It was Daddy’s best friend’s wedding, and I was supposed to be on my best behavior. He had picked out a gorgeous dress for me, and white, lacy underthings that made me feel beautiful and desirable.
He danced with me, he walked me around the room, showing me off to the reunion that the wedding had inevitably become.
It’s funny how 10 years could pass, but when a certain group of people comes back together it feels like no time, and behavior patterns reemerge.
The alcohol had been flowing for hours, but Daddy had forbidden more than 1 glass of champagne. He wanted me sharp, he said. He had plans, he said, in a tone dripping with promise.
I had been a good girl and occupied myself with the wives of his friends. They were nice enough, just not interesting enough to be a distraction from the constant ache radiating out from between my thighs. I wanted to rub them together, but that was against the rules set for this particular event. Rule #1, to be exact.
Rule #1: No relief. No orgasm. No rubbing my thighs together, no touching myself, no relief from the tension coiled within my cunt. Sir was very adamant about that, sadistic control freak that he was.
Rule #2: No panties. The underthings he bought me, the garters, the stockings, the beautiful dress, there were no matching panties this time. He wanted to know I was bare and craving him within a room full of his people.
Rule #3: Only 1 glass of champagne every 2 hours. 2 glasses of water for each glass of champagne. He wanted me to enjoy my buzz, but stay hydrated. I’m such a lightweight that it was plenty.
Rule #4: Only acknowledge him as Sir or Daddy, and nothing else. How and when I said it was up to me, but that was his name and that was what I was to call him.
Rule #5: The only thing that superseded Rule #1. If he told me to touch myself, fuck myself, taste myself, love myself, I had to. No questions asked, within 5 minutes of the request. On my own honor, I had to stop before cumming and rejoin the main room within 2 minutes of the edge. He would be watching.
Rule #6: He was to be able to inspect his cunt at any time, as long as it was a private space. When it was time for inspection, the proper position was “on your knees.”
Thinking about the rules only made the tension worse.
I moved my knees apart to keep myself from rubbing them together when I received his text.
Time for another bathroom trip, pet. I can see your need, go touch that gorgeous little pussy for me a bit, again.
It was about halfway through the reception and he’d already commanded me to the edge 3 times. This time, I realized I wasn’t going to be able to make it through the line and into a stall within 5 minutes.
I ended up in the coat closet instead hoping no one needed anything from it…
I touched myself. Soaking wet. Dripping down my thighs. Pure, pent up, absolute NEED. I tried not to moan as I jammed my fingers deep inside of me.
I made it with just a tiny gasp… and then I heard them.
Two of Sir’s friends were outside of the closet. I panicked, until I realized they had just stopped and were talking.
“Did you see her though? Rosy cheeks, ragged breath, self-conscious look on her face, seeking him out?” One of them said.
“Yeah, man. She’s been calling him “Sir” all night, too.” The other responded.
Oh my god. They were talking about me, and they knew. They knew what a filthy little slut I was for Sir. They knew and it made me fuck myself even harder, made me press my clit into the bone beneath it, craving a little pain. I got so close to the abyss, I almost went over.
But I pulled back, breathing the ache out of my cunt and into the room.
It must have hit them, because one of them said “Fuck, she’s so damn needy even I can feel it. Lucky S.O.B.”
I licked my fingers clean at the thought of their desire for me.
I didn’t have time to contemplate for long. I had stopped, but the clock to get back to Daddy had started. I had no idea how I was gonna get past them and back to the main room in 2 minutes. Fuck. Sir won’t care if that’s why I broke the rule. “There is always a choice, you just didn’t like the options” starts ringing through my ears in his voice.
Thankfully, they decided they needed another drink and moved on, and I was able to reenter the room within the time frame.
I scanned the room…. I could feel him, but I couldn’t find him.
He found me. He came up behind me, hands around my waist and whispered “I can smell your need, Kitten.”
He kissed me, and said “Mmm. I can taste your need, Kitten.”
He moved his finger under my dress, obscured by our position.
“I can feel your need, Kitten. Have you been a good girl?”
“I edged while listening to Jorge and Jimmy talk about how they noticed my submission, Sir.” I said, with a whimper, remembering… aching… It had still only been 5 minutes since I’d stared the abyss in the face. My body was yearning, breath shallow, eyes bright.
“Did you want them to fuck you, baby?”
“Fuck. Yes. But I belong to you, and only you get to know what my cunt feels like, Daddy.”
“That is right. Good Girl. Follow me.” He commanded.
He led me to the parking lot, to our car, that I now realized he had parked in a dark corner, far away from any of the lights. I hadn’t noticed that when we arrived in daylight, but Sir of course, had.
“Take the dress off and assume your position” he said.
titsay
gummygunk
andulkaphoto
theartofmadeline
dailybridgerton
annaxmalina
romaincrisis
origamiaround
kaledo-art
tangentwithtanner
vaporwave
