Weeding the rose bed was calming. It was therapeutic, and it had never occurred to me that doing something so mundane, so simple could be so soothing. Living in the little apartment I had, living the life of a college professor, trying to squeeze in some coffee dates between classes and grading and papers and doing some early research for a post-doctorate program I wanted to get into didn’t leave time to keep anything other than myself alive. But suddenly, there was nothing else but the living, breathing earth in front of my face. Literally in front of my face as I crawled naked between the rose bushes, seeking out and pulling weed after weed.
It was therapeutic, but frustrating. Frustrating as sweat poured into my eyes as the humidity and heat climbed, morning or not. Perhaps being naked would be refreshing, I thought at first, and then the first thorn cut into the skin on my arm. I cried out, the bells dangling from my nipples ringing as I leaned left, only to be caught by another thorny branch on my hip. Sweat dripped down my nose, and my bells jingled again and again as I plucked weeds, weaving as carefully as I could between the flourishing roses, which Daddy had clearly taken such good care of and which were now my responsibility.
I worked without a thought to who and where I was, sucked in by the task and the calming influence it had on me. Did he know it would be so relaxing to root through the mulch and yank little green pests out of the ground? Forgotten for the moment was the throbbing of my cunt as I pulled weed after weed from between red roses and white, yellow and even orange, their fragrances hanging like an invisible perfumed fog around me. Every few minutes, I stopped, pressing my face into a low-hanging bud, taking in its sweet aroma, a long, deep breath of heaven. In other moments, as I shifted or crawled forward, I felt sweat from my back sliding down the crack of my ass and slipping effortlessly between the lips of my exposed pussy.
And it was in those moments that I was transported back to myself and the burning need between my legs, the knowledge that a young college student somewhere nearby, no doubt watching me, was waiting for me to be finished so he could fuck me.
At least I hoped he would.
As I crawled out from between the last two rose bushes, deep red blooms covering them both, I saw him standing there, t-shirt and jeans, bare feet, a smile on his face and a water bottle in his hand. I squinted, trying to look up at him with the sun in my eyes, and he gestured me forward. “Heel” was the word that I hoped to hear, but even this subtle finger movement propelled me forward. Maybe it was the eagerness of my cunt and the memory of his fingers deep inside me not so long ago. It didn’t matter at that moment. I crawled, bells jingling as my breasts swung left and right, the grass warm under my hands and knees now. I just wanted his hands on me.
“Good girl,” he said when I stopped at his feet, and then he squatted in front of me and held out the water bottle, a long white sports bottle. “Water for my good girl. Open for me, cunt. And stay open,” he said, and I could see a glint in his eye that sent chills down my spine.
I looked up at the bottle, cocked my head up and opened my mouth. He met me halfway, the bottle’s nozzle inches from my lips, and squeezed. Cool water spilled from the end of the bottle, splashing into my mouth in a steady stream. I swallowed, but struggled to maintain my position, mouth open, taking the flow of water down my throat without closing my mouth. I felt the water splash out from between my lips as it kept coming, dribbling down my chin and over my tits. But he never said a word, didn’t move or stop. He just held the bottle there, his eyes fixed on mine as he watered me and I swallowed every drop I could.
And then he was done, his hand coming up, pushing my head down, a stream of cold water spraying across the top of my head and down my back. I shivered, moaned, my whole body shaking as my bells told the story. Cold water dripped over my sides, clinging to my tits and dripping from my nipples. A stream caught my ass and my breath caught in my throat as it slipped through the folds of my cunt, briefly cascading over my clit.
And then he was raising my chin up and pressing his lips against mine. I opened for his tongue, the sudden cold burned away by the fire that rekindled between my legs. And then his lips were gone, and he was standing tall, me looking up at him, frozen to the spot with need. My gaze lingered on his crotch, eyeing the bulge, and I desperately wanted to say something, to beg, to plead, to offer him my holes to fuck, but I waited, lips slightly apart as I panted from the heat. His heat.
No amount of the sun’s heat could match what I felt when he touched me.
“And now, cunt, it’s time to get back to work. But before we do that, we need to protect that pretty little body. The sun is going to be over those trees soon, and I don’t want you to get burned. There will be no tan lines for my pretty little cunt once the summer is over, so we’re going to have to use some sunscreen. Heel,” he said and turned away, walking back towards the patio.
At the edge of the patio sat a little wooden bench with no backrest. Daddy sat on the end, and when I crawled around in front of him, he pulled me up into his lap until I was straddling him, my face inches from his, my nipples pushing against his t-shirt. Legs open and around him, the tips of my toes brushing the grass below, I’d never felt so vulnerable, so open, so desperate for a man to be inside me. I scooted closer to him before I could even stop myself, my body positioning itself to accept his cock, his touch, his kiss, but he just smiled and pushed my arms behind my back. “Grab your elbows,” he said, his voice calm, as if having an eager, naked slave in his lap was rote. But I could see the bulge in his pants. I knew his cock was alive. I just wanted it inside me, and I tried to convey that when I pouted and pushed my tits against his shirt a little more forcefully.
