Chapter Text
Deep Rich Color
Chapter One: I Paint My Dream
I dream of painting, and then I paint my dream.
-Vincent Van Gogh
June
The Beginning of Summer
He shouldn’t have been watching her dance around in her underwear.
Ben thought that to himself almost every night for five years.
But this was his most favorite pastime. He stood at the top of his stairwell, one hand clasped on the smooth oak railing, the other hand undoing his belt and pants. He leaned towards the enormous two-story window of his home, his eyes glued to a pair of expansive windows on the 2nd floor of the mansion next door. The dusty pink curtains were always wide open, so he could see a pretty little bespectacled nerd dance around to hit 90s music in the middle of her bedroom.
A little beacon in the quiet night of the Hollywood Hills mansions.
His cock was so rigid and heavy that it whipped out of his expensive slacks with a hard bounce as he watched her shake her sweet, thick ass so rapidly it looked like a blur, and her tiny red panties fought to stay on.
Ben swiped his sensitive tip and used his precum as lube as he jacked off to the sight of her ass when she slowed her dancing. Her panties rode up, separating her asscheeks, making her pretty round fleshy butt lift, fall, and lift with every shake.
He shouldn’t do this, but Ben did what he wanted. It was one of the privileges of being a Skywalker: unlimited money leads to unlimited power and reckless indiscretions.
Ben quietly groaned at the sight of her plump ass, wishing for the day she’d dance buck naked and bend over. What he would do for a glance of her tight little asshole. He swore he’d pay a million dollars, ten million just for a peek. Ben’s ragged grunts filled his vast home, his eyes locked on her body pumping up and down to the music. “That’s a good girl, dance around, let those tits bounce for me, baby. Sexy little dork.”
She was using her hairbrush as a microphone and singing so loudly that he could hear her from the open kitchen window downstairs.
“I saw the sign, and it opened up my eyes. I saw the sign!!!” she wailed off-key as she shook her shoulders and her tiny tits jiggled under her thin tank top.
“Fuck,” Ben panted, desperate for release as soon as he could hear her voice.
Her Care Bear tank top was so thin, tight, and dingy that it looked like it would tear off this time from sheer dance force. The threadbare garment had random paint stains on it from years of Rey using it when she was putting together a sculpture or painting her pieces. She’d had it when she was only twelve, and Ben remembered how back then, her pointy nipples barely skimmed the shirt. Now, he could definitely see the outline of her round titties and tiny buds straining the fabric.
Rey flipped up her head, and Ben swore she looked straight at him. He held his breath at the possibility of being caught but shook the idea off. Ben kept the shade of this window down low enough to cover the top of the stairs. She couldn’t possibly see him. But the thrill of Rey looking right at Ben made him feel the heavy weight of his lust for her in his chest.
“Can you see me, little girl?” Ben growled. “Wanna come up here and finish me off with your tight teenage pussy? Let me unload inside you, baby? I’m gonna make you beg for it. Gonna shoot so much cum inside your tiny cunt and watch you dance it down your legs. FUCK!”
He bared his teeth as she continued to sing, and his balls erupted, shooting long ropes of cum down his hand and floor. Spilling puddle after puddle all over his expensive tile, dripping down the stairs.
“Fucking hell,” Ben hissed as his head vibrated from his climax, and he watched her continue to play around in her room.
She was a mess, an abomination, a wild little dork in that mansion.
She was Rey.
His best friend.
“Ben, we’re not through yet. We’ve got seven more fabrication projects to get you up to speed on.”
Ben frowned and quickly tucked himself in, zipped up, pulled his blazer together, and buttoned it. This was the real reason he shouldn’t be jerking off to his neighbor’s adopted daughter: He was working.
Ben’s oldest colleague and right-hand man, CFO of Skywalker Corporations, Armitage Hux, walked toward Ben with a sure, calculated step. Being a man of numbers and money, Hux’s personality, from his perfectly trimmed orange hair to his buffed-out Louboutin Oxfords, even his irritated sneer (which Ben noted was not at his fullest) was calculated.
“I thought you’d be here.” Hux nodded at the window where Rey continued to bounce around in her adorably awkward, sweetly ugly dance. “Doesn’t that girl have a dinner party tonight?”
Ben noted how Hux’s voice dripped with disdain as he said, ‘that girl,’ his nose scrunched like he was on the verge of sneezing. He turned to Hux with a piercing look, letting the power of his old money roll off of him like lava and Hux tucked his mouth back.
“She does this before big nights. She dances around her room. It pumps her up,” Ben said, a cold stare set on Hux. He turned back to Rey and grinned at how she banged her head to the music, hair flying in every direction. His eyes zeroed in on the apex of her legs, red panties barely covering her chubby mound. “I’m still deciding on attending. How do you know about her little party tonight?”
