A Treat For Imogen

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A Treat For Imogen - 10/19/2014 2:50:51 PM

mentordomuk

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Joined: 10/17/2014
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A message appeared in her Inbox, late Sunday, just as she was drifting off to sleep. The annoyance of the beep of the phone multiplied 1000x when she saw what it was. He hadn’t been in touch for a few weeks after a brief, frosty exchange. Imogen was beginning to feel feral, a loose cannon, un-owned, her brattish responses had been left seemingly unpunished, until it dawned on her that the burning flame of excitement the sender’s name had reignited, the absence of happiness and longing had been the punishment. She had to fully rouse herself from slumber, because the mail contained exactly the same single letter as its title, a solitary ‘x’, but there was a document attached, titled ‘Print me’, which was unreadable on her phone. Opening the laptop, big eyes blinking in the dark as it fired up brightly, she opened up what appeared to be a series of instructions. It read:

Imogen,

I have arranged a surprise for you. It is dependent on you being on your best behaviour from Monday until Friday. I want you to behave sweetly at all times. Go to bed each evening smelling divine, as if prepared for me. Thursday evening, I will send you your travel documents, namely your train ticket to London. When you arrive, look for the man holding a sign with your name on it and the driver will bring you to the Hotel, where I shall be waiting for you. You will not see or hear from me, except for the ticket mail, until then, it is for your conscience to behave in a manner which you know would please me between now and then.

D

Fizzing with excitement, Imogen lay awake staring at the ceiling for the next hour. To be seeing Him again was great in itself but an adventure, a treat, trains and hotels, made her giddy. To be taken hold of by Him again made her tingle, wondering what ‘treats’ lay in store, her thumb found the elastic waist band of her pyjamas and she stroked along the edge back and forth, from hip to hip, she knew without touching herself that she was wet. Hot and wet down there. But she was mindful of his instruction. “Daddy wouldn’t think THAT was sweet” she pouted to herself and turned frustratedly onto her tummy, hands under her pillow.” Still”, she thought on, “I never get in trouble for this” and ground her thighs together gently, rocking herself to the discrete orgasm she had done many times before whilst focusing on pleasing Him.

The alarm played its inane tune and pierced her peaceful dreams. Normally she’d let it play out until the latest possible time for getting up but not today. Today she was off on a train to see Him. Preparation was everything, getting herself ready to receive Him was an event in itself. Allowing a week of fuzz to grow between her legs, so as to make tidying that little more special for herself. The shower sprinkled lightly against her dainty little feet as she shaped herself to shave her little mound of fuzz, smiling as the water rinsed away the fuzz and foam down the plughole, inspecting herself with a stroke, teasingly catching her swollen clit with her thumb as she brushed her smooth velvety skin. He will love that, she smiled to herself, a flash of electricity going through her as she imagined his own examination of her later. Washed and scrubbed up, hair wavy and damp around her soft breasts, her mind wandered again, thinking of when he surprised her in the shower once before and suddenly grabbed and held her by the throat down on her knees, the water cascading down and she knelt there for what seemed like a lifetime, terrified and aroused in equal measures. Snapping out of her thoughts were difficult when they were this exciting but she had a train to catch, so snap out she did, and squeezing her wet hair through to towel dry, tottered off nymph like to her room to dress. For Him.

She had already selected her underwear. Black short knickers and white bra. The mismatch never failed to annoy her, though she had long given up trying to get her head round his particular liking of that. Simple but sweet clothing. Black tee shirt, kilt, tights, DMs… no need to try and impress him dressing ‘up’. She liked that He liked her simple style but then, she liked whatever He liked. Clothes selected and laid out, it was time for the final thing that would please him… a generous coating of strawberry body lotion. He loved her soft skin, even her pretty little scars and He liked her to smell as sweet as her big eyes made her look to the outside world, the outer coating that no one but He could see through and beyond. Slipping out for the bus, the moment she had been waiting for all week, all month, was just one exciting train ride away…

