Surrender: Erotic Tales of Female Pleasure and Submission (15 page)

Read Surrender: Erotic Tales of Female Pleasure and Submission Online

Authors: Rachel Kramer Bussel,Donna George Storey

BOOK: Surrender: Erotic Tales of Female Pleasure and Submission
5.02Mb size Format: txt, pdf, ePub
“Not even close,” I said. “But I can try. What’s your name?” I asked.
“Oh, just call me Schoolgirl,” she said. “Please tell me
your
name isn’t ‘Darkness Master’ or ‘Lord of Shadows.’”
I pursed my lips, feigning annoyance.
“It’s Daddy,” I said. “That is, if Schoolgirl’s
your
real name.”
“It most certainly is,” she said, looking as offended as a woman in chains can look.
“Your real father must have been a real pervert, then.”
“Yes, Daddy,” she sighed.
She smoothly stepped out of the skirt. She folded it neatly and doffed her bra with the calculated elegance of a woman who knows her breasts are absolutely beyond glorious. They were, full and firm and capped by those nipples I’d been watching through the bra.
Underneath she had a white garter belt and stockings, which I’d already known, given that there wasn’t much to that skirt. What I didn’t know was that she’d been savvy enough to wear her lacy white panties on the outside of her garters, so it came away easily as she took off her skirt. She smiled at me and tossed me her underwear. I caught it in one hand and resisted the urge to bring it to my face; I didn’t need to, because I could smell her on it, wet and sharp and horny.
She leaned back against the cross, legs spread, smiling at me as I draped her panties on a stray eyebolt on the edge of the cross.
As I looked her over, she spread her legs a little wider and got more comfortable on the cross. The posture suited her immensely well.
“Ready when you are, Daddy,” she said.
Her pussy was shaved, the tattoo of a coiled snake striking downward to bite her clit.
I hadn’t expected my ham-handed come-on to work. Angel, more turned on by imagining my potential exploits than I am, is always trying to push me at available-looking women. It never, ever works—probably because my response is usually to turn red and hide behind her.
There was no Angel to hide behind now, and Schoolgirl wasn’t leaving much to the imagination.
“All right, Daddy,” she cooed. “Tie me up.”
I was frozen for a minute, looking over that glorious body. I came toward her, reaching for the restraints.
This cross was leaned back at an inviting angle, requiring me to lean against her a little as I secured her wrists. Her breasts were against me, her nipples so hard I could feel them against my chest through the thin T-shirt I wore. I could also feel my cock pressing hard through my jeans, against her smooth belly. She squirmed a little against me, making my cock ache. I could smell her: the scent of a horny female body with a hint of shampoo, soap, something sufficiently feminine to remind me, in case there was any chance I’d forgotten, that this was a breathtakingly sexy woman I was strapping naked to a cross.
“You know, snakes don’t strike downward,” I said nervously, providing a fact that I’d completely made up.
“I hope
you
do,” she said with a smile, her breath sweet in my face as I circled her wrist in the padded leather.
“Should we do all that safeword crap?”
“I’ve watched you,” she said, and I felt my face flushing. “You can tell. Besides, ‘safeword’ works if it really gets down to it.”
“You just want a flogging? On, er, on your pussy?”
I was leaning close enough that she could do it without much effort, the movement of her face to mine sure and confident. She planted her lips on mine and I tasted her tongue, felt the post through it grazing my lips.
“Oh, I want
so
much more than a flogging on my pussy, Daddy,” she sighed when our lips came apart, a delicate filament of spit crackling between them. “But there’s your pretty little girlfriend to consider.”
I secured Schoolgirl’s other wrist and shrugged. “She likes to share.”
Schoolgirl giggled, this time unable to hide her mouth behind her hand.
“Then skip the flogging for now,” she said with a wicked look.
I knelt down between her legs, the scent of her pussy sending a pulse through me as I secured first one ankle, then the other. I glanced up at her and had to fight the urge to press my mouth to her cunt, take a big hungry bite where the snake was striking. Her lips were slim and slight, but her clit was enormous, begging for attention. Erect, it almost reminded me of a crooked finger, summoning me in.
