Go down for dinner, just the two of you

Your father gets up off you, and goes to put his pants back on. You decide to stay on the bed for a little while longer, still panting, shudders of post-orgasmic bliss still firing through your body from time to time.

"Look at the time," your father says. "It's time to get up."

"Mhm," is all you manage to say, still lost in the pleasure.

"Hey, you need to get dressed, if we're going for dinner." His voice has a stern edge to it, which does bring you back to reality.

"Oh, right. Dinner," you answer, and roll out of the bed. Finding the black, lacy thong discarded on the floor, you slide it up your legs, nestling it between your buttcheeks, against your flat mound. That still feels a bit weird.

"I was thinking... Maybe it's a good idea to have dinner, just the two of us? We'll get a table by ourselves, and can get more into our roles before we join the rest of my colleagues for the ball proper."

You mumble a yes as you go into the bathroom to look yourself over and adjust everything, so as not to look as if you've just come down from a round of hardcore fucking. In the hotel room, you can hear your father making a call. The sex-high is starting to recede, and as you stare at the beautiful girl in the mirror, your mind catches up to what you've just done. You just had sex with your father. You just begged him to impregnate you, and fantasized about becoming his little pregnant ****. And it was fucking hot.

No. Don't think about it like that. He's not your father. You're not his son. You're his date. His young and sexy, very female, date.

He steps in behind you. "Come now, David. You look good. More than good, you look stunning." David. Why is he still calling you David?

"Don't..." you start of, in a more aggressive tone than you had intended. Something about that doesn't feel right, so you try again. "Please don't call me David." This time, your voice has a **** timbre to it, almost pleading. "It's too weird, too unsettling. Please, let me be Julie, instead. If I'm Julie, I'm your date, not your son." You hesitate for a moment, before adding, "Daddy is okay, though, I think."

"Okay... Julie," he replies, and steps up behind you, pressing you against the counter. You can feel his hot breath on your exposed neck, smell the alluring fragrance of his cologne. "You're my date." Instinctively, you find yourself pushing yourself against him, breathing more heavily just from his physical proximity, and realizing that he's already starting to grow hard again. "My hot, young, horny date." He bends his head down, caressing the soft skin of your neck with his lips, before giving a playful bite. "And from what I saw in there, I think you like it when your Daddy takes charge. Does that sound about right?"

"Y... yes," you whisper, tense against his hard, masculine body.

"Great. Well, then I thin we're just about ready to head downstairs." He takes a step back, and as his body loses contact with your own, you feel your body relaxing, almost falling over in surprise. But he's there, catching you, supporting you, as he leads you out of the bathroom, out of the hotel room, and down towards the hotel restaurant.

As you walk through the lobby, you start to notice a wet stickyess between your legs, coating your pussy lips and the inside of your underwear. Your fathers cum. Left inside you and with nowhere to go, not everything could go all the way into your womb, and the rest is starting to leak out. Every step you take, you can feel it, and it fills you with a strange mixture of disgust and arousal. The physical sensation itself is unpleasant, but there's something oddly attractive about the humiliating thought that you're walking around in public, your panties secretly slick with a mans seed.

Where are these submissive fantasies coming from? You've never really had any fantasies of submission and humiliation before. No, you have, you correct yourself. But in those fantasies, you were on the other side of the leash, so to speak. So... your body is finding itself in a state of sexual arousal, and trying to understand the arousal, trying to fit you - girl-you - into the script of the scenarios you find so arousing, it casts you as the submissive part? Are you just reacting to the scenarios, your behavior just a tool of sorts to drive the story forward, or are you truly slipping into the role of a submissive slut? Is it just the scenario that excites you, or are you starting to relish being the submissive girl in those scenarios?

The head waiter subtly eyes you over as he takes your names, bringing you out of your musings. His face betraying a little hint of surprise when he realizes that you're your fathers date. He shows you over to your table, and hands each of you a menu.

Your father stretches one leg out under the table, his foot stroking the inside of your calf. His face, however, does not betray anything as he reads the menu, and the large tablecloth obscures the view of anyone looking your way. It slides up further, and before you know it, the tip of his shoe is pressing against your womanhood When the waiter returns, he gives your order with confidence, his foot still between your legs, teasing you. A plate of oysters to share for starters, a steak for himself as a main course, "and my date will have the spicy salmon," he adds, not even bothering to consult you. That sends a surprising thrill down your spine, and you're sure the waited catches your little gasp. Your father certainly does, but just smirks, as you feel your face flushing with embarrassment.

When the waiter leaves again, his foot comes back down. "That was fun," he says. You don't reply, unsure how you feel about it. In a way, it was kind of hot, but...

Dinner continues with your father putting on a charming, flirty tone. You find yourself responding more and more, the slight buzz of the wine making it easier and easier. Touching his hands over the table, giving him seductive glances, and even trying to turn the tables on him when the waiter comes back to ask if you want dessert. However, your legs are far too short, and you have to settle for caressing the backside of his knee.

The chocolate cake he orders comes with a big, red cherry on top, and before you know it he picks it up and reaches over, placing it against your lips. Coyly, you open your mouth just a little, giving his fingers just a touch of a kiss as the fruit slides inside.

Once you've finished the piece of cake, your father gets up and escorts you back towards the lobby. The concierge waves at him. "Mr. Christian?" He nods, and the concierge comes over. Surreptitiously, he slips your father a small package, and your father hands him back a small wad of cash. The man winks at you. "Have fun."

"What's that?" you ask, but it's not too hard to guess the answer.

"In every hotel, there's always a guy you can turn to who can help you out if you have any... special requests. So while you were in the bathroom, I took a call, and solved our pill problem. There's just a bit of a hitch, though it's nothing serious. If you want to, we could take a quick trip up to our room, and I'll explain. Or you could trust your Daddy, and we could stay down here, start mingling with those coworkers who have arrived, and enjoy ourselves. Though," he looks at his watch, "there's almost two hours left until the ball officially starts."