“Fine!”
The dial tone beeped out continuously after she hung up on me. I threw my phone back in the open door onto the couch, reached into my pocket, and lit another cigarette.
—
Why was I doing this? It wasn’t as though I could change her mind. She had called me the day after that phone call apologising for yelling at me, and the way her little voice almost trembled as she spoke broke me just a little. I relented, apologising to her as well, and said that yes, I was happy to meet up for a drink. At least I’d be able to make sure she was okay, if anything. And now I sat in the full bar, nursing two fingers of whiskey, waiting on her to show up.
My hands ran through my hair, trying to fix the strays that never seemed to flatten. June looked at me curiously.
“You waiting on someone?” she asked.
“Mm,” I grunted, and swallowed some of my drink.
“A man of few words, aren’t you?” she retorted.
The door opened behind me and cold air swirled inside. Then a small, cold hand touched my shoulder and some lips came close to my ear.
“Hey, Daddy,” Violet said sweetly. “Buy a girl a drink?”
My eyes met hers as I swivelled in my seat. God, she was beautiful. Her auburn hair tumbled over her shoulders in long, soft tendrils, and her petite body was covered in a short yellow sundress, despite the cooler weather. Pulled over her upper half was a leather jacket, but her legs, long and smooth, were bare.
“Aren’t you cold?” I immediately asked, looking down at her pale skin.
“I’ll warm up,” she answered with a shrug and pulled herself onto a seat next to me.
After a quick word, June handed her a vodka and orange juice. She sipped it, and once again, her eyes looked up at me through dark eyelashes. God, this felt eerily like Déjà vu.
“You look good, anyway,” I said. Dammit, I berated myself, keep it platonic, you dimwit. “How was the train ride here? You get in okay?”
As she nodded, I noticed the flesh of her little breasts jiggle slightly. They were pushed together by the tight fit of the upper half of her dress, but I could see her nipples pressing urgently into the yellow fabric from the cold.
Her eyes followed mine. She snapped her fingers in front of my face. “Hey, eyes up here, Mr. ‘We’re Just Friends’. My friends don’t get to stare like that.”
“Oh, but you get to call me Daddy when it suits you?” I quipped.
A little smile played on her lips as she watched me. She tapped blue-painted fingernails on her glass. “Yeah, I’d say that’s about right. You won’t do anything about it, so I don’t have to worry about any punishments, do I?”
“Mm, I guess not,” I murmured.
Not that I didn’t want to. That little smile made my hand itch to slap it off her face. Perhaps I just might end up doing that, the way this conversation was going.
“Do you wanna be punished, puppy-girl?” I questioned, pushing it slightly.
“That depends, Joel,” she said, her voice quiet. I almost couldn’t hear it above the din of the bar. “Are you going to let me go afterwards? I’m down for a one-off punishment …”
She was pushing it, too. Both of us, sitting side-by-side, edging towards a repeat of the other week’s events. Both of us teetering on the edge, but unsure of who would jump first.
I watched her neck muscles flex slightly as she downed her entire drink, her pale skin almost glowing under the dim lighting. Then she stood and placed a hand on my arm. “I need the bathroom,” she finally said. Her eyes searched mine, trying to convey some meaning I hadn’t quite gotten yet. After a moment, she rolled them and said, “I might need some assistance. That drink has gone straight to my head.” Then she walked away, her little hips sashaying slightly as she walked towards the bathroom.
So she was jumping first. No surprises there, I thought.
I downed my whiskey and stood abruptly. June looked at me quizzically, her eyes moving from me to Violet’s retreating back.
I smiled at her. “Bathroom break,” I said quickly. “Keep my seat warm, June.”
The bathroom cubicle was tiny and there were splashes of an unidentified liquid on the floor surrounding the toilet. Our bodies squished together in the stall and my feet stuck to the floor as I moved around, making a light sucking sound. I could hear music thumping through the wall and the sound of chatter. The cubicle walls didn’t reach the roof, meaning anyone who came into the bathroom to use another cubicle would be able to hear anything happening in our little stall.
My back sat against the cubicle door, and the backs of her knees were against the cold porcelain of the toilet. She shifted uncomfortably. But I wasn’t interested in that right now. Right now, all I cared about was wiping that smug smile off Violet’s face. If she wanted to be a dirty little puppy, then I would make her a dirty little puppy.
