Staci 2

This is the first in a group of stories I'm thinking of as 'the Tumblr series'. There is a fascinating world out there with, frankly, intoxicating women. They post glimpses of their deepest desires and share their bodies with strangers. Shockingly, if you're not an entitled asshole -- if you are respectful, and polite, and complimentary, they'll share even more. This story is what Staci shared with me. It's her fantasy. It's all about consensual, non-consent. If that's not your thing, you should definitely skip this story. I can tell you, for certain, that it's definitely Staci's thing. She was incredibly nice to me after I wrote it down for her. I sincerely hope you enjoy it, too.

~ Daddy

***

~ For Staci

***

Staci was surprised by two things. First, that the bar was so busy and yet seemed so quiet. She could hear the ping of every ice cube dropped in every glass behind the bar and the scrape of every chair across the floor. Still, maybe that was just symptomatic of the anxiety she felt.

Because the second thing that surprised her was that she was sitting in the bar in the first place.

She never would have guessed this is where she'd be after only a few weeks. Yes, she'd tried online dating a few times. She'd had mixed results. But, she'd never met a complete stranger. She'd never met a someone who contacted her anonymously on the internet.

She didn't even know his full name. She had no idea if Patrick was even his real first name.

Still, she was sitting in the bar, watching him watch her, feeling more than a little tipsy from her second Long Island as he rose to go order their third round.

****

It started as a joke. Patrick had seen her blog and sent her a present. It was a remote-control vibrator. Yes, she had wanted it. Yes, she had made a wish list and posted it. Yes, it WAS one of the items listed. No, she didn't think she'd ever give control over it to a stranger from the internet. And, to be honest, she hadn't. Not really. Because he had never asked for control of the sex toy. He just wanted to control her.

She hadn't let him do that either. At least not on purpose.

She'd simply said, "Thank you."

Because wasn't that what you were supposed to do when someone gave you a present?

It took him almost half a day to respond.

"You're welcome. I hope you find it......useful. I even give you permission to take it out of the box."

"Permission? Cute. Does that mean I'm allowed to come?" she'd asked offhandedly.

His response to that message was almost immediate.

"Aww. Such a good girl for asking. No. You may not."

She didn't know if he was serious. She didn't think she had been. Yet, she felt like it was an order, which upset her. Mostly because she hadn't agreed to follow orders. A little because her pussy started to tingle at the thought of complying.

Days passed as she told herself to ignore him. That really was her plan and it seemed to work. He didn't contact her for more than a week. When he did, things seemed back to normal.

"Just checking in to see how the world is treating you."

Innocuous. Polite. Perfectly acceptable for a complete stranger.

"I'm fine. Thanks for asking," she replied with a slight amount of trepidation.

"Worn out my present yet?"

When she'd read it, she knew she had to take a stand. She'd put Patrick and his anonymity in his place and that would be the end of it.

"You're not my Master or my Daddy, so I don't see how that's any of your business."

He didn't reply immediately and Staci felt somewhat victorious. Until he did.

"That's true, I suppose. But, let me ask you a question. Why haven't you come yet?"

Staci sat dumfounded for a minute. How could he know that? He couldn't her logic told her. But, he probably does know, her pussy added.

"It's OK. You can admit it," he added when she didn't reply.

Her fingers shook as she typed, "Can't stop edging."

She felt her cheeks flush with embarrassment admitting it to him.

"I know. It's OK. You're scrolling through porn on the internet, rubbing your needy, little cunt at everything that you see on your screen. But, the second you reach the brink you pull your hand away -- without knowing why. Your poor little pussy is probably sopping wet and so, so sensitive. But, you just can't help it."

It was like he was reading her mind -- which sent her thoughts spinning out of control. How ridiculous was that idea? Obviously, he wasn't. Because mind readers didn't exist. Still...

"It's OK to admit it. You can't help touching yourself because you're a slutty, little girl. You're waiting for permission because you're really, really good at being a slutty, little girl. Oh, and if you're curious, you're still not allowed to come."

Three weeks later, she was lost. Her whole body was a bundle of nerves. Her pussy was so sensitive that the slightest movement had her soaking wet. She had to change her panties multiple times a day so that she didn't embarrass herself at work.

"I need to come," she'd written.

