Getting There

[Deleted Member]

She was so excited sitting on the train it reminded her of the first time. She closed her eyes as shiver, a twitch and a clench rippled over her internals. She shifted in her seat. If anybody was looking close enough - They would see the tightening of her thigh muscles, her C and her A muscles and skin all dancing beneath the tule mini skirt she wore.  She shifted in her seat, moved her feet,  a slight moan originating from somewhere near her clit, up through her cervix… escapes out her lips. she breathes in shakily, short and slow, deep at the end, and hold ….  3…2…1. ‘Stay still’. She pursed her lips and slowly blew out, soft and gentle… like she was blowing on a boo-boo on her finger, or like she was blowing a wet nipple, delicious D, not so vanilla starfish. Sweeter… blowing an eyelash off - making a wish. Wish I may wish I might. wish I wish, Daddy Daddy, stay all night. 

The train stopped at the station. People got on; people got off. Did anybody look at her? Did anybody notice her? Was her excitement palpable? Her head was bowed eyes downcast. She couldn’t help herself. She knew the punishment and yet…  still, she wanted to look up, just a little… Curiosity (as always) getting the best of her.  She lifted her eyes and now looked at the floor in the aisle, her eyes following the illumination lights. She spied shoes. Shiny work shoes, black slacks with a nice belt. An ordinary belt below a white button up shirt. No stunning buckle, or studs. She tried to imagine the sound that belt made… soft, quiet, unassuming she thought. Still, it caught and held her attention.
A short sharp breath, audible this time, when she remembered that Daddy would ask her if she looked at anybody. She wasn’t allowed to. That was part of Daddy’s expectations for her. “did looking at a belt count as looking at someone?” She wondered. Yes it did. She knew. She’d been taught. Caught.

Immediately she dropped her eyes again and looked at her hands folded in her lap. Small delicate hands with long nails, for daddy she had black polish, with a pink heart on each, matching her toenails (and other things in her overnight case). She had a ring on every finger and some on her toes as well. Daddy liked her rings. They’d chosen them all together. And each had been christened. So many times. So many ways. Indoors, outdoors. She remembered the first time one had come off her finger, her panic… but Daddy was gentle and together they found it.

Daddy would watch them sparkle on her fingers as she went about her business, he likes to watch them sparkle around her everything as she opens to him.. “Daddy Daddy look Daddy,” she’d excitedly cry out for his attention. “She’s so pretty, Daddy and she wants you”; she knows Daddy can satisfy her like no other!!! Oh how his hardness pleases her. Fills her like nothing else. Connects them like nothing else. Pleases her and takes her where he wants her to be. Takes her, brings her back; holding her trust. The rings look so good holding him, stroking him, touching with the ridges and metals, careful, not careful, with the stones and settings. Scratch a heart. See how they sparkle. Pink skin. Sparkle. She wriggled her fingers watching them sparkle.

She sat there on the train … knees Open -exactly elbow to fist distance apart- … Good girl … mmmmmm, she could almost hear his voice in her head. The mind memories brought with them body sensory memory for her. She relived for a second or two. Instantly blowing bubbles. Unfortunately her delicious warm and wet juices didn’t saturate her panties … primarily because she wasn’t wearing any. Daddy didn’t like her to cover up his slutty princess. Trained and triggered… knowing the words … the knowing his pleasure was enough to make her gush again, her nipples tingled, swollen at this time in her cycle. So tender. She sat there, on the train, swaying slightly with the rocking of the carriage. She sat there with her eyes closed and her head tilted (unaware of the smile tugging at her lips) reliving the pleasure of the slap on her breast; the exquisite excruciating so beautiful so delicate dance she and Daddy do when they play. He … her Everything. She ….  his plaything. 

She imagined Daddy looking at her sitting in her train seat with her legs apart, no underwear, head thrown back… neck exposed the gold collar chain nestled in her throat . Good sub. Good slutty sub. Her fingers found their way to her mouth she touched them lightly to her teeth, her tongue and before she knew they were trailing down over her chin; briefly circling her throat, down further between her breasts. Slowly, with intent… when she got to her bellybutton, she did little circles… 3…2…1. ‘Stay still’. Her thumb stayed with her bellybutton while her fingers perfectly brushed against her dimple.

Daddy, feel how wet i am for you, please Daddy, the moment I get off the train. Feel me and touch me, plunge into me as you greet me on the platform … my dirty slutty glory holes! she twitched and felt the juices come out her.

Breathing quickly, she caught a waft of herself . Ready. Wet. 

Edited November 13 by Deleted Member

[TJ****]

Oh my!