His come leaking down my thighs

Chapter 12

The festival prep-tent smelled of canvas and diesel, and the full-length mirror Bruno had propped against the display table showed me everything—my naked body, my flushed skin, the way my n*****s had gone hard the second the zipper hissed shut behind us.

He stood behind me, still fully dressed, and ran the flat side of the long festival cheese knife down my sternum, between my breasts, over my belly. The steel was cold, and I felt my stomach muscles jump. He pressed the blade flat against my mound, the chill seeping into my c**t, and I heard myself gasp.

"Watch," he said, his voice low. "I want you to see what you look like when you're about to beg."

In the mirror I saw my own eyes, wide and dark. I saw his hand move the knife lower, the flat side sliding between my folds, the cold metal parting me. I felt the blade press against my c**t, and I watched my hips roll forward, chasing the sensation.

"Please," I whispered.

"Not yet." He set the knife down on the display table, the metal clinking against the wood. His hands closed around my waist, turning me so I faced the mirror, my ass backed against his belt. I felt his c**k through his trousers, hard and thick against my crack.

"Hands on the glass," he said.

I pressed my palms flat against the mirror, the surface cool against my hot skin. I watched my own reflection, my breasts pressed against the glass, my n*****s leaving faint smears. Behind me, I heard his belt unbuckle, the zipper pull down.

His c**k sprang free, and I felt the head press against my entrance, slick with my own wetness. He didn't push in. He just held it there, the blunt pressure making my inner walls clench around nothing.

"Look at yourself," he said. "Look at how wet you are. Your cunt is dripping on my c**k and you haven't even taken me yet."

I watched my own face in the mirror, the flush spreading down my neck. I felt his hands on my hips, his thumbs pressing into the soft flesh above my ass.

"Please, Daddy," I begged. "Please put it in."

He pushed, and I felt the head stretch me open, the ring of muscle resisting then giving. The first inch slid in, and I felt each fold of my inner walls part around him. The second inch, the ridge of his shaft dragging over the rough spot on my front wall. The third, the blunt heat of him seating against my cervix.

I cried out, my breath fogging the glass.

"Watch," he commanded. "Watch yourself take me."

I watched in the mirror as his hips met my ass, the wet slap of skin against skin echoing in the tent. I felt his c**k slide out until only the head remained, then push back in, slow and deep. Each stroke hit my cervix, and I felt my inner walls clench around him, gripping him like I was afraid he'd leave.

"That's it," he said, his voice rough. "Your cunt knows what it wants even when your mouth won't say it."

I felt his hand reach around, his fingers finding my c**t. He rubbed in circles, the pressure building, and I watched my own face in the mirror, the way my mouth fell open, the way my eyes rolled back.

"Don't look away," he said. "I want you to see how shameless you are."

I tried to hold his gaze in the mirror, but the sensation was too much. His c**k thrusting into me, his fingers on my c**t, the cold glass against my hot cheek. I felt the orgasm building, deep in my belly, spreading through my inner walls.

"Please," I sobbed. "Please, Daddy, let me come."

"Not yet." He pulled out, and I felt the sudden emptiness, my cunt clenching around nothing. "Turn around."

I turned, my back against the mirror, the cold glass pressing into my spine. He lifted my legs, hooking them over his forearms, and pushed back in. The angle was different, deeper, and I felt his c**k press against my cervix from a new direction.

"Look at the mirror," he said. "Look at how you take me."

I turned my head, watching our reflection. His body pressed against mine, his chest hot against my breasts. I saw my own face, flushed and desperate, my mouth open, my eyes glassy.

"Your body is a traitor," he said, his voice low. "It clenches around me every time I pull out. It begs for me even when you're pretending to resist."

I felt my inner walls squeeze him, and I heard him groan.

"There it is," he said. "Your cunt just admitted what your mouth won't."

The flashlight beam cut through the canvas, a cold white line that slid across my skin. I froze, my heart pounding, and I felt Bruno's c**k pulse inside me.

"Don't move," he whispered.

I watched the beam travel across the canvas wall, the shadow of a man moving outside. I heard his footsteps crunch on the gravel, slow and deliberate. The beam crossed the tent again, closer this time, and I saw the silhouette of his shoulder brush against the canvas, the fabric bulging inward.

I felt my cunt clench around Bruno's c**k, the fear making everything sharper. My skin felt hypersensitive, every nerve ending alive. I couldn't breathe, couldn't move, and I felt my inner walls grip him like they were begging for more.

The footsteps stopped at the entrance. I heard the zipper pull jingle, and I felt my whole body tense.

"Shh," Bruno breathed, his mouth against my ear. "Don't make a sound."

