to inhale the dark, musky scent that surrounded me, I realized why. This bed … this room … they smelled exactly like Jessica’s parent’s room. Like Jessica’s whole house, actually. Back then I wondered if it was the way all rich people’s houses smelled, all floral and musky and incredibly sexy, and now that I was smelling it again I wondered the same thing.

  But I also couldn’t help but imagine that I was back in that room, lying on top of the down comforter—and the cuffs that were around my wrists were the ones I’d found in the bedside drawer so many years ago.

  I was startled out of my daydream when I heard a noise in the room. It sounded like a lock turning and a latch clicking, making me think that a door had just been opened and closed again. I heard the whisper of footsteps across carpeting and I gasped when I felt the foot of the bed dip down. I gasped because I was scared of the person who had kidnapped me, who was now sitting on the same bed as me. But more than that, I gasped because of the smell that flooded the room. It was that same dark, musky scent. That incredible combination of smells suddenly filled the room I was in now. The same overpowering scents that haunted my memories of that day, and every other day I’d ever been to Jessica’s house.

  Taking Care of Ashley (Drake)

  Ashley looked so incredibly beautiful lying there in the middle of the bed. Her long, blonde hair was spilling over her bare shoulders, curling around beautiful breasts that were just visible through the sheer fabric of the nightgown I put her in last night. I could tell she was holding her breath—that she was scared—and she should be. I kidnapped her. I took her away from her room—away from her whole life.

  I knew what I had done was horrible. But as far as I was concerned, it was also very necessary.

  There was no way I could stand by and let her waste her life. Not Ashley. There wasn’t a thing I could do to protect her while she was living in that dorm room. No amount of watching was going to keep her from … was going to keep her safe, and I had to keep her safe. She was all I had left.

  I crossed the room and got on the bed, watching her body stiffen as I moved closer to her. She was scared but she wasn’t as terrified as I’d imagined she might be. I was glad. Although it probably didn’t seem like it, the last thing I wanted to do was scare her.

  As I looked at her I felt the same push/pull that I’d felt for the last few months while I watched her in her dorm room. She looked so small and fragile and I wanted nothing more than to wrap myself around her. I wanted to hold her so tightly that nothing could ever get to her—or hurt her. Not even her own self.

  Then there was the other part of me that wanted her. But I didn’t want to just fuck her. I wanted to grab that beautiful blonde hair of hers and push her head down on my cock, shoving it all the way down her throat. My hands itched to spank her perfect ass—while she was bent over my lap with her legs spread wide—until she begged me to stop. Then I wanted to spread those beet red ass cheeks apart with my hands and plunge my cock right in between them. I even imagined the look of surprise on her face when she felt my girth stretch her wider than anything that’s ever been inside her.

  I felt like a maniac. I didn’t understand how I could feel two such opposite desires at the same time. And I didn’t know how I could justify any of my behavior so far, in my fucked up head. I’d spied on her and kidnapped her and now all I could think about was that virgin pussy of hers. I was a sick fuck and I knew that one way or another I was going to wind up hurting her, even though it was the last thing in the world I wanted to do.

  I reached out and touched Ashley’s bare arm. She jumped but then relaxed as my hand moved around to her back. I pushed her from behind, indicating to her that I wanted her to get up off the bed. There was no way I could speak out loud to her without her knowing exactly who I was, so I had to move her in the direction I wanted her to go. She would know my voice—I was sure of that—and I didn’t want her to know it was me who had taken her captive. I was going to do everything I could so that she believed I was one of her cam clients.

  She scooted across the bed with my help until she was sitting on the edge, then she stood up when I pushed her forward again. Her bare feet sank into the thick carpet and the weight shifted from one to the other of her long, sexy legs. The sheer, red nighty I’d put her in just brushed the bottom of her perfect little ass, and through the filmy fabric, I could see the outline of her slender body.

  I put my hand in the center of her back and helped her across the room to the bathroom. She was still a little unsteady, so I kept my arm around her waist. When we entered the bathroom I turned on the light and was suddenly flooded with a mirror image of the two of us. Me in a black suit and white shirt, looking like some kind of a sophisticated, psychopath standing next to a beautiful, almost naked, young girl with a black blindfold over her eyes. It wasn’t an image I’d be sending out on my next Christmas card, that was for sure.

  I looked away from the mirror as quickly as possible. I didn’t think I could stand to look at the eyes of the man who looked back at me for another second. I moved behind Ashley and unbuckled the leather cuffs that I’d secured around her wrists, and when they were free she brought her hands in front of her, massaging the space where they had been.

  I caught her hands in mine when they moved up further to push back her blindfold, then put them back down at her sides—letting her know without words that she wasn’t allowed to remove the blindfold. Not while I was in the room, anyway. I would allow her to do it later, but not until she understood that she would always have it on when I was around her.