< Message edited by mentordomuk -- 10/19/2014 3:12:48 PM >

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RE: A Treat For Imogen - 10/19/2014 3:12:22 PM

mentordomuk

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From bus to train was a drizzly affair, which brought out pouty, student Imogen in her, strutting haughtily down Howard Street in her Summer clothing and inadequate coat, a short camo patterned parka jacket. Pulling up the fur-lined hood to stave off turning her waves into a mass frizz, she laughed at the sight of herself in the pub windows, hunched up and stroppy. And on Daddy day as well, she scolded herself and framed herself for more elegant public viewing, as if He was waiting for her within view. Squeezing past the monstrous water art and the idiots that always seemed to stand and gawp at it, she broke into a trot as she spotted the clock which reminded her the train left in seven minutes. Unfolding the print out, she arrived on the platform to see the train still filling up. Scanning the letters on the carriages, she headed towards the front, to find coach J. First Class. She had expected the cramped, horrible regular carriages. They had travelled back from Manchester one day together on the regular train, where she had earned herself the first feel of his belt by constantly holding his hand to play with his fingers in an openly affectionate way whilst calling him Daddy, very loud and sincerely in front of the packed, flustered commuters. She had cackled to herself all the way home and many times since when remembering the naughtiness of her act. She had also found herself uncomfortably damp on other occasions, when she remembered Him leading her off the train a stop early, and into the dark, empty park at Millhouses, leading her to a secluded, hollow bushed area, pulling down her jeans and knickers and bending her over… not a word between them the first real sound the clacking of an unbuckled belt, the next a couple of empty swings to set the tension and at last, the feel of it crashing down onto her cold, bare backside. The first connection caused an audible gasp which broke the night silence. The second was preceded by a firm, warm hand over her mouth. Imogen’s lips tightened beneath His fingers, to show her complete compliance. After several strokes her felt a tear trickle down over his hand, shaken loose by a deep silent sob. The firm hand stayed clutching but stroked her cheek tenderly and she responded by parting her lips slightly and suckling for comfort against His fingers He had intended to give her ten strokes, the tear fell on eight. Despite the suckling and the stroking, He lashed hard again and with familiar comfort, whispered in her ear, ‘one more baby’ and the belt came down it’s hardest, shaking her to the core and knowing it was over, broke into a snivelling as His hand let go of the belt and felt and ran over her hot, red cheeks. Feeling closer and reaching out for comfort, her backward trailing hand found his knees and upon contact, she ran those sweet fingers all the way up his front and found what she was looking for. “Daddy!” The voice was that of the train, more mocking than respectful but she was feeling bratty and, she knew it would have the desired effect. Lifting her small frame up higher on to some raised dirt mounds, His hard cock was out and plunged into her in a flash. Gripping her slender hips, pounding hard into her, hair pulled back in handfuls to raise her mouth to His, and as her tongue found it’s way inside and wrapped around His own, he exploded inside her tight little hole. Kissing hard as he twitched a last time, she muttered whilst her sweet lips circled around His, ‘Thank you, daddy, thank you so much’ and the muttering became more sobs as his arms held her tight close to him, still cold and exposed, but safe and warm in His arms.

“Would you like some tea or coffee?”

She jolted back into the present, crimson-faced as she realised she had been lost in her depraved memories.

“May I have a black tea, please?” An unexpected text at 10pm on Wednesday had arrived instructing her not to eat and to only drink water and clear fluids before her arrival. The offer of free cake and biscuits stung into her pangs of hunger as she politely refused. The guard poured the tea and left her with an admiring smile. This left her warm and back in thought again. Not from the harmless flirting of the man but because it reminded her of what He always said to her when they were together when such occasions arose.

“Everybody loves you Princess” He would say patting her hand or her bottom.

“Not like you do though, Daddy” she would usually say and squeeze his hand, though this would depend if she was still zoned-out a little from some recent unexpected but enjoyable brutality, where her senses would still be fragmented and the concept of walking and talking was too much for her mushed up mind and He would slide his middle finger into her palm for her to grip to show she was OK.

