C-2: Silly Memorie
1232 Words
Catty's POV
My boyfriend’s dad f****d me… no, ate my p***y!
I go numb, forgetting my burning cunt.
“Did you forget your manners, Kate?”
James’s cold voice holds me back from posting further in his father’s soothing gaze.
“I-I’m…” I stutter stupidly. “I'm sorry.” I swallow, confused. “Good… uh…” I look outside, suddenly confused about the time of day.
The dark sky makes me remember it's evening. My gaze returns to the pair. While James fumes, his father keeps a calm demeanor, with a small knowing smile kissing his fine figure to perfection.
“Good evening, sir.” I duck, ashamed.
The images from about an hour ago taunt me. His voice, touch, command… Damn! Sweat breaks out of my pores.
“This is the reason I can't take you seriously,” James whispered in my ear. Next, he locks his arm with mine and pulls me along. “Act like a freaking human. You’re not a zombie.”
I nod, gulping dryly.
He shuts the door behind us as we walk into the small apartment. It's a three-bedroom duplex. We moved down here last month after James ran out of his bi-yearly allowance. Now, he claims he’s ready to settle down. We both know the truth… better still, we all know, considering my big mouth spilled it to his father.
“I heard you make the best turkey sauce.” Mr. Alistair mumbles behind us. “Is it sweeter than what I tasted?”
Oh, god. I freeze beside James so he pulls me along for the next two steps. What he tasted?! Is he going to tell?
I’m so doomed!
James notices and stops. He looks at me with slight irritation. He leans in to murmur in my ear. “For once Kate, can you not embarrass me?” Then looks at his dad. “How about you have a taste?” He grins.
From my side eye, I see Mr. Alistair shrug.
We go over to the set dining room and I dish out their meals, including mine. James puts my chair in the middle, oblivious of our affair. He sits, with his dad going next, acting all saintly.
“Let me officially introduce you to my… woman,” James says after a brief hesitation. “She’s hardworking and decent.” He runs my hand. “Unlike the 21st-century ladies, she is homely.”
His statement is a direct bullet to my head. I look away, shy, stupid, silly. Goosebumps crawl over me despite the place being fully cold.
“Uhm… I… I need to take a shower.” I stutter and rush upstairs without his approval.
“And clean too.” I hear James murmur after me.
“Hmm… Very clean.” Mr. Alistair chuckles and bites down on his meal.
His words bring back memories I try to fight. Once I rush into the room, I slam the door shut and run to the bed. I dump my ass on it, with my back pressed to the bed frame.
‘He thinks I’m clean.’ I murmur in my head.
Instead of burning with rage and irritation, it somehow turns me on. My eyes snap shut, reliving the filthy memories in the club. His tongue teasing, thrusting, tasting me like I'm the sweetest cherry…
My legs involuntarily clasp.
‘Beautiful. Perfect. Wet… And your boyfriend is an idiot.’ His words are fresh in my head.
A soft moan escapes my throat. I press my legs firmly, putting pressure on my clit, and pleasure likewise. It bursts with excitement, lighting up my whole body.
I try not to remember his face and tongue fighting through the thick whipped cream to get to me like I'm some treasure…
Something streaks down my thighs, hot, and slick.
“No. No. No.”
I jump up, still keeping my legs clapped.
On the spot I sat, right on the area my ass laid, a creamy white substance lay in a slimy lump. Here I am, coming to the mere thoughts of my soon-to-be father-in-law when I should be virtuous.
I swipe the area clean and fight the urge to the back of my mind. Bathing without touching myself is a miracle. My body still aches. Done, I change into a clean night robe and join them downstairs.
“Here she is,” James announces like he means it. He stands up to help me down the last three steps and pulls out my seat. “Dad is arguing that he tasted the sweetest fruit today.”
He ignorantly yaps.
“Just as spicy and yummy.”
“Uh. Can we focus on the food?” I stuff my mouth with a slice of turkey, avoiding the angry stares of James and the seductive one of his father.
The rest of the dinner is James trying to lick his father's ass even though he doesn't give a f**k and focuses on me. I rush over the food on my plate, staying away from the discussion as opposed to the agreement. Low-key, it pisses James off. Immediately we finish and the gentleman starts sipping their wine. I pack up the plates.
“Let me help you.”
Mr. Alistair reaches to take them from me, causing our skin to brush.
I gasp, jerking back, and letting go of the plates. He’s quick to catch them, but the leftover on James’s plate splashes on me. Can today get any worse?!
“I'm so sorry,” he sighs, regret palpable in his tone. “I have a much fancier robe. Let me fix my mess.” He insists that once I start arguing. “James, clean up this place, I raised you better.”
I can feel James fuming, but Mr. Alistair doesn't let me spend one more second around the toxic energy as he holds my hand and leads me upstairs, to his room.
When we get in, he shuts the door. My senses jump to alert.
“Relax, dripping doll.” He teases me. His charming smile and soothing gaze do the rest.
He’s standing behind me and I'm facing the wall. I feel his hand on my shoulder, slowly slipping off the robe and daring me to pull away. Stupid, I don't. I let him work off my buttons, and tug my belt till the robe slips off. It stops around my waist, leaving my upper body naked.
“I’ll quickly get mine.” He murmurs.
It's clear that he’s fighting the urge to touch me, just as I’m battling mine to be his real doll.
His footsteps sound as he walks to the wardrobe. Next is the rustling sound of his clothes. Then he approaches me again, holding a robe covered in rich black fur.
“Catty,” he moans, leaning in so that our bodies brush. He slips the robe up my body, fingers slightly apart as they caress my bare skin. “You’re now facing a mirror…” Our eyes lock in the full-length mirror.
I'm small in front of him, but with overflowing breasts that make up for my size as they roll down, ripe and lush.
Deliciously full.
His eyes are on me, fierce, dangerous… and his fingers are this close to graze the start of my boobs on my small ribcage.
“What do you want from Daddy?”
- Writer