  “What am I doing here?” she croaked. She hadn’t spoken a word in hours and it showed. Her voice was gravelly and even lower than the already incredibly deep and sensuous sound that came out of her normally. I could listen to her voice all day long. I loved to listen to her talk to me while she pleasured herself for me. As my mind wandered I could barely wait to feel the energy when she made herself come in the same room that I was in. I definitely had plans of making her come myself, but not until she was comfortable here. Not until I knew that she wanted me as much as I wanted her.

  But first things first, I had to get her basic needs taken care of. Bathroom and food were top priorities before we moved on to anything more intimate.

  I pushed her shoulders down until she was sitting on the toilet, then I put a piece of paper in her hand. I wanted her to know that I wasn’t a complete monster—that I was willing to give her some privacy. After I left the room and closed the door—locking it behind me—I listened to her open the piece of paper in her hand.

  After a few moments I heard her soft voice break the silence. “I understand.”

  In the note I told her that I would allow her privacy while she wa
s in the bathroom, but that as soon as she was done with her bath she should put the blindfold back on. I told her that I would knock before entering and that she should tell me that she was ready, so that I knew the blindfold was in place. I wrote that there would be consequences if she didn’t have her eyes covered when I opened the door. I didn’t actually have any consequences planned out, but I hoped she would be scared into following the directions.

  I had to admit, this had all sounded so much more plausible when I’d planed it out in my head over the last couple of months. Now that it was really happening I was seeing all kinds of places where things could easily go wrong.

  When I heard a stream of liquid hit the water in the toilet I left the room. I wanted to give her whatever privacy she needed. A rather hilarious idea, given that I’d been spying on her in her dorm room for months, and that I had a surveillance camera set up in her room here. But that was different. It was to make sure she was okay. I didn’t really get off on spying, although I found it hard to stop watching Ashley in the time that she’d been at the school. I found myself spending entire nights watching her, even while she slept.

  After I locked the bedroom door, I made my way down the hall and into the kitchen, where I had a meal ready for Ashley. A plate of chicken cordon bleu, mashed potatoes and asparagus that my cook had prepared earlier was sitting in a special steamer compartment in the oven that kept the food perfectly hot. I pulled it out and put in on a tray, then covered it with a domed lid, hoping it would stay warm until Ashely was ready to eat.

  When I entered the room again I could hear the bathtub filling with water. What I really wanted to do was sit next to the tub and give her a bath. I imagined soaping up her body and hair for her, then watching the streams of water and lather cascade down her curves. I decided it would probably be best for her to have some time to herself this first day, though. The last thing I wanted to do was make her uncomfortable, although I knew it was way too late for that.

  I set the tray down on a table in the sitting area and waited until I heard the bathtub draining, then I knocked on the door.

  “Yes?”

  I waited a moment, then knocked again.

  “Oh, sorry! I mean, I’m ready.”

  I heard some splashing as Ashley got out of the bathtub and I slowly opened the door. I could see her reflection in a mirror that spanned the entire wall of the room. She stood there on the bathmat next to the tub, waiting for me with a towel around her. She had put the blindfold on.

  As I crossed the room, my footsteps echoed on the tile, and I could see Ashley grip the towel tighter with each step. As much as I didn’t want to scare her on this first day, I had to admit it made my cock hard to see her reaction—the realization that she was almost naked while I was fully dressed. The part of me that wanted to rip into that virgin pussy of hers was definitely getting off on this. I wanted her to know just how helpless she was right now. I wanted her to know who was in charge.

  When I reached her I grasped both of her wrists in mine, then pulled her hands from where they were clutched to her chest—in the process yanking the towel away and letting it drop to the floor. Ashley gasped and tried to cover herself again, but I didn’t let her. I put both of her small hands behind her back and held them there in one of mine. She struggled a bit, panting and biting her lower lip, but there was nothing she could do to get free. I had her right where I wanted her.

  Before the bath, Ashley had put her hair up in a soft, messy pile on top of her head, and now little wisps of hair were trailing down her neck and back, and curling over both collarbones. She looked so lovely with her trembling lips and her soft, damp skin, and as I felt her body brush up against mine, I could barely contain myself.

  But I wasn’t going to fuck her yet. I wanted to watch her for a while longer. I wanted to wait until her entire body was trembling like those lips of hers—trembling in anticipation of my cock sliding into her tight, little pussy. Mine was going to be the first cock to invade that space between her legs, and the space in her head that had been waiting for that special person to take her virginity away. I was going to be that for her—the very first.

  I hovered over her, my head a good foot over hers, with our bodies almost pressing together in the steamy room. I could feel every inch of her, even through my clothes. It was as if she were a solid current of electricity, pulsating and buzzing and somehow drawing me to her. I was helpless to resist the waves of energy that emanated from her—that she didn’t seem to be aware of, herself. She was perfection. And that perfection called to me like a neon sign in the distance on a long, dark road.