The journey had a couple of stops early on but was now to be 90 minutes of unbroken travel. Nothing could really settle her. Reading couldn’t hold her attention and she didn’t enjoy it much when travelling. With typical contrariness and on discovering the free WiFi, it was out with the laptop and much inane scanning into the lives of friends via the internet. On the top corner of her screen, she remembered a little something she had prepared, a small gif she had made out of a loop from a video she had stumbled across during Daddy’s silent period. She had actually thought she would send it to him but having heard nothing, it sat mockingly on her desktop. It was seven seconds of an alluringly wide eyed female having her jaw pulled open and a man, clutching the back of her head and forcing his fingers, spread like a starfish right down to the back of her mouth, alluring eyes stark with fear as her head jerked and gagged and the loop started up again. She watched it run a few times, scanning the carriage with a giggle, wondering what the old business men on the table ahead, deep in boastful bullshit conversation, would make of the innocent looking college girls handiwork. The automated doors opened behind her and she instinctively went to shut the computer but in the rush to do so, failed and the screen rested at 45degrees, the gif still scrolling clear and visible. The guard looked uncomfortable as he stopped to offer more tea. Imogen accepted and sipped away looking thoughtfully out of the window as he stumbled off the gif still clearly blowing his sheltered mind! As she stared at the fast moving landscape, she contemplated her behaviour. All week she had been excited about her trip, focused on doing everything by the book but today, just boarding the train had brought out that side of her that He told her to supress until tonight. It was His fault. His. He knew how to spark her wanton side with the simplest of things. Why not send her on the coach if he didn’t want to make her dirty little mind run wild? She pulled out her notebook. He had bought it for her. She would use it for day to day stuff but the pages would be littered intermittently with lists and legends written in large bold letters. She took out her black Sharpie from the pocket of her bag and took the book off to the toilet. Flipping past lists of things needed for college, her Christmas list, things she had printed out and stuck in with glue she found the page she was looking for. In large black letters she had written.

DADDY KNOWS WHAT HE WANTS

DADDY TAKES WHAT HE WANTS

And in larger writing still

WHAT DADDY WANTS, DADDY GETS!

The page made her as horny as anything she made into little scrolling movies. Because this was real, not stuff she’d craved behind locked bedroom doors or peered at under the covers, PJ bottoms around her ankles. Like the good old days she had just thought of, Imogen eased her skirt and tights around her booted ankles, running her sharp nails on the soft inside of her thigh, occasionally gripping herself hard, marking herself, other hand riding up under her tee shirt, nails on ribs, then inside her bra cup, pulling hard on her soft, pink nipples, roughly handling her breasts, outside her own mind, imagining His rough touch. Tonight was going to be fucking amazing, she would make sure of that. She would enjoy repeating that phrase verbatim, in the warm, close early morning silence, exhausted and bereft of energy, clasped tightly together. She knew that would make Him smile. As her hands pulled and scratched and clawed at herself, she knew exactly how to make things happen. Taking the Sharpie from the sink where she had placed it, she would make sure Daddy got exactly what He wanted.

Returning to her seat, the train announcer stated they were five minutes from London. Just enough time for defiance, or was it compliance? Opening the laptop, she closed down the gif, logged into tumblr, clicked new post and shared her seven seconds of filth with the world…

(in reply to mentordomuk)

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RE: A Treat For Imogen - 10/19/2014 3:13:27 PM

mentordomuk

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Riding the escalator, she could see a large white laminated card with IMMOGEN written on it. that would annoy Him, she’d make sure of taking that as a souvenir! The old guy, a chirpy Londoner straight out of Mary Poppins, took her bag and they walked from the side exit of St. Pancras towards his white taxi cab. The ride was slow and boring, almost half the length of her journey from the city. The Tube would’ve been quicker and easier but, hey, style and comfort what the hell, she thought. She was just impatient, she couldn’t wait to see Him, to greet Him in the lobby. As the car pulled up, she could see. Him as the automatic doors opened and closed, eyes alive and fixed on the white car. She leaned forward to exit and paused a couple of seconds, knowing the wait would irritate Him and she smiled yet also burned at the sight of Him visibly irked by the slightest delay. Striding out, she stood, hands clasped in front of her waiting for the driver to retrieve her bag, knowing the wait to hold her, to touch her, to smell her was driving Him ever so slightly crazy. At last she entered the lobby and he held out his arms warmly, and in she slipped, the perfect little dinky fit, embracing Him tightly. He knew all eyes were on them, He loved it.

