Stitches awoke to find herself surrounded by darkness, with her arms fastened at the wrists to the wall behind her. As she became aware, she realised that the cuffs attaching her to the wall were all that held her up. That, and she was completely naked.
So, she was here again.
She thought back, trying to figure out how she had got here. The last thing she remembered was absolute ecstasy at the hands of 'Daddy' - her Master. She remembered feeling the beginnings of an almighty orgasm wracking her body.
Damn, she figured, I must have passed out. Fuck. She always hated to miss out on the orgasms her Daddy offered her so rarely.
She knew where she was, of course. The basement. She wasn't sure why, yet, but she'd know soon enough.
Twenty minutes passed, leaving her alone with her thoughts. Just as she was in the middle of a rather graphic fantasy about Daddy, the door opened suddenly and the light was flicked on. Her eyes burned while they adjusted to the light.
"Good evening, little one."
She looked up at him then, stuck breathless by the very sight of him. "Good evening, Daddy," she replied, almost in a whisper.
"Have a good sleep?"
"Yes, I suppose so, Daddy, but - did I pass out?"
He laughed. "Yeah, you did."
She hung her head in disappointment. He approached her, standing in front of her, surveying her naked body. Then, he tilted her head back, stared into her eyes, and kissed her. She kissed him back eagerly, feeling the arousal begin to spread throughout her body. He moved yet closer to her, pressing her back further against the cold of the wall. He continued to kiss her, pressing hard into her, running his hands along her smooth skin. His tongue wrestled with hers as his hands slid down her body, finally reaching his destination. He slipped three fingers inside her, and she broke the kiss, gasping.
He laughed at her, then, and continued to finger fuck her. She was vaguely aware of the pain in her arms, the cuffs cutting into her wrists, but mostly she was focussed on the feelings Daddy was allowing her. He quickened his pace, watching her as she began to thrash and writhe against the wall. He noticed that the restraints were now drawing blood, but he knew she wouldn't feel it 'til later. She wrapped her legs around him, drawing him closer to her. He removed his fingers from her, seeing her slump with disappointment. Keeping her legs wrapped around him and holding her with one hand, he reached up with his free hand and released first one restraint, then the other. She cried out as her arms fell by her sides, the blood rushing back to her numbed limbs. He carried her in this fashion up the stairs, out of the basement to his bedroom, where he lay her on the bed. She looked up at him, with those big green eyes, her long, synthetically red hair fanned out around her head.
He moved above her, stroking a stray strand of hair out of her face.
"You know I love you, don't you, Stitches?"
She smiled, showing her perfect white teeth. "Yes, Daddy. I know. And I love you too."
He tugged his pants off, his cock springing free, and in one swift movement he had entered her, filling her completely.
She cried out in pleasure as he pounded her, slamming himself into her depths with all his might. She moaned beneath him, feeling every ridge of his hard cock inside her walls.
Oh, she loved this. He was steel wrapped in silk, and this - him and her, together - was so right. They were the perfect fit.
He quickened his pace, with her matching every thrust. He felt her muscles contract and release rapidly around him, her cries more frantic, her hands clawing at his back. Her muscles contracted again, and this time he came with her.
She lay there, gazing up at him, her eyes searching his.
"You," he said, "are just amazing."
"Mmm, and you too, Daddy," she replied, toying with his goatee.
"Savour this," he told her, the Dominant edge creeping back into his voice. "I will come and get you in half an hour. In the meantime, have a nap or something."
With that, he got up, pulled his pants on and sauntered off.
She did sleep, and he came and woke her in half an hour just as he promised. She was instructed to make dinner, and as she was peeling the potatoes, she realised what was missing.
"Daddy?" she called out.
"Yeah?" he seemed to materialise in the doorway. It didn't matter that she saw him every day, that she spent every waking moment serving him, she would still stare at him as long as she could whenever she could and steal sneak glances the rest of the time. Just the very sight of him made her wet, each and every time.
"Daddy, where is Michelle?"
"Ah, Michelle. Well, I had her go out for the night. She was getting on my nerves."
Stitches smiled broadly to herself as she continued to peel the potatoes. There was a structure in their home, that began long ago.
She had met Jeremy on the internet, before she was Stitches. He lived in San Francisco, and she lived in New Zealand. Slowly, over time, he had began to dominate her in their conversations. He was 27, and reasonably new to the lifestyle, but she'd be damned if he hadn't done his research. He was a natural Dominant, and naturally, he became her Master, although he told her he hated the term 'Master'. He preferred 'Daddy' over Master, because, he said, it was overused and besides, it didn't matter what he was called, he would still manipulate her and control her mind, body and soul, and devour her entirely. And every word of it had been true.