“It’s on your ledger in the study,” Hux shrugged. “That reminds me, could you please add your personal items to the digital calendar?”
“No,” Ben said simply. “I like my personal items by hand. I like my own handwriting. It’s the only one I trust.”
“I suppose,” Hux tried to say just as simply, but Ben could hear a pinch of annoyance in his voice. “If you put it on the digital calendar, I’d schedule our meeting today earlier. Are you going? It says ‘Rey’s Welcome Party.’ What is that?”
A few weeks ago, Rey told her adopted parent and longtime neighbor of Ben’s, Maz, that she was nervous about leaving for college and being on her own at Rhode Island School of Design. So, Maz, the go-getter that she was, networked her web of art-world friends to find local and current RISD students who would like to help make Rey comfortable and invited them all to dinner.
This party was supposed to be all about Rey’s future friendships, not hanging out with her stick-in-the-mud thirty-something weirdo neighbor that secretly wanted to shower her in his spunk.
But the deeper truth was, Ben didn’t want to think about Rey going to the other side of the country. He didn’t want her to go at all.
“Your preoccupation with that girl amuses me,” Hux said when Ben didn’t acknowledge him. “Your only soft spot.”
Ben felt his jaw tick. Preoccupation. That wasn’t the word for it. Obsession. Compulsion. These were closer to the truth. “That girl” had a hold on him since the first day she danced into his life.
He continued to watch her twirl around in her room, pirouetting to an audience of a jumbled mess of tangled wires, a dozen or so half-painted canvases, trash bags filled with what most people would call trash, but she labeled as “ART SUPPLIEZ.”
She crashed to the ground, all long legs and cartoonish bugged out eyes behind her large-framed glasses, and Ben wasn’t sure if the fall was choreographed or genuine. When she turned her hairbrush against her belly and air guitared it to the song (which actually didn’t have a guitar or even a guitar solo in it) with an enthusiasm that should be saved for an audience of twenty thousand, Ben knew his answer. It was a real fall. Because as Ben watched Rey lay back and squawk out the lyrics, he was reminded of what he always knew about Rey. Everything she did was genuine, honest, and authentic. There was no mystery about her: she was a loud little dork who would do this exact ridiculous performance in a room full of stuffy rich folks.
He knew that because he’s seen it.
And he was going to miss it when it was gone.
“Amuses you?” Ben narrowed his eyes as Hux approached the railing and stopped in his tracks when he saw Ben’s white mess on the floor. Hux’s fisted his fingers and sucked in a tight breath.
Say something. Do it. I fucking dare you.
Ben watched in satisfaction as Hux backed away and stood in the middle of the hallway trying his best to interact normally with Ben.
“I think the word you’re looking for is ‘aggravates.’” Ben suggested gruffly. Hux did a horrible job of hiding his disdain for Rey, always turning up his nose at the messy orphan. “‘Amused’ is the word for how the board feels about my invite list to the Christmas party.”
“They have to be amused. You make them a lot of money,” Hux pointed out as he cringed at the beautiful shriek Rey squealed as she sang. “‘Horrified.’ That’s the word they’d use if I was the one who brought five escorts to a Christmas party held at The Warwick where we hired Tony Bennet to perform.”
Ben shrugged at the memory Hux referenced. Even with those lithe young sex workers hanging over Ben as the crooner sang “White Christmas,” Ben still thought about Rey. The best part of that night was when one of the escorts wore glasses, called him BFF, and he painted those glasses with cum as he desperately groaned Rey’s name over and over again.
“I saw the sign, and it opened up my eyes, and I am happy…” The loud and adorable girl was singing at full volume. Her voice traveled from her open window, through the quiet night of the Hollywood hills, into his kitchen window, and right into Ben’s cock, making him leak. Again.
Ben thought with a pressed his lips together, fighting the tightness in his chest. He was going to miss her. A lot.
Hux stepped away into the hall. “Come on. We can’t be watching this little girl dance around her room all night. We have work to do. Let’s make people hundreds of millions of dollars.”
Ben kept his eyes on Rey, who started to slow down, her pert little nipples shaking as she settled with a sigh.
What if she made friends tonight and left for college and forgot about me ? These kinds of thoughts plagued him for months, but they screamed in his head so loud right then he barely noticed how he clenched his fists so hard, his fingers were turning purple.
“You mean, make you hundreds of millions of dollars, but who’s counting?” Ben said, accusation like fire in his tone.
Ben could hear Hux stop in his tracks, his red souls scraping on the tile.
“Should I order another girl for tonight?” Hux asked after a beat, just a touch quieter than earlier.
That’s right, Ginger. I’m the fucking boss.
