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Content Warnings: degradation, bondage, gagging, spit, cum play, breeding kink, camera sex, marijuana smoking, Daddy kink, language like fucktoy, slut, whore, and good boy
This story contains Daddy/boy kink and a squirting strap-on. Don’t like it? Don’t read!
“You look handsome,” you say, coming up behind me in the mirror as I adjust my bowtie. You’re in a classic suit and tie for the opera tonight: black suit, white shirt, black tie, your nice cane. Your short hair is smoothed back and you’re wearing a smirk, looking me up and down with a hunger that makes me ache.
“You clean up nice yourself, hottie,” I reply. I reach to tug on your tie, pulling you into me. Your breath is warm on my face, and you smell like mint and aftershave. My eyes flutter closed and I lose myself in the heat and scent of you. You nudge your lips closer to mine and lift my chin, kissing me slowly, gently, in the way that makes me melt into you. When you feel my knees get weak, you hold onto me tight, kissing me harder. I whimper.
It spurns you on and suddenly my back is pressed against the wall, your knee shoved between my legs. You lean your cane in the corner and come back to me, pressing your hot mouth to mine. In a flash, you untie my bowtie and get to work on my shirt buttons, your mouth working down my jaw to my neck.
I start to protest, “But –” and you shush me, talking dirty in my ear as you work open my shirt.
“You look way too sexy, baby, for me to let you go unfucked right now. Daddy wants to fuck you, so Daddy’s going to fuck you. Do you understand, baby?”
Heat flashes through my body and I surrender to the pleasure of it, of you. “Yes, Daddy…”
“Good boy,” you growl. You’ve finished unbuttoning my shirt and you yank it open, dipping your head to reach my nipple and gently lick and suck. I gasp, winding my fingers through your short hair. Whimpers and groans escape my throat.
“You like that, baby?” you ask me, switching to my other nipple.
“Yeah,” I moan, my voice shaking. “Please,” I whimper.
“Please what, baby?” you ask in a sweetly condescending voice.
“Please –” I repeat, not knowing what I’m begging for.
You laugh meanly. “What? Speechless, huh? Don’t know what to ask for?”
“That’s okay, baby. I can decide for you.”
You wrap a hand around my throat, and reach down to rub my cunt through my suit pants.
“Oh God,” I moan. “Oh God,” I repeat, higher pitched. “Fuck, fuck.”
“Such a cute little slut for it,” you say with a grin. I moan. “Well?” you ask. “Do you agree? Are you a cute little slut?”
I blush red and stammer. “Y-yes, Daddy.”
“…I’m a cute little slut.”
“Yeah you are,” you groan.
I’m disheveled, bowtie undone, my shirt shoved open and my chest out, my pants wrinkling from you rubbing my crotch. Your suit, meanwhile, is pressed and crisp. I think about this, and I reach for your jacket to try to tug it off. You grab my wrists to stop me, snarling, “What do you think you’re doing?”
“I– Sorry, Daddy.”
“Now, if you can’t keep your hands to yourself, am I gonna have to tie them up?”
Heat washes over me. You haven’t let go of my wrists. My mouth is dry.
“Yeah, Daddy,” I say slowly. “You should… I can’t keep my hands to myself.”
Your eyes flash with lust and you grin.
You disappear to the closet to grab the sex toy bag and come back holding the leather cuffs, dangling them on your fingers.
“Kneel,” you order. My eyes go wide and I obey, getting to the floor and holding my wrists out in front of me. “No,” you say. “Behind you.”
I put my hands behind my back and bow my head, waiting quietly as you cuff my wrists. I’m still in my full suit, now wrinkled, heart pounding out of my chest, throbbing between my legs.
“Up,” you order, tugging on my cuffs. I stand and you shove me against the wall, growling in my ear. “You dirty little slut. You like this, don’t you? You like me roughing you up and ruining your cute little suit, huh?”
“Say it,” you order.
“Yes, Daddy, I like it,” I whine.
“Good boy,” you murmur in my ear, reaching into my shirt to twist and tug on my nipples. I squirm and whine at the pain and pleasure that shoots through me. Your other hand busies itself with unbuttoning my pants. I feel the throbbing between my legs growing, the excitement and anticipation building. I want your fingers in me now, but I know I have to be a good boy and wait.
When your hand reaches into my pants to rub me through my boxers, I curse and jerk my hips into your touch.
“What was that, boy?” you ask.
“I said ‘fuck’, Daddy,” I answer. The silence that follows is loud. “B-but I meant to say,” I add, “Thank you, Daddy.”
“That’s better, boy,” you say, rubbing the wet spot on my boxers until I’m moaning.
“Thank you, Daddy, thank you, thank you,” I whimper.
“Nice manners, boy. I’m impressed. Now be a good boy, and bend over for your spanking.”