“Daddy, I’ve missed you SO MUCH!” Imogen exclaimed loudly, twirling her hair and biting her lip seductively, as eyes crept over them a little more judgementally than before. Swiftly taking her hand and leading her to the lift, a slow and smouldering ride to the seventh floor. The metal doors closed and their eyes locked on each others. He had a look… she had tried many times to describe it, to Him, to her best friend, on occasional anonymous blogging posts where she bragged openly of her complete submission to him… however it came out in words never did it justice, it never failed to hold her gaze and within a minute, make the feeling rise in her stomach, a feeling as indescribable as the look, fear and desire, love and resentment, a myriad of emotions beyond definition.

The room was nice. Plain, but nice nonetheless. The week had flown, now she was here, with Him.

“Sit on the edge of the bed” he ordered, and knelt at her feet to untie and remove her boots. It was always a good sign. He loved her legs and having hastily removed her DMs, played a little with her feet before ferreting up in between them, tugging at her tights seam, finger entering her sheathed in soft nylon, warm and wet, wetter than he expected to find.

“So have you been well behaved this week, as I desired?” his finger, now poked through the sheer gusset, deep inside her, a second burrowing away to join it inside her. She shivered and moaned, resisting the urge to buck and allowing him to play with her now very wet opening.

“Yes I have, I even helped a lady off the train with her cases. Good as gold I’ve been!” A smile that couldn’t melt ice let alone butter accompanied her response. He hooked his fingers hard inside her, now on top her, legs splayed and dangling over the edge of the bed.

“I’ve not played Daddy, honest, I haven’t. And I’ve been so hot for you. So hot and ready for you”. Finger tips tenderly raking his face, eyes, tight on his, pleading for the inevitable.

“I know you saw what I posted Daddy. I was so hot for you Daddy, I made it for you when you were cross with me but you told me to behave, so I never had the chance to show you how much I missed you and how ready and willing I was when I saw you again. I’ll show you now.”

Imogen removed her tattered tights and dropped her kilt to the floor. So slight was she that her small tee shirt reached down as far as her knickers. Dropping to her knees, wildly swiping her clothes away, she reached up and undid His belt, unlooping it from His jeans as she did so. Doubling it up to half its length, opening her mouth wide, tongue almost touching her chin, she devoured a large double length of the belt, choking momentarily as she pulled it in and out of her throat. He was wide eyed, completely lost in her. A few lengths later, she removed it, looping it back through then dropping it around her neck pulling it tight and offering it to Him to take hold of it. As He reached out she let go, and raised a cheeky, wagging finger and in a deft movement, removed the tight black tee shirt over her head, pulling the belt back through and offering it back to him, smiling… smiling at His smile at the white bra, smiling at her behaviour. It was starting to go dark outside and she looked so fucking beautiful, on her knees wild hair and wilder eyes, bigger than the full moon, glaring up at him defiantly. Another last deft move and the bra was off and tossed across the room, hair bunching around her chest, she raised her hands and flicked it back to reveal her smooth white breasts, large and firm for her cute, slender frame. The triumphant pout of pleasing Daddy appeared as he stared down at her magnificent milk-white breast emblazoned in black marker pen HURT ME DADDY. When she sat on the toilet seat wet as the ocean, she knew the effect her scrawling would have. Wrapping a foot or so of belt around His hand, he pulled the belt tight, causing her to wince at the slight nip of it. He released it slightly and her eyes darkened as the look came over his face. Her dark eyes were pleading to be hurt, pleading for mercy, pleading for pleasure, for pain. Guiding her head to the perfect angle, He began to slap her, quite hard even for starters, every few times, landing a real stinger, all the time watching her, waiting for the regret, the agony, the desire, the full gamut of emotions to pass through her face from slap to slap. He’d slapped her before, hurt her but this was going beyond. The gif, the belt, she’d intimated what she wanted, what she came for. No holding back now, shit was going real.