Ben listened to Hux’s red soles scraping on the tile, the rustle of his fingers on his silk tie. One of Ben’s other favorite pastimes was making men fidget with discomfort.
That was one of the perks of being a Skywalker: All other men were lesser by default.
Ben steadied his gaze on Rey as she approached her dresser and looked at herself in the mirror. Her usual cheery expression with her bright eyes and wide grin relaxed into one more serious. Rey sucked in a deep breath and blew it out through her pouted lips as she stared at herself in the mirror.
Ben couldn’t hear her, and even though he could read her lips, he didn’t have to. He knew what she was about to say even before she did.
“I hate people,” she said to herself.
“So do I,” Ben whispered back to her.
Rey had the same expression on her face five years ago when he first met her at one of Maz’s experimental dinner parties. He usually would never go to these things, but he’d known Maz, the kooky old artist since he was a child, and Maz was known to be relentless. He didn’t want to be worn down by the feisty older woman so he accepted the invitation.
So there Ben was, five years ago, sitting on Maz’s terrace, mouth open, as a waiter squirted warm liquid with a syringe on Ben’s tongue. In front of the four small tables, a too-smiley chef explained how these “flavor shots” should replicate an entire meal. Ben swallowed the unimpressive warm broth hoping this would be over soon, when the dance-bopping girl shimmied her way into the terrance and crashed into an entire tray of syringes, toppling every single one on the wooden floor with dozens of light thunks.
Ben was surprised when his cock filled with blood and stiffened against the front of his slacks as Rey awkwardly attempted to help the scowling waiter clean up. The brunette preteen’s face was grubby with splotches of paint on her cheeks, a very old cardigan falling off her shoulders, glasses repaired at the side with tape, and filthy sneakers, falling apart at the sole. She was a mess of a girl even before the crash.
Ben had a thing for tiny, young girls. He didn’t apologize for searching “teen porn” or asking Madame Bazine for the youngest, smallest girl she had to offer. But to see Rey, a tiny wisp of a girl, a wild bundle of dirt and paint tramping through Maz’s boho-chic decor like a moth in a Beverly Hills antique store? She made his heart pound in his chest like a drum.
That pert little mouth, her overly expressive eyes behind the thick glasses, her obvious wonder and amusement with their strange meal. She hid nothing.
It was entirely foreign for Ben, who always had to search for people’s true intentions. This child’s face was so innocent with her emotions so easily read. She had this angelic purity that Ben found irresistible, and his cock pulsed, eager to defile her.
“Remember, I was teaching art classes at the group homes?” Maz said to the group breezily as she stood to assist the girl. “Everything she touched became art. The room she shared with the girls was decorated in soda bottles and paperclips…”
Ben half paid attention to Maz’s self-indulgent story about how she saved this gifted young artist from a life on the streets and took her in as Maz’s young ward.
“Rey,” the girl interrupted Maz. “My name is Rey.”
Rey.
He repeated her name in his head as she stood and turned towards everyone, her dark frames askew on her face, making her scowl just a little too adorable for words. Ben let his eyes wander to her barely-there tits, tiny mounds behind the tight, thin Care Bear tank top, nipples pebbling to the cool air. Ben had no choice but to adjust his growing member. Her titties were so young, so perky, and untouched. He’d never seen tits so astoundingly alert and sensitive, already so hard. They were like two sharp triangles under the cheap fabric. Like they were saying hello to him.
“Is there anything else to eat around here besides gross cough medicine?” Rey asked the group.
Ben laughed. Loud. Something he rarely did, and his laugh felt like it shook all the tables since everyone else was silent, staring at the wildflower on Maz’s terrace.
Unphased, Rey continued. “I could really go for some nachos at a gas station right now,” she grumbled as she strutted away. “Well, I’ll find something in that big kitchen. Have fun drinking your rich people dinner.”
But even as Rey squared her shoulders and walked away without a goodbye, Ben saw the faintest pout on her lips and whispered the words, “I hate people” on her mouth.
“It’s last minute, but I bet Madam Bazine will find something for her favorite customer-” Hux’s voice interrupted Ben’s thoughts.
Ben straightened up and watched Rey take a breath and say to the mirror, “I really really hate people.”
He felt his heart start to shatter. Ben couldn’t stay home knowing his best friend would suffer through a night of hating people alone.
Let me fix it.
Let me hold you.
Let me comfort you.
Let me keep you.
“No need,” Ben snapped. “Let’s finish up in the study quickly. I’ll be heading to that party after all.”
Rey sat down at her vanity with a hurried sigh, attempting to rush through her makeup routine. But her hands were too shaky with nerves, and her face was so sweaty from dancing around that she kept messing up her quick job of putting herself together.