  I stepped to one side and pushed her forward from behind, still holding both of her hands behind her back. I guided her to the door and into the other room, where I sat her down in one of the overstuffed chairs in the sitting area. I put her hands in her lap and sat down in a chair that was right next to her, the tray of food on the coffee table in front of us. When I lifted the lid the smell of food filled the room and Ashley leaned forward just a bit. I was sure she was probably hungry, and even though she still had no idea where she was or who I was, I hoped she would eat.

  I cut off a bite of the chicken for her and speared it with a fork, then brought it to her lips, touching the meat to them gently. She didn’t do anything for a moment, but eventually opened her mouth and let me feed the chicken to her.

  As she took the small bites that I put in her mouth, my eyes surveyed her body. I’d seen her naked many times, but that had always been through a computer screen. Having her here with me—her perfect body right in front of me—made all my senses come alive, and every ounce of my attention was trained on her.

  I could smell the fruity/floral scent on her body, I could hear her even breaths in between each swallow, and I couldn’t tear my eyes away from her beautiful face. My gaze darted continually from her lips as they slid across the tines of the fork, to the curve of her neck as it sloped down to her shoulders. I watched her breasts move ever-so-slightly with each rise and fall of her chest, and her fingers and thumbs that twitched and jumped as her hands stayed in her lap. Her toes wiggled too, pressing into the carpet and scrunching up, telling me how nervous she was. I just wished I could see her eyes. Those were the things I loved about her the most. Those big, beautiful pools of sky blue that melted me every time they looked into mine.

  The impulse to talk to her—to reassure her—was almost overpowering. While I sat there, I almost told her at least ten time that she had nothing to worry about—that I wasn’t going to hurt her. But what I realized while I watched her was that she wasn’t as scared as I thought she’d be. If she’d been terrified of me, well, in the first place she wouldn’t be eating the food I was feeding her. I was pretty sure she would have also said a hell of a lot more by now. She would have been begging me and pleading with me not to hurt her. Or at the very least she would be asking me why I’d done this to her. She wasn’t doing any of that.

  As I studied her I wondered why she seemed so calm. I wondered if this was an act and if deep down she was actually so petrified that her outward actions only showed themselves as mildly nervous. But she really didn’t seem that upset.

  “I’m full,” she said after eating half the food on the plate. “It was good.”

  I set the fork down on the plate and covered it with the domed lid, then moved it out of the way. I pushed the coffee table away from the space and turned the chair I’d been sitting in so that it was directly in front of Ashley’s chair. Before I sat back down, I leaned over Ashley where she was perched on the edge of the chair. I pushed her to the back of the seat, then picked up each of her legs and positioned them over the arms of the chair so that she was spread open in front of me. Just like she always did during our sessions.

  I could hear her breath pick up speed and hitch in her throat as I leaned in close, my hands cupping her face and my lips brushing up against hers. But I didn’t kiss her. Not yet. I wanted to taste those lips more than anything in the
world, but I also wanted to wait until everything was perfect. Absolutely perfect.

  I moved my lips toward Ashley’s ear, gently brushing my lips across her cheek as I made my way there. I could feel her body melting underneath me when my hot breath caressed her skin, her face turning up slightly so that her lips brushed against my ear as well.

  “Show me,” I whispered into her ear. “Show me how you do it.”

  I could feel her body tense up at the realization of who I was. Who she thought I was, anyway.

  “Sir?” she whispered back. “Is that you?”

  I didn’t say a word. I just sat back in my chair and unzipped my pants, preparing myself for the show.

  In His House (Ashley)

  I opened my eyes and looked around the room, the morning light filtering in through a large french window. It took me a moment to remember where I was, but when I did a smile spread across my face. I stretched in the soft bed and felt the luxurious fabric move across my skin just like the previous morning, only this time I knew whose bed I was in and who these sheets belonged to.

  Sir, I thought as I lay there thinking about what had happened over the last few days. I’m with him in his house.

  I couldn’t believe it was Sir that had kidnapped me and brought me here. I supposed that I should have been angry with him, and scared of what was going to happen to me, but I wasn’t. I was a bit nervous about whether or not I’d be able to please him, but other than that I really didn’t care that he had kidnapped me.

  No, that’s not true. I did care. I was glad that he’d done it—that he had made me his. I was tired of my old life—of the idiot boys and the responsibilities—and I was starting to get burnt out on camming. I’d read enough online to know that once the burnout set in, it wasn’t long before most girls just walked away from it. And I didn’t want to think about what I would do if I wasn’t camming, or how I would spend my time. It sounded more lonely and isolating than being kept in a room by a stranger. But I didn’t consider Sir a complete stranger, even though I’d never actually seen him.