"I'm sure you do," he'd replied.

It was not the response she was hoping for.

"Please, can I come?"

"You're getting warmer."

"What do you want me to say?"

"It's not what you need to say, it's what you're allowed to do."

She hesitated. Not because she didn't want to know the answer but because she did.

"Tell me," she pleaded.

"Right idea but don't forget your manners, princess."

"Please, tell me."

"Good girl. You can play with your tight, little asshole but not your pussy. If you can come from playing with your ass, you have my permission."

And, she did.

It took a lot more effort than she thought.

She thought she might come quickly, maybe even as soon as she'd pressed a finger up against her puckered little hole. It turned out a finger wasn't enough. She felt an overwhelming urgency as she reached for her favorite plug. Even more so as she shoved it in. She started squeezing her thighs together hoping for the slightest bit of stimulation to send her over the top.

Squeezing. Relaxing. Shifting and squeezing again. Over and over and over as she fucked her own ass with her toy.

Her legs were cramping and she was breathing hard from the exertion when it finally crashed down her. She came hard - with wave upon wave of pleasure.

She'd needed it so badly. But, it came at an unexpected consequence as she drifted off to sleep with the butt plug still buried inside her.

****

Maybe that's how she had ended up sitting in a booth directly across from him. He hadn't been what she expected and he'd gotten past her normal defenses and somehow messed with her head. He seemed so polite and so...normal. He made her laugh on more than one occasion and she'd let her guard down. She hadn't seen it coming and had no idea what was coming next. It scared her almost as excited her.

But, it was exactly what she'd asked for. Begged for if she was being honest.

Still, their conversations had been so casual -- so innocent. She just hadn't expected it. She should have. She had confessed almost every depraved fantasy on her blog. If she hadn't described them in detail there was enough photographic evidence to out her. Porn. Lot's and lots of porn.

Fuck. She couldn't help but berate herself. Who was this? And, more importantly and far more shamefully, why did she need this so badly? Why the fuck was her own mind and her own body betraying her?

****

Another three weeks had passed.

"Call me if you want to come."

She stared at the number on her screen. Obviously, for longer than she'd realized.

"Block your number if you want. *67."

She dialed.

"Hello?"

"Please," was all she could manage.

"I'll let you come but, I have a request you'll have to agree to."

"Please, tell me."

"Are you topless?"

"I can be," she said seconds before she yanked off her t-shirt and unhooked her bra.

She wasn't even thinking. She wasn't even doing what she was told. She was anticipating what she thought he would want. It made her feel dirty. And slutty. And alive.

"Edge."

She did. Her finger slid between her wet lips easily. She barely had to stroke herself before she was there. She had never been more ready to come. She was panting as she stopped herself from going to far.

"I need it. Please tell me."

"If you want to come, you're going to have to hurt yourself for me."

She wasn't certain she'd heard him correctly. She couldn't have she told herself as the silence between them gathered around her. But, she was wrong.

"You're going to have to torture those huge fucking tits just because I asked."

"Oh, god," she sighed. Was it from fear or desperation?

"Slap them."

She did. Harder than she wanted to, her hand striking her nipple in just the right spot. She gasped unexpectedly from the rush of pain.

"Gaaaaahhhhh."

"Good girl. Let me hear it. Make those tits a pretty pink for me."

She switched breasts. This time with a softer slap. She wouldn't be controlled.

"Harder."

She complied without hesitation.

"Harder!"

She slapped herself again. Her tits were already moving past the pink stage. She was basically beating herself red.

"God. You're such a pain slut. You can play with your pussy now."

She started. She was soaked. Her creamy, tight cunt drenched from doing as she was told.

"Pinch a nipple."

She was losing focus, listening to his words as her whole body started to tingle.

"Pinch a nipple and make it hurt while you play with your slutty cunt."

"Oh, fuck..."

"Harder."

"Fuck, fuck, fuck....."

"Harder! Let me hear what a filthy fucking whore you can be. Punish yourself so you can come."

"Fuuuuuuuck!!!"

Her body exploded. Her legs were shaking. Her chest was rising and falling as her lungs struggled desperately to find air. Her mind was reeling.

"We're going to have to meet. I am going to have to fuck you."

