Why on Earth do I do this to myself? I wondered, my face visibly flushed, and my hand clenched into a fist just inches away from my throbbing, aching pussy. I wasn't allowed to orgasm. I had been instructed to wait. I knew if I succeeded in following that order, I would be granted not just one incredible climax, but many. Even so, my self-control was tenuous at best. And what was I doing? I was having fun self-sabotaging, throwing little cherry bombs into the fire growing in my every nerve ending. I was sitting in my university library reading porn on my laptop. I easily could have been somewhere more private, but I really was trying to make it harder on myself to give in to the primal urges that were coursing through my body and overshadowing every rational thought. I wasn't even allowed to touch, and I had been informed that I would have no desire to find out what happens to "naughty little girls that play with Daddy's property without His permission".
But He wouldn't know. I reasoned with myself. Surely I could excuse myself to the restroom and put out just a little bit of the fire, and make my suffering more bearable. He would never have to find out. My hand moved just a little closer to my pussy, just barely brushing against it. I bit back the moan the sprung to my lips. Suddenly I tensed. Would this public, over the clothes touching count? Before I could consider that further, the hairs on the back of my neck prickled. Someone was watching me. I quickly glanced around, but saw no one looking in my direction. I allowed my hand to remain where it was, resisting the urge to grind into it. I couldn't take it anymore. Very slowly, still throwing furtive glances over my shoulder, I covered up my body with my jacket and reached down to bring some relief to my swollen clit, despite intense feelings of guilt attempting to put a damper on my arousal. My phone buzzed with a text and I froze, fingers pressed against my clit. I picked up my phone with my free hand. Shit.
It read: Why are you playing with My pussy?
Shit shit shit. How the hell did he know?
I looked around again, quickly withdrawing my hand from my panties.
I felt him behind me before I saw him. His presence always had a way of jolting straight to my sex.
"Hi Daddy, what are you doing here?" I asked, my casual tone sounding strained.
Instead of answering, He said, "I thought I told you not to touch."
My face flushed bright red. He wasn't going to do this here was he?
"I know, I'm sorry. I couldn't help it."
He looked over my shoulder at the story pulled up on my laptop.
"It would appear that you could help it, but you chose to be a dirty little slut instead." He observed casually.
"Daddy! You can't just say that in public!"
He raised an eyebrow. "Oh? And why not? You were disobeying me in public, were you not?"
He had me there. Submissive contrition kicked in and my head bowed as I felt tears well up in my eyes. He was right of course. I had to be punished. We both knew that.
"Now, I can either make a scene here and I'll drag you out to the car, or you can go give that nice librarian your student ID and get the keys to one of the private conference rooms. It's your choice, but I would strongly advise being a good girl and doing the latter."
"Yes Daddy." I mumbled, and shuffled off to go get the keys to a conference room in the most obscure part of the library that I could think of. Thank God they were sound proof, but it was still possible for onlookers to see inside of them.
The librarian gave me the keys and told me to have a nice day, and dread filled my every step as I walked back to where he was standing, arms crossed. I had really messed up this time.
"I got the keys Daddy."
"Good girl. Lead the way, it's your library."
I sighed, and led him up to the third floor away from everything and everyone, to the conference room with the least amount of windows.