Rey looked up at the house next door for comfort, support, and just a glimpse of her large and looming BFF. And for the hundredth time that day, she was met by emptiness.
“Where is Ben?” Rey desperately asked his house.
Usually, Rey liked that she could see inside Ben’s house from her bedroom. The enormous two-story floor-to-ceiling windows gave her access to most of his whereabouts while he was home. Once, he showed her how his smart home could tint the windows so no one could see from the outside, and Rey grumbled at that.
“But if you do that, how will I watch you pace around your house talking on your phone, yelling at Presidents of small countries, and making CEOs of oil companies pee their pants?”
Today, she looked at his windows and hated that she had another way of knowing she had no idea where her BFF was.
Rey texted him a few pictures of her latest sculpture earlier that day, needing a little friendly praise. Later, she asked if he could come by early, maybe get her nerves down. Rey called just an hour before to ask if she really could do this. Is she really good enough to go to a fancy art school?
All texts and calls went unanswered.
This was abnormal for him. Rey remembered when he was about to talk to Congress about lowering the sanctions on automobile welding tools, and he texted her back right away.
Rey: Congress? Wow. That’s boring.
Ben: Yeah, that’s why I’m still texting you.
He was in a meeting. Rey tried to convince herself. That Hux guy always keeps him busy.
And maybe Rey would be okay without her BFF for one awkward dinner, but something happened.
Rey had a sex dream about him the night before.
She could remember bits of the dream - Mussed black hair framing intense eyes, large muscled body curled over hers, his hands, so warm around her waist as he lifted her over his torso, the imagined scent of his expensive cologne, the way his eyebrow cocked in a sharp arch as he raked over her with a hungry expression.
It was a very sexual dream for a virgin.
Rey tried to keep it away from her thoughts. Still, it kept coming back, insisting on her like an embarrassing memory she had recently uncovered. Except, instead of her cheeks burning from humiliation, they burned in a deep desire she didn’t know she had.
So, she had to see him. To confirm that she was not, in fact, attracted to Ben.
But the morning turned to afternoon, and afternoon tonight, and still he hadn’t texted back or called, and when she looked at his big house, there was no sign of Ben. No perfectly combed flash of dark wavy hair, no crisp white shirts hugging his thick muscular chest, no pressed black slacks housing his long legs, no hint of his dark arresting eyes, his prominent nose with the bump she likes to boop. Nothing. Not a hint of that handsome nerd all day.
Rey always knew he was handsome, manly, big, muscular, and handsome. Did she say handsome already? She knew he was handsome, but her BFF was just a big dork. Ben tried to act tough in front of everyone else, like when he bought that entire sewing machine factory. He immediately fired everyone in it so he could use the space to make exercise bikes. She watched him pretend to not care when he gave the order, but that night she curled up in his arms and patted his hand while they watched Adam Sandler movies to cheer his grumpy butt up.
She wiped off her smudged eyeliner for the third time and threw the pencil across the room.
“What kind of artist can’t even draw a straight line UGH?!?”
And at that moment, her door opened, and she held her breath, hoping for a solid gigantic body to enter, one with hands the size of dinner plates and a voice so deep she could feel it in her belly-
“Maz told me to fetch you, but you can stay up here all night if that’s what you want,” a warm voice said as its owner entered her room.
“Oh, Amilyn,” Rey breathed, a mixture of disappointment and relief. “I’m just struggling with my makeup.”
“Ah, makeup,” the older woman chided as she picked up the eyeliner. “I was just debating with Ahsoka downstairs how there’s nothing feminist about paint. Therefore there is nothing feminist about makeup and…” She shrugged her narrow shoulders, her purple hair bouncing back. “I think she’s already drunk.”
Amilyn was probably Rey’s second best friend and, if she had to be honest, her only other friend. It wasn’t like she wasn’t friendly with the kids at her school. It was just that Maz always had these strange parties at her house, and Rey gravitated to the quirky, mature personalities that sometimes hung around. Rey liked Amilyn because she taught Rey a lot about how Feminism is about choice and Rey liked an excuse to choose to be the strange girl that she was.
Amilyn lived down the street with her very wealthy husband, Mr. Vanth. Mr. Vanth was out of town for business so often, Amilyn found herself at Maz and Rey’s home to pass the time. There, Amilyn talked about her days as a young feminist and how nothing had changed since then, but at least there was Rey, who marched to the beat of her own drum.
Rey held still as she let Amilyn apply makeup.
“Is Ben here?” Rey asked, holding her voice from being too eager.
“No, my dear,” Amilyn answered as she patted powder on Rey’s face. “I actually don’t know most people down there. Just Ahsoka and Maz.”
Rey grumbled.
