Piled high on the mahogany table were the reports and assignments left unfinished thanks to the bureaucratic chaos by the name of the highly respected Kennedy, ironically enough, the head of the division department, had brought upon himself. Because if we were to consider his work ethic, your Daddy was normally as sharp as a tack, always precise and swift in executing his tasks (and missions) within governmental standards – could potentially even earn him the approval to be running this country his damn self should he ever wish to represent the eagle, soldiers and superb men alike pledged their loyalty to.

But today, a string of high-stakes phone calls atop the plethora of papers seemed to have left their mark on the American golden boy (or rather, rugged old man with legendary status), and thus, his productivity slowed down to a cipher.

It didn’t quite help that his own phone had buzzed with a notification that Leon should have refrained from checking upon in the first place. Because all it took was one look, and the agent, who was known by his protegees as competently indifferent, wasn’t able to think straight anymore, therefore, had explained himself of having to leave work early due to an emergency and rushed out of the building.

Right.

Not much of a surprise when it came to –

Said to be a present, clearly, as he read the message, added with a picture of your body, scantily clad, in the lewdest position possible, only for his eyes to see, of course. Indeed, the man who was as anonymous as one could be, had a very weak spot for a beautiful, little missus in his life.

A-hem, you.

To then say that he wasn’t willing to speak upon of what had prompted him to ditch work ahead of schedule would be an understatement. Everything you did was solely reserved for Leon the professional, and he wanted to keep it that way – under lock and key (in conclusion: secretive). He also wouldn’t be willing to admit (to you either) that he loved your risqué side (proven by the exempt as just shown), more accurately, your overly provocative one, especially when the entire relationship was established on said premise: that he was the one in control, and therefore, intent to be the one to draw the impermeable lines (boundaries) in scorching hot sand, which you had to respect and abide by in return.

Leon had, admittedly, been in denial for a very, very long time.

At the beginning, he had stated time and time again he wasn’t into such things (his browsing history said otherwise, though, but let’s digress), shooed you away and shook his head as if he’d been disappointed by you (translating into: he pushed you away because you had kept boking the bear). Silly you.

But late at night, that’s exactly when he couldn’t help but think about it.

The very first time you had called him Daddy, it was more of an awkward situation to be quite frank – he laughed awkwardly, cocking an eyebrow (didn’t hate it at all, side note) – though it was only natural to you, because Leon was the very embodiment of a fatherly figure, no?

He loved explaining things to you, especially when it came to his job, his guns or his motorcycle (which, obviously, was incredibly attractive and only amplified your feelings towards him). He liked showing you around, driving you around (which became common courtesy as you had admitted once that he looked sexy in his Porsche. Coincidence?). Would often times go to the grocery shop with you just so he could buy you whatever you wanted. He’d let you hold him by his two fingers, thick in girth, whenever you two decided to go for a walk at the park. He’d stroke your hair in bed, and at last, would always make sure you were safe and sound (for example: text you hourly whenever you were at a party or outside enjoying yourself with your friends, reminding he’s home alone waiting for you. Poor Leon, not even his favorite movies could keep him company anymore).

Without a doubt, to fall for Leon was no difficult feat to do. It was very easy, in fact, given that this man was a man, who gently nurtured and guided you through life and luckily, not at the expanse of your own intelligence, for example, to be downright insulted as so often was the case with men, unfortunately.

If we were to look behind the scenes though, Leon constantly debated himself over a predicament of his own making, that he was falling for a woman half his age. He couldn’t exactly pinpoint why it felt so wrong. Most definitely assured, the two decades of disparity drove a huge nudge. You were settling down in life, meanwhile Leon already had roughly thirty years of experience under his leather belt. Tough on the mental, for him, to say the least (asking himself daily what his colleagues would think of him were they ever to find out about it).

The need to be close to you was stronger, however, and it eventually won him over, so much so, that he ended up needing you as much as the very air to live and breathe, couldn’t believe you were this kind and stunning, also greatly emphasized: able to empathize with his struggle he was more than ashamed of (his alcohol addiction). How heartbreaking, for what it’s worth, Leon could have ended up way worse for what had to endure in his life. And you had told him that, more so, of how proud you were of him. Sadly, he wanted to keep you at distance to spare you. He didn’t want to hurt you, and purposefully ignored you for about three months.

