Scribble Evil Reposts

Hendrick was familiar with sex work, of course. Although, he could never privy prostitutes; the expectation, the skinship. The frustration. It was too much.

But you, you were perfect. Just out of reach. Painfully delectable. Of course, he had all the resources in reach to find you, keep you. If he wanted to. Only he didn’t, the screen was a nice precaution. It’s a lot easier to pretend when you can’t see him, debase himself behind the screen, and once your sessions over, he’ll be the director once again. A doctor, a professional. 

He curses under his breath, painfully pushing his nail back on his desk in anticipation. The private session should be starting soon. And before he can kick the screen off in frustration, there you are. 

Like a heel lifted off his chest, Hendrick feels like he can breathe again; you ignite in him something akin to want, the realization nearly makes him nauseous. Despite the lurching in his stomach, he’s very aware of the tightness in his loins. 

You’re in a more delicate get up this time; soft and lacey, with socks riding up to your knee, ribbons dancing along the hem. 

“Hi, hi. I ran into some, uh, technical complications. How are you, Doctor?” 

SpyderILamb: How darling of you to ask. I’m doing fine.

SpyderILamb: And what did I tell you about calling me Doctor? 

A smile stretches on your face, a meek giggle sounding past his screen. “Oh, I’m sorry, Daddy.” Positioning yourself on your back, Easterman gets a delicious view of your delicates, so teasingly hidden behind white lace. “Is that better?”

SpyderILamb: My name would’ve been just fine. Although, I’m not so opposed to being your Daddy. 

SpyderILamb: I do take care of you, don’t I?

“Mm, yes. Yes you do.” You stutter, a sigh breaking past your lips. He does take care of you. Good care of you. In fact, when he first became your top donor, you were almost concerned. He’d been tipping leagues past what your previous top donors could. There couldn’t be any competition. Finding out he was a doctor alleviated some of that worry, at least his job paid well, you’d be burdened with guilt otherwise. 

You’ve had a taste for the finer things, thanks to him. He had you living comfortably, you figured, it’d be nice to treat him, too. Private sessions with Doctor. Easterman quickly became an arrangement - and not that he’d ever admit it to himself, but it’d become something he damn near needed to function.

He sighs, palming his groin. Applying more and more pressure, slowly. Slowly. 

SpyderILamb: Feeling shy, Lamb? 

“Maybe.” Through the soft lace of your underwear, you gently rub at your clit. Hips bucking up in want. “I’m not really sure.” 

SpyderILamb: Sweet, lost Lamb. I can be your shepherd. 

SpyderILamb: Do you need me? Tell me you need me. 

“I need you, please.” You sob, a broken noise lost between a sigh and a giggle. “Tell me what to do, Daddy.” 

SpyderILamb: So desperate. 

SpyderILamb: You can touch yourself. Do it slow.

Easterman winces, the tip of his cock flushing red from how tight he’s gripping it. He wishes he could be there, touching you. Doing the touching for you. A limp doll to tease and touch and mold. To take care of. He’d run his fingers over yours, guiding you to please yourself nice and slow. 

He watches, the tension in his eyebrows nearly painful when he squints. Iron coating his tongue when he bites at his lip. He watches you pull your panties aside to touch yourself. Focused in on your fingers as they sink into warm wetness. Your other hand coming down to play with your clit. 

If only he were there. He would leave no inch of skin unattended, nothing untouched. He’s nothing if not thorough. It would be ecstasy. It would be torture. 

SpyderILamb: Beautiful.

SpyderILamb: You can speed up now, Lamb. I know what you like.  

You’re mumbling to yourself, a picture of madness, slurring thank you’s and need you’s. A beautiful spiral. 

From the corner of your screen, he can see your toys readily laid out on a towel. It looks almost surgical. 

The sounds of your slick ring out in his ears. A familiar, thick wet sound he’s heard in piles of guts and bodies, only with you it’s different. Delicious. A different sadism.

SpyderILamb: So wet. Sounds like you’re ready.

SpyderILamb: Well? don’t keep me waiting.

“Yes, yes. I’m sorry, Doctor.”

Hendrick sighs, shaking his head as if you could see him. He ought to be more firm. 

SpyderILamb: Silly girl.

“Daddy. I’m so sorry, Daddy.”