I bit the heel of my palm, tasting the metallic dust of the tent floor. I watched the flashlight beam slide across the canvas, illuminating the silhouette of a hand reaching for the zipper.

The canvas bulged where his shoulder brushed it. I felt Bruno's c**k twitch inside me, and I knew he was holding back his own sound.

"All clear," the steward's voice crackled through a radio. "Perimeter secure."

The footsteps moved on, the beam sliding away. I exhaled, my whole body shaking, and I felt Bruno pull out.

"Dress," he said. "Now."

"No." I heard my own voice, raw and desperate. I dropped to my knees, spreading myself in the mirror so I couldn't look away from my own shamelessness. I reached back and spread my ass, showing him my wet cunt, the evidence of how much I wanted him.

"Please, Daddy," I begged. "Please. I need you inside me again."

He stared at me in the mirror, his jaw tight. Then he stepped forward, his hand cracking against my ass with a sharp slap. I cried out, the sting spreading through my flesh, and I felt my cunt clench.

"You little slut," he said, but his voice was thick with want. He grabbed my hips and pushed back in, hard, and I felt the head slam against my cervix.

"Watch yourself," he commanded. "Watch how you take me."

I watched in the mirror as he f****d me, his hips slapping against my ass, the wet sounds of our bodies filling the tent. I saw my own face, desperate and hungry, my mouth open, my tongue licking my lips.

"Your body knows," he said, his voice low. "It knows it's mine. It clenches around me every time I push in. It begs for me even when you pretend to resist."

I felt the orgasm building again, deeper this time. His c**k thrust into me, hitting the deep spot, and I felt my inner walls clamp down.

"Please," I sobbed. "Please, Daddy, I'm yours. I'm yours."

"Come for me," he said. "Come on my c**k and watch yourself do it."

I watched in the mirror as my face contorted, the orgasm crashing over me. I felt the first contraction start deep in my belly, spreading through my inner walls, and I felt them pulse around him, pulling him deeper. My vision blurred, my breath caught, and I felt the heat spread through my thighs, my c**t throbbing, my toes curling against the dusty floor.

I heard myself sob, the sound broken and raw, and I felt him pull out.

"No," I whimpered. "Don't stop."

He grabbed his c**k, stroking fast, and I watched in the mirror as his come sprayed across the glass, thick and white, painting the surface beside our reflections. I watched the first rope hit the mirror, the second, the third, each one sliding down the glass.

He grabbed the festival cloth from the display table and wiped one streak off the mirror, leaving the rest smeared. He held the cloth to my lips, and I opened my mouth, tasting his come, salty and thick, mixed with the metallic dust of the tent floor.

"Swallow," he said.

I swallowed, and I felt the warmth slide down my throat. I licked the cloth clean, claiming the evidence as a private meal.

The steward's footsteps circled the tent again, and I heard his voice through the canvas. "Your apprentice has great lung control," he called, and I heard the amusement in his voice.

Bruno laughed, a little too quickly. "She's trained well."

The footsteps moved on, and I felt Bruno's hands on my hips, pulling me up. He pushed me against the mirror, my breasts pressing against the cold glass, and I felt his c**k nudge my entrance again.

"One more," he said. "I need to finish inside you."

He pushed in, and I felt the stretch, the fullness, his c**k sliding deep until he was seated against my cervix. I watched our reflection, his body pressed against mine, his hand reaching around to rub my c**t.

"Watch," he said. "Watch me fill you."

He thrust hard, and I felt the head press against my cervix, the thick heat of his come flooding my cunt. I felt each pulse, each rope of his seed filling me, and I watched my own face in the mirror, the ecstasy and the shame mixing.

He pulled out, and I felt his come leak out of me, running down my thighs. I watched it drip onto the tent floor, a small puddle of evidence.

He wiped the mirror with the festival cloth, but the smell clung to the canvas corner. I knew the steward would smell it on the next loop if the tent heated up.

I licked the mirror where he'd wiped it, tasting the faint residue of his come, and I felt his hand on my chin, tilting my face toward him.

"You're mine," he said. "You know that, right?"

"Yes, Daddy," I whispered. "Yours."

In the mirror, I saw my own reflection, the woman who had once hidden in the stairwell, squeezing her thighs until she came dry. She was gone. In her place was a woman who begged with her eyes, who licked his come off a mirror, who couldn't look away from her own shamelessness.

I mouthed the word to the glass. "Yours."

The key stayed hidden in the wheel's paste, waiting for tomorrow. The smell of our s*x clung to the canvas. The mirror was wiped but smeared.

And I knew, with a certainty that made my cunt clench, that the steward's comment would follow us into the festival hall.