I swallow. You tug me by my wrist cuffs and shove istanbul travesti me down onto the bed, tugging my pants down and my underwear too. I feel the cool air hit my wet cunt and I almost moan.
“What do you want, slut? Boy’s choice of flogger, paddle, or hand.”
“Paddle,” I answer quickly. I like the thuddy hits.
“What, no ‘please, Daddy’? I take back what I said about your manners.”
“Sorry, Daddy. Please, Daddy, the paddle, please?”
“Better,” you growl.
You grab the paddle and smack your hand with it, and I twitch a little at the sound. You laugh meanly. “Jumpy?”
I whine. You laugh and smack your hand again.
You smack my ass, hard. I gasp, and gather my voice. “One, Daddy. Thank you, Daddy.”
You hit my other cheek, harder. I groan. “Two, Daddy, thank you, Daddy.”
By ten, I’m squirming and panting.
“Your ass is so fucking red already, boy. It’s so sexy.”
“Thank you, Daddy…” I moan as you grope and massage my sore, sensitive ass. I can feel how wet that spanking made me even without being touched.
“Let’s find out how wet that made you, hmm?” you muse, like you’re reading my mind. Your finger trails up my slit and I can’t help the moan that slips from between my lips. “Oh you dirty little slut. You filthy whore. That’s all it takes, huh? A little spanking and you’re soaked?”
I whine, my face pressing into the bed, my arms straining against my bonds. “Yes, Daddy. That’s all. I’m a filthy slut for it…”
You laugh. “Yeah you are.”
“Please, Daddy, please finger me.”
“Greedy little slut. You think you’ve earned being fucked already, boy? I don’t think so. I think you deserve another five smacks for that.”
A little thrill runs through me.
I count each strike, and they sting.
“Five, Daddy. Thank you, Daddy,” I say when you finish.
“That’s a good boy,” you praise. “I want some pictures of this nice, red ass. How do you feel about that?”
I throb. I feel very, very hot and turned on about that.
“Yeah, Daddy. You can take pictures,” I say, playing it cool.
You pull out your phone and I feel my cunt grow wetter with every click of the camera.
“I want pictures of this ruined suit, too, at the end of the night.”
My breathing grows fast at the promises, both that you’ll take more pictures and that you’re going to ruin me in this suit.
“Yes, Daddy,” I say, trying to keep my voice steady.
You lean down and murmur in my ear, “I like how your voice gets all breathy and deep when you’re turned on, boy.” I guess I didn’t keep my voice as steady as I thought.
The smell of your cologne and the hum of your voice in my ear make me shiver. My clit throbs.
“Well, are you?”
“Yes, Daddy,” I moan.
“Good. You can wait.”
“Oh, cute whine, prettyboy…”
You leave me on the bed and I hear the rustling of the sex toy bag.
“I’d like to hear your whines with this gag in your mouth,” you say, dangling a ring gag in front of my face. “Do you want that, baby?”
“You remember our hand signal, babe?”
“Yeah,” I answer. Three flashes of my fingers.
“Good boy,” you praise. “Sit up.” I do, waiting quietly and opening my mouth as you put the ring gag on me, wrapping the leather straps around my head and tightening them.
“Comfortable?” you ask. I nod. “Good. Now you’re gonna sit there and look pretty, and I’m gonna have a smoke.” I want to whine; I was hoping for some stimulation or even more pain, anything but nothing.
You pull up a chair from the corner and pull a joint and a lighter from your suit jacket. Always prepared. You sit down and bring your ankle to rest on your other knee, relaxing, lighting up the joint and taking a long inhale.
“Oh, boytoy…” you start to say. You take another puff. “You look so filthy and pathetic right now.” You laugh. “If only you could see yourself.”
I feel spit begin to gather at my bottom lip, dribbling out onto my chin.
“Aww, prettyboy drooling for me… That’s a good fucktoy. Drool all over that fancyboy suit for me, babe.”
The drool begins to drip down my chin. I whine. My hands strain behind me against their cuffs.
“Ohh,” you laugh. “Yeah, handsome. Whine like that for me.” I do, so pitifully, and you laugh more.
You puff on the joint and exhale a big white cloud. I watch it form and dissipate. I breathe in through my nose, smelling the skunk and feeling more drool dribble down my chest and the front of my suit jacket.
“You know, prettyboy,” you say, taking another inhale. “There’s a lot I can do with you right now, tied up and gagged. I could strap a remote vibrator to your clit. I could paddle your thighs… your cunt. I could fuck you with my cock. I could put cute little clamps on your nipples…”
You trail off, lost in thought. I whine and squirm.
“That’s right, prettyboy. I can do whatever I want with you. And you like that, don’t you? You like being powerless, at my mercy. istanbul travestileri Hopeless fucking dyke.”
More whines escape me. You’re not wrong.