Her eyes were doing the same. I don’t know if she nodded or I merely read the hunger there. But I was so fucking hard I wasn’t thinking straight, and a top—
especially
a Daddy—must always, always think straight. Mustn’t he?
My mouth descended between her legs hungrily, and I found her clit with my tongue. She let out a sudden, ecstatic moan of pleasure, and my pounding heart gave a flutter as she ground her body against mine, coaxing me deeper into her sex.
She was so wet that the flick of my tongue between her small, tight lips brought a bead of moisture leaking out and onto my chin. I licked deeper and she shuddered against the cross, pulling violently on her restraints as if completely out of control of her actions.
I drew back and looked up at her, feeling stupid for wondering if this was consent—a moan and a squirm and a shiver.
She met my gaze and said in a musical voice rich with sarcasm, loud enough for the spectators to hear: “Oh, no, Daddy. Not there. Don’t lick me
there
—it’s too dirty. Filthy, dirty, Daddy—anything but that,
please,
Daddy!”
A vicious kind of arousal coursed through me, then, the kind that makes my stomach twirl and my heart beat like a jackhammer. And my cock got so hard that, as they say, it didn’t have a conscience, even a conscience of the sex-positive, socially responsible kind.
I had never had any woman talk to me like that—not even Angel, after all-night discussions about how the hottest thing she could do was surprise me with how perverse she was. She was perverse, don’t get me wrong—but she was not the verbal type.
I had the creepy feeling of being watched, and not only by the multitudes of strangers who had crowded around to see Schoolgirl on the cross. When I glanced over my shoulder, there was Angel, apple fritter in one hand, her other hand making an enthusiastic thumbs-up sign as she gave me a stage wink that would have done Eric Idle proud. Her tongue made an obscene thrust into the ripped-open guts of the custard-filled fritter, the slurp audible even across the play floor. Angel could be such a frat boy sometimes.
I looked up again and Schoolgirl looked down at me with hunger in her eyes, her mouth hanging slack in silent encouragement /enticement/approval. I brought my mouth to her cunt and hungrily began to work my tongue against her, savoring the cries she gave as I drew circles around her clit, suckled on it, caressed her inner thighs.
Her cunt held such inexplicable magnetism that I was a little surprised when I found my two fingers sliding easily into its tight embrace—and even more surprised when I heard Schoolgirl crying out and felt her grinding herself onto my hand, pushing my fingers deeper.
Her G-spot was swollen, full. I could feel its spongy curve against my fingertips and feel her whole body tense and shiver when I pressed firmly against it. I continued to tongue her clit, finger fucking her rhythmically in a come-hither gesture of my own, while my cock pulsed with every stroke.
“Fuck, Daddy,” she gasped. “Where did you learn to do that?”
I took my mouth off her sex long enough to say, “Same place you learned to pick up strangers and call them Daddy—in the gutter.”
I almost thought I saw her blush, but that didn’t lessen her enthusiasm as I went back to licking her. Her juices dripped wetly down my hand and onto my arm, and her cries rose in pitch, her legs tensing.
She was going to come.
I’m not sure what made me stop—if, as a top, as a
Daddy,
I wasn’t ready for my victim—my little girl—to come—or if the sudden power of my tongue and my fingers terrified me, this stranger’s response was too right, too perfect, for me to accept it into my brain.
I stood up, slipping my fingers out of her—I think I had it in my brain to ask her if she was all right, if this was all right, if it was okay to finger her and lick her clit and make her come. Which might seem stupid in retrospect, but this had all happened so fast I still didn’t quite believe it was real.
A glance over my shoulder told me it wasn’t Angel stopping me—on the contrary, she’d managed to drag over a nearby folding chair and was propped on it, legs spread, eyes wide, one hand pinching her own nipple, the other hand down her thong.
So I turned back to Schoolgirl, and leaned close to whisper something—anything—anything to break the tension, the overwhelming sense that if I didn’t fuck her silly right then, right there.