After much consideration, he told himself screw it, allowing himself to let this all be, no matter what his brain had conspired against him to believe about you – or this relationship. And why wouldn’t he?

He was incredibly thankful you hadn’t given up on him. Having nearly missed out on a little angel like you was a near-miss of a nightmare vivid enough to leave him tossing and turning, wallowing in the sweat of his own self-sabotage. “Cuteness be damned, you do have a head on your shoulders, young lady”, he muttered under his breath with a sincere smile on his face the day he decided not to fight his very own whim to be with you.

With that being said, it was of no surprise that he let himself fall, truly fall, as in: curtains strung wide open for you to see Leon in all of his glory, for who he was, stripped bare and all. He was scared, free from pretense, wasn’t sure whether he was ready to receive love now, considering all he’d known was to care for other people. Nevertheless, he welcomed you to his world and his heart with open arms and hadn’t let go since.

Now, back to the picture.

So, what was the result?

Well, as indicated heretofore, your Daddy had a few consequences lined up for you in case you wanted to misbehave. Though he was very loving, he did discipline you. You knew very early on that certain things were strictly forbidden without Daddy’s permission, including saying the word “Daddy” out loud in public.

Well, little miss provocateur – you – had other things in mind.

Once, he took you out shopping, on the pretext of: needing new clothes himself, but secretly bought them to impress you, wanting to look dapper (yes, dapper, he said so himself). So, when your man – a replica akin to pure perfection – stepped out of the dressing room to show his black slacks (he was more than ready to buy), you complimented him with dreamy eyes, quote, “You look so handsome, Dad.”

Not Daddy. But Dad.

And that’s when things took a turn for the worse for Leon.

Objectively speaking, you had not overplayed your hand here. In all fairness, though, this was just another version of the original, if not the original itself (the paternal one), which, in all candor, wreaked havoc within him, spiraling his guilt out of control to such depths he wanted to resent you for it. You fed into his domineering manhood too much, pushing the envelope until his own mind started to drift off to places he desperately wished he could just forget.

He was, truthfully, at a loss for words here.

He couldn’t believe – well, that he liked –

Clearing his throat, Leon excused himself in front of the shop assistant, his cheeks burning brightly red he looked sunburnt at this point. The emotional concoction of – what was it? –embarrassment, anger and a heavily laden, forbidden lust that turned Leon’s mind into a wasteland with its last standing resident – him – giving in to the madness of his own prurient desires. At that moment, all he knew was this: he needed to escape the shopping mall as soon as possible.

To hell with changing, the price tag issued that sorting out this never-wracking fiasco was way more urgent. You bid your own endgame when you started giggling as he frantically dragged you out, back into his car – not the front, but the backseat (sealing your destiny) – where you were forced onto his lap, telling you to zip it and to listen to him carefully. Each leg of yours rested comfortably over his as you were spread wide open, your slick center turning all puffy and swollen as he imprinted his palm onto your mound, slapping you stupid, his questions leading an entire investigation, forcing you to explain yourself to him.

And that you did. For about an hour.

And this time, it wasn’t your center that had to deal with the result of your tomfoolery that knocked Leon out of his reasoning. No, it was your bare ass, panties dragged to your knees, as you were draped across his thighs like a blanket, a spanking following right up to meet you to remind you who was in charge here.

“Count it, girl,” he rasped, breathing raggedly as he soothed your skin that had been marked already upon the impact of his with veins riddled hand. “C’mon, be good for Daddy and let me hear it.”

“Ten,” you sniffled, regret creeping in until you were completely submerged. Leon had the stereotypical strength of every elderly man who’d spent decades doing manual labor, a very dense, functional strength, though you wouldn’t perceive at first glance (his statue did however support the presupposition). But you certainly felt it now, entirely at your Daddy’s mercy, forced to play the cards you’d been dealt – your fault, shoulders shrugged, mind you.