You’re smoking the last of the joint now, and my drool has made a mess of my jacket and shirt.
“I mean, look at you. Disheveled in your cute little suit. Bound. Gagged. Drooling all over yourself. What kind of pathetic butch slut lets a mean dyke abuse them like this?”
I whine again, struggling in my bonds with nowhere to go.
“Yeah,” you say in your husky voice, stubbing out your joint in the ashtray. “Just a prettyboy fucktoy.”
You stand, your joints aching. I can see it in the wince on your face that you try to hide. It occurs to me that your smoke had a two-fold purpose: torturing me with waiting, and relieving your pain a little.
“Isn’t that right, boy? You’re a prettyboy fucktoy?”
I nod and whimper.
“Does a fucktoy want his mouth fucked?”
I nod again, eagerly, drooling. You slide two fingers into my open mouth with a smirk, and I moan.
“Such an eager slut for it,” you praise me. I moan louder.
Your fingers fuck my mouth and make me drool more and more, down the front of my suit. When your fingers go too deep and I almost gag, you pull back, calling me a good slut. I pant, catching my breath.
“I think it’s time for you to drool on my dyke dick, don’t you think, boy?”
Your eyes are dark with lust. I look up at you and nod.
A smirk tugs at your lips, but you keep your face relaxed and calm. I watch as you undo your belt, never breaking eye contact with me, tugging down your boxers just enough to pull out your hard strap-on, the one that cums.
You had no fucking intention of going to the opera, I realize.
You lie back down on the bed and tell me to kneel over your dick. I shuffle to obey with my arms behind my back. I manage it, and I lean over your cock, letting my trail of drool dribble onto the tip.
“That’s a good boy. Get my cock nice and wet, boytoy.”
I’m nice and wet, I think, feeling how turned on I am. My suit pants are still bunched at my ankles as I bend over your cock with my ass out. My pussy is aching, so ready to be fucked.
You finger my mouth again, making me drool more, making me whine again, making me more and more wet.
“Poor baby boy,” you say mockingly. “Do you like that? Do you like me fingerfucking your slutty little mouth?”
I whine more, unable to answer.
“Poor little slut. Drooling all over my cock like a helpless, messy little whore. Do you wanna suck my cock, boy?”
I whine and nod in lieu of saying yes. You laugh more.
I bend down further to take your cock in my ring-gagged mouth, sliding along my tongue until it reaches the back of my mouth, pulling back out and back in, slowly fucking open my throat. I’m moaning and it’s loud with the ring gag keeping my mouth wide open.
“Filthy little cockslut,” you moan. “Dirty little whore. You like that, huh? You like your face fucked?”
I whine with your cock deep in my throat. You fist a hand in my hair and, with a firm grip, guide my head up and down your cock. I moan.
“Yeah, that’s right, you filthy fucking boy. Take it. Moan for me.”
When I’ve made a mess of the cock, drool everywhere, you pull me off your cock and stand. You reach for the straps of the ring gag and take it off me. I look up at you with big eyes.
“Beg for my cum, boy.”
I whimper. Throb.
“Please, Daddy, please, please, cum on my face, Daddy. Please make me your messy little slut. Please cum all over me, Daddy. Please, Daddy, please, please cum on me, Daddy…”
“You can do better than that, boyslut.”
“Please, Daddy,” I cry out. “Please, I need it. I need your cum. I’m a pathetic little cumslut and I need your cum all over me, Daddy…”
“That’s better, boytoy.”
You reach for the trigger on the cum lube toy and squeeze it, holding your cock and spraying streams of cum over my face, my chest, my suit, my bare legs. It gets everywhere, even on the floor. I feel so fucking dirty, so used, like a filthy fucktoy.
“That’s it,” you laugh. “You dirty fucking slut. That’s it. Take my cum like a pathetic little cumslut.”
“Yes, Daddy,” I whimper.
Just when I think you’re about to pull out your phone for the final pictures of my ruined suit, you point to the cum on the floor and say, “Clean it up.”
I look at you with pleading eyes and you laugh and repeat yourself in a stern voice. “Clean. It. Up.” I know better than to argue or resist.
I get to my knees on the floor, my hands still bound behind me. I slowly bend down to the floor, my core working hard to keep me upright, and I come to rest my forehead on the floor and slowly lick up the cum lube. My suit brushes the floor, getting dirty.
“Good fucking boy,” you laugh. “That’s my dirty little slut.”
“Thank you, Daddy,” I mumble into the floor.
“What was that, slut?”
I lift myself up onto my knees again.
“Thank you, Daddy.”
You look travesti istanbul me up and down with a mean grin.
Now you take out your phone and raise an eyebrow at me. “May I?” you ask sweetly.
I nod, blushing hard. This time I have to look at the camera as the pictures snap. Having to face the camera’s gaze sets my skin on fire. You take three pictures of me and slip your phone back into your suit jacket pocket, your suit still impeccable, mine covered in cum and spit.
