"But, Daddy, why?" I'm almost thirty, and I'm still whining. It never ends.
"Why? Because I need to remind you of your place from time to time." He's ten years older than me and much more patient.
I kept my head down. I was thankful for the blanket he had laid down on the floor of my large, golden cage. There was enough room for more than one pet to lie down in it.
"But, Daddy... I know my place."
"Don't 'but, Daddy' me. Do you understand?"
"Yes, Sir."
"Good little girl."
He set his beer down on his coffee table across the room and slowly, pensively walked over to me. He was wearing nothing but black jeans, a black belt, and black boots—a stark difference against his pale skin. I looked up at him. His height felt menacing. He towered several feet over my nearly naked body. He gave me a serious look, squatted, and opened the cage. Then he grabbed the ball gag that was resting on top of the cage and told me to come closer to him so he could put it on.
My forehead rested against his chest while he fastened it. I enjoyed the brief intimacy, my head cushioned against his warm, hairy chest.
He gently put his hand on the back of my head, pushing it down so that my face was resting onto the blanket now. My ass was up in the air, just like he wanted. He fastened my wrists in front of me with restraints and hooked them together. Then he closed the cage and stood on top of it.
I was always scared that it would tip over when he did that even though it never happened. Honestly, it would be more comical if he pulled that off. I felt excited yet vulnerable even though I knew he would not do anything I was opposed to.
"Look up at me," he spoke softly.
I watched him unzip his jeans—such a simple, sexy act. He pulled out his half-hard cock. Already, it looked big and thick. He took a deep breath, and I saw his stream of hot piss fly down towards me. He swayed his hips to get it all over my face. It slid down onto my forehead, eyelids, cheeks, lips, and chin, and then onto the blanket. I closed my eyes and enjoyed the stream of pungent, hot piss on my body. He had purposely not drank not enough water so far that day just to make me feel a little more degraded. I loved it.
"That's right," he muttered. "Be a good piss slut."
My pussy muscles tightened at his dirty-worded encouragement. Finally, he was done. I opened my eyes, and he shook his penis, causing two drops to land on my forehead. He jumped off of the cage then told me to put my head down again. I immediately followed his command and set my face against the piss-soaked stains on the blanket.
He let out a groan and said, "Stay like that until I say so."
"Yes, Sir." I tried to speak clearly with my mouth being held open by the ball gag.
I was sure he was very pleased with my position. I'd heard the old, leather couch squeak when he sat down. His fat cock was probably in his hand being stroked. A couple of minutes later, I knew I had been right because he started moaning. I really wanted to look up. But I knew if I did, I would regret not following his orders. Well, he would probably spank me, and I would partially enjoy it. I don't particularly like to get punished.
I tried my best to be his perfectly-trained pet during these scenes. Sometimes, he let me get away with being bratty because he loved to run after me and watch me struggle.
This was not the time to be playfully mischievous, though. He was serious from the get-go, and I knew better than to disappoint him in a scene like this.
His moaning became louder. He paused, and I heard the sound of him squirting lube onto his large hand.
I loved his hands and arms. Really, all of his body. I could have used one of his hands stuffed inside of me. All sorts of fantasies were racing through my mind right now.
A few seconds later, his moans were accompanied by the sounds of his wet shaft being furiously stroked.
My breathing became heavier, and the walls of my pussy were tightening even more. I could not let myself find release. I wanted his permission, and he wanted to be the director of my orgasms, so it worked out.
I had nothing on but thin, black panties, and the fabric of the gusset was soaked against me. I heard the squeak of the couch springs again when he stood up then the scuff of his boots against the hardwood floor. I tried to hold still, secretly ordering my wet hole to stop throbbing because it was only making things more difficult for me.
"You want Daddy's cum?"
"Yes, Daddy," I mumbled, my voice even more muffled than before. Thick drool had formed around the edges of the red ball my lips were hugging.
He was standing in front of me. I saw his boots in my peripheral vision. I wanted to close my eyes. The sight of them was turning me on even more, and he was well aware of their effect on me.
"Look up at me," he told me. His voice was very reassuring to me.
I stared at his sexy, green eyes with my innocent, brown ones as though to say, "Please, touch me. Please, let me come."
We had been playing for less than 15 minutes, and I wanted to climax...hard. Normally, I enjoyed the build up thoroughly, but I was so excited and horny that I needed my first release as soon as possible.
He stared at me, too, still jerking his dick. The passion between us grew through sustained eye contact. Several seconds later, as though in slow motion, he milked a stream of warm jizz from his length that went flying onto my face in perfect white, thick strings.
I loved his cum. Seeing it. Feeling it on my skin. And most of all, swallowing it for my partner's pleasure.
He moaned and groaned, steady on his feet. Afterwards, he momentarily held his head back. I gazed up at his pulsating, throbbing cock, worshiping it with my eyes. He groaned one last time and slowly crouched down, opening the cage. I wanted to pounce out and greedily lick him clean, but I had to be patient.
"I love when you drool," he said under his breath.
Long globs of spit had escaped from my mouth and dripped onto the blanket. I was wet at both ends.
He reached behind my head and unfastened the ball gag.
