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My Best Friend's Dad: A Single Dad and Virgin Romance by Amy Brent (54)

Danielle’s Lesson

Was I excited?

Yes.

Eager?

Yes.

Willing?

Of course.

Also stark raving with nervousness?

Yes, I was also that.

Roger and I had fucked plenty of times before. Hell, we were making love at least every night, and multiple times a day when our schedules allowed it, and when Maggie was out of the house. I guess one of the downsides of being a nanny is that you’re rarely present if the kid isn’t.

Not exactly good for sneaking out for a quickie with Roger.

But tonight was different. Roger had it all organized, with a special room reserved in his hotel and everything. Maggie was even sleeping over at a friend’s house, so I didn’t have to worry about her. This made me feel better, for I always felt a little guilty for, technically, sleeping with my boss. Roger is so much more than that to me, of course, but I won’t deny that little tugging of guilt where Maggie was concerned.

But that wasn’t why I was so antsy now. Oh, no. It was for an entirely different reason.

“Those are quite good,” the shopkeeper told me, sliding up to share the view of what I was looking at. I blushed, and quickly hid my gaze from her, but she turned out not to be easy to get rid of.

“If you’re a bit of a beginner,” she continued, “then I would consider one of those. They’re easy to use, and less intimidating, I think.”

I quailed. This whole fucking store was intimidating. But the five hundred dollars Roger had given me was hot in my pocket, eager to be spent. In fact, he had ordered me to spend it.

So, in the end, I raised my head and looked at what the lady was pointing at.

“B…bullets? Anal rings? Dildos? What?”

The saleswoman smiled. “They really make a difference,” she said. “Sex becomes a whole lot better.”

“But it already is great!” I felt the need to exclaim. “It’s already fantastic! Why do we need…”

I eyed the towering shelf, taller even than Roger, feeling totally overwhelmed. The lady seemed to understand, for she waited patiently for me to finish my sentence. Roger said I should do this, I thought. He recommended this store and handed me five hundred smackaroos to spend here. I should trust him. Everything else he’s done has been amazing. Why not this?

In the end, I decided on a small, lime-green bullet, and tucked it into my shopping basket. I asked the lady for something simple and easy to use, and she handed me a small, lime-green bullet.

Now that a decision had been made, I felt braver.

After selecting the green bullet, I wandered over to the part of the store that had caught my eye when I first walked in, but I had not been courageous enough to approach. The BDSM section.

Garters, with everything from black lace to shining sea-shells, hung from spindly hangers like alluring cobwebs to a haunted mansion. Stockings were beneath, and above all those were matching bras.

I went to these first, knowing they would be easy. The other stuff…well, that could wait until I had my proper slut gear.

I had begged Roger to tell me what kind of clothes he wanted me to wear, but on that he had been frustratingly unspecific: “Just wear whatever makes you feel confident,” he’d said. “Sexy, strong, and confident. You already fuck like a porn star. Now, I want you to look like one.”

Helpful, I know. Still, I was able to pick out simple black stockings and a matching garter and belt of black and crimson lace. And then, a pair of red high-heels to match. The final touch was a thin black bra. I could imagine his lips closing around my nipple, sucking straight through the lace…

Now, the rest of the section.

Handcuffs, frilled in pink fuzz. To be frank, I thought they looked stupid. Instead, I picked the leather bindings. They were real and strong, but gentler. The soft yet sturdy feel of the leather attracted me, and I soon found myself fingering the lengths of several long, treated whips. I wasn’t sure how Roger would use them – I didn’t envision him actually wanting to seriously hurt me – but I threw them into the basket nonetheless. They existed in a darkened room of my imagination. I knew that, with a single flick of a switch (or leather whip) a whole new world of pleasure would light up.

The last item I teetered on the brink of buying for a full, solid minute before grabbing it and adding it to the rest. That one, I will talk about later.

By the time I made it to the register, wobbling under the weight of all my selections, that very same sales lady was grinning.

