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“I’ve thought about sucking your dick and fucking you every day. We don’t have much time.” She dropped to her knees and swallowed my dick, sucking furiously. I grabbed her hair and held her head, thrusting my cock into the back of her throat. “Gaa! Gaa! Gaa!” she tried to be quiet but she gagged each time my dick hit her throat. She pulled off. “Don’t muss my hair too much. My boss will know I fucked you back here.” She put her head on my cock and resumed sucking, slower and more deliberate this time. Saliva dripped from her mouth onto my balls. My cock was turning red as her lipstick rubbed off onto my shaft. Fucking hot. She stopped again. She lifted my cock and sucked one of my balls into her mouth. That was new. And pushed me over the edge.

Something was wrong. I struggled to open my eyes, blearily forcing myself to focus. I was in a red-panelled room, dimly lit, one I'd never been in before, with... things, on the walls. Whips, floggers, toys of all descr*ptions, most of which I couldn't even name. It was only then that I realized I was naked, bound on my back to a table with my legs spread into a slight V in the air, wrists above my head, a belt around my waist holding me down. I lifted my head, and saw that my six-inch dick was hard and straining, twitching without my command. Why the fuck was I hard? Arousal was the last thing I was feeling! Confusion, fear, panic, yes. But not arousal.

She’d snuck into her parent’s bed a few times over the years, something she hadn’t grown out of since her childhood. But to her credit it always got her a good night’s sleep after a bad dream. After she hit puberty, she’d been told she had to go back to her own bed, but after giving her dad a sulking pout she was always allowed to stay until she calmed down.