“Aw, poor baby,” he cooed condescendingly, rubbing your butt and smirking to himself. “Is my little girl crying, yes?”

“Yes,” you whined, wiggling your butt to flee from his grip but it transgressed into him growling out of pure frustration, his hand hitting you so hard you yelped, “I’m sorry, Dad!”

“Zip it,” he warned, bending over to get closer to your face, utilizing his other hand to grip your chin with no chance left to move anymore. “You know you’re not sorry. You were bad today, weren’t you?”

“No, Daddy,” you mewed, your lips jutting out into a pout. “I wasn’t. I only wanted to show you how much I missed you.”

“Yeah? And that involves sending naughty pictures to Daddy while he’s at work speaking to the fucking President of the United States, huh?” he seethed, his breath fanning over your cheek. “You never fucking learn, do ya?”

“I didn’t know!”

“Cut it out,” he countered angrily, another brutal smack landing on your perky buttocks. “Count it. C’mon.”

“Dada –“

“I said,” he groaned through his teeth, cutting you off, clean slices. “Fucking count it.”

Quite the curveball, but you couldn’t. The man in leather jackets, nursing his expensive whiskey, was done here, he was not having it with you anymore. Worse still, he absolutely loved seeing you like this. To be looked upon as a monumental person in your life was too satisfactory of a victory he had no intention of giving it up, ever. You were his baby, no questions asked, it was embedded into the ground like a cornerstone, and like a good father should, lay his girls foundation of the world by showing her what was right and what was wrong. Even if it meant it had to hurt a little.

“Aw, is it getting hard to speak?” he purred, kissing you featherily. “Let’s do simple math then, little lady. I know you’re smart. What’s one plus ten?”

“Eleven,” you quipped to his wit.

“There you go,” he chuckled warmly with half-lidded, lustful eyes. Then added all high and mighty: “See? You do listen when you want to. When there’s a will, there’s a way, sweetheart.”

“No more, Dada,” you pleaded, ignoring his fatherly non-sense, biting your bottom lip and looking him in the eye. “No more spanking.”

“Aw, it’s too much for you already?” Squeezing the plumpness of your ass, he grazed his lips over your skin, his stubble slightly tickling you. “But you’re gonna take it, no? You said you wanted to be good for me.”

“I am good, Papa! I am!”

“Well, guess what’s for dinner tonight, sweetheart?” he asked, a tone so cocky it almost played a wagging finger at you. And he didn’t let you guess either. “A big old slice of be-have-your self, and Daddy’s gonna make sure you leave the plate empty. Understood?”

“Your joke wasn’t funny, Daddy.”

“Oh, I know it wasn’t funny to you, sweetheart,” he snickered, very much amused at the wordplay at hand. “Especially not for what I have planned.”

“Wait,” you quivered panicky, but definitely understandable, considering Leon was able to play extremely dirty. “What?”

“Do you remember Henry?”

No two ways about it. You did.

Hook, line and sinker.

Thus, your throat went as dry as a well out of water. You gulped – well, tried to. It hurt, and while you could explain it, admitting what your Daddy was referring to was definitely too much of a shameful gamble. Before you met him, you had – let’s say – certain ways of satisfying your needs. These, a-hem, tools could vibrate, came in cute colors like pink or purple, and were available in different sizes. Well, Leon here, had found one while snooping around in your bedroom once. In lack of better words: it was an invasion of privacy, but not like he cared. He was looking out for you. Like a father should. Right. He was appalled at first, and, comically enough, had his ego bruised that you still kept one in your nightstand.

Until a bright idea flickered in his mind, that he could use it on you – to make you squirm, to make you moan, to make you cry, all while you were confined to the bed, unable to flee from the calamity. He made sure, no, Leon put you to a test of how well of a student you could be. Whatever you tried would be used as a weapon, turned against you, to tranquilize your maverick energy for his own benefit.

“Yes,” you whispered. “I do.”

“Well, our friend should come over tonight. Don’t you think?”

“No! No, please, no,” you begged, trying to kiss him now, but to no avail. He withdrew from your face.

