Nurturing Britney - Becca Jameson Page 0,91

many times to count. Switching back and forth between my tits, leaving them wanting, needy. I’m crazed with lust.

After a while, his hand trails back down to my pussy and he torments me some more there, teasing the edge of my panties along the top and then sides, next to my pussy. He even pinches the cotton material above my clit and tugs my wet panties up so that they are tighter against my swollen sex.

I groan. My clit is pulsing with the beat of my heart. My channel keeps clenching as if it has any idea what it wants. In a way I understand. There’s a driving need building inside me to have Davis’s cock. I want him to bury himself in me to the hilt. I don’t even care if it hurts a little at first. I want it so badly.

He circles my clit over my panties, not making contact. Sometimes he speaks softly, telling me what a good girl I am, how pretty I am, precious, sweet, sexy, his. His. His. His. He tells me I’m his several times and I can’t breathe from wanting that to be true.

“You’re mine, Britney. My sweet little girl. My good girl.” His voice is gentle. Loving. Serious.

I want to be his good girl. I want to be his everything. I can’t talk because the words are jumbled in my head, all of my attention focused on the growing need.

“Please…” I finally beg.

“Uh-uh. No words. No begging. It will only make me continue longer.”

I purse my lips at that warning and groan out my frustration. I want to move, but I won’t. I want to please him. I want him to be proud of me for enduring this strange punishment.

“It’s called edging, sweetie. It’s something Daddy will expect you to endure sometimes. It helps you remember who you belong to when you’re forced to wait for your release. Denial can be powerful and used for many things. It can serve to punish you or reward you.”

I shiver as he once again tells me I belong to him. I think he’s making sure I know that he isn’t mad and he will never ask me to leave no matter what. Easing my fears. Teasing my body.

I’ve known him one week. It seems like years. I’m totally his, and I haven’t seen him naked. I haven’t touched his penis. I have only grasped the size of it from the bulge in his pants I often see.

I want to touch it, feel it, taste it. I want it inside me. In my mouth. In my pussy. Does he know I want that?

So much time passes that I lose track entirely. He keeps touching me, everywhere but where I need it most. And then he’s touching my clit through my panties, tapping it. He flattens his palm over my pussy finally, and I cry out with relief and need.

“Do not come, sweetie. Not until I give you permission.”

“Yes, Sir,” I murmur, though I’m not sure I can obey that command.

“Good girl.” He flicks my clit and then reaches for my breasts again, circling my nipples closer to the areolas now. “Is the sting subsiding, sweetie?”

“I…don’t know.” It’s impossible to be sure since he has kept me on edge for so long.

“I’m proud of you. You’re so pretty spread out like this for me. Exposed. Your sweet little body mine to look at. Next time I won’t let you have your panties. I’ll be able to watch your clit while I edge you.”

I whimper. My body starts to shake.

Davis pinches my nipple with no warning and I scream. He releases it just as fast. “Don’t come, sweetie.”

I’m panting. My pussy is pulsing. My legs start to tremble. “Daddy… I can’t stop it.”

“Yes, you can.” He presses my knee open. I must have let it pull toward the center. He grips my thigh and holds me wide. “Take a breath.”

I draw in oxygen, trying to control the need.

“Good girl. Let it out now.”

I blow out my breath and look at him. He looks so pleased. He’s smiling at me. I don’t want to disappoint him, but it’s hard to do what he’s asking of me. I’ve never had an orgasm without stimulation to my clit, but I think I could literally combust without contact right now.

“Another breath. In. Out. Good girl.” He releases my knee and resumes his torment, teasing my nipples directly now while I moan and fight the need to writhe. “Prettiest little titties ever,”

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