* * *

I arrived to the hotel room before Roger. That was part of the plan. We wanted it to seem casual. Businesslike. A meeting of two associates to exchange sexual pleasure. There was something fun and devious about it, pretending as if we weren’t falling in love, as if he were a john and I was his whore.

Once inside, I shrugged off my normal street clothes immediately. I wanted to make sure my skin was soft, clean, and dry when Roger touched me, but it was more than that: I wanted to appear comfortable in the new outfit, practiced and at ease.

I slid the stockings up my calves and thighs, buckled the garter, and slipped on the regular, lacey black bra. I left the nipple-less one on the bureau in plain sight, thinking that if Roger wanted it, he could chose to do so. Beside it, I lay the leather whip, handcuffs, and the other toys I bought, like a buffet for Roger’s pleasure.

I tried walking the heels. They were ridiculously high, but I was proud of myself that I could manage. I kept tugging at and adjusting my bra, making sure my cleavage was optimal, and rehearsed the pose I’d be in when Roger entered. I felt like such a slut, parading around in my brand-new hooker clothes.

Already, just by sitting there, I could feel myself growing wet.

There were five more minutes before Roger arrived. We planned it exactly, because we didn’t want to leave any room for mistakes and confusion. I’m going to come right in and start, he’d told me, as we booked the room. No chit-chat. No talking. You better to be ready to fuck right when I arrive.

I was ready. This moment – a whole plan organized exclusively around fucking – turned me on like nobody’s business.

Remember the safe word, he’d said after that. I’m going to be rough. I’m going to throw you on the bed and take you right there, like you don’t even have a choice. If you want to stop, or don’t like what I’m doing, just use the word. Otherwise, I’m going to treat your body as my property, to do whatever I want with.

As I remembered his final statement, a pleasant coating of goosebumps spread down my flesh. Property. He was coming in to fuck me, and use me to his pleasure. That I would experience that, and yet be with my Roger, filled me with so much excitement that I considered taking out the bullet and using it already.

But I didn’t have time. A second later, I heard the sound of the card being fed across the slot at the door. The handle dipped, and then Roger entered.

A sardonic, knowing grin spread across his face as he saw my get-up. “You slut,” he said, and charged towards me.

I expected him to kiss me, perhaps shove me back on the bed, but instead he seized me by the hair, and with a single wrench forced me to my knees. His hands fumbled at his fly, and the next thing I knew his hot, steaming dick was pressing up against my face, my lips. I couldn’t help but open my mouth and begin to suck.

He had me in an instant, I thought in wonder. If I had resisted – if I’d actually wanted to resist, that is – I would not have been able. His cock would be in my mouth no matter what.

He thrust, and I opened my lips wider. His dominance was absolute, controlling each dip of my head with the back of his hand. Like this, he guided me over to the bureau and leaned against it.

“Nice collection of toys you got here, slut,” he said, and I could hear him shuffling them about. I tried to pull away to take a look, but his hand clamped me firmly in place.

“Uh-uh. Did I say you could stop sucking? Do your job, you fucking whore.”

And he thrust into my mouth.

Minutes later, he wrenched himself free of me – slapping my jaw with his dick as he did so – and pulled me to my feet. I staggered, feeling slightly dizzy after such deep penetration of my mouth, and with a simple shove he toppled me to the bed.

“Fight me, you slut,” he said. “Resist.”

Oh, so that’s how he wanted it.

I turned to me stomach and made to crawl, as if I was escaping, but in that moment Roger was on top of me, pinning my legs in place. I felt his arms reaching around me and his hands pinning my wrists, and I felt a moment of true panic, bred my claustrophobia. I bucked and twisted, trying to free my wrists from his grasp, but he was too powerful, and soon he had me completely grappled beneath him, panting hot air into the pillow.

