Chapter 11

Chapter 11

Jasmine

Jafar grabs me behind my knees and drags me to the edge of the bed. I fight, need spiking every time he overpowers me. He flips me onto my stomach and jerks me half off the bed so my toes barely touch the ground. He kicks my feet wide and steps between my thighs before I can close them. I curse and wriggle, but he’s got me pinned by the back of the neck before I can move an inch. “Sloppy, baby girl. You gave me more of a fight last time.”

“Fuck you!”

He rips my dress up the back, baring me from the waist down, and delivers a stinging slap to first one cheek and then the other. “The proper response is ‘Fuck you, Daddy.’”

“Fuck you, Daddy.” It doesn’t come out as sharp as I’d like. Instead, it’s dangerously close to a moan. In my current position, I’m helpless. I can’t touch the floor enough to leverage myself away, not with my legs spread like this. Not with his hand on the back of my neck, pressing down just enough that I can’t escape.

“You’ve been bad, baby girl.” He delivers another stinging slap to my ass, the spike of pain shooting directly to my clit. “I should put you over my knee for that alone.”

“You wouldn’t dare!” Do it.

His dark laugh is my only answer. “You keep telling me no, but your pussy is telling me yes.” He shoves two fingers into me, not easing me into it. I cry out. I can’t help it. Just like I can’t help spreading my legs wider yet and arching my back to offer myself to him. To allow him deeper. His thumb presses against my ass, a pressure that makes me freeze on instinct. “Do you know what I thought about when I saw you walking in the halls of your father’s house?”

Oh god.

“I don’t want to know.” I should have realized how it would go when I decided on playing this way, should have anticipated. I shove hard against the mattress, but he easily keeps me pinned in place, his low voice stripping me bare even as his fingers possess me in the most intimate way possible.

“How many times did we talk, baby girl? Every time you pretended you weren’t seeking me out, that this isn’t what you wanted.”

“No. I didn’t want this.” Yes, yes, I did.

He still hasn’t moved his hand, still hasn’t done anything but apply more pressure to my ass. “You were asking for it.”

“No!”

“Yes.” He pushes a third finger into me. “Every time you had to get the last word, every time you walked away from me and twitched that ass in my direction, this is what you wanted.”

“Liar.”

His low chuckle has my toes curling. Just like that, he withdraws his fingers, and I can’t help a whimper of protest. Jafar steps closer to the bed and then I can feel his cock through his slacks. His weight presses me down against the mattress almost, almost, giving my clit enough friction. “Who’s the real liar, baby girl? You know what I think? I think you wanted me to drag you into his office. To shove up your skirt and rip off your panties.”

“No,” I whisper. I can’t help it. I writhe, my hips seeking the friction I need to get off.

He shoves a hand between me and the mattress, the touch against my clit nearly sending me over the edge. But he doesn’t move, doesn’t apply the pressure I need. The new position puts his lips directly against my ear, and I can feel his words rumbling through his chest against my back. “You want me to take it, to bend his virgin daughter over his desk and shove my cock into her tight little cunt. That way you don’t have to admit it. You can still be a good girl instead of the little slut we know you are.”

I gasp, my body going so tight, I might orgasm from his words alone. I almost moan before I remember the game. It takes me two tries to wet my throat enough to find words. “I am a good girl.”

“You, baby girl, are a little slut.” He nips my earlobe. “You know how I know that?”

“How?” I whisper.

“I know that because you’re so desperate to grind against my fingers, your pussy is drenched. You want me to do it, to force you so you can keep pretending when we both know the truth.”

I roll my hips, the pressure of his fingers making me bite my bottom lip hard. “What’s the truth?”

“That I can fuck your mouth, your pussy, your ass, and you’ll love every second of it.” Another nip to my earlobe. “That I can pull three people in here at random and let them fuck you however they feel like and even as you tell yourself you don’t want it, that I took away your choice, you’ll come again and again, and keep lifting your hips in invitation for more. That you can’t get enough.”

I lose my battle of resistance. I writhe, grinding against his fingers. “You wouldn’t dare.”

