I know what you want.
You want to fuck me. But that's basic shit, and you always want that. Today, today you want to own me, to prove your dominance, to look into the eyes of the man who let me walk away while you're deep inside of me, showing him just how much better you are. How good your cock is, and how well you use it.
He doesn't want to be here. He doesn't want to watch this, to see you touch me, but it's what we both deserve. Me, for ever thinking he would be good enough. Him, for thinking he could ever be good enough. Now that I have you inside of me I know just how good it can be, and I tell you both again and again that I don't want him, not ever again. I only want you.
We broke up several years ago. Good dick does not make up for bad sex, nor years of gaslighting, and I was miserable and depressed long before it ended. He showed up today with divorce papers, having no idea how the day would turn out. To be fair, I don't think any of us had any idea.
You and I were busy when we heard the door. You'd just spent 15 minutes tormenting the both of us, making me kneel on the bed with my hands behind my back, clenching my fingers around my ankles while you touched me, describing at length all the things you were going to do to me. Fair to say the disruption made you a bit annoyed, and my panties were drenched with wanting for you.
"Stay there, and don't move," you growled, and off you stomped to answer the door, clad in nothing but low-hanging sweats, while I keened on the bed, wearing only my bra and panties, one heavy tit hanging out where you had pulled it loose to play with.
A low murmur of voices, both surprised and surly, and then two sets of footsteps echoed down the hallway, turning left into the bedroom.
"Dude here says he's your ex and needs to give you something," you say, jutting your chin in his direction.
"What the fuck...." O's voice trails off as he takes in the scene, my face red, hair all over the place from you grabbing it while you teased me. My knees are still spread, my pussy showing through my damp panties, and I've still got the one damn tit on display.
"Oh my God, O -- what are you doing here?" I blurt, and start to move off the bed, then still as a warning rumble from your direction reminds me to stay still.
"What the fuck, Z. I just came over to get you to sign the divorce papers, and this is the kind of shit you play? What the fuck is wrong with you?"
The accusation pisses you off and you spin towards O, getting into his face as you stare at him, biting off every word.
"There's not a fucking thing wrong with her, you jackass. She likes sex, I like sex, we were in the middle of something when you fucking showed up out of the blue, and now your shitty attitude is going to get you taught a lesson. Sit the fuck down," you growl, and O opens his mouth and then sees the look in your eye and nods, mouth tight, and collapses into the chair in the corner, the large yellow envelope in his hand crumpling as his hands clench.
"Give me that," you demand, and he hands it over without protest, both of us watching silently as you smooth it flat and place it on the dresser. "You'll get the damn papers back, signed and dated and whatever else you need, once we're done."
"J--" I start, and you rumble again, and I admit I get wet at the sound, even in the bizarre situation we're in right now. "Sorry, Daddy."
"Daddy? Seriously?" O whines, and we both whip around to glare at him.
"Shut up, O," I say. It's my turn to bite off words spewed in his direction. "This is my Daddy. We're dating, we're happy together, and what we do together as consenting adults in our 30s is none-of-your-fucking-business!" My voice rises as I yell the last few words, and his eyes bulge in anger.
"Looks like it's my fucking business when I'm forced to sit here and look at you two half-naked while you call him Daddy!"
"That's IT!" you roar, and we both turn to you in shock. "O, sit back in the fucking chair. The only words I want to hear out of your mouth for the next hour are Yes Sir. If you can't obey this simple rule, I'll find something to put in your mouth so you can't say anything at all. Understand?"
O nods weakly.
"Good. And to be clear, I'm pretty sure you're straight, and I don't find you at all attractive since you're a fucking shitheel from what I can tell, nor do I fuck around with anyone without consent, so no, you won't get my cock. You don't deserve it. Z, give me your panties."
You hold out a hand without glancing in my direction, knowing that I'll do whatever Daddy asks. The blankets rustle as I rather gracelessly remove my panties while kneeling, then drop them into your open palm.
"Good Girl. Nice and wet still, too. I'll take care of you in a moment since you've been waiting so patiently."
"Thank you, Daddy," I respond, watching you lift the panties up and dangle them in front of O's face.
"Put these on your head," you tell him as he hesitantly stretches a hand out to take them from you. "Feel that glorious juice from my Good Girl against your skull and smell how fucking delicious she is. I'm going to fuck her in a minute, and you're going to watch me do it. Watch me slide deep inside this woman while she begs for my cock and you are going to sit there like a fucking rock and take it, because you hurt her for way too long and she deserves better, and I'm going to give it to her."
Your words echo around the room, and I moan. Both of you look over at me, still kneeling on the bed. This is so fucked up and I shouldn't find it hot but I do, I really fucking do. I love being watched, and I love knowing that the bastard sitting in that chair won't ever touch me again, but you're going to make him wish he could. You're going to show him just how shitty a partner he was, how awful a lover. I can't fucking wait.
"Daddy?" I whisper, needing you. "Daddy, please."
"Do you need to cum, Z? You've been a very Good Girl, so good to Daddy, and you've listened so well today, staying still on the bed while I dealt with this scum."
I nod, incapable of much more, feeling both of your eyes roaming my body. You walk back to the bed, not bothering to look back at O as you tell him, "Keep those fucking panties on your head, O, and your eyes on my Good Girl, here. I'm going to show you how good she is, and you're going to realize you never deserved her, and you're never getting her back. She's mine, now, and you'll never measure up to what I can do to her. Isn't that right, Z?" Your hand reaches out, cradling the side of my face, then moves lower, skimming my collarbone. A lone fingertip circles my nipple and I shake with need.