I waited, thrumming with anticipation for that dick to fuck me from behind. But it didn’t come. Instead, I felt a shifting of weight as he grabbed for something beside the bed, and then soft leather encircling my wrists. In under a minute, I was bound helplessly to the wooden spokes of the bed, flat on my stomach. Roger reached under me, and pawed at my tits.

“Good slut,” he growled. “Good fucking whore. Now, I’m going to teach you a real lesson in who’s in charge.”

As he spoke, his fingers scraped and pinched at my nipples, and I felt wetness flooding my insides. I wanted to be him to put it in me, but I resisted, but I knew that he wanted me to resist.

So instead, I worked my knees under me and got up into a sort of crouch, tugging futilely at the bindings and trying to throw off his weight.

Roger laughed, and then reached between my legs to pinch my clit. I gasped, and froze in place at once.

“Good girl,” he said, and then he was off me.

I shivered. It was cold, suddenly half-naked and exposed on the bed. I wished he would climb on top of me again, and throw some blankets over me, because I didn’t like being so chilly. I opened my mouth to say something, and –

Hot fire exploded across my flesh.

The whip! The leather whip! Snapping through the air and connecting with my back! I moaned, more surprised than in pain, and twisted as Roger lashed again. But there was nowhere to go. I just had to lay there and take it, like the slut I was.

Was the safe word on my mind? Not at all. Roger wanted to give it to me as hard as he could, I wanted to take it.

So when he grabbed the little green bullet and slipped it inside my pussy, setting it to vibrate hard as he whipped me again and again, I did not protest. Instead, I screamed, feeling myself cumming with the combined impact. Roger laughed, and bounced my tits, pinching the nipples.

“Next time,” he whispered, before biting my ear, “wear the nipple-less ones.”

I flushed with pleasure. Next time. This was something we could do, over and over again.

The bullet slipped out of me. I felt exposed coldness there, and a hesitation with Roger’s whip. I tried to turn around and look, but was held fast by my bindings.

That’s when I felt his dick touch my inner thigh. And as hot as the whip had felt when it struck me, his cock was a million times hotter.

He thrust inside me. I screamed, tugging so hard at the leather cuffs that my wrists bruised. He fucked me so hard that my whole body jerked with it, and bed creaked and groaned.

I knew he was enjoying himself. I could tell by the way his tip swelled, and his shaft got rock-hard. His balls swung with every thrust, feeling huge with their building load. Every time he got close to bursting, he would pull out, and slap me with the whip again. I fought and moaned, feeling streams of wetness down my thighs, cumming and cumming as he demonstrated his complete mastery over me. He owned my body, now and always. When he was whipping, I was his slave, and when he was fucking, I was his whore. When he was inside me, he’d reach round with the whip and caress my naked flesh with the soft leather. Pain and pleasure, bound together into one.

I climaxed. Wetness shot out of me, and I buried my scream in my pillow. Roger pulled out, and I could hear him once again at the bureau.

“I’m surprised you got this, you slut,” he said, hefting something in his hand. “These are usually for more advanced sluts, but I guess you like it dirty, huh?”

He grabbed me by the hips and flung me round, so that I was on my back. The leather bindings turned with me, so that I still helpless, still pinned in place, but not in too much pain.

Roger mounted my chest. There he was, kneeling over me, his cock and balls filling up the sky.

And then, he thrust the final toy inside my mouth:

A ring gag, with a ring the perfect size for Roger.

He placed his tip against the opening. If I had thought myself dominated before, now, I was utterly helpless. He could slide his dick in and out of my mouth as easily as he could squeeze himself.

And he knew it. I saw him, grinning at me from those miles above, looking down at my pinned face and heaving tits. He knew I was in his power – there for the sole purpose of pleasing him.

And please him I did. He thrust into my mouth, caught the tight edges of the ring and the hot wet firmness of my throat, and exploded.

I swallowed his cum like the slut I was, licking his tip for every last drop.

 

Want more steam?

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Mr. Perfect O is an Amazon top 60 best seller, it’s 475 pages.

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