“Oh, you haven’t met the real artists down there?” Rey laughed bitterly at her cruel joke to herself. “The ones that know what they’re doing?”
“Here, drink this. It’ll help,” Amilyn slid her wine glass towards Rey. The sound of it scraping on the table triggered Rey’s brain back to her dream about Ben.
Rey felt his thick muscular thighs flexing under her nude ass. Ben held her, one warm hand splayed on her back, the other pushing her face into his soft neck. They were both naked, but none of it felt weird or awkward, as if they’d always been nude their whole lives.
Rey tilted her head up, threaded her fingers through his thick hair, pressed her forehead to his, and held her breath at the deep stare he offered her. She felt his growing erection, so huge and insistent, it was impossible to ignore. His hard shaft pressed against her cunt, and she impulsively rolled her hips, feeling every inch of his thick member slide on her folds.
“Drink it,” Ben’s voice was tense and low as he slid a glass towards her.
“Ben?” She whimpered up at him. His broad chest shook with a low rumble. “Is this all for me? What is it?”
“Mmmmh,” a deep growl. Ben slid his enormous hands around her waist and helped her slide into him harder, skimming his smooth length against her slippery cunt. “Daddy’s cum. Drink it. You want it, don’t you? You wanna get filled with it.”
“Yes,” Rey whined breathlessly as she jolted against him, a whirlpool of sensation building in her belly.
Daddy. He said, Daddy.
“Yes… what?” Ben teased as he brushed her lips with his own.
“Daddy,” she whined at his pleased face, crinkles forming on the sides of his dark eyes.
In one second, Rey found herself caught between the swelling desire and surprise that she desperately craved his hot seed, would do anything for it. Then, she’s overcome by a climax so powerful that she could only whimper and quiver, her cunt clenching wildly against his hard, pulsing erection.
“I’ll do whatever you want, Daddy…”
Amilyn interrupted Rey’s escape into dreamland. “Have you told Maz?” her voice was tense as if she’d been holding the question in for weeks. “She put a lot of work into this party. Does she know you’re thinking about not going to Rhode Island?”
It took a moment for Rey to consider the question as she zoned back into reality.
“You know I can’t tell her,” Rey said, her eyebrows pinching.
Rey sighed guiltily as she remembered a few weeks ago when she had a glass of dessert wine and told Amilyn that she didn’t really want to go to RISD. She was not looking forward to being alone after finally finding a home with Maz and friendships with Amilyn and Ben. Besides that, Rey felt like she might not need an art degree. Van Gogh, Rousseau, Kahlo none of them had degrees. On top of that, Rey’s little Etsy shop was selling her art regularly, telling her she was doing something right.
Now sober, Rey thought maybe she didn’t want to go to RISD because she believed she wasn’t actually an artist. Not a real one, anyway. Perhaps she was just a girl with a hot glue gun, and how dare she insist on taking her trash art to a big fancy school like RISD?
“Maz is all about RISD. She did so much to get me in there, and she believes in me. I’d be crazy not to take this opportunity,” Rey continued. “I was drunk when I told you I was reconsidering. I wasn’t thinking straight.”
“But what about your choice? What do you want? Don’t be forced into something you don’t want to do. You’ll regret it,” Amilyn said gently.
Rey swallowed, her brain on a static image of Ben when Amilyn asked what she wanted.
I’ll do whatever you want, Daddy.
“I don’t know what I want,” Rey admitted.
“That’s it, baby,” his hips surged forward, lifting her petite body in the air and moving her to his whim, dragging her pussy on his throbbing member. “I fucking love your sweet little body, tit’s slamming up and down like that. Gonna cover you with cum so everyone knows you’re mine.”
Rey tried again to shake the dream off her mind and started to resign to the idea that Ben wasn’t going to show up. Perhaps it was better that way, seeing as she had this new and confusing craving for his gorgeously hot cum.
She stood to gather her dress for the night and pulled it on. As Amilyn helped zip her up, Rey put on her glasses and hopelessly glanced at the windows of Ben’s mansion one last time and immediately gasped.
Dark wavy hair, grumpy waddle walk, giant sasquatch adjusting his cufflinks.
“He’s here!” Rey squealed. “Oh, he’s going to his door! Oh, he’s coming! He’s coming!”
She turned to Amilyn and clapped her hands.
“I knew it.” The older woman nodded sagely. “I knew you’d come to your senses one day.”
“What are you talking about?” Rey scoffed as she stepped into her flat black shoes. “That’s just Ben. He’s my BFF.”
“Don’t stop, baby girl,” he panted. “Here,” he lifted the glass to her lips. “Drink it while you ride me, baby. I’ll make more for you. I’ll give you all you need.”
Rey pressed her legs together, hoping to stop the flood of tingles fluttering her cunt.
