Half in a daze, she stripped and then began to dress again. The miniskirt was tight. She felt it compress her buttocks together, and she could see her pubic mound where it puffed out the front just a bit. The top was tiny, even after she stretched into it. It looked as if it were painted on.

But it wasn't until she put the shoes on that she really felt the part. They raised her up, pushed her ass out and made her throw her shoulders back for balance. There was no mirror down here, but she could imagine what she looked like and it thrilled her. She looked cheap and on display, just like she'd always fantasized.

She was afraid to face him. What if he laughed? As naughty as she felt, she still felt like Vanessa, the good little straight-A student, trying to play the bad girl.

"I'm waiting." he called.

She took a deep breath to try and calm herself, then she walked into the living room.

When she saw the look in his eyes her fears melted, replaced by an incandescent glow of excitement. There was a gleam in his eye, sharp and bright, almost violent, and a nasty smile on his face that gave her goose bumps. No man had ever looked at her that way before, and her excitement was tinged with a bit of fear, that he might suddenly attack her. He looked as if he were ready to. That was the way men looked at her in her fantasies before they threw her on the bed and fucked her. But in her fantasies she was always somewhat in control. This was real, and she felt more naked than if she'd had no clothes on at all. Still, the feeling was powerful…

"Walk," he said simply, his voice sounding like a dry croak.

She felt like the goddess of lust. She walked and felt her hips slide inside the slippery metallic skirt. Her nipples were hard and rubbed teasingly against the tight fabric of the top. From the height of her heels she no longer felt like a student drudge. She felt very adult, sexy and dangerous, and her feelings were reinforced by what she saw in his eyes. She was filled with a confidence she'd never felt before, and she didn't even wobble as she walked across the floor. She stopped, spun like a model and pulled it off, then stopped and let him have a good look at her in profile.

She was so keyed up she was afraid she might giggle with sheer pleasure, and the look of raw lust on his face was so extreme it was almost amusing. She had a sudden urge to tease him. Her fear and resistance were gone now, as if the power had shifted from him to her and she was calling the shots now It was an intoxicating feeling.

She made a show of doing something with her hair so that she could raise her arms, hiking up her breasts so they hung rich and full on her chest, and he just sat there and stared. She could see his cock tenting the front of his pants, could almost see it pulsing with his heart beat, and on impulse she turned her back to him and bent over, putting her hands on her knees and causing her skirt to rise up in the back and showing just a hint of the bottom of her ass and her puff of pubic hair where it showed through her legs.

"Don't you think this skirt is too short?" she asked innocently.

"Come here," he breathed, and Vanessa couldn't repress a giggle. "Come over here."

This is how she'd always wanted to feel: irresistibly sexy, and powerful enough to keep a man under her thumb just from his wanting her. She liked walking on the edge, never knowing when she might push him so far that he'd explode, grab her and force her to do all sorts of terrible, obscene things.

As she walked over to him, she suddenly felt conscious of their difference in age. She was young, not even out of school, at the very peak of her body's ripeness. He was old enough to be her father, experienced and supposedly mature enough to control his feelings. She felt like a little slave girl who'd caught the fancy of the old and powerful king, and she liked the feeling.

He reached out and grabbed her wrist, pulled her into his lap and she fell on him with a little squeal of alarm. He pressed his face against her tits and his hand slid right up under her skirt to her naked pussy, puffy with excitement and ready to be used.

"You little tramp!" he hissed at her. "What happened to the good girl now, huh? What happened to the good little Vanessa?"

She laughed with excitement as his hand stroked her cunt and he licked at her nipple through the top. "I lied." she said, "I am a slut. But what are you going to do about it, baby?"

The words came easily to her, even as she shocked herself by saying them. It was like her dress-up game: those are the kinds of things she said to her imaginary lover when she would look in the mirror and pose for herself, calling him baby and lover and stud as she stroked her nipples and dipped a finger into her wet slit.

He grabbed her face in his hand and kissed her roughly, his beard scratching her, as he opened her up and pushed a thick finger into her.

"Mmmmm!" she screamed into his mouth, pushing her hips forward against his hand as she felt him enter her. His touch felt so good; his roughness was like an aphrodisiac, and she opened her thighs before squeezing them tightly around his hand. She wanted it like this. She was a slut and she needed to be punished for acting this way; she needed his violence: it thrilled her.

