Chapter 4

The dirty talk pushed me closer to the edge. His fingers were relentless — rubbing, scissoring, hooking that spot over and over until my thighs were shaking so hard I could barely stay upright. “Daddy… I’m gonna come,” I whimpered.

“Come then. Come on Daddy’s fingers like the breeding bitch you are.” He pressed hard on my lower belly with his free hand at the same time, forcing his fingers even deeper. The orgasm exploded through me. My pussy clamped down violently, rippling and squeezing his fingers in deep, pulsing waves. Hot liquid gushed out around his hand, soaking the bench beneath me. I kept coming in long, rolling spasms, each one making my walls milk him greedily while he kept rubbing that exact spot without mercy. My vision blurred and my breath came in short gasps as the pleasure rolled through my core again and again.

When the climax finally faded, my body was still twitching. Damon slowly pulled his fingers out, leaving me empty and gaping again. He showed me how wet his hand was, then wiped it across the inside of my thigh. “That’s your training for today. But remember the collar. Every Sunday after the match — locker room, breeding, my cum inside you. No exceptions.”

He pushed his fingers back in right away for a second round, starting the slow deliberate strokes that twisted and rubbed every oversensitive inch. The temperature of his warm skin against my slick walls made my insides flutter wildly. “Daddy’s going to pump so much cum straight into your cervix tonight,” he continued, voice low and filthy. “I’m going to flood your womb until it’s bulging. You’re going to leave here with my seed planted deep. By next month’s exam, your belly might already be starting to swell with my baby. You want that, don’t you? Want Daddy to breed his little princess until everyone can see what I did to you?”

“Yes— Daddy— please—” I sobbed, hips twitching uncontrollably. He kept the rhythm steady, adding more pressure on my belly so every thrust hit deeper. My pussy kept clenching in tiny aftershocks, the emptiness turning into a burning need for his cock. He added dirty descriptions about how tight I felt around his fingers and how perfect I would look pregnant at the matches, all while the collar tugged lightly every time I moved my head.

Another orgasm built fast. This time the waves were slower but deeper, my inner muscles rippling in long contractions that seemed to last forever. Damon praised me through it all: “That’s my good girl, coming so hard for Daddy. Your cunt is milking my fingers like it wants real cum inside it already. Feel how empty it gets when I pull out? That’s why we do this every week from now on.”

He pulled out again, letting the emptiness hit, then immediately slid back in with four fingers this time, stretching me even more. The burn mixed with pleasure as he described the future locker-room sessions in explicit detail — how he would have me on all fours on the bench, collar pulled back like a leash, his cock pounding into my cervix while the smell of the team’s gear surrounded us. Each new detail made my pussy spasm harder around his fingers.

I lost count of the smaller orgasms that followed. Each one left me more sensitive, my juices running freely down my thighs and dripping onto the floor. Damon kept talking the entire time, reminding me that the exams were now every game because I was getting wetter and needier, exactly like the source text had described. The collar stayed snug, the metal emblem bouncing lightly against my skin with every thrust of his hand.

By the time he finally slowed down, my legs were jelly and my breathing was ragged. Damon wiped his hand on my thigh again and helped me tug my skirt back into place. “Keep the collar hidden under the jersey. Mom doesn’t need to know.” He adjusted himself, the hard bulge in his pants obvious, and led me back to the seats.

Just as we sat down, Mom returned from the hallway, still on her phone. She smiled at us, none the wiser at first. But then her eyes narrowed slightly as she looked at the couch cushion where we had just been.

“Why is the seat so wet?” she asked, frowning. She reached out and touched the dark spot with her fingers. “It feels… sticky. Did someone spill a drink?”

My heart nearly stopped. A fresh rush of shame and arousal flooded through me as I realized it was my juices that had leaked onto the cushion.

Damon remained perfectly calm. He chuckled lightly and pulled Mom into a quick side hug. “It’s just some condensation from the cold drinks I brought earlier. You know how humid it gets in here during games. Sit down, honey. I’ll grab some paper towels.”

Before Mom could inspect it further, Damon quickly grabbed a stack of napkins from the side table and wiped the cushion thoroughly, his movements smooth and confident. “There. All clean. Come sit, Sarah.”

Mom hesitated for a second, then shrugged and sat down right on the same spot where Damon had just fucked me minutes earlier. She settled in comfortably, completely unaware that her ass was now resting on the evidence of our sin.

Damon sat beside her, but his hand discreetly rested on my thigh under the blanket I had pulled over my lap. He leaned over slightly, his lips brushing my ear while Mom was focused on the pitch.

“Feel that, princess?” he whispered darkly. “Mommy is sitting exactly where Daddy just stretched your greedy little cunt. And you’re still dripping down your thighs, aren’t you?”

I bit my lip hard, my legs trembling uncontrollably as another wave of wetness leaked out of me. The collar felt tighter around my neck, a constant reminder of my submission. I tried to focus on the players warming up on the field, but every small shift in my seat made my sensitive, well-fucked pussy throb.

Damon’s fingers traced slow, teasing circles on my inner thigh under the blanket, his voice a low murmur only I could hear.

“Keep your legs open just a little more, babygirl. Let Daddy feel how soaked you still are while you watch the game like a good girl.”

My thighs shook harder. I was forced to sit there, dripping and trembling, while Mom chatted happily beside us, completely oblivious to the fact that her daughter had just been claimed by her husband only minutes ago on the very seat she was now sitting on.

The match continued on the pitch, but all I could think about was next Sunday and how Damon was going to use me exactly the way he described — fingers, collar, deep filling, and repeated orgasms that left me empty and desperate until the next time.