When I first met my future Daddy, I loathed him. He was nothing more than the dirt off of the bottoms of my shoes. When I'd see him around town, the only things I'd notice were his baggy clothes, lumbering walk, and the long hair that covered his only nearly handsome face. A loser, that's what he was. I always looked away before I could notice anything beneath that rough exterior.
Then, when he could catch my eye, he'd always give me that half smile, like he could see into my soul. He was a friend of one of my girl friends, I barely knew him. Somehow though, he knew me. He always liked to say things he knew would upset me, as if he took pleasure in watching me squirm as he brought all of my deepest thoughts to light. Maybe he did. Perhaps he enjoyed the momentary connection between us every time our eyes met and he knew that even before our sick game started, I'd already lost. I hated him, but only because I wanted him so badly it made my body ache.
We were playing some board game I think, when our own personal game first began. I believe he'd made some sort of joke and I rolled my eyes.
"Careful, that isn't polite. You know I don't like that," he said to me, arching a single dark eyebrow, half hidden by his midnight hair.
I knew he hated it, he'd said as much before. I don't know what I expected, or perhaps I did know but didn't want to say it, even to myself. I rolled my eyes again, making a big show of it. As the brown of my eyes came to rest on the other side of my face, he snapped his fingers.
I froze.
"Bedroom. Now," he demanded, not loudly, but in a soft, dangerous tone. I rose from my chair slowly, watching him enter the bedroom first. I hesitated slightly, not quite understanding what came next, but enough to feel the first pang of fear. A sharp feeling that traveled right from my stomach down to my clit.
Another snap had me moving again. He was sitting at the foot of a bed covered in deep purple sheets and before I could speak a word to apologize he patted his knee.
"Lay across my legs, and don't cover your ass with your hands," he said in a tone that told me if I didn't listen, I wouldn't have the luxury of pants to cushion the future sharp blows.
"Okay," I said softly and started to lower myself. He stopped me, grabbing my chin before opening his mouth.
"It's yes sir, or yes Daddy unless you want to gag on my cock until you promise to get it right," he told me, his voice lowering to a near growl.
"Yes, Daddy."
I laid myself down on his lap, my eyes darting to a movement between his legs before I was sprawled across the denim of his pants. My clit pressed down lightly against his left knee, the thin leggings I'd worn doing nothing to aid the slight friction between us.
