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Cinnamon Breakfast, Guest Post by Callie Gibson

Content warning: Daddy/girl language, Dominance/submission, teasing, verbal humiliation, possession, genital stimulation with a child’s toy

Soft pink and indigo strips tangle in the sunrise. Slowly moving from the liminal space between rest and alertness, my limbs are still heavy from dreaming.

My Icon of Mother Mary, bought in Mexico sometime in the late 90’s, needs dusting. Any sort of movement now would dissolve my mind’s haze, seal up the flowing cream from my night’s cunt. Desperate for a pot of tea but can’t move.

I hear the door unlock. My heart skips a beat. Jay places her keys on the mantelpiece, takes off her shoes and pads towards the bedroom. At five-foot seven, she easily commands a room. Some people just have those qualities of warmth and strength which intoxicate, make you smile to be in their company.

Returning from a night shift, I imagine her in the control room taking charge, directing truck drivers, co-ordinating complex logistics all the meanwhile dealing with meth users who take it to save lives on the endless road. It’s a hard job. She was fucking good at it. Surprisingly, also easily able to sleep like a baby during the waking hours. This makes me love her more. At times I would want to wake her for play or fucking or to feel her hands stroking my hair. She assured me she would never leave. I trust her.

“Good morning.” Always exercising that playful restraint. How can she tease me like this?

“Morning, sweetheart.” Movement came rapidly. My back arched up to meet her lips. The taste of tangelos was sweet as ever. That’s all she ate while working nights. Smug to say but Jay is the perfect, majestic, butch woman. Mid-50’s, muscular but chunky with a baritone that makes your legs collapse. The first time we met was at the bus stop. The first thing I said to her was “What’s your name?” She told me. “Is it short for something?” I replied.

“I would tell you except you wouldn’t be able to pronounce it.”

Being of Māori descent, Jay held true that names of ancestors need to be properly enunciated lest they cause upset. Being Greek, growing up in New Zealand, I had some understanding of this weariness caused by constantly
dealing with difference. Still unsure why, to this day, Te Reo is not taught in schools. It’s a cost issue they say. Where’s the profit?

“Try me.”

Jay told me.

I said it. Perfectly. Fortunately, it’s strong on consonants which Greek is.

“I’m impressed.”

“It just sounds better when you say it how you should.”

“What bus are you taking?” Jay smiled.

“I’m not. Just saw you and wanted to say hello. Here. Take this.”

Scribbling my name and number on my shopping list, I passed it to her. Phones seemed somewhat clumsy at that moment.

“Thank-you. I’ll call you next Wednesday once my car’s out the shop.” My tummy weakened. I leaned against the shelter and breathed deeply. She came closer. “It’s okay, girl. I’m not going anywhere.”

The first night fucking I could have eaten her. I wanted all her muscles in my tummy. Nothing’s changed.

“How was work?” I ask lazily.

“All good. How was the gym?”

“Awesome. I was able to lift twenty kilograms on the squats and fourteen on the the bench.”

“That makes me happy, girl.”

My heart’s beating a little faster. Jay likes to take things slowly. Only because she knows how maddening it is for me.

“Dave was being a dick with the fans as usual,” I said. “He’s a boxer. You’d think he’d want to work up a sweat but he has them all fucking blasting after ten minutes.”

“Maybe he thinks you need to work harder,” Jay smiles.

“Maybe next time I’ll sit on his face and crush him with my velvet arse. He’ll know all about ventilation then.”

Jay’s eyes narrow and darken. She leans over me like a tomcat in heat.

“Daddy,” I plead.

“What is it baby?”

“My tits need massaging.”

“Of course Beautiful, of course,” Jay replies, as she breathes with a deep, low growl, rubbing and stroking my chest.

I’ve been a B-cup since Grade 3. Two of my lithe, slenderman classmates would hold me against the wall of the toilet cubicle each one taking turns punching my breasts. The pain was unbearable. It wasn’t jealousy as much as revulsion. This was the steely 80s. They wanted to remove contours that weren’t neat and linear. When, after a couple of years, they wore their training bras, they cried. Sheen muscle would transform into doughy thighs. Pert buds into painful, expanding glands of colostrum.

I lick Jay’s cheek, nibble her jawline.

“Do you think my pretty, pink cunt needs worshipping?”

My default setting is to be a petulant brat. I never do that with strong women who present as Jay does. Wouldn’t dare. Jay asked me to so that’s why I do with her. My tits, waist and arse fit the type I suppose. Warms my cunt to see her aroused. She’s always in control though. We both know that.

A year ago, we were at a friend’s place. Jay was playing poker with a very pretty baby bull-dyke. We both agreed to no jealousy unless it’s transitory insecurity. My rage burned so I climbed onto Jay and pissed in her lap. I could have smothered her with full weight. She ordered the baby to hold me face down and sit on my back. With her weight on my shoulder-blades, my face was against her Doc Martens. She was gently grinding her denimed butt against the base of my neck. Preferred it to be harder but she understood the hierarchy.

Jay lifted my skirt and placed a piece of ginger in my arse. Squeezing my cheeks, she allowed the warm sensation to flow through me. The spanking started. Her hand struck just under my butt allowing the flesh to vibrate on her hand, the sensation flooding my cunt while the baby sat on a stool with her legs apart, my head between her boots.

In the car on the way home, Jay intermittently held the piss-soaked trousers to her face inhaling my scent. I knew this would be the beginning of her cruel tease and denial forbidding me to cum or touch her for a week. I sobbed all the way home.

Jay’s mouth is so gorgeously articulate in sucking my clit. The precision of her tongue exquisite in understanding my pulsating crevices. My body rushes forward.

“Do you think Barbie wants to play?” Jay asks.

My colleague gave me Yoga Barbie for my birthday. A testament to how much I like the practice and a fun comment on the juxtaposition.

Jay hands me the silly Mattel toy. I smile, play with a strand of her hair, kiss her and hand her back to Jay. A drawer opens and cling-film is taken out. Jay wraps the doll tightly with it leaving her legs exposed. A bottle of lube opens. Jay rubs it over the plastic covering. I giggle.

The toy is caressing my mons. Gently with deft fingers, Jay moves through the silky strands of fluid. My cunt is soaked.

“Can I slide it in Girl?” Jay asks, as if offering me a buttery biscuit.

I’m incoherent and my eyes can’t focus. The toy slowly slides into my cunt. Feeling her tiny tits against my g-spot, her arse pounding at the opening of my rectum, I start convulsing. Jay’s still sucking my clit with alternate, gentle kisses. With her other hand she gently moves Barbie’s legs feigning her futile escape. Imagining this insipid doll fainting with my continued contractions, I start to scream.

“Don’t Girl. Hold it,” Jay commands.

“Please Daddy please, I need to, please.”

“Do you want me to put you on a lead? Must I put you on a fucking lead?”

Her voice is too much. I cry. I get slapped.

“Not now,” Jay growls. “I’ll fix you some pudding.”

I made a rice pudding earlier. It was moulded in a ceramic bowl in the fridge. A recipe from my Grandmother, I used to eat this as a ritual after school. My friend, with deep, golden braids, would enjoy this mini-feast with me of cinnamon and sugared milk. We would compare our braids. Mine was the thicker with auburn streaks. I longed to kiss the dimple on her right cheek. One day I did. She responded by saying she wanted to marry me in the courtyard of her neighbour’s garden where they kept chickens. She relocated to Nelson shortly after that. Courtney Love was apparently living there at that time