“My messy, filthy, dirty boy…” you say with a wicked smile. “Now it’s time for me to ruin you.”
“How are your arms feeling in that bondage?” you ask.
I tug on them and they feel sore, achey, in the way that’s starting to hurt.
“Okay, they’re coming off,” you say. You always manage to read me, in a way that’s frustratingly accurate. Fuck you for always knowing what I’m thinking. Motherfucker.
When the cuffs detach from each other, my shoulders relax and I let out a sigh of relief.
“Yeah, that’s what I thought, baby.” Asshole. Okay, not really. I love this about you, but it also drives me crazy.
You rub my shoulders for a second, so thoughtfully, and it makes my chest ache. I drop my head and moan.
“Moaning already?” you joke. “I’m not even touching you.”
“Technically, you are touching me,” I mumble.
“What was that?”
I repeat myself, louder.
“Are you being a brat, boy?”
“Me, Daddy? Never,” I say, but I can’t help the cheeky grin that spreads across my face anyway.
“Brats get punished,” you threaten.
I train my face to smooth and relax. “I’m not being a brat, Daddy, I swear.”
“A brat and a liar. Huh. What fun for me. Get on your stomach on the bed.”
My heart pounds in anticipation. I feel the blood rush to my face and hands as I’m caught in my lie.
I lie on the bed, arms bent, legs straight, my pants still bunched at my ankles.
“You look so good like this, boy.”
I whimper quietly, muffled into the bed.
You run the flogger tails over my ass softly, teasingly. Brushing back and forth. Then the flogger snaps and stings my ass. I yelp, just a little, just enough for your sadist brain to get greedy for more of my pain.
You flog me more, and I yelp louder and louder, spreading the grin wide across your face. Mostly I just pant and gasp, but at one point I hiss and say “That’s too much” and you back off a little.
“God, Daddy,” I moan. “Please.”
“Please what, boy?”
“God, please fuck me, Daddy. Please fuck my slutty little cunt. I’m so wet. I need it. I need your fingers, Daddy.”
“So fucking greedy, boy. I like that in a fucktoy. It’s cute. No, you can’t have my fingers, but you can hold a vibe to your clit while I flog you.”
“Oh God,” I moan. “Thank you, Daddy. Thank you. Thank you.”
You reach for the sex toy bag — I watch you over my shoulder — and bring me the small handheld wand toy that I love so much.
“Yes, Daddy, of course not, Daddy,” I rush to say.
“Good boy,” you say approvingly. “You can turn the vibe on.”
I do, holding it to my clit and gasping.
“Oh, fuck, Daddy. It feels so good. Thank you, Daddy.”
More strikes of the flogger come down on my stinging ass, but the pain feels delicious with the pleasure on my clit right now. I’m moaning and rutting on the vibe while you flog me until you get bored.
“Your ass is so fucking red, boy,” you say as you pause to massage it. I sigh in relief; I hadn’t realized how badly I needed a break. “How you doing, boytoy?”
“I’m, uh, I’m good. I think… that’s all the spanking I can take.”
“Good boy,” you praise, continuing to rub my hot, sore ass. I’m moaning from the pain and the pleasure. “What are you moaning about, loverboy?”
“I, um, uh. Daddy. Please, Daddy. Please can I have your finger inside my needy little cunt?”
“Please, Daddy! Please, please, I need it, I need it…”
I still have the vibe on my clit and I’m whimpering and gasping from it.
“Okay, loverboy, you can have a finger in this pretty little cunt of yours, but only if you keep making those cute little noises.”
“Yes, Daddy. Ohh, thank you, Daddy. Yes, Daddy. Please fuck me. Please fuck me…”
Your patient finger finds my wetness and sinks inside me slowly. I moan, loud and long. I moan fuck and thank you, Daddy and oh my God and strings of curse words. You’re in no hurry while you finger me, filling me up and pulling back out, curling at that perfect spot that makes me gasp. The vibe on my clit sends pulses of pleasure through my whole body and I feel my cunt clenching tight in the way that it does when I’m going to cum. I pull the vibe away, panting.
“What’s the matter, loverboy?” you chuckle. “Close already?”
I whine. “Yeah…”
You outright laugh this time. “So pathetic. You know you can only cum on my cock. You’d better pace yourself.”
“Yes, Daddy. Yes, Daddy.”
You finger me faster and I moan, “Please, Daddy, can I have another finger?”
“Greedy fucking whore.”
I clench at this and you laugh at me in awe. “Are you such a filthy, fucking, whore that your pussy clenches when I call you a whore?”
My pussy clenches again and I whine. “Yeah, Daddy. I’m a filthy little whore. I like it. I like when you call me a whore.”
Ben Esra telefonda seni bosaltmami ister misin?
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