“You don’t like Henry?” he asked innocently, pretending he was a real living and breathing human being. “Young lady, that’s not nice.”

“I don’t like Henry,” you whined. “I like you. I want you, Daddy.”

“’S that so, yeah?” Shifting his gaze back to your ass, he chuckled, “Well, I already called Henry. He’s coming over. No if and buts, dollface.”

“But –“

“I said, no if and buts. Hear me?”

your eyes widen at his request and heat rushes to your cheeks, much to leon’s amusement. you can’t help it though, knowing that he’s able to see right up your skirt at the flimsy panties you have on and the small damp spot that has definitely seeped into the fabric after you spent his entire lecture fantasising about him 

“how?” you whisper, feeling utterly filthy as your hand brushes up the inside of one of your thighs. tiny little bumps scatter over your skin with the soft touch and it sends a shiver right down your spine towards your already aching cunt, causing you squirm on the spot with anticipation

you know how to touch yourself but something tells you that it won't be as simple as he's letting on. leon touches you like you're his, like he owns you. he bruises you, marks you—always leaves you coming back for more—nothing is ever that simple with him and he confirms your suspicions straight away 

“slowly—i’m gonna talk you through it,” he grunts and he leans forwards to slide his hand under the hem of your skirt before he flips it upwards to properly expose your clothed pussy, “leave them on, wanna see 'em soaked,” he says, eyeing your already very wet panties with fervor

the material sticks to your body, contouring and outlining your cunt from your perky little clit right down to your steadily dripping hole but you’re not struggling on your own because leon is failing to hide the thick bulge that's straining against the zipper of his pants as he grinds the palm of his hand over it

your own hand—the one that isn’t disappearing high up between your thighs—presses into the surface of the desk allowing you to lean back as your fingertips begin to ghost over your clit, prompting a current to fizzle up your spine and bathe your body in the sweetest kind of pleasure 

“oh god,” you whisper, jaw slack and frowning slightly. your cunt clenches feebly around nothing while you go around in even circles that have a never ending wave of slick spilling from your hole, “l-like this, is this what you want?” you ask when you look up at leon, only to find him undoing his belt in a hurry

it’s wrong—so wrong—that you’re searching for praise from your professor. it’s addictive though, leon is addictive. he’s handsome and smart, much older than yourself and you can’t get enough of him and, well, he’s always so willing to praise you when you’re doing what he asks of you 

“yeah—good girl,” he groans and bucks his hips upwards to shove his slacks down his thick thighs. his cock frees itself of its confines in the blink of an eye, standing stiff and leaking profusely as he takes it into his fist and starts to jerk himself off lazily, “keep up with me,” 

you nod before you really realise that you’re doing it. you’re too busy ogling him and wishing that he would just lay you down and sink into your heat—fuck you well and good and take his frustrations out on you—but, you find yourself nodding and trying your best to do as he says anyway

leon makes no attempt to speed up or slow down his movements right away though, leaving the room to fill with the noise of your stuttered gasps and his rough grunts while it remains slow and drawn out. it’s not enough but too much all at the same time, the entire situation, his words, your fingers, everything makes you throb

more. you need more and until leon makes that decision for you, you’re stuck with less. you consider begging—he’d probably love that—but before you can blurt anything out, his fist shifts over his cock faster. it’s barely noticeable and maybe you’re just imagining it but you swirl your fingertips faster too

heat blossoms in the pit of your stomach and reaches right to the end of every single one of your nerves over the slight change. your eyes snap shut and the tip of your tongue gets trapped in a pinch between your lips all while your thighs twitch and stick together momentarily 

you’re soaked now, sticky over the soft skin of your thighs and you’re not sure that your panties could get any wetter if you tried. the fabric has darkened and the friction of it against your clit starts to become overwhelming, forcing scratchy whimpers from the back of your throat as you wince