When I came in close to her face she caught my mouth and kissed it, tongue sliding deep, as if hungry for my mouth, for her own juices. She ground her body against mine, her nipples rubbing firm, her body shaking against the chains.
“Can you fuck standing up?” she whispered, performing a deft motion to bring one thigh into contact with my cock.
“You asked me for a flogging,” I said.
Then a delicate shiver went through her naked body, and the look in her eyes was enough to make me fuck her right there, against the slanted cross, with a roomful of perverts watching. If only it hadn’t been for what she said next.
“Oh, no, Daddy,” she said, voice shaking. “Not a flogging. Don’t whip my thighs, Daddy, please—not my pussy, Daddy, please,
please
don’t whip my pussy, anything but that!” Her voice was thick with desire.
My hand was already on my flogger. I stepped back, cock throbbing, eyes fixed on the cunt that still glistened with my spittle. I drew the flogger around in a big, easy circle, wishing I had a smaller one to start with—but not really caring.
The first blow struck her exposed cunt with a swish and a slap and another swish. It brought a thunderous moan from Schoolgirl’s lips, and an echo-like “Oh, yeah,” from behind me—Angel. She always did like watching other women get punished; she’s not much of a masochist herself.
When I looked back, her hand was deeper in her thong than it had been before—and her eyes were on me, not my victim.
I brought the flogger around again, striking her cunt harder this time. She moaned louder, threw her head back, and groaned on the verge of a scream, and I hesitated with the next blow until I saw her head lowering, eyes meeting mine, and heard her moan, “Green, Daddy.”
I hit her again, and she squirmed and trembled on the cross, gasping, whimpering. Again, and she all but went slack in her bonds, leaning hard against the cross. This time, she didn’t say, “Green,” but rather, “Fuck me. Fuck me, Daddy.”
I had that sudden sense of a person in my swing space, but by the time I looked around, Angel’s hands were already around me from behind, her hands deftly working my belt. She had a condom tucked between her fingers, the wrapper already discarded. She got my cock out and stroked it slowly up and down, pinching the condom’s head and smoothly rolling it down.
“If you don’t fuck that schoolgirl right now,” Angel growled, “I’ll never forgive you. And neither will she.”
Schoolgirl stretched on the cross, moaning, lifting her ass toward me, grinding her hips rhythmically. I dropped the flogger then, and lunged toward her, hearing her softly whimpered “Fuck me, Daddy,” all but silenced by my mouth on hers.
My cockhead slipped easily between those small lips. She was even wetter than when I’d left her. My first thrust brought a deafening groan from her lips, her body so tight around my cock that I would have come immediately if not for the condom. I leaned heavily against her as I began to fuck her. My fingers pinched her nipples, softly at first and then harder as she choked out, “Yes, Daddy,” and each thrust brought a louder moan—until she came, her muscles clenching my shaft, her body straining against the chains as she strove to fuck herself onto me, to meet every thrust with one of her own. As she came, she screamed my name, “Daddy!” so loud she all but deafened me.
But there weren’t many more thrusts—because I was so fucking turned on that I came a moment later, grasping her long black hair and tangling it in my fist as I held my schoolgirl in place to kiss her, hard and deep, still tasting her cunt. When the strength went out of my thighs, she caught me neatly between hers, holding me up as I slumped against the cross and against her.
“Need a hand?” came a whisper from Angel as she reached down between Schoolgirl’s thighs and helped secure the condom while my cock slipped out of her.
“Did you train him?” sighed Schoolgirl as Angel leaned close.
Angel cocked her head at Schoolgirl.
“I mean…that’s quite a tongue he’s got. And quite a cock. Did you…”
Angel gave me that sarcastic look she’s famous for. She shrugged.
“I’m sure nobody could ever train
him,
” she said.
Schoolgirl’s lips, all smeared red lipstick and the faintest hint of a smile, gave her own shrug, rattling the chains.

Other books

The Killing Game by Iris Johansen
Daddy's Little Angel by Shani Petroff
My Lord's Lady by Sherrill Bodine
Bully by Penelope Douglas
The Story of Us by Rebecca Harner