“Get on your knees,” I instructed.
She moved to squat on the filthy floor, almost through an automatic response to my command, but then faltered. “Maybe we should find somewhere cleaner?” she suggested, second guessing her decision to come into the bathroom.
My hand moved into her hair, and I scrunched it tightly, eliciting a pained whine from her lips. “On your fucking knees,” I repeated. “You’re a little puppy-girl, aren’t you? Be a good dog and obey.”
Still gripping tightly in her hair, my hand followed her as she awkwardly knelt on the ground. Her bare knees stuck to the linoleum floor and the lower half of her legs sat to each side of the toilet basin. I could tell she was uncomfortable, with her little face scrunched up in disgust, but like I said, I didn’t care about that. By this point, I could feel an erection growing in my pants, and what better way to silence this slut than with a cock sliding down her throat.
My hand moved away from her hair and I gently gripped her chin, forcing her to look up at me. Her face was flushed with shame at being made to kneel on the ground like a common whore, but that’s what she was right now. Her dark eyes were hesitant.
Slowly, with deliberate movements, I unzipped my pants and pulled them down slightly, freeing my cock. Its length wasn’t accurately displayed due to its semi-hardness.
Violet didn’t need to be asked — she leaned forward and obediently placed her lips around the head of my cock. Her little tongue created wet, swirling movements, lapping over the head. Her hands wrapped around like a warm little blanket. I sighed, growing harder, as I looked down at her. I couldn’t stop myself from stroking her hair and down the side of her face, until I rested my hand under her chin; I could feel her jaw working steadily in my palm as she licked the head of my cock.
“Good girl,” I grunted breathily.
The dank toilet cubicle smelled like piss, and the thought of her lowering herself to her knees amongst a stranger’s stray urine made me even harder. I wasn’t one for scat play or anything like that, but there was something psychologically pleasing about her degradation in this moment. She had been running her mouth to me for the past week and a half, virtually and in person just moments earlier, and it felt good to know I could shut the slut up.
As I became engorged, I felt her struggling to hold me in her mouth. Her jaw started to stretch obscenely and with an apologetic glance, she moved away so she only held the head in her mouth again. I growled deeply, and my touch shifted to a firm grip on her chin and throat. I pushed further into her mouth once, and she gagged audibly as my cock prodded at the back of her throat.
“Good dogs swallow all of their treats,” I instructed through heavy breaths.
Her eyes gazed up at me, welling with tears from the intense jabbing sensation. They pleaded silently with me as I thrust myself once more into her mouth which now opened obediently. I felt myself stretching her jaw open as I moved part way down her throat. I was sure that if she were laying backwards and I thrust just like this, I would be able to see that satisfying bulge where my cock had buried itself in her oesophagus.
She was gagging harder now, each slow thrust pure bliss for me, but torture for her. Her loud, throaty sounds seemed to echo around the stale bathroom, announcing her whore-status to whoever might enter.
“Be a good girl and poke out your tongue, Violet.”
She extended her little tongue as far as it would go while I face fucked her. I could feel saliva dripping all over my cock and when I looked down, her chin was slowly being covered by slobber. I could just see a peek of her red tongue hanging out underneath my length.
My thrusts came harder and faster now, jabbing into the back of her throat. I was close. She seemed to realise this, and her sucking became a frenzy — I was sure she was doing it to end this escapade a little faster.
“Open … your mouth,” I gasped as I desperately pulled out of her mouth.
Her hands went to my throbbing cock, but I slapped them away and gripped it myself. She looked up at me, gasping for breath, and opened her mouth, her puppy-dog tongue hanging out, ready to lap up my cream.
The orgasm was so intense that briefly I couldn’t control where my cum was distributed. It shot into her open mouth, spreading across her tongue, and then down her chin. The white spunk dribbled down her throat, coating her chest and coming to a stop at the edge of the neckline of her dress.
“Don’t fucking swallow,” I growled. “Keep your mouth open.”
She did. Her mouth remained open as her red tongue swirled my cum around in her mouth — a small bit of it seeped out and ran down her chin to join the rest of the stray drippings. I stroked the side of her face, and my hand ended up smearing some of the dribbles further onto her skin.
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