“take ‘em off now,” leon hisses as he swipes the pad of his thumb over his slit. you don’t ask how he knows what you were about to ask or how he was able to pick up on your discomfort before you did, you just do as he says and store your questions away in the back of your mind for later 

hooking your thumbs under the straps of your panties, you shove them down your legs frantically. cool air rushes over your pussy and causes you to shiver as you kick your feet in an attempt to free your underwear from your ankles but in a flash, leon reaches out and snatches them up

he balls them up into his free hand, groaning internally when he feels how damp they are and then he drags open a drawer on his desk with a dull creak and drops your panties right into it before he slams it shut, “let me see that pretty little cunt, show her off to me,” he orders—as if he didn’t just steal your lingerie 

it takes a second for your brain to process what you just saw him do but when he grunts impatiently, you move. the sole of your shoe squeaks against the edge of his desk as you pull one of your legs up until your cheek is almost grazing your knee and you’re spread wide, just for his viewing pleasure 

you study him carefully, watching while his tongue darts across his bottom lip like he’s hungry for what he’s seeing. his cock tenses against his palm with want and blurts out a generous dribble of precome that slides down his length and over his knuckles, adding to the sheen that’s already there 

gently, you use two fingers to stretch yourself even wider. a singular wet sound fills the otherwise quiet room as your needy hole pulls taut and the pool of slick that was building just inside of you starts to spill over and gush until it’s dripping into a little puddle on the top of his desk

it’s not the first time you’ve made a mess there—and it probably won’t be the last—but it doesn’t feel any less dirty, even though you know that leon will reassure you later that it’s completely fine and it definitely won’t create a stain, right before he murmurs that he wouldn’t even mind if it did anyway

“fucking hell—tease her,” leon growls, still focused on the futile clench of your pussy and the shiny trails that paint across your skin, “don’t touch inside—not yet—tease her like i do,” he adds and unfortunately for you, you know exactly what he means by that and exactly what he wants to see

the same two fingers that were baring your cunt for him slip lower and trace around the outside of your entrance at a pace that matches the stroke of leon's fist over his cock. you moan wantonly at the contact to where you’ve been needing it most this entire time and that seems to spur leon on

“faster angel, rub it—uh huh—like that,” he groans and squeezes lightly at his heavy balls with his free hand when you don’t need to be told twice. your fingertips drag desperate circles around your glistening hole, making your muscles tense and your hips roll in search for more, “lemme see how wet your fingers are,”

once again, you don’t need to be told twice but you whimper at the loss of contact while you hold your hand up in the space between your bodies. strings of slick connect your two digits, hanging and snapping as you part your fingers and then press them back together over and over again 

“i want—no, need—more, sir,” you whisper and bat your lashes, knowing full well that calling him that will get you anything you want. leon is weak to it but only when it’s tumbling from the tip of your tongue and riddled with an innocence that you know he can’t ever say no to, “please,” you whine, for good measure

leon’s composure slips, just like you expected it to. his hips jerk and send his cock through his fist at a rate that makes his teeth audibly grind together, “shit—fuck—yeah, okay, just one finger though,” he grumbles the last half of his sentence when you giggle over getting the better of him and getting what you wanted out of it 

“thank you, sir,” you quip and earn yourself a quick glare for it before his eyes flicker to where your middle finger is already sinking into the tight clutch of your body, eliciting a whimper to scratch in your throat as your head tips back and your teeth sink into your bottom lip

your walls squeeze around you, wet and soft, sucking your finger deeper in a moment of greed. your chest rises and falls in whiny pants while you draw your finger out slowly and then slide it back in. truthfully, it doesn’t feel half as good as when leon does it but it does the job when you’re so wound up 

the spring in your stomach winds, pulling at your spine until it arches enough to press that soft little spot that’s deep inside of you into the pad of your finger, “oh my god,” you shudder and indulge yourself in the feeling, rubbing ever so gently over it in the way that leon taught you how to 

“feel good?” leon asks roughly. his chair starts to creak monotonously and it piques your interest, bringing your half lidded gaze to him. the noise is caused by his hips jackrabbiting upwards, fucking his cock through his own hold with reckless abandon while you nod at him, “yeah, i bet it does sweetheart,” 

his words make you gasp and before you know it, you’re plunging your finger into your body to keep up with him. it feels impossible to even try, his hand is flying over his length with filthy slick sounds that echo the ones coming from between your thighs but you’re moving on pure instinct and it feels just right