He had told her, early on, how their life would be should she decide to move to be with him. She would have a 'sister slave', though again, he didn't put it that way. The general concept was that Stitches would always be the lead slave, but she would very rarely have the privilege of getting anywhere near his godly cock, yet alone being fucked by him. That was where Michelle came in. Michelle usually lived like a queen. She still had to report to Daddy, and he still controlled her, but she had much more freedom than Stitches, and she got to fuck him whenever he felt the urge. Which was often.
Stitches spent much of her time with her ear pressed to the bedroom door when Daddy felt compelled to fuck Michelle in his bedroom. She had an excellent imagination and she saw, in her mind's eye, every move that caused Michelle to scream with pleasure, every position he dragged her into. She heard every sigh, every moan.
Michelle, unlike Stitches, didn't have a job. Stitches was a dancer. She wasn't for the whole brass pole routine, so she had got a job in Burlesque. She still took her clothes off for money, but it was less sleazy, she felt. It was glamorous, in its old way. She had two personalities onstage - there was the old-Hollywood siren, and then the fetish goddess. The customers loved her, and always paid well. And in turn, Stitches loved seeing the look on her Daddy's face when she handed over every cent upon her return to work. Michelle was responsible for driving Stitches to work and picking her up afterward, but in between times she was free to do what she liked, one of her many 'free periods' for the day.
Stitches, in the beginning, had intensely disliked Michelle for the fact that she got to experience mind-blowing sex and multiple orgasms from Daddy, while Stitches wasn't allowed to come at all, even by herself.
She had spent almost six months, when she first arrived in San Francisco, strapped into a chastity belt because Daddy said she couldn't be trusted not to pleasure herself when he wasn't supervising her. And it was true, she had been hopeless at first. She had an insatiable sex drive, and she constantly craved his godly cock. But Michelle was the one who got to fuck and suck him most of the time, Stitches very rarely, if she was lucky. But anyway, it's not like she was jealous -
"Stitches?"
She spun round to face him, flustered. "Yes, Daddy?"
He laughed. "Lost in your own thoughts there, princess?"
"Oh... sorry Daddy, I ... I was just thinking..."
"Mm-hm. And what about, pray tell?"
"Just... about Michelle. Why did you send her out, Daddy, if I may ask?"
"I told you. She was getting on my nerves."
"But... is there any other reason?"
"Well, I suppose so, Stitches, but those potatoes aren't going to peel themselves."
With that, he ambled off to the living room. She finished preparing dinner and served it to him, acting as a comfortable footstool for him as he ate his meal while watching the news.
When he'd finished eating, he switched off the TV and motioned for her to come to him. She knelt between his legs, looking up at him.
"Daddy?"
"Yes, Stitches?"
"Is Michelle coming back to drive me to work?"
"No, Stitches." Seeing the look of panic on her face, he knew what was going through her mind. If Michelle wasn't going to drive her - and Daddy certainly would never be expected to - then she couldn't get to work, and she couldn't earn money, and she couldn't give him the money she earned, which in Stiches' eyes, all amounted to her failing him miserably. "You're not going to work tonight, Stitches, I called them for you. Things are going to change a little around here. Starting right now," he said, as he unzipped his fly. She looked at him, and he nodded. That was all the encouragement she needed.
She tugged his cock free from his pants, feeling the silky smooth flesh and the hardness underneath. She licked the glistening tip, watching as a shock of pleasure flashed across his face. She lowered her mouth slowly, invitingly onto his cock, flicking her tongue along the sensitive head, running her tongue around the ridges just below the head, and began sucking like her life depended on it. She made sure to use just the right amount of suction, tongue and teeth to get him as turned on as she could possibly manage, and she was delighted when he began to meet her hungry mouth with upwards thrusts, filling her mouth and throat, choking her. Yes, this was what she lived for. He wasn't nice about it, either. When Daddy wanted pleasure, he made sure he got it.
She loved the slight moans and grunts he made as he began to fuck her mouth harder and deeper, allowing her only a few seconds to breathe between each thrust.
She was proud of herself when he came in torrential loads, and she thoroughly enjoyed swallowing every precious drop, savouring his taste on her tongue.
"Happy, princess?" he asked her, and she couldn't help but grin.
"Very, very happy, Daddy. Thank you."
"Mm-hm," he answered, one of his favourite dismissive replies. "There's dishes that need doing, Stitches."
Obediently she got up, wiped her mouth on her sleeve, flashed him a grin, and set about stacking the dishes. She took them into the kitchen and proceeded to run water into the sink.