If only. If only, if only. If he were a better man; he’d have you here. His darling girl, bent over his lap. He’d show you some strongarm. Teach you discipline the way you need it.

I have to get my shit together, he thinks.

SpyderILamb: Father forgives you. 

SpyderILamb: Go ahead and make yourself feel good. Make Daddy proud.

He watches as you pick up your dildo. A smaller variety from your collection that Hendrick had chosen to accommodate to his…grievances. It still did the job, no less.

His own cock is twitching, dripping with pre despite a lack of any stimulation. He’s content simply suffocating himself. His fist still squeezing near the tip. Restraint is good. 

Tremors run down your spine as you tease yourself, pushing the dildo past your hole and bumping it against your clit. Sometimes, you try to picture him; Doctor. Easterman. Each and every time he only comes to you in a blur.

Darkness eating at the corners of your eyes, a glimpse of gloves and a metallic tang in your mouth. He never told you what kind of doctor he was. You’re never given enough to come to a conclusion. Only that he’s loaded and has an odd fixation with being your Daddy; taking care of you, guiding you and the suchlike.

Despite everything he leaves unanswered. He’s decent. Nice. You might even say you like him. 

Easterman pulls his fist back, watching as his cock twitches at the slightest brushes of cold air. You whimper each time the rubber tip bumps your clit. So sensitive. Following your lead, Easterman rubs the slit of his tip. Tempted to taste himself on his pointer finger: no doubt, it’d be the taste of defeat.

He can’t believe himself. He displayed more restraint pissing in potted plants. This was beneath him. 

He grits his teeth as you finally sink it in, a broken grunt tearing from his throat as you moan. He pumps himself, agonizingly slow, squeezing himself tight and then tighter. 

SpyderILamb: Wonderful.

You keen at his praise, smiling at your screen as you continue to fuck yourself on rubber. Angling it just right to push against that sweet, gummy spot inside of you. “You’re so good to me, Daddy. Always taking care of me.”

Easterman chuckles in self-satisfaction, stroking himself just a bit faster. 

“Am I making you feel good? Daddy?”

SpyderILamb: Of course. This is the best I’ve felt in a long time. 

You seem almost dizzy at his praise, your head lolled back where he can briefly make out your lips breaking out between a smile and an open moan. “I’m so glad. I wanna take care of you, too.” 

You spread your legs apart wider so your fingers have more room to roam, finding your clit. The added stimulation churns more heat in your lower stomach. 

Hendrick can’t help himself when his hips buck up to meet his fist, a poor caricature of a warm and waiting hole. Your warm and waiting hole. He’s stuck wishing as he follows your pace. More blood pooling on his tongue the harder he bites down on the skin of his lip.

“I’m so close, Daddy. Fuck- Are you gonna cum? Wanna cum with you.” You whine, the hand pumping the rubber into you stuttering the more you approach release.

SpyderILamb: yes

SpyderILamb: m getimg there.

You giggle to yourself. He’s lost himself, you’re sure of it. “Fuck- Cum with me, Daddy.” 

Behind the screen, Hendrick nearly sobs. Fucking his one fist while the knuckles of the other dig into the tender skin of his forehead. Pain and pleasure. 

He finishes with you, the symphony of your sobs and whines are tuned out by his own heartbeat in his ears. 

“Did- Did you cum? Daddy?” Hendrick looks back up to see you pouting at your camera, a pool of your own slick dripping out of your pussy and onto the towel beneath you. “I'd be so sad if you didn’t.”

SpyderILamb: I did. Thank you.

SpyderILamb: You were wonderful. 

“Thank you, Daddy.” You grin. Sitting back up, you sigh as you lay back down on your stomach. Batting your lashes back up at your webcam. “I’ll be seeing you again at the same time next week hopefully.” 

SpyderILamb: Rest assured, you’ll be hearing from me again, Lamb. 

SpyderILamb: I had a lovely time. Alas, work calls.

“I understand, Doc- Daddy. If it ever gets too much for you, you could always send me a private message.” 

SpyderILamb: I’ll keep that in mind.

SpyderILamb: Goodbye, for now.

The sound of him slamming his screen down is resounding. He picks up a cigarette, his pants still around his ankles. The smoke filling his lungs.

He shakes, pressing the cigarette into the skin of his inner thigh. Sizzling, burnt flesh overriding his senses. This is a new feeling, entirely.