“fucking—god—prettiest little thing i’ve ever seen,” leon groans and maintains a level of eye contact that makes your face burn red. he’s not interested in watching you fuck yourself right now. no—he wants to see pleasure painting across your face, the twitch of your brows and the silent oh that your lips gets stuck in

it’s depraved in its purpose, meant to make you feel like you’re putting on a show for him and you are. the more you think about it, the more your pleasure seems to build with him watching and getting himself off to you—like he’s unable to fulfill that need when you’re not around to satiate it 

any words that you want to say, curses or begs for something you don’t even know that you want yet, die somewhere between the air in your lungs and your mouth. cotton wool fills the free space in your head, suffocating your brain so that there’s only leon and a sense of euphoria swimming through your veins

but, of course, leon knows that. he’s smart, academically and seemingly when it comes to you. it’s as if he can see your thoughts, your desires, and they must be enticing enough because within the space of a rather sluggish blink of your lashes, he goes from sitting in his chair to hovering right up over you 

his free hand winds around your throat, not pressing but just holding you while he forces you to look up at him. your eyes soften with him right there, you can feel it happen and you can’t find it in yourself to be even the slightest bit embarrassed about it as tears start to prick at your waterlines 

“my favourite angel,” leon sighs as he dips closer to lick along your bottom lip. he’s not kissing you, more just marking you than anything else, “gonna add another finger for me—give her what she wants before i do?” he hums, smirking something awful as you react to the fact that he’s going to fuck you afterwards

“yes—ohmyfuckinggod—yes,” you cry out and start to work a finger alongside your middle one before your body is prepared for it. the ache is welcomed though, the stretch is delicious, and if you weren’t struggling to think, you’d wonder how leon always knows when you’re ready for more 

however, more can’t come soon enough for you. under leon’s heavy gaze and with his fingers stroking softly over the sides of your neck, paired with you being able to fuck yourself properly—finally—your orgasm starts to simmer throughout every part of your body 

you’ve never been able to make yourself come like this, not this fast. leon can and he always does, whether it’s over his tongue, because of his fingers or around his cock. he can push you to the edge and right off of it before you can even realise it’s happening and now, he’s doing it without really touching you at all

somewhere distant it registers in your mind that he’s stopped touching himself too. he has a hand around your neck, his thumb brushing over your drooly chin, and his other hand slides over yours where it’s pressed into his desk, his fingers intertwine with yours and it’s because of that simple gesture that you’re done for 

tears slide down your cheeks and sobs rip through your body. you’re incapable of doing anything that isn’t ruining yourself for leon’s entertainment. you try to tell him that you need to come, that you’re going to come but nothing comes out that he can understand—or, so you think

“you’re gonna come, huh?” he asks, his voice dripping with warmth and honey but he doesn’t give you a chance to answer before he’s teasing, “oh my sweet girl, already?” he pauses to lean in and kiss the tip of your nose, “just needed it so badly—i know—you can come for me angel,” 

on the next thrust of your fingers, a fire unleashes in your stomach. white bursts behind your eyelids as you clench them shut and then fireworks explode to replace the white, hot, sensation. you’re choking on your moans, stuck halfway between crying and trying to scream, which leon fixes in an instant 

his lips slot over yours like he was made for you, swallowing your noises and coercing you to breathe whilst he mumbles soft praises that you can’t distinguish against your mouth. heaviness overtakes your limbs, your fingers practically fall out of your wrecked pussy with a wet pop before you sag in leon’s hold 

the coolness of his desk brings another chill to your skin as he lays you down carefully and slots himself between your thighs. his large hands grasp at the back of your thighs and his fingertips dimple into your sweat and slick damp skin as he pushes your knees towards your chest

he half smiles and half smirks down at you when you blink up at him through tear soaked lashes. he’s in a far better mood than he was when you started, which means that you’ve done your job perfectly and now, as the blunt head of his cock starts to split you open, it’s time for him to do his

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