“Meg will love licking that pretty pussy of yours. She’ll love doing it even more while you ride Hook’s cock and another man fucks your mouth.”

I don’t know who those people are, not really. They’re strangers to me. It doesn’t seem to matter. All I can do is imagine two cocks filling me, another mouth on my clit and Jafar watching it all. Directing it all. I fist the comforter and roll my hips harder, trying to find the right angle. His hand shifts beneath me and I freeze as he pinches my clit. Hard.

“So wanton.” The devil is Jafar’s voice in my ear, full of sin and promised pleasure. It might cost me my soul, but what is a soul in comparison with a night’s pleasure? Just like that, the weight of him is gone. I press my forehead to the bed and work up the energy to stand. By the time I turn around, he’s composed himself. As if he wasn’t just spinning out a fantasy so dirty, I’m shaking just from imagining it. He considers me. “You want to be forced, but the flavor is wrong.”

What’s he talking about?

My heart takes up residence in my throat, each beat pressing against the sensitive skin there and leaving me dizzy. “What?”

But he’s already moving to the door. “Stay here. This will only take a minute.”

For a moment, I think he’s joking, but he leaves the room, the door clicking shut softly behind him. I sink onto the bed and stare down at my torn dress. I was ready. I am ready. My body craves his with a strength that leaves me fighting not to chase him through the halls of this place and beg for the denied orgasm. To beg for his cock. I have nothing left but my pride at this point, so I force myself still.

It’s only when the door opens again that I realize I was really forcing myself to obey.

Except it’s not Jafar who walks into the room.

I blink. “Tink?”

“The one and only.” She shuts the door and turns, which is when I get a good look at what she’s wearing. Or, really, what she’s not. A lace slip hugs her curves, barely covering her breasts and ass, held only in place because it has garters on the side attached to thigh-highs. It’s sexy, but that’s not what has me fighting not to stare.

She’s not wearing anything underneath.

She smirks at me. “For someone who put on a cute little show out in the main room, you’re awfully easy to shock.”

“You saw that?”

“Princess, everyone saw that.” She tosses several articles of clothing onto the bed next to me. “Jafar wants you to put these on and follow me.”

Questions bubble up to press against the inside of my lips, but I keep them inside. I have a feeling Tink won’t tell me. More than that, I either trust Jafar in this place or I don’t. I cautiously lift the plaid skirt. Oh.

“Schoolgirl is sexy, I’m not even going to lie.” Tink pauses. “Do you want me to turn around?”

“Why? You’ve seen everything.” I stand on shaking legs and strip out of the red dress. The clothing is missing a few essential items—namely a bra—but I’m surprised to find white panties included. I expect cotton, but this is a lace thong that is just as minuscule as the skirt. I pull on the panties and skirt, which barely covers my ass. The shirt, however, gives me trouble. “I don’t …”

“Here.” Tink brushes my hands to the side, undoes the buttons I’ve been struggling with, and ties it under my breasts instead. She steps back and shakes her head. “Yeah, you look hot for teacher. Wait, one more thing.” She pulls a hair tie off her wrist and moves around behind me. “This is easier if you kneel.”

I obey without thinking and wait as she pulls my hair back into a tight ponytail. Tink squeezes my shoulder. “Check yourself out, princess.”

I stand and walk to the mirror and … “Wow.” I can see my dark nipples through the thin fabric of the white shirt and tying it up has left a large swathe of my stomach barred. The skirt looks even tinier than it feels, and as I move experimentally, I flash white panties. I turn around and, yes, the lower curve of my ass is clearly visible. “I look indecent.”

“That’s kind of the point.” She moves to the door. “Come on. He’s waiting.”

I know what fantasy we’re playing out now. It’s not a school teacher like Tink thinks. It’s the one Jafar growled into my ear in this very room. I have to fight not to clench my thighs together as I follow Tink out of the room. She leads me farther down the hall and points to a door. “This one.” She grins. “Have fun, princess.”

