Over the next few weeks, we had been messaging each other almost every evening. Before I went to bed, Daddy would tell me to lay under the covers and fuck my fingers into my soaked pussy, as he purred detailed descriptions of what he would do if he were there. The words he purred to me were pure sin, wrapped in the deep timbre of his voice. Closing my eyes, I imagined it was his fingers stuffing me full. I just wanted to feel his body pressed against mine as he drew me closer and closer to the sweet release I craved. I had to bite into my pillow as I came hard against my palm; he allowed it. He knew I was self-conscious about my roommate hearing my cries. But I was warned that this was the only time he would let me do it.
As I lay snuggled in my single bed after ending our phone call for tonight, I couldn't help but dream of him. Running my hand down my flat tummy and slipping my hand under the waistband of my panties. I would normally be unimpressed by how thirsty I was acting. But I could not help it and let my mind wander. In my dream, we were sitting on his sofa. My back pressed to his chest as he spread my legs wide open over his thighs. His large hand took the place of my dainty one, his fingers playing my expertly as he circled my clit and stroked my lower lips. His fingers slid into my wet pussy with no resistance, thrusting into me while he kept brushing my clit with his thumb. I drew closer and closer to the edge of bliss. The shrill cry of my alarm woke me. With a groan, I left the comfort of my bed and the phantom feel of Daddy's hands to prepare for classes.
I was in the middle of my English lit class, listening to a lecture on the life of Brontë and how it affects her novel, when I got a ping on my phone. Sneaking my phone out of my bag, I muted it before quickly checking the message. It was from my dorm manager, who had received a package too big for my mailbox, and I needed to collect it from his office. I was initially confused, but then I remembered John's words from our first meeting. Oh. He must have sent something. I could barely hide my excitement for the rest of class. As soon as we were dismissed, I threw my belongings into my bag before rushing back to the dorm rooms.
The box was big. It was not too heavy, but it was a bit awkward to carry back to my room with my bag full of books. Setting it on my bed, I looked over it. Other than my name neatly written on the address, there was no indication as to what it was. Letting my curiosity win, I opened it.
Inside was a beautiful dress. A deep burgundy that would cling to my body. The small spaghetti straps held the dress up. Holding the dress up and looking in the mirror, I noticed that although my shoulders were bare, the skirt length reached a few inches above my knee while standing. Laying the dress back down, I found more items in the box. A set of black panties and a matching garter. We're hiding under the dress, along with a set of stockings. There was no bra, though. That confuses me. Inside was a set of cone-heeled shoes with a little strap that would fasten around my ankle. The heel was not too high but higher than the pair I wore on our last meeting. Finally, I noticed the card. "Call me when you get this.- John."
Biting my lip, my hands shook slightly as I pulled up his contact. The call rang only once before he answered.
"See, you got my gift." John's deep voice sent shivers over my spine.
"I did, thank you. You didn't have to... It's too much." I bit my thumb nervously as I tried to work out how much this must have cost him.
"Baby," he said with a rich chuckle that sent a shiver down my spine. "Remember how you said I could spoil you? Let me spoil you." I blushed as I remembered him murmuring those words into my thigh. "Besides, if you're so desperate to pay me back, you can tonight."
"T-Tonight?" I stammered slightly, sitting on the bed next to the box.
"Yes, tonight. You will dress in everything in that box and only what's in that box. I'll pick you up at 8."
"Daddy," I whispered, hearing my roommate come home; her muffled humming could be heard in the shared living space. "There is no bra. I thought... I thought you wanted me to be for your eyes only."
"And you wanted to be my perfect little slut. You will be for my eyes, Baby. And I can't wait to see you tonight." He ended the call before I could say anything else.
Looking over the dress again, I brushed my fingers over the material. It was silky soft. I bet it would feel so good against my skin. With a small smile, I set about getting ready for tonight.
After a hot shower, I re-entered my room to find my roommate, Amber, holding my dress up and looking at herself in the mirror. Ever since I found myself paired with Amber Roberts, I have had nothing but trouble. She was tall, blond with a killer body that she used to get away with everything. And she used that to her advantage. I heard her brag to her friends on the phone about how she would fuck professors to get her grades boosted. How she would bring guys back to our rooms and fuck them in the shared living space. Not caring if I was home. The worst part is she steals my stuff. All the time. It started innocently at first, with her accidentally forgetting books for class and "borrowing" mine. Then she moved to stealing my groceries. The most recent thing she started doing was stealing my clothes. It was the main reason I took to dressing conservatively; any clothes I had that showed the bare hint of skin, and she would snatch it up.
"Ugh, I don't think my tits will fit." She grumbles, turning this way and that, pressing my dress to her curvy, tanned body.
"A-a-amber, that's mine." I pulled my towel closer around my body and walked over to her; I tugged the dress from her grip. "You can't have this."