“Happy it happened after you turned eighteen,” Amilyn muttered as she fingered Rey’s hair.
Rey shot her friend an ignorant, playful glare. “What?”
“You want it, huh?”
She sipped from the glass, a creamy, salty, warm treat like heaven in her mouth.
“More, Daddy.”
“I’m just glad this happened now, rather than before March,” Amilyn said, referring to Rey’s birthday. “I met my husband when I was sixteen. I had to be patient, and that’s hard.”
“No,” was all Rey could say back. Amilyn’s suggestions were ridiculous. “We’re just friends!”
Right?
Rey stepped in front of her full-length mirror for one last look, admiring the dress she picked out for the night.
“People always talk about Ben Solo, how he just does what he wants, always with the young women,” Amilyn shrugged. “And he’s probably the picture they show in the dictionary under toxic masculinity.”
He’s just my best friend. Rey thought, a warmth rushing south, her body anticipating seeing him that night. Just my big, handsome, strong, Dadd– STOP.
She wore a strapless minidress with hundreds of multicolored sequins, a high waist, and a sweetheart neckline, something that helped her never-there bust. She liked the dress right away because it looked like a pretty disco ball in garment form.
“But he also grants millions of dollars to my favorite charities under my name every Christmas,” Amilyn admits. And then, with a smiling sigh, “And he makes you happy.”
“What are you saying?” Rey asked, and she had other words for her friend, but they all stuck in her throat as she got the full view of her look for the night.
Nothing about Rey’s face was different from before Amilyn’s work, just a few aesthetic adjustments. Amilyn just made her eyes brighter, nose more pert, cheekbones higher, and lips poutier. And framed with her glasses, she was the prettiest version of herself she’d ever seen. Rey normally didn’t admire her body very much, always thinking she had the shape of Spongebob, with long legs and no boobs. Still, this disco ball dress made her feel feminine with her legs on display and her tits perky under the neckline. Amilyn grinned from behind Rey as she scrunched her hair, giving her volume to the regular way she wore it - basically hanging off her head.
“W-wow,” Rey managed to say. “Thank you, Amilyn.”
“I’m saying,” Amilyn addressed Rey’s original question. “If your choice is to not go to college and be a rich man’s plaything, then I support you. Fully.”
“I want it inside, Daddy, please,” Rey begged through a mouthful of cum, her nerve endings coming alive at his strong hold, the safe sensation of being caged within his bulky arms.
“Anything you want, baby girl,” Ben rasped, as he continued to soak his erection against her naked sex. “Gonna keep it safe inside your tight virgin cunt for me?”
She nodded deliriously as she swallowed, luscious cum dripping down her chin and neck.
“Gonna flood that baby pussy,” Ben held her tight, groaning into her neck, jaw loosening, his thick arm hooking under her knee, spreading her legs apart, his palm kneading her ass with a rough touch. “Give you so much you’re fucking drowning in it. Gonna let me shoot it all over you, sweetheart?”
“I’ll do whatever you want, Daddy.” She smoothed her hands over the contours of his chest, the hills and valleys of his wide shoulders, up his corded neck and held him tight against her as his body shuddered. “Anything, Daddy. Anything.”
Ben growled into her neck, squeezing her waist with one hard thrust. Rey felt the hot eruption of his ejaculation spilling in the valley of her ass, dripping down to her pussy. His body seemed to surge with agony and pleasure as he chanted her name Rey Rey Rey into the air.
“That doesn’t sound very feminist to me,” Rey teased as she headed out the door.
“Feminism is about choice!” Amilyn insisted behind her. “And that’s what I ended up doing!”
Rey rushed downstairs with the thick memory of her dream rolling around in her head.
I’ll do whatever you want, Daddy.
She breathed shallow breaths as headed downstairs. One little sex dream completely scrambled Rey’s brain. Just the thought of seeing Ben soon gave her a rush. It was a ridiculous feeling.
Just yesterday, she was in his kitchen making them both a bowl of macaroni and cheese. They ate while she watched horrible television on his gigantic TV, and he pretended to not be on his phone the entire time, working. When he finally put his phone away and attempted a lousy impression of Christopher Walken, Rey remembered laughing so hard she snorted, and then Ben laughed at her so hard that he had tears in his eyes.
Rey imagined that same crinkly-eyed, deep-dimpled face hysterically laughing at her if she called him Daddy, and she cringed.
Still, her body responded to the expectation of Ben’s presence. Her sex was swollen between her thighs, tingling from the dream sequence replaying in her mind. Her nipples hardened as she remembered how he looked at her– like she was something to be devoured.