I carefully open the door and step into the room. Shock has my feet growing roots and my fingers going slack to release the door. The room looks like a gentleman’s office. Thick carpet beneath my feet. One wall lined with books and the other containing several framed landscape prints. Leather chairs sit opposite a massive mahogany desk that’s polished until it shines. A single lamp in the corner offers little in the way of illumination. It’s not an exact match to my father’s office, but it’s close enough to evoke the feeling I always got when I was called there.

Shame. Anger. Fear.

I clench my hands and press back against the cool wood of the door. It’s just a room, but Jafar choosing this one … Oh yes, he definitely did it on purpose. Movement has me lifting my head. He’s there in the shadows of the room, leaning against the wall behind the desk. How many times did Jafar stand exactly there when my father doled out his punishments for my misbehavior? More times than I can count.

As if sensing my thoughts, he says, “You’ve been bad, baby girl.” He pushes off the wall, but doesn’t move from his spot. “Willfully disobedient. Mouthy.”

My body can’t tell if I’m turned on or terrified. I clench my hands at my sides and try not to shake. “I’m sorry, Daddy. I won’t do it again.”

“I wasn’t finished.” His mild words have my snapping my mouth shut to keep from babbling. He finally takes a step forward, into the light. His expression is so cold, it stings me from across the room. “Look at you. You’re dressed like a little slut and you’ve been walking around like that, teasing the men.”

My nipples go tight and my panties damp. As much as part of me wants to obey him, to beg for forgiveness, I have never submitted without a fight, and I’m not about to start now. “I like my clothes.”

“You like your clothes.” He shakes his head slowly, his gaze raking over me. The ice in his expression cracks for half a second, letting me see the inferno beneath, before he regains control of himself. “You’re getting off on leading them around by their dicks, showing them what they want but they can never have.”

I lift my chin. “Who says they can’t have it?”

Something dangerous flickers through his eyes, and I shiver. “Put your hands on the desk.”

“No.”

He starts toward me. Slow and as unstoppable as the tide. Instinct takes over and I run. There’s nowhere to go, though. He catches me by my hair before I’ve taken three steps. Pain brings tears to my eyes, or maybe it’s a delicious kind of shame. Either way, he wraps my hair around his fist and uses that hold to steer me to the desk. “Don’t make me ask again.”

“Yes, Daddy,” I grit out. I slap my hands on the desk, petulance in every move.

Just like that, he releases my hair. “Have you let them do more than look, baby girl? Have they slipped their fingers up this little tease of a skirt and touched you through your panties?” His voice lowers. “Have they gone so far as to tug your panties to the side to see you?”

This might be fantasy, but it feels real. “No, of course not. I’m a good girl.”

“Liar.” His broad hand presses against the middle of my back, bending me until my cheek is pressed against the cool wood of the desk. The new position has my skirt hiked up to the top of my ass, baring me. Jafar tsks. “Look at that. You’re just asking to be fucked.”

“No, I’m not.”

“Not asking. Begging.” His hands drop to my ass, squeezing me, parting me. “Are your panties damp because you like giving them a show? Or because you let them touch what’s mine?”

I don’t know what the right answer is. I can’t think, can’t move, can only focus on keeping still and not rolling my hips in invitation to touch me. “I’m sorry, Daddy,” I whisper. I’m not even sure what I’m apologizing for.

“That answers my question, doesn’t it?” He runs a finger under the band of my thong and down the back, pulling the lace away from my body. Shame suffuses me as he reaches the front, as he finds out how wet they are. His sound of disappointment lances through me. “I try to keep you safe for your own good. But if you’re so determined to throw that back in my face, then I’ll give you exactly what you’re begging for.”

I try to push off the desk, but he’s expecting me. One hand grips the nape of my neck, and the other drags my panties to the side. “Look at you.” Despite the controlled violence of his moves, his voice is just as mild as ever. It’s so fucking hot, I can barely stand it. He drags a finger across my pussy and bends over me to hold the evidence of my desire in front of my face. “Wet and wanton,” he says.