"Stand up!" he said and he pushed her off his lap as she mewled with disappointment. He stood up and spun her around so her back was to him, and she felt him wrapping rope around her wrists yet again.

Truthfully, though, she loved the rope. She loved being bound and helpless, unable to defend herself, and she loved the way being bound pushed her tits out. She knew it just increased his lust too, just made him hotter and wilder, and when he spun her back around to face him she had the nerve to give him a sultry little pout.

That was going too far, and he grabbed her hair and pulled her head back.

"You fucking whore!" he hissed at her as his free hand roamed over her body, squeezing her breasts and pinching her nipples, sliding over her stomach to stroke her pussy. "You know just what you're doing! Coming off like the innocent little college girl, then you get some sexy clothes on and you're nothing but a hot cunt! I knew it all along, you fucking tease."

His words made her gasp. She loved it. She closed her eyes and bit her lip and let them wash over her like the hot spray of a shower.

"Well you know what's going to happen to you, baby?" he went on, whispering in her ear so close she could feel his hot breath, "I'm going to tie you up good and tight and see just what kind of slut you are. I'm going to shove my big, hard cock in you, Vanessa, and I'm going to fuck the hell out of you! Fuck you hard, baby; hard and deep, stretch that little pussy wide open and give you the fucking you've been asking for."

She groaned at the force of his words and he pulled her head back again.

"And then you're going to suck my cock, open that sweet mouth and take me in your mouth and suck on me. Every good whore loves to suck cock, doesn't she, baby, and I already know you're real good. You’ll suck my cock till I shoot my come all over your cock-sucking face, slut, and then you'll wipe it all up and swallow it."

"But first," he said, "I got something else for you."

She was on fire now, and she needed him badly. Her hips had started moving of their own accord, trying to rub against him, and she felt all liquid inside. He let go of her hair, turned, and dropped his pants, groaning with relief as his cock was able to spring free inside his shorts. Vanessa saw the wet spot in front and her nostrils flared as she imagined his tool in her mouth, how depraved it would look.

He sat down with his shorts still on and pulled her down. She went to sit on his lap again but he spun her around somehow, manhandling her until she was over his knee and she realized that he was going to spank her.

This was something she'd never envisioned in her games, and this time she felt real alarm as he slid her miniskirt up over her naked ass.

"Wait! Mr. Taylor! Wait!" but he held her down with his arm in the small of her back, and with her hands tied behind her there was nothing she could do.

In her whole life she'd never been hit, and it was degrading to be treated like a child and taken over his knee when she'd just been feeling like such an adult.

"You know why you're getting this?" he asked her as he squeezed her naked cheeks. "Because you're such a fucking whore, Vanessa! You're totally out of control. You're a slut and you'll do anything for cock, won't you?"

Before she could even decide to answer she felt rather than saw him raise his hand, and he brought it down with a loud smack on her ass, making her squeal and sending a surge of heat through her body. He spanked her again, and she jumped, her eyes wide.

She could feel his cock pressing into her stomach, rock hard as she tried to protect her ass with her tied hands, but he just spanked her again and again until all she felt was a generalized burning that melted into the hot need in her pussy. But worse than the pain was the very humiliation of being treated this way, humiliation that built her excitement even higher. She loved his male power and strength, the way he took no shit from her, the way he made her hurt.

After a few spanks she stopped struggling, waiting for every blow, each slap like the thrust of a cock into her pussy, the same delicious pain, and her squeals of alarm became low, throaty moans of gratification as her hips began to grind against his cock.

And it was only fair, after the way she'd teased and taunted him. She deserved it, and she was glad he was there to give it to her. She was a whore; there was nothing she could do about it but take her punishment for her own filthy desires, though each slap on her naked and trembling ass only made her hotter, made her think of even filthier things she wanted him to make her do.

Then suddenly she was on her knees on the floor and he was standing over her. He skinned his shorts down and she saw his gorgeous cock, big and stiff and gleaming with his secretions, his big balls hanging below. This wasn't the bright eager stalk of a boy, but a man's veteran piece, a thick and experienced and rough-looking thing covered with veins and ridges like a club, almost scary.