Has he looked at her like that before? She could swear…
Before entering the party, Rey took a long breath. That night wasn’t about Daddy- er Ben. It was to make a good impression, to make friends. These were the first people that could help her fit in at her new school. So she promised herself to be on her best behavior.
No busting into random show tunes, no awkward, clumsy accidents, no saying just whatever was on her mind. Tonight she had to have a filter. Tonight she had to fit in.
She walked into the room and froze.
Oh no, I definitely don’t fit in with these people.
Rey scanned the room at the half dozen students in her house, dressed like they were going to their grandmother’s house for dinner. Khakis, cardigans, jeans, sneakers, one boy wore a button-up, and a girl with long black hair wore a long flowy summer dress, but with sandals and a messy hair bun. They milled about, making small talk, gingerly drinking mocktails from frothy tumblers in the dim sitting room. Rey wanted to crawl into a hole with her flashy little party dress. She looked like an insane go-go dancer compared to these true artists. What was she thinking? Why didn’t Amilyn tell her?
As if on cue, the purple-haired woman stepped up behind her, wrapped an arm behind her back, and coaxed her to walk forward.
“Own it,” she whispered power into Rey’s ear. “You can never ever be overdressed. You look amazing. Own it like you own every part of yourself.”
Ok, I know how to do this.
Because every day of Rey’s life was owning her weirdo self: the junk-art creating, snort-laughing, insane-maniac-song-and-dance performing, loud-talking orphan self. She never wore the right thing– still holding on to the last few threads from her foster days. Those pieces of clothing kept her grounded, kept her the girl that ate gas station nachos instead of “flavor shots.”
So, she threw her shoulders back, strutted into the room with a genuine smile spread on her lips, and walked up to a pair of students, who introduced themselves as Gwen and Zorii. Gwen was tall, blonde, and statuesque. She spoke in one-word answers “Sculpture” and questions “Medium?” She kept her penetrating ice-blue eyes zeroed in on Rey’s as if looking for her weak spot.
The other artist, Zorii, had short curly hair and wore a maroon sweater so beat up, it rivaled Rey’s orphan cardigan. Zorii was more talkative and somehow scarier than Gwen. Her questions felt laced with judgment (“What kind of music do you like?”).
Rey was so afraid to make a fool of herself, she barely spoke a word, nodding and smiling and trying. When she couldn’t think of any more hesitant small talk, Rey broke away from Gwen and Zorii to greet her other guests.
That’s when she finally saw him.
Ben was at the other end of the room, a tumbler of whiskey in hand. He appeared to have already seen her.
Daddy.
Rey had to remind herself to breathe, seeing him arch a brow over his whiskey-colored eyes. He was in his classic, white button-up shirt under a freshly pressed gray suit. Power danced off him like smoke from embers, and Rey continually heard her mantra of Daddy Daddy Daddy in her head as she took wobbly steps towards him. Rey could barely look at him, her pussy throbbing with every step. But as she got closer to him, his wide shoulders eclipsed everything else around him, making it unavoidable. She thought about how solid he felt under those suits as a flicker of heat passed through his eyes, and Rey had to force a smile as her core clenched, glad of the dim room that hid the hot blush on her cheeks. Ben kept himself in sinful shape, a rock-hard body that dared her to sprint towards it and jump into his arms. His face was made of large portions, like his body, a meaty nose, prominent brow bone, and ears that stuck out sometimes through his wavy locks. He was like a handsome beast, matching the animalistic way he watched Rey approach him timidly.
Or maybe that’s just wishful thinking on Rey’s part.
“There’s my BFF,” Rey meant to speak lightly, cheerful, swat his arm even. But the sound that came out was husky, low, and birthed from a stirring deep in her belly. Rey held her breath, hoping he didn’t notice the sudden womanly change in her voice, but he said nothing. And right then, all she could do was soak up the feeling of his gaze riding up her toes, to her maddeningly exposed thighs, to her teeny dress, up to her just-as-teeny tits. Rey counted the seconds because she wondered how long it would take before he chuckled at her, turned around, and left, never to speak about the strange disco-ball girl in front of him.
But he didn’t leave. He finally breathed a long, slow inhale.
“Hey, munchkin.”
Rey blinked, wide open and shut blinks. She swore she could hear her blinking over the conversation and light music in the room.
And then there was a long moment where his eyes stay on her own, and Rey tries to hide the fact that moisture is pooling in her panties. Munchkin. He called her that every day. Yesterday, she heard it as an endearment between friends, like he was her big brother or something. But today, she heard it like a lover would, which made no sense. What lover would use that word? But Rey was strange, and she accepted that the thought of being called munchkin when she bounced on his lap made her clit hard and sensitive.
Daddy-
Stop it.
And five more seconds ticked by as they stared at each other.