“I just like them looking. I don’t want them to touch. I was never going to let them touch me.” I don’t know where the words come from, but they pour out into the air between us. “Please, Daddy. Please don’t punish me.”

“You think you can walk around in that little skirt, your pussy drenched and begging for it, and not pay the consequences? Baby girl, you know better.”

He releases me, and I shove up, my instincts demanding I run. Jafar is ready for me, of course. He allows me to turn and then he’s there, bodily lifting me onto the desk and stepping between my thighs even as I try to fight him. “Ah ah.” He catches my chin in a punishing grip. His gaze drops to my mouth and for one breathless moment, I’m sure he’ll kiss me. Instead, he shifts his hand to my ponytail, using it to force me to look down my body. “You’re a liar on top of being a little slut.” He drags a single finger down the edge of my shirt. It shifts to the side to bare my nipple. “No bra. Panties that show your pussy as much as they hide them.” He sounds almost sad. Disappointed. “I treat you like a princess, and this is how you repay me.”

“I’m sorry, Daddy. I promise I’ll be good.” But I can’t stop myself from arching my back to expose my breast further.

He slaps my nipple, the sharp pain sending me writhing. Jafar shakes his head. “You want to be fucked like a little slut, baby girl. So be it.” He holds me immobile and yanks my shirt to the side. The knot holds, the tightness of the fabric offering up my breasts to his gaze. His tsks again and forces me back a few inches to drag up my skirt and hook his fingers around my panties. I try to fight him, but he’s too strong. He drags them down my legs one inch at a time and then tosses them away. “Spread your thighs.”

I clench them together. “No.”

“Yes.” If anything, his tone gets gentler, a direct counterpoint to the pain of his grip on my hair. He cups one breast and circles my nipple with his thumb. “Spread your thighs and let Daddy give you a kiss.”

A shiver works its way through my whole body. I want to keep struggling, but I want his mouth on me even more. Still, I hesitate. “I want to be good.”

“No, you don’t.” His voice still has a sliver of disappointment in it, but he’s stopped hiding the dark desire written across his face. Like I’m being bad, and he’s allowing it, but it’s turning him on despite himself. I know it’s just play, but power still sizzles through me, driving my desire higher.

I lean back on my hands and spread my thighs. Slowly, tentatively. I want what he’s offering, but the shame I feel isn’t totally feigned. This man is supposed to be my enemy, but I’m starting to fear I’ll do anything he asks as long as he keeps drawing forth my darkest desires and putting them into action.

He releases my hair and steps back, taking me in. Jafar’s gaze drags over my pussy, heavy and hot. “Wider.” I obey faster this time, and he chuckles darkly. “This is what you wanted, isn’t it? To force my hand.” He goes to his knees in front of me and jerks my hips to the very edge of the desk. “You’re practically dripping. It would be a shame for any of you to go to waste.” He drags his tongue up my center and I can’t stop myself from crying out.

Jafar leans back and slaps my clit. “None of that.” His expression goes forbidding. “My men can’t be walking around with cockstands for a pussy that isn’t theirs. It belongs to me and me alone, do you understand?”

I wet my lips. “Yes, Daddy.”

“I’m not a cruel man. I won’t have you moaning and screaming and tempting them to taste you just like I am now.” He grips my thighs hard enough to bruise, wrenching them wider yet. “You make too much noise, and I stop. Do you understand?”

“Yes, Daddy. I’ll be quiet. I promise.” I can barely think straight as I look down my body at the tableau he’s created. I look just as much the little slut as he’d described me. My breasts are out, my skirt hiked up around my waist, my pussy exposed and begging for him. As I hold my breath, he dips down and gives me a long lick, his gaze holding mine.

It’s sinful and decadent and I never want it to stop.

Jafar wedges his hands under my ass and lifts me to his mouth the same way he did in the car. As if he can’t get close enough, can’t drive his tongue deep enough into me. As if he’ll devour me whole.

I want it more than I’ve wanted anything in far too long.

If he consumes me entirely, maybe he can take my guilt, my shame, my fear.

He can take everything.