“Now, let’s get this sunscreen on. We need to protect this body so I can have as much fun with it as I like, don’t you think?” He winked, his eyes still locked on mine.
“Yes, Daddy.”
“Good girl. Now hold still while I apply the lotion, and then we’ll see where we’re at,” he said, and squirting a dollop into his palm, his hands were suddenly everywhere. I bit my lip as he massaged my tits, my breathing heavier when his fingers circled my throat or slid down my belly to my thighs. I leaned in, needing every inch of him to touch every inch of me, pushing my tits hard against his chest as he massaged the lotion into my ass, his finger slipping inside momentarily, leaving me breathless. All I wanted was to touch him, to wrap my arms around him, press my lips to his and clench my cunt around his beautiful, young cock. His fingers found erotic zones previously undiscovered as I squirmed and tried to grind my dripping slit against the cock swelling beneath his jeans, helpless and aching, gasping as I leaned in, my tongue tasting the sweet tang of his sweaty neck.
“Fuck me, Daddy,” I said, no longer able to hold back. “Please.”
“You’ll be a good girl for me?” he said as his fingers lingered just above my cunt.
“Yes.”
“Spend the summer being my dumb cunt, obedient and ready to make me cum?” He’d found my nipples, tugging on the clamps.
I whimpered, feeling the pain shooting through my body and straight to my clit. “Dumb and obedient. A dumb cunt just for you.”
“When I’m done with you, cunt, every little thought in your head will have drained away, and the only thought left with be ‘Please fuck me, Daddy’. Just a dumb cunt on all fours, pussy dripping with need.”
“Yes, Daddy.” If only he would shove his fingers inside me again - anywhere, I was ready to do anything, to agree to anything. If he had pulled out his cock and let me ride it, I would have signed my life away at that moment. “A dumb cunt on all fours, your pussy dripping and desperate for you. That’s me. I'm your dumb cunt.”
He kissed me then, pulling me in with a hand wrapped tightly around my collar, his fingers finding my clit, then driving inside me with such force that my head whipped back, and it was all I could do to stay on his lap while he finger fucked me, my own hands still locked behind my back. Eyes closed to the sky above, I whimpered and whined through clenched teeth, waiting for the words, my body on edge, the orgasm primed and ready. Just a word, or a series of words, just his growl and reminding me I was just a cunt for him to play with, use, fuck and torture.
And then his fingers were gone, and he pulled me in close, his hand clenched on my jaw. I stared at him, wide-eyed, breath ragged as my hips bucked, desperate for what I needed - to be fucked like the dumb cunt I was, fucked by this young, beautiful boy who owned me as surely as he’d ever own anything in his life.
“No orgasms for you, cunt, until you’ve finished this morning’s work. Back down in the grass. There are more roses that need your undivided attention.”
I swallowed and nodded, climbing down to my hands and knees, where I would come to learn was right where I wanted to be.
“Heel,” he growled, and I followed, tits swinging, bells jingling as we moved through the grass.
Author’s Notes: About halfway through this story. I haven’t started writing the second season yet, but at least I have the ideas in my head of what I want to happen. It reminds me of Anne Rice’s “Sleeping Beauty” series, which, if you’ve read it, you will recall that with each novel, there was a major change of situation and setting. Beauty was expelled from the castle because she was disobedient, and she was sent to the stables, where she was punished and learned to serve in a new way. That’s what we’re going to do here.
At the end of this 9-part series, dubbed Season One, we’ll move to a new setting and situation with new characters to interact with Cunt. And then in Season Three we’ll see another major transition, and the same with Season Four. And by Season Five, we’ll come right back around to the beginning in a way. You’ll see.
Now, let’s be real — how long will it take to get there? I don’t know. Into next year, but anticipation is half the joy of anything. And given that I have multiple seasons of The PUGH Society to write, plus a 10-11 additions to Trapped, plus Role 4 Initiative, plus all of Ashes to Dust, which is going to be so hot, and Second Skin, which is going to be creepy hot…
And are you reading Wanderlust on The Fictional? And have you read Cheat Codes? I know you’re reading The River, right?
Well, next year is fine. Just stick with me. We’ll just keep going as long as I have ideas, and the ideas just pile up in my ‘to be written’ pile all day long.
The professor was starting to enjoy it a bit too much. Although it is degrading what the student has done to her reputation, it goes without saying that she is enjoying her attraction to him.
I’ll be here for all of it 😈