Page 99 of Morally Gray Daddies

And he knew. He could clearly feel it. He worked at me, sensing how my body was reacting, and he did what no other guy had before—he focused on it. He focused on my arousal, my gratification. Even Lyle, as attentive as he’d been, had never truly concentrated on me during sex. Once things got hot and heavy, everything had shifted slowly but surely to what was making him feel good. Fulfilling his desires. At best, I became secondary until afterward, when he might say, ‘here, let me make you come.’ Or even worse, the dreaded ‘did you come?’

This was not that. This man wasn’t even touching himself, much less having me stroke his dick. He was solely fixated on my pussy, and how what he was doing was making me feel.

What the fuck is going on here?

“Shit, your pussy’s so fucking wet, slut. I think you like this.”

“Please,” I whimpered. “Please don’t…”

He chuckled. “Please don’t… stop? Oh, don’t worry; I’m not.”

I moaned. It wasn’t entirely in despair, however, because what he was doing…

“You’re going to come for me, bitch. You’re gonna come for me like the good little slut you are. And if you don’t, I swear to God I’ll fuck your friend up so bad even her daddy won’t recognize her when I’m done.”

I shook my head. “Oh, God, noooo…”

I didn’t want this. This wasn’t what I should be doing right now. My body… My body shouldn’t be betraying me like this. I should be stronger, able to stop him from what he was doing. Except I couldn’t, and that made me feel so… weak. So fragile and vulnerable and defenseless. So at his mercy, and in what felt like the absolute worst possible way.

By giving me pleasure when all I should be feeling was misery.

The wave began to build in me. Even if he hadn’t threatened Sonja, I wouldn’t have been able to stop what was taking place with my body. Realization that there was nothing I could do to prevent what was taking place turned raw hopelessness into blanket submission. I simply gave over to him, shutting my eyes and my mind to everything but the sensation of his fingers inside me, his thumb stroking my swollen clit.

I clenched down on him as I began to slip over the edge.

“Oh no…” One final whisper, one final cry for my resolve to hold firm, but it didn’t.

“You’re gonna come, aren’t you, slut?” he growled in triumph. “This tight little pussy’s gonna come for Daddy, isn’t it?”

Daddy. No… no… not…

He sensed what was about to happen and took even the final tiny fragment of power I held in this situation away from me.

“Fucking come, whore. Come!”

And I did.

My world came apart in an aurora of whiteness behind eyes clamped shut. Every nerve in my body seemed to explode outward, and for a moment, I was lost to everything around me as I submitted entirely to my orgasm.

“Yeah, that’s it,” he encouraged me with quiet intensity. “That’s it. Come for me like a good girl.”

Good girl. Good girl.

I shuddered as the last waves of pleasure rippled through me, and my mind and body returned to the present. To where I lay limp against the couch in Sonja’s father’s home, a man who—despite what he’d just done to me—was a complete stranger leaning above me in a way that shouldn’t have felt protective in any fashion, and yet did. This was the man who less than five minutes ago had been torturing me, who now held me in place, his fingers still inside me, as the last shivers of my release arced through me.

Good girl.

Why did those words continue to reverberate in my head? They shouldn’t. He’d hadn’t meant them. They were for effect for the camera, obviously, nothing more.

And yet…

I opened my eyes to look up.

His face was turned away from the camera, and he stared directly down into mine, and—why? Why was he smiling like that? Why did he look so considerate, so… pleased?

You can’t do that! I wanted to scream.

But he did, and for a moment I felt…

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