“Open your mouth” He barked and her jaw dropped in immediate compliance. He’d had her like this before but had never pushed her over the edge. Popping three fingers inside, snaking them along her tongue to the back of her mouth making her gag, he retreated then lost in the haze forced them right down her throat. He could feel they’d gone beyond her epiglotis, with very little resistance. Imogen herself was hot and ready and so lost in attacking her with his hands was He, He was barely aware of her slowly wanking his rock hard cock. Fidgetting to a perfect angle she opened her mouth and let go, slowly edging her tongue out to make room for the onslaught. She looked so fucking good, he thought. So many times he had fucked that sweet mouth, so hot and wet, deeper and deeper each time but now it was time to take it all. Gripping her head hard to allow for less resistance, he slowly edged it in until it was as deep as it had ever been. She felt the grip tighten and steadied herself for the whole lot. His groan of pleasure reverberated around her head and she fought the grip of his hands, not to resist but to take it deeper, effortlessly swallowing it deep into her throat, like a pro. No not like a pro. Like His slut, His plaything, His. Soon they were locked in motion, Him thrusting her wriggling compliantly to take it perfectly, the tip of her nose pressed firmly against his stomach. He could feel the cum rising, feeling as if he could trace its exact path from his balls through into his body and heading for the tip, fast. Blocking the urge, He pulled out but Imogen knew His feeling well. Working herself into a lower position, she wriggled lower at his feet, almost beneath him. With sweet encouragement, she yelled

“Cum for me Daddy. Cum for me”

She knew the drill. Her wide open mouth and wide open eyes got Him every single time. Staring Him right in the eye, she raised her open mouth tenderly, engulfing His balls and slowly jerking away at His hard cock. Swivelling them expertly with her tongue, she let go of His cock, knowing He would take it from her, wanking furiously now, her soft tongue motion getting faster, delicate balls swimming around her wet mouth, a hand grabbing her hair clenching and letting go as the pleasure of her tongue took over His senses, sucking just one ball now, tightly but gently, tongue snaking out and underneath him, wet and slimy, balls now resting on her nose, tongue heading lower and lower, jerking it harder now, hands on the back of His thighs as Imogen’s tongue entered Him, a mad flurry of obscenities and it was the point of no return.

“CUM FOR ME DADDY! CUM FOR ME CUM! CUM!” she cried out, loudly except the words were formed by her stretched open mouth and the movement of her tongue, forming the words whilst deep inside His ass. She felt the first jet buck over her shoulder and trickle down the small of her back but was quick to act and the feeling of her tongue exiting Him in a flash and laid outstretched before the tip of His cock made Him shoot wildly, shaking as His knees buckled under the intensity, her the perfect slut, mouth swathed in cum, which she held fully in place in a little pool on her tongue, whilst He gathered his senses. Urging her to her feet with a gentle pull of the belt, their lips met in a passionate exchange, the spunk swirling back and forth between them until they eventually came to a halt, and she gulped down like the good girl she had promised to be all week. Noticing the considerably less volume, she looked up sweetly!

“DADDY!!” she giggled, excited and proud. Before he went to swallow, in her typically wrap-around-your-finger sweet voice, she asked “can I have a little more please, Daddy” and he drooled half the amount back onto her sweet pink tongue and they both gulped together, like He was taking some horrible medicine with her to give her encouragement. As He looked out of the window into the London dusk, she stepped away, down the side of the bed and fiddled with the switches until one of the sidelights by the bed was left on in the room. Rolling over onto her back, she played with the belt, mentally reliving some of its usage and grinning wickedly to herself before removing it from around her neck and laying it out full length by her side.

“Daddy. Did you bring the cane as well?” The anachronism of her sweet, dulcet tones and the words she was saying really rang around His head. Fucking hot. She smiled sweetly again and thumbs in her knicker-edge, tugging them down, rolling, legs in the air with a whoop of excitement like she was on a roller coaster.

Gazing very intently and parting her legs she looked up at him as He looked down to inspect for the first time, how neat a job she had made of shaving her sweet little pussy. She couldn’t help but give off a low, dirty giggle as she saw the look on his face, staring almost open mouthed at her smooth mound on which she had scrawled ‘FUCK ME’ and ‘HURT ME AGAIN

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