My Sugar Daddy With a Twist. Part 5.

Part 5

She spun me around with her mouth against mine. Her kiss was all teeth and tongue, demanding, consuming. I melted into her, my hands squeezing my crutches, she pushed me backward until my back hit the cold metal of the lockers.

Her hands were everywhere, caressing my breasts through the thin fabric, pinching my nipples until I cried out, then soothing the sting with her tongue as she kissed her way down my neck. “You taste like sin,” she growled, nipping at my collarbone. “I’ve wanted to do this since you walked in here with that innocent little smile and those perfect long legs.”

“Not now, not yet…Come with me Vivian” Kent ordered.

The locker room door swung open and I wobbled. The cast was heavier than I’d expected, smooth pink fiberglass from my painted toes all the way up to my thigh, locking my leg in a rigid, slightly bent angle at the knee but unyielding. My right foot was bare except for a single white Nike sneaker, the laces tied tight, the contrast almost mocking.

Kent’s hand settled on the small of my back, his fingers splaying possessively over the curve of my spine. I took a step.

The crutches dug into my palms, the rubber tips squeaking against the tile. The cheerleading uniform, God, the uniform, was obscenely tight, the spandex top compressing my breasts and nipples, the skirt so short it barely grazed the top of my cast. Every shift of my hips made the fabric ride higher, exposing the smooth, bare skin of my right thigh.

Kent watched, I could tell he was turned on sexually as I struggled to balance.

“You look amazing,” he said, the word curling like smoke from his lips. “Like a fantasy doll. My broken fetish doll.”

I swallowed, my throat dry. The hallway stretched endlessly ahead, doors lining the walls, any one of them potentially hiding spectators. My face burned at the thought, what if someone saw me like this?

But Kent didn’t care. He wanted them to see.

“Faster,” he urged, his hand sliding lower, fingers brushing the curve of my ass, rubbing. 

“The team’s waiting.” I bit my lip, adjusting my grip on the crutches. The cast floating inches off the floor.

“No weight on it, remember? Or you lose your reward.” I didn’t answer. I couldn’t. The gymnasium doors loomed ahead, the muffled sounds of chatter. Kent leaned in, his lips brushing the shell of my ear.

“Ready to perform, sweetheart?”

The doors swung open. And I stepped into the light. The fluorescent lights of the high school gymnasium hummed overhead, casting a glow over the polished wooden floor. I adjusted the crutches under my arms, the rubber tips squeaking slightly as I shifted my weight. 

The gym was deserted except for a small group of older men sitting in chairs watching us, well watching me I guess. The lights flickered once, twice, then plunged us into absolute darkness.

"Kent? Where the hell are you?" My voice bounced off the bleachers, sharp with faux annoyance, but my pulse was already racing.  My fingers tighten around the crutches. 

"Not funny, you don’t want me to fall and break my leg?" I snapped, though my nipples hardened beneath the thin fabric of my uniform. The blackness was suffocating, the silence deafening and the danger in the dark on crutches was such a turned on sexually until....

Hands.

Fingers brushed my waist, light as feathers, tracing the hem of my top before sliding beneath to graze my bare stomach. I gasped, arching into the touch instinctively. "Kent!" My voice was breathier now, the fear morphing into something darker, hungrier. His laugh was a low rumble in the dark, his breath hot against my ear as he finally spoke.

"You followed me so well, princess. Now let’s see how well you can balance without these." His fingers closed around the handles of my crutches, yanking them away with a sharp tug. I yelped as my balance faltered, arms windmilling before I caught myself on one leg, the cast heavy but off the polished gym floor. 

The sudden vulnerability sent a jolt of arousal through me, my vagina clenching around nothing. "Fuck you," I panted, but there was no real venom in it.

His chuckle was dark, triumphant. "Oh, we’ll get there." The sound of his shoes scuffing against the floor circled me, his presence a phantom in the black. Then his hands were back, this time gripping my hips, spinning me until my back pressed against something solid, the pommel horse, its leather cool against my bare thigh. 

My fingers dug into the surface looking for support, knuckles white. "You’re trembling," he murmured, his lips licking my ear. 

"Is it the dark? Or is it me?"

I swallowed hard, my voice barely a whisper. "Both."

His teeth grazed my neck, sending a shiver down my spine. "Good." One hand slid up, palming my breast through the thin fabric, his thumb finding my nipple and rolling it until it ached. I moaned, my head falling back against his shoulder as his other hand slipped beneath my skirt…

"You’re soaked already," he growled, pushing two fingers inside me, rubbing slow, torturous circles over my clitoris. My hips jerked, seeking more pressure, but he pulled back. "Patience, baby. We’re just getting started."

The darkness made every touch electric, every sound amplified. The wet noise of his fingers working me, my breath coming in ragged gasps. "Please, give me at least one crutch for support." I whimpered, my nails scraping against the leather beneath me. 

His lips crashed onto mine, his kiss demanding. His tongue plunged into my mouth, his fingers slipping back inside me without warning. I cried out into his mouth, clenching around his fingers as he curled them, finding that spot that made my one knee buckle.

Part 6 to come
Ashley

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