"Ha! Like you're gonna wear it." She narrows her hazel eyes at me before placing her hands on her hips. "I'm going out with the girls and need a new dress. And all you do is sit here and study, So stop being such a bitch and give me the dress." She stalked over to me, and I clutched the dress tight.
"N-n-no." I watched her tilt her head at my stuttered outburst; her eyes narrowed into a glare. Her long blond hair draped over her shoulder. "I have a d-date. And I am w-w-wearing my dress on my date."
Amber laughed. A lilting sound that made my stomach drop with anxiety. "Oh, this is funny. The little frigid bitch is dating." I felt tears prick the corners of my eyes but willed them back. I would not give her the satisfaction of my tears. "What? You didn't know that Patrick has been telling everyone about how much of an ice block you are in bed. Maybe I should warn this date of yours. Offer him a real woman instead." she smirked before leaving my room, slamming the door behind her.
Alone, it felt hard to breathe. I slid to my knees as panic gripped my chest tightly. Closing my eyes, I tried to calm myself. Amber was wrong. I was not frigid. My ex, Patrick, was a boy. John proved I needed a man to handle me. Feeling my anxiety slide away, I set about getting ready. I would not let her ruin my night. I was going to enjoy myself.
It was getting close to 8 as I put on the finishing touches. A light coat of makeup, mostly mascara, eyeliner, and a slight lip tint, was just what I needed to finish my look. I was right; the dress clung to me, hugging my breasts and hips. The sheerness of the fabric would surely show my nipples at the slightest breeze. I eyed some of the cardigans in my wardrobe, longing to wear them. But Daddy said only to wear the things in the box.
My phone buzzed, knocking me out of my worries. "I'm outside, Baby," I replied, saying I would be right down. Tucking my phone into a clutch purse. I set out to meet him.
"I need you would look fucking stupid in that." Amber's voice caused me to pause by the front door of our dorm room. "Oh, good luck with your 'date'" She rolled her eyes sarcastically. "I'm going out, so don't wait up for me," I said nothing, leaving her and my worries behind.
It was not hard to find John. He was leaning against his sleek black car. The same one he had driven on our first date... I think. I'm not too good with different types of cars. "Damn, I knew you would look good in that," John said with a slight smile. Pulling me close, he bent to kiss my lips sweetly. Chasing away any thought but of him. "Come on. Let's go have some fun."
He drove us to the same club we met on our first date. He helped me out of the car, closing the door behind me with a firm clunk. With his hand firmly on my lower back, he guided me inside, past the long line of people waiting to get in. I heard a few people grumble quietly about que cutters as we passed. It was a Friday night, so the club was busy. He easily led us through the crowd and over to the bar. Motioning to the bartender, he placed our orders. A finger of Rye of him and something called Sweet Manhattan for me.
"So, how's work?" I asked, suddenly unsure what to say. Talking to John was easier over the phone. But then, I always found it harder to talk in person.
"Busy. But I have the weekend free. So I'm yours all weekend, Baby." He leaned close, brushing his thumb over my jaw. "I have something new I want to try." He murmured in my ear. He didn't pull back as the bartender placed a tumbler glass of amber liquid and a martini glass in front of us. He reached out, sliding the martini glass in front of me. "I need you to trust me tonight. Do you trust me, Baby girl?"
"Yes... Daddy." I all but whimper. This time, the familiar scent of sandalwood and musk mixed with a slight hint of citrus. I loved his smell and how it clung to my clothes for a short while after I got home. I buried my face in my clothes, chasing any hint of his scent. But it would always fade. I loved sleeping at his house. His smell clung to every inch of each room. Snuggled in his bed, I would wrap his blankets around me and lose myself in it.
"Good." He pressed a kiss to my temple before pulling away. "Try the drink. If you don't like it, tell me." I looked it over. The martini glass was full of an orangey-red liquid; a cherry rested at the bottom, and a twist of lemon peel rested on the rim. Picking it up, I kept eye contact with him as I took a sip. It was strong, stronger than I am used to. It had a smokey, medicinal sweetness that was followed by spices. The drink was not unpleasant, so I took another sip.
"You like it?"
"It's a bit strong. But not bad."
Daddy's deep laugh rumbles through his chest. I can feel it against my back. He had moved, caging me in against the bar. His warm breath fans over my cheek, and I can't help but lean back against him. "Not bad, hmm?" His hand rests on my waist and clutches the material of the dress. "God, you look like a fucking Goddess. Would you let me worship at your altar?" He purrs in my ear, turning my legs weak. Fuck I missed him.
His hand began to trail down my tummy, over the outside of my dress. "Daddy, we're in public," I murmured, feeling his hands begin to pull my dress up. He didn't respond, simply chuckling as he pressed kisses up my neck towards my jaw. I tilted my head to the side, leaning back into him.
"Let them watch so they can see how lucky I am to have such a beautiful woman's attention," Daddy murmured in my ear.
"Sir." A voice from behind us drew both of our attention. The tall, broad man has his head cleanly shaved and a large tattoo spanning his skull. "We have a problem."
