[My apologies for the inordinately long break in this story's new chapter. I hope this partly makes up for it.]
***
Dan watched from the driver's seat of his car as his 18 year-old girlfriend strode over to meet him, and not for the first time, silently congratulated himself. He looked on, amused, as an older man on the pavement, walking with his small children, almost walked into a lamp post as Kat sashayed past him on her high heels, and the mesmerised father tried and failed not to stare helplessly in her wake at her long, endless legs and her swaying, pert buttocks nestling within her very, very short skirt.
And it was a *very* short skirt, Dan noted. While he had been back from university this summer he had noticed his girlfriend's clothes had started to become a little... well, how to put this? Slutty. There was no other word for it.
Shorter and shorter skirts, higher heels, tops that showed off her (and this wasn't up for debate) fabulous, deep cleavage. She wore more make-up too. Thicker, darker lipstick, false eyelashes, plenty of lip gloss, more eye shadow. And her hair seemed to be permanently tousled. She never wore it up any more. Said her boss "didn't like it".
Dan would never have said it out loud but he couldn't help thinking she looked less and less like the shy, modest girl he had started dating a year earlier before he went to university and more and more like a wannabe porn actress (albeit a really hot one). Part of him hated it. And part of him (one particular part) secretly loved it.
His own personal preferences in the porn department were for the slightly older woman. The experienced milf who liked to prey on younger men. He liked his pornographic cocksuckers a little more experienced, albeit just as wonderfully stacked as his own girlfriend, whose miraculous breasts were a source of real joy for Dan. His cock twitched in his briefs as he watched Kat approach and saw her cleavage jiggle imperceptibly in the tight white shirt she had undone a few buttons on.
Despite all this, Dan prided himself on being (so he thought) a progressive, liberal kind of a guy. A new man. So while he wouldn't have dared to tell his girlfriend what she could and couldn't wear, the problem was that he couldn't fight the throbbing, primeval response of jealousy that coursed through him whenever he thought about Kat in her new summer internship at the company her father worked for. Or the man she seemed to work every hour for.
Joe. That was his name. Joe Fitzgerald. Dan hadn't even met him and he already hated him with a burning passion. He had lost count of the times over the last few weeks where Joe had called him personally to let him know that his girlfriend was going to have to cancel on him that evening. Dan couldn't get over how pleased he sounded each time.
He watched Kat walk round to the passenger seat. She looked tired. Joe was working her like a dog and it made Dan sick. If the guy hadn't been old enough to be her grandad - what was he, in his 50s or something, she'd said? - he might have been suspicious. But the idea that some old man might be trying it on with his super-hot teenage PA? Unthinkable. No, he was just annoyed at the guy's smug voice each time he called. And the fact that Kat was so busy he'd barely been alone with her since she started there.
"Hello sir," Kat batted her eyelashes at Dan, jolting him out of his reverie, as she sat down in the passenger seat, "Are you my ride?"
She crossed her legs, enjoying the feel of her nylon stockings against her legs, and, beyond the bare flesh of her thighs as she uncrossed them, the throbbing tight wetness of her pussy within her tiny black satin panties. A month into her new life as Joe's slut (as she was starting to think of it), she almost couldn't remember what it was like not to be permanently aroused. Constantly soaking.
What Kat didn't realise yet was that Zoe was micro-dosing her daily with a hormone treatment that one of the agency's pharma clients was currently bringing to market. The result was that Kat's already-healthy sex drive had gone berserk and when she wasn't being fucked every which way by her new 'daddy', she spent every spare minute feverishly trying and failing not to think about being fucked every which way by her new daddy.
It had been nearly a month now since Joe had taken her for the first time. And pretty much every working day since. In truth, although she would not admit it to anyone, she wanted to call him daddy. Longed to please him. It was all she could do not to beg.
She longed to feel him ride her hard, and fuck her like the slut she could feel herself becoming. She loved to crawl across the floor of his office each day, her firm, fuckable arse in the air, on her hands and knees, enjoying the look of naked lust on Joe's face. She was desperate to envelop his cock with her mouth, her lip gloss thick as she wrapped her lips around his balls, sucking them into her mouth and then slowly running her lips along his huge, sticky shaft, staring up at him as she did so, obediently.
She was desperate to feel his hand on her head, pushing her down, feeding her willing mouth with his throbbing cock. To make her throat an altar for his thick length of meat. Staring up at him as she did it adoringly, proving her devotion, yearning for his approval and longing to taste his hot seed flood her mouth and senses.
As she had spiralled down into this kind of submission, Joe had rewarded her by taking her out after work, believing her spirit to be as good as broken. These evenings involved Kat changing her outfits at the end of the working day before they went out, a job that sometimes Joe insisted on doing himself for her.
He would chain her up in the hidden, soundproofed room next to his office, her hands cuffed high above her head, and undress her greedily, his hands all over her, forcing his fingers into her panties as she moaned, sliding them off her over her firm, inviting cheeks, forcing his cock between her legs, her wet, aching pussy lips betraying her excitement. Other times he would be less gentle and she would feel his hands savagely tearing off her panties as he growled his orders at her, his lust uncontrollable, her submission complete.
Then, after riding her until she was nearly senseless and filling her with his cum, he would tell her to shower and then dress in that night's outfit while he watched, his cock nearly hard again already for the evening's fun.
She had eaten out in some of the finest restaurants in the city, alone with her new daddy, but increasingly accompanying Joe as he entertained male clients (they were always male). She could feel their hungry eyes on her as they met her, smiling and laughing with Joe about his new assistant. She could see the dawning light in their eyes as they drank more and disappeared off with Joe to snort some lines.
She would sit there and try to ignore how wet her tiny satin panties were through the meal, how she ached for Joe's cock, how she shamelessly flirted with him and the others, delighting in the shocked looks on some of the other people around her, once they realised that this teenager was there, not as a daughter, but as a lust object to the middle-aged men around her.
