by Writing Shark
You meet your master
Your little Gemma still can’t believe it, even as you’re already walking through the huge halls of the airport on the way to the executive lounge of the airline that will take you to Lynden Pindling Airport in Nassau. Maybe it’s because of her young excitement, you keep having to grin when she almost falls over. Gemma is actually walking in front of you, excited like a little puppy in a new environment and not yet used to the fact that she’s going to give birth in a few months. Again she almost sinks to her knees and turns to you with red cheeks and a suppressed but manic grin. You shake your head slightly and grin.
Her behavior is probably more due to the big – maybe a little too big – and strong – definitely too strong – wireless vibrator egg that you stuck in her already overflowing pussy this morning. With one hand casually in your pocket, you watch Gemma and whenever your little princess moves too far away from you, you send her almost to the ground with a signal on your cell phone and a hard vibration in her young body.
“Daddy…” she gasps and grins at you. “Stop that.” You casually step next to her and wait until she stands up on shaky legs.
“Are you back talking?” Your little girl looks at you as if you were speaking in a foreign language.
“Should I take off my clothes so you can fuck me here, Daddy?” She is serious and with amazement and a good portion of satisfaction you see that the news that she is carrying life is causing Gemma to behave differently. And you have to admit, it is refreshing to see how Gemma behaves like her big sisters in certain situations. “Please don’t be mad at me, Daddy. My head is not so good.” But she is still your little, submissive fuck princess. She purrs like a cat as your fingers stroke her hair.
“Gate 12” is all you say and push your girl in front of you. Eyes follow you from different directions but neither of you pays attention. You are in your own world. Just a father who leads his overeager daughter through the airport without losing his head. But you are so much more and you have to admit, Alice is right, as she is always right. Your fingers itch to order Gemma to lie over one of the luggage carts or one of the waiting benches, to take your cock out of your pants and show the world what a powerful man you are. And Gemma feels the same way. While the vibrations makes her body tremble, she looks around, caught in a beautiful fever dream that never seems to end, subject to her daddy, body, mind and soul, and just waiting for a sign, a nod, a gesture from you that shows her that she should pay homage to her God-given task.
“I want to suck your cock soooo bad, Daddy,” she whispers, not even looking at you. Maybe it’s just the same reaction an animal would have, overwhelmed by the new surroundings, but your hand around her shoulders calms her down a little as you lead her to check in.
The lady behind the counter smiles kindly at Gemma as she looks at your passports. It’s good to live in such a powerful country as you do, your status grants you special courtesy on the world stage.
“So you’re going to Nassau?” the lady asks your daughter. “You must be very excited already.” Gemma, very well behaved, looks at you and waits quietly for permission to say something in your presence. Vibrations in her pussy or not, Gemma knows her place and enjoys the freedom you’ve given her even more carefully than Elise or Alice do.
“Answer the nice lady, Gemma,” you say and put your arm tighter around her, your hand on her skin.
“I’m already very excited and grateful for my dahahaha…” You and the lady blink questioningly at Gemma while you support her light body. Your other hand is still in your pocket.
“She’s a bit shy,” you grin at the woman who would certainly look sexy without her uniform. There are either bomshells or old witches here, this is good fuck meat.
“Sorry,” Gemma mumbles and gets back up. Her hair is slightly disheveled and the lady at the counter mumbles worriedly. Then she looks at you.
“We have a doctor here if you…”
“It’s okay,” Gemma says, getting ahead of you. “It’s probably better on the plane.” The lady doesn’t believe her. “Do you perhaps have a cabin that’s just for the two of us?” You have to grin, the promise of first class sales distracts the lady from the slight trembling that Gemma always goes through when she notices that an orgasm is approaching.
“That’s really expensive, darling,” you say, wanting to see how Gemma reacts to your games. She’s not as sophisticated as Alice and not as depraved as Elise but…
“But Dadyhyhy…” she grumbles and presses herself against you, her shin pressing against your crotch. “This is my first flight and I’m scared if I can’t sit on your lap.”
Gemma? Is that you? But you like what you see. And you like the struggle on the face of the lady behind the counter while the suspicion that Gemma could be a little whore competes with the hope that here is a good father with his well-behaved daughter. Both apply to both of you.
“I can’t say no to you, Gemma Princess,” you say, stroking her hair while your daughter smiles at the lady behind the counter.
Of course, money isn’t an issue, and soon you’ve made it through first class check in and security. Here, however, your heart almost stopped.
You may fuck all your daughters and have a bunch of slaves and whores under your command, but even you don’t mess with the almighty TSA. You’re not a madman who challenges the gods of the airport.
“Ma’am, please step out of line.”
So your heart almost stops when the metal detector goes off on Gemma and she is waved out of the line. The egg? That can’t be. Not so deep in her body. Or did she take it out and not put it on the conveyor belt? Images dance in your mind’s eye of you beating your princess’s ass black and blue for this stupidity. Then you see yourself in prison and when the TSA agent runs the search rod over her body… the device goes off between her breasts.
“No metal objects are allowed on your body, ma’am,” says the god of the TSA imperiously and you see Gemma’s shoulders shrug in shock. Or not so much shock, you see.
What… the… Is she having an orgasm? You know your princess and yes… your girl comes in front of the overweight officer like a little whore, shaking and oaning suppressed and then…
“Ma’am, I…” You’re there quickly as Gemma starts crying bitterly in the middle of the line of grumpy people.
“I’m soho…horyhy…hy…” she sobs bitterly and tears run down her cheeks as she comes again. You don’t understand the world anymore and put your fatherly arms around Gemma.
“I’m here princess” you whisper to her and the man with the beeping thing (even you don’t know everything) looks at you embarrassed.
“I ha… have dissap…disap… You are mad at me… Daaaadyyyy…” Gemma throws herself at you and presses herself against your chest and this is one of the few moments in which even you don’t know what to do anymore.
“She’s pregnant” you explain to the TSA agent without having a plan while Gemma’s tears wet your shirt. “It caught her completely off guard and I wanted to do something nice for her after… you know…”
“I understand…” the man grins and bends down to Gemma. “I’m sorry, little lady, for treating you like an adult.” Gemma defiantly wipes the tears from her face.
“I’m an adult,” she pouts. “Or… no…” She looks at you. “Daddy?”
“We’ll talk about it later,” you say and almost panic again. Your God, the man you’ve met, waves you on with a grin while the people in the row behind you stare at you.
“Daughters. I know that. It’s good that you don’t abort it. A child can change lives for the better.” You react entirely on your own, no plan, no approach.
“It’s a gift.” You stroke Gemma’s head lovingly while she hugs you. “It will do her good. And I’ll take care of her.”
“You’re a good father,” says the agent.
“Thank you, Sir,” you say and are waved on.
“Daddy, what was that just now?” Gemma asks quietly as you weakly make your way into the VIP suite and wait for your flight. “Are you angry with me?” You don’t care how many people are watching. You grab Gemma by the arm and pull her onto your lap. With her face towards you. Her tear-filled eyes look at you.
“You’re a perfect daughter to me,” you say quietly and wipe away her tears. Gemma smiles. “And we have a whole week to punish you sufficiently for the two orgasms.” Gemma smiles even more.
Writing Shark 