Secret Toy. He uses me however he wants!

I never imagined I would become this. A woman who melts at the sound of an order, who feels her body pulsate with the pain of a slap, who longs to be used, reduced to an object of pleasure. But here I am, on my knees, naked, my heart racing as I wait for him. My friend's father. The man who turned me into his secret little whore.

It all started with Lucas, my college friend. He was sweet, handsome, with that awkward charm that made me accept coffee, then dinner, and soon we were dating. But sex with him was... lukewarm. Gentle kisses, predictable touches, always so respectful. I wanted more, something I couldn't even name at the time. A hunger that grew inside me, but that he never satisfied. We ended up without drama, becoming friends. He invited me to dinner at his parents' house, and I went, because I enjoyed his company and the welcoming family.

It was on one of these visits that I met Eduardo, Lucas's father. He was about 50 years old, with gray hair at his temples, piercing eyes that seemed to dissect me. Tall, with a presence that occupied the room. When he shook my hand for the first time, I felt goosebumps. His voice was deep, firm, and he looked at me for too long, as if he knew something about me that I didn't know.

Lucas's mother, Clara, was lovely. She treated me like her son’s “girlfriend”, even after he and I broke up. Little did she know that, while she served cake in the living room, Eduardo began to discover me in the dark corners of the house.

The first spark came at some dinner. I was in the kitchen, washing dishes to help, when he came in. “You don't have to do this, girl,” he said, but there was a commanding tone in his voice. I laughed nervously and continued. He got closer, so close that I felt the heat of his body. “You like to obey, don’t you?” she whispered, and my entire body responded before my mind did: her hot face, her nipples hardening under her blouse. He noticed, of course. His eyes trailed down my body, and he smiled, a predatory smile.

After that, everything changed. He found ways to corner me. A surreptitious touch on the waist as he passed me. A comment about how “good I looked in a skirt”. I should have walked away, but the truth is I wanted more. I wanted to know how far he would go. As far as I would go.

Their first real meeting took place one night when Clara was out visiting her sister. Lucas invited me to study at their house, but he ended up sleeping early, exhausted. I stayed in the room, reviewing notes, when Eduardo appeared. “You’re a good girl, aren’t you?” he said, sitting next to me, so close that his thigh touched mine. I shivered, but didn't move away. “Answer,” he ordered, and my voice was weak: “Yes, sir.”

He laughed softly, and then his hand was on my neck, not squeezing, just holding, as if testing my reaction. “You want to be mine, don’t you?” he asked, and I nodded, unable to lie. He pulled me by my hair, firmly, and kissed me with a hunger that left me dizzy. He wasn't gentle like Lucas. It was rough, demanding, and I melted.

That night he took me upstairs to his office. He locked the door and told me to take off my clothes. I obeyed, shaking with nervousness and excitement. He looked at me as if I were a work of art, but also prey. “On your knees,” he said, and I fell, feeling the rough carpet against my skin. He opened his pants, and I knew what was coming. When he guided me to his cock, holding my head, I felt a wave of shame mixed with desire. I wanted to please him. I wanted to be good.

“You’re just a little whore, aren’t you?” he murmured as I sucked, and those words hit me like an electric shock. I moaned, feeling my own wetness drip between my legs. He laughed, pulling my hair harder. “Look how much you like that.”

He used me that night. He bent me over the table, fucked me hard, each thrust accompanied by a slap on the ass that made me gasp. He called me a slut, a toy, and I loved every second of it. When I came, with him still holding me by my wrists, I felt something break inside me. A barrier I didn't even know existed.

After that, I became your secret. He would send me messages when Clara wasn't home, and I would run to him. Sometimes it was quick: he would order me to suck him in the car, in the college parking lot, while he moaned and told me how perfect I was for it. Other times, he would take me to the basement of the house, where no one went, and tie me up with ropes that he kept in a box. He hit me with a belt, with his hand, and every burn on my skin made me beg for more. He humiliated me, made me repeat that I was his little whore, that I existed only for his pleasure. And I obeyed, because it was true.

Clara never suspected. She hugged me, said I was “a sweet girl”. Meanwhile, Eduardo fucked me in the laundry room, with the door locked, telling me to stay quiet so as not to wake anyone. I felt dirty, but also alive. He gave me what I needed: the pain, the submission, the feeling of being completely possessed.

Sometimes I wondered if I should stop. He was married, after all. But then he would call me, and his deep voice would say, “Come now, my little whore,” and I would forget everything. I was his. A toy. And, for the first time, I felt complete.