“You look amazing.” Ben’s big chest lifted and fell with his deep breaths. His jaw clenched, strong muscles on the sides of his face as he stepped towards her for a hug.
Anticipation whirled in Rey’s belly like a cyclone. Just a hug. You hug your BFF every day. She actively reminded herself. Ben was not a hugger– not with anyone but Rey. He was closed off and untrusting. He didn’t care for people unless they could make him richer.
But not with Rey.
He let his guard down every time they greeted each other with a warm, simple hug. Rey had known Ben for years, and there were rumors of him having used the services of Madam Bazine (which never mattered to Rey until just now). Besides assumptions that he was a special friend to the high-class escort service, Rey knew he rarely had human contact.
I hate people.
So do I.
Rey could tell he craved human touch the first time she saw him: closed fists, long arms-length space between him and others, and yet a deep stare that said more than “I don’t want to be here.” That’s why she hugged him when they said goodbye to each other that first night.
At first, he stiffened, but he returned the hug when she didn’t let go.
Surrounded by strangers in the dim party room, Rey stepped toward her best friend. Ben’s eyes blackened, and quick shudders escaped through his nose, faster and faster as they closed the gap between them. When she finally wrapped her arms around his neck, Ben groaned and nuzzled his face on the top of her head.
“You’re pretty all the time,” he whispered, and Rey got lost in the scent of his expensive cologne, the soft feeling of his suit made of money. Ben’s enormous hand was placed chastely on the small of her back, his go-to spot. “But this is a special treat.”
Daddy.
“I was so worried you wouldn’t come,” Rey whispered back. “I need you, Ben.”
A shudder passed through him, and Rey leaned into it. He slid his other hand on her waist and pulled her closer. She gasped at the sudden movement and then hummed as she rubbed her head against his chest, his hard muscle behind his shirt, the intimacy of their bodies entirely against each other. He crawled his big hands up her back, and when they smoothed over her bare skin, her shoulders, and neck, Rey wanted more. She pulled him closer… closer, so close she felt a hardness between his legs.
Is that… Rey’s brain flickered inside her buzzing head. Does he have a boner? For me? No… Shock passed through her quickly because she told herself, of course he had an erection: His body couldn’t help but react to the nearness of a girl.
It was nothing to do with her, not dorky, weird, art nerd Rey, not when Ben could have anyone he wanted. He probably looked at her like she was that same thirteen-year-old kid who stumbled into this house those years ago. No. He’s just… Ben’s just excited.
But his thick, raised shaft prodding into her teased her greedy virgin cunt, and Rey rolled her hips into him, her own body needing release.
He let out a loud gasp.
Daddy… Please…
Rey pulled away quickly, hoping he didn’t notice.
Rey braced herself for Ben’s stone-cold face, the one he used when deals went awry and he had to step in when lesser men failed. She dared to look up at him. She’s met with a smile.
Not a smile, a smirk.
One that said, “Dirty, dirty girl.”
Rey attempted to stand naturally as she let him take her in once again, his eyes raking up and down her exposed body.
“Why don’t you take a picture? It’ll last longer,” Rey’s stupid mouth said without her being able to stop herself.
“I might.” And his smirk turned into a real smile, the one with crinkles on his eyes. “I still like your 50-year-old Care Bear shirts more, but I’m tempted to buy one of these dresses in every color for you.”
“What would I do with multiple colors of this dress? Can’t really paint in them. I could barely walk down the stairs. It’s very confining…” Rey was careful with her words earlier with the art students. Now that she had found a safe place to talk, they came out of her like a waterfall. “I guess I can still make you some bomb-ass grilled cheese in this, but you have to promise to give Love is Blind a chance…”
“I’m sure we can think of something.” Was that a hint of amusement in his tone? Rey hoped so because she couldn’t lose her BFF even if she was falling for him. “I have some ideas.”
Daddy.
This time, she eased into the thought as she relaxed at his hungry gaze.
“What kind of ideas?” Rey’s body bloomed under his stare as she loosened up. She fluttered her eyes closed and remembered the moment she dreamt of him, safe in his arms with a craving to be filled with his cum encompassing her thoughts. When she lifted her eyes back up to him again, there he was, still staring down at her. She looked him over this time, noticing his strained jaw and bulge in his slacks.
“I don’t think you’ll like them, munchkin,” Ben said hoarsely, threading his hair with his thick fingers.
Rey said the following words without thinking like she always said things:
“I’ll do whatever you want, Daddy.”
It felt like it happened in slow motion, the widening of his eyes, his smirk fading and jaw-dropping. The only thing at a rapid pace was Rey’s heart, which beat so hard it made her entire body pulse. Before Daddy- BEN could say anything, Rey pivoted on her heel and sprinted out of the mansion.