Park Chase Claire

Copyright 2007 Duelduet all publication rights reserved. All characters are over the age of 18.

*

Every once in a while I don't know who I am. Self-doubt creeps in, seeps in the cracks of the person I have built myself into. It erodes those beliefs that are the foundation of who I am. Yes, I am good. Yes, I am yours. Yes, yes, yes. But, maybe I am too easy. Maybe I should be like all those other women out there; striving and straining to be as good as a man, not needing anyone. Do I give myself of free will? Or is it because I'm not good enough to stand on my own? I hate myself for these thoughts, for the need for approval, the need for reassurance. The constant testing of you, and myself.

I haven't worn any under things today. At all. A small tease, and well, today I'm scattered and unsure. I want to feel unfettered. Our lunch over, small glances to you from time to time tell me that you know what I've done, and that you know that I know that you know. But I must wait for your reaction. You remind me of a tiger, only the tip of your tail barely twitching as you wait for the right moment to strike. Suddenly I regret playing this little game. I should know better. If I want your attention, I should just ask for it. I am ashamed and busy myself with the dishes, cleaning up.

Packing the cooler I notice you getting up. The feeling of "wait" has changed, is more charged. I quickly look away, turning back to the cooler. I feel sudden warmth as you move behind me; the strength of your arms surrounds me.

"Daddy?" I want to talk, to understand why I feel like this, why I need this. The words don't come. Instead my breath comes quick and light; your hands are on my breasts and I can't help but react - still -- here? Now?

"Not here, someone will see!"

There's no one around, but any minute there could be. You ignore me, pinching my nipples. I am angry. Bastard. Anytime, anywhere, it doesn't matter, does it? What the hell am I, a blowup doll, for chrissakes? A toy -- a plaything. I know what I'm good for.

"James! No! Not here!" My voice is a hiss, venomous with my thoughts. Ineffectively I try batting your hands away, and you growl at me. Animal. I know that tone, and still, I fight, knowing I am making you angry. Good. I have my own mind, my own wants, and my own needs. I tear away from you, and turning to you I see the surprise in your face. Didn't think I would fight you, did I? Suddenly, the expression on your face turns thunderous.

Oh, shit.

All you've ever asked is for my love, my devotion. My respect for who you are, a man,

the

man -- the One who has done everything to see to my comfort, my needs, my desires. The One who frees me from the grind of modern-day insanity. Frees me from worry, from indecision, from second-guessing, from longing for something better, never having enough. The One who cherishes me, nurtures me, the one who arouses the wild, the passionate, the primal. And this is the way I treat you. I am ashamed, suddenly, turning to flee. Your hand catches in the diaphanous material of my dress, shredding, in tatters, like my self-esteem. I run, as much from myself as you. But you follow, hot on my heels. Why? I don't know, but that you do spurs me on. Your determined pursuit reminds me that I am worth something; there must be something for you not to let me get away. I run faster -- feeling -- wild; wanting to shed these feelings, these barriers to my happiness.

And then I am fleeing through the trees, darting back and forth; branches catch at my dress, tearing it away. You're close now; I imagine your breath on my neck, like that of a wolf, hungry for prey. My senses are heightened; I am becoming more of me, more of now, less of the creature chained to society, the bonds of time and civility and responsibility.

"Girl! This is enough!"

I feel your fingers on my shoulder and more of my dress falls away, my yolk of shame falling with it, and now it is only the chase, the exhilaration of the hunt.

I hear your curse; my frown of concentration is lifted as I slip again from your grasp. I laugh -- I am a wild thing, boundless, free, you can never catch me -- I dodge and weave - the trees are my home, my refuge, my territory, I am the wind through them.

And then your hand is on my shoulder and I am whirled around, spinning, equilibrium upset and the world upended. I stagger, reeling, shocked at the sudden halt of my momentum. Then again, your hands, an anchor to a whirling world, catching, controlling, and keeping me from harm. Or are they only to still me for the onslaught to come?

The last shreds of my dress are torn away and I struggle, mindlessly, feral, but helpless in your grip. I feel the smoothness of an ash hard against my back, my hands pinned in one of yours high above me, caught, suspended, hanging, waiting for the sting of teeth and tongue, to be consumed.

Your first taste is of my lips, your tongue dipping, savoring, delving deep. For an endless time you take from me, demanding, your lips possessing me fully, charged with your power and virility, you overwhelm me.

I submit for the moment. The wild dances in my veins, still, almost obliterating the sinuous sneak of self-doubt. A metallic click and slither. Your hand under one thigh. Opening me. Fear. I glance quickly into your eyes, afraid of the fire blazing from them, vulnerable. Again, shame at my fear and I look away.

"No! Look at me!"

Your voice is a command, ragged with emotion. Trembling, I obey; your love is a conflagration, burning away the fear, the doubt, the shame. Yes. I am yours. Claimed by your eyes, you pierce my soul with the thrust of your cock. Tears fill my eyes, a flood echoed deeper below as I cry out in relief, in exultation.

"Daddy I -"

My body surrenders even if you still see resistance in my eyes. You bind my hands loosely. It's only a symbol -- I know now this is what I wanted all along, you know it too.

"No Daddy right now, girl."

No, not now. Right now I need your wild, your passion, your demand. You thrust slowly, holding me with your eyes, pinning me with your slow, measured assault.

Yes, now, your teeth, your tongue, your devouring kisses as you thrust faster, deeper, mighty with the knowledge of your power, my helplessness now to resist. You drive yourself into me, again and again, forcing the breath from my lungs the cries from my throat, taking, demanding, and commanding. I moan, crying, needing, more, yes, please, now!

"Please, Let me come. Please."

I've been ready since I first turned and ran. You are ready, only wanting me to ask for it, to beg for it, to need you completely.

"Come. Come now!"

Your voice is a command, my permission, my fulfillment. "Ohhh!" It starts slowly, and then builds rapidly. "Uhhhh!!!" I cry out piercingly, my body shuddering its release, giving up what is yours. Everything that I am, completely, forever. Your release is the acceptance of my gift to you, confirmation of your gift to me.

It is finished, and taste the love spilled from my eyes, kissing away the tears.

Tenderly now, softly - "You alright baby?"

I nod, not knowing what to say, or how to say it, but knowing that whatever is to come, it is all right. You release my hands.

"Mmmm. Daddy loves you girl."

Yes, I know, now. There still is a reckoning to bear, but it is your way,

the

way, everything is as it should be.

I put my arms around your neck. "Please hold me Daddy."

You're always teaching me, always telling me, always loving me. In your arms, your embrace tells me everything I need to know. This as much as anything is the most intimate expression of your heart. The language of touch is eloquent, soothing, taming the wild. Your body speaks to mine and our breath becomes one.

"We better get going."

With those words I realize my state. I blush, redden.

"Ready my girl?"

I shake my head, I can't go to the parking lot like this!. You grin -- again you take care of me, dressing me in the shirt still warm from your skin, enveloping me in your care.

"This help?" Your offer of the remains of my dress accepted and fashioned into a skirt, my nudity covered. It is only for you to see, to enjoy, and I revel in being yours, your own. . We walk back together to the picnic table. The remaining things are easily packed, together, side by side; we walk back to the truck. Inside, I am still wanting, needing your warmth, your closeness, I snuggle up to you and you begin to drive us home.

I know what is to come. I know what I have done, and what the consequences are.

"Am I getting spanked?" I need to make amends.

"Damn right you are girl. Soon as we get home."

"Thank you Daddy. I'm sorry."

Oh, yes. Everything is all right now, and I am at peace. I put my head on your shoulder, knowing your love, and sleep.