Show Daddy How Much You Love It

"Show Daddy how much you love it," Rachel says to me, "Make him understand. Use your body. Use your words."

Use my... words?

But I couldn't. I could mumble through the gag in my mouth but the only one who would hear would be me and I didn't matter right now. I wasn't trying to convince myself of anything. I didn't need to hear myself.

I needed him to hear me. Needed him to know me, to know how much I needed him and how much he was affecting me because even if this was a dream or a fantasy or a hallucination in my mind it was close enough to real that I could feast on it, satisfying the hunger that had been building in me since I became Emily, or maybe... Maybe even longer.

Pushing against the bonds I groan. I concentrate on the illusion that has wrapped itself around me and I focus on the feel of him above and inside of me. The touch of his hands on me and the way he stretches my insides, the way that he fills me up.

God it all feels so real even if I know that it isn't. Lucas isn't fucking me right now, stretching out my tight virgin pussy and filling me with the real and present heat of him. He isn't pulsing with life and throbbing so deep inside of me and he isn't threatening to give me a time that I'll never forget.

He isn't really here, but my mind makes him present.

It makes it so that I can feel him all around me and I can glimpse through the blindfold to a world where he is touching and feeling and filling me. So that I can memorize the sight of him caught in so much fucking pleasure as I shiver beneath him and he calls me all the things I want him to.

He tells me that I'm his good girl. He tells me that he's my strong Daddy. That if I give in that he'll show me what it's like to be with a real man and that nothing will ever be the same for me again.

That I will always crave him, his firm hand and his guiding influence and his experienced lovemaking. His thick cock and his hard strong body, the solidity of his years and the tenor and tone of his touch.

All I need to have that is to be a good girl, to submit. All I need is to let him have me, every last inch of me.

And I want him. I want him to take it. I want to lose myself in this man and the way that he can make me moan. I want to give everything so that he has everything and I have nothing left that isn't for him. For us.

That desire makes a potent reality burgeon in front of me, even if I know that it's an impossibility. My glimpse into a future with Lucas lets me know that he's been snipped and god I'm in no danger of kids with him but my mind is already racing ahead to the one in a billion possibility and then I'm filled to the brim with him with us. My belly swelling as I bear his child and I am made closer to him than ever before, connected in a way that I could never imagine.

One minute it's my memory imagining the heat of his seed deep within me and the next his seed has taken root months ago and brought me to swelling joy. Filled me up and god I could... Just from the thought of it...

I moan and I arch myself and I shiver on the memory, my lips pressing and speaking a senseless taboo against the gag that binds me, a repetitive and begging wish for Daddy to make me a woman and make me never be able to forget tonight, my first night, and to make me never regret it and to give me everything, every last drop, and I want him to hear it and she wants it too.

There is the feeling of something loosening and then I'm unbound or more specifically my mouth is unbound and my aching jaw squeals and squeaks with relief as I stretch and shift it and then test my voice.

But before I do Rachel tells me what I already know.

"Tell him," she whispers, her words harsh and insistent and nearly hoarse and certainly an order, "Tell Daddy how good he makes you feel."

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