****

She was temporarily sated and he rarely brought it up. They'd be on the phone chatting and he'd ask a question.

"What's your favorite drink?"

"What's your favorite dessert?"

"What's your favorite color?"

"Are you on the pill?"

Little by little, question after question, he got what he wanted. Everything he needed.

"I'll be in town on Saturday. Tell me when you'd like to meet."

She agreed to meet for lunch. How harmful could a lunch be? It wasn't that she'd never had a one-night stand or met someone for the sole purpose of fucking. But, she'd always picked the guy. And, she'd never been out with someone she'd never even seen before.

He told her what to wear right down to her underwear -- pink blouse, white skirt, shear white panties as delicate as she could find. He told her how to wear her make-up from her eyes to her lips. She couldn't say why she'd agreed but, in the end, she'd just stopped thinking about it. It wasn't the worst feeling in the world to just let go.

He was dressed in a simple black polo shirt and jeans, a large backpack hung on one of his shoulders. He was taller than she thought. Well over six feet. Older, too. Much older. She had never considered he'd be older. Her skepticism crept back in.

But, the 'date' was more than she hoped for.

He offered his arm as they strolled to the park. She wasn't as reluctant as she thought she would be as she put her arm around his and followed his lead. It was a gloriously warm day, with only the slightest breeze. The sun shone brightly and the few clouds in the sky were soft and billowy.

"I brought us a picnic," he announced as he laid the huge blanket on the ground in just the right spot. The grass was green, the trees were tall and the birds were singing.

Sandwiches. The lightest, freshest bread she'd ever eaten. Fruit and berries. Every kind she could think of -- strawberries, blueberries, apple, orange, pineapple, watermelon.

She'd looked at him ruefully when the bottle popped open.

"Relax. It's sparkling cider."

When lunch was over he carefully packed everything away before returning his attention back to her.

"C'mon, let's go play."

Again, she was skeptical. But, she didn't need to be. When Patrick said play, that's exactly what he meant.

She almost smiled when she saw it, the sun glancing off the metal frame.

"You swing. I'll push."

She almost giggled as her legs flew forward, her face feeling the warmth of the sun. As the breeze blew back her skirt, it would have been the perfect opportunity for him to perv on her panties. But, he didn't - couldn't really, as he stood behind her dutifully pushing her higher every time she swung back to him.

But it didn't end there. There was more than a swing set - the roundabout and the teeter totter. Just when she thought the choices were over, he reached back into his backpack.

He pulled out a kite.

"Ever flown one?"

It looked like a pink butterfly and it soared easily in the gentle breeze. Patrick simply watched her play with a contended smile on his face. He didn't speak again until she had worn herself out.

"You know what we need? Ice cream."

He'd certainly done his homework. It was a short five-minute stroll to the family owned store.

He picked out the single scoop cones but, he did let her pick her own flavor.

"So, I wanted to watch you lick something. Sue me," he said with a hint of pride in his voice.

She smiled, knowing what he really wanted. Yet, he had been the perfect gentlemen up to that point. After all, he was a man and deserved a little bit of fun.

She gave him a bit of a show, taking long, slow licks around her cone and leaving the cream to melt on her tongue for just a second too long.

"You are just an incorrigible tease," he laughed, "Still, I suppose I deserve it."

"One final stop," he announced as they finished their dessert.

They toy store was locally owned, too. The last hold out in the entire city.

"Say no to corporate greed or power to the people, I suppose," he answered when she asked him about it.

They didn't exactly browse but they definitely weren't in any rush as they took in the aisles and aisles of toys. But, Patrick did seem to know where he was going.

"Pick one," he told her as she marveled at the huge wall full of stuffed animals, "Something big."

She picked a giant unicorn for no other reason than it was pink and cute. She tried to hand it to him after they had paid.

"You wanted it. You should carry it," he joked before he took it from her and offered his arm once again.

This time she grabbed his hand and held it as they walked. They reached his SUV far quicker than she'd hoped.

"This is me," he announced.

For the first time, she realized that she didn't want their time together to end.

"Or, we could toss this in the car and stop in for a drink," he said tossing his head towards the sign on the building behind him.

He'd parked in front of a bar. He really had thought of everything.

****

That's how she found herself sitting at a table in a crowded bar waiting for a man who was essentially a stranger.

"Long Island Iced Tea for the lady," he said placing her third glass in front of her.

She was already feeling a little more than tipsy. But, it had been such an unexpectedly fun day she was willing to celebrate with one last drink. She wondered if his third vodka and seven was having the same effect on him.

Him. Patrick.

The name was growing on her.

So was he, she decided as a sudden wave of affection passed over her.

"You're smiling at me."

"I've decided I like you," she said.

"Uh oh. Better call it a night before you can't walk."

"I'm fine," she explained, taking one last long gulp of her drink.

She couldn't help but giggle as she almost spilled the last of her booze as she tried to set the glass back on the table. Maybe she was drunker than she thought.

"Come on. Let's get you home."

She didn't even consider that she'd ridden in a cab to meet him. She gave him her address without a second thought as he helped her into the car.

"God, I love you. You've been so nice," she slurred as they started the short drive.

"You don't love me, baby girl," he laughed, "It's the Ecstasy."

"What?" she asked as her mind started to wrap around what he had said.

"I couldn't decide if you were going to let me pound your slutty cunt so I spiked your second drink," he stated casually.

"I don't understand," she said more casually than she should have. She should have been furious. Or frightened. Instead she was too relaxed to move.

"I roofied you so I could take advantage of you. Don't worry. It's wasn't enough to make you pass out -- though I suppose you'd probably get off on that. There was just enough E to make you feel aroused and affectionate and a tiny amount of Ketamine so you get that out of body feeling. You'll probably need my help to walk though."

The realization hit her. He had gotten her drunk and drugged her. She was fucked up and about to get fucked. With embarrassment flushing in her cheeks she realized her panties were soaked. She'd never been wetter.

He helped her out of the car and through the door. Her legs were wobbly but not useless. Still, they barely held out as he pushed her back against the wall.

That's when he kissed her. She lost all track of time. She was drunk and drugged and making out like a teenager in her hallway. Staci felt another rush of arousal wash over her. Her body was tingling and on fire at the same time. What was it about making out that got to her so fucking hot so quickly?

Then Patrick stepped back. His right hand gently stroked her cheek as his left hand unbuckled his belt, and unsnapped his button, and undid his zipper and pushed is jeans and boxers to his knees.

Staci just stared. It wasn't a massive cock. It wasn't gargantuanly long. But it was...

"I know. It's thick. You're going to need a lot of practice before you can take me up your ass. But, you'll get there eventually."

He pulled one of her hands to his shaft. Then the other. It was hot and hard and felt heavy in her hands even as it stood straight out from his body.

He stared into her eyes as he continued to stroke her cheek.

His gaze was intense but, Staci could sense what was coming.

"It's okay. Ask me, princess."

Staci wondered how she managed not to come right there and then. She had never been more turned on as she stroked his cock and opened her mouth to speak.

"Hit me, daddy."

Patrick smacked her across the cheek. The sting in her face seemed to be directly connected to her pussy as Staci felt a gush of fresh cream flood her cunt. He slapped her other cheek as he thrust his hips forward and shoved his cock trough her hands.

Staci let out a deep moan as he slapped her. Back and forth. Was he hitting her harder or did it just sting a little more each time? She had no idea but she didn't care as long as they kept coming. She realized she was squeezing her thighs together as she continued her hand job.

She groaned when Patrick stopped thrusting.

"Let's see if we can't make you pretty, baby girl," he said as he wrapped his fist in her hair and dragged her to her knees.

"Open your fucking hole," he ordered as he shoved his manhood past her lips. He stepped forward slightly, forcing her head to touch the wall and his cock to press into the opening of her throat. He pulled back and pushed in again coating his dick with her spit. She could feel the drool on her chin.

"That's a good girl, make it nice and sloppy."

Then without warning, he shoved forward forcing his cock deeper. Staci gagged slightly but she took him. Deeper than she thought she could. Tears started to form in her eyes as he held himself in her throat. He pulled out just as quickly, letting her gasp for a breath before he forced himself deeper.

She had no idea how many times Patrick had violated her mouth when it was over. But her lips were swollen and her mascara was running down her face. Patrick simply smiled as he pulled her to her feet by her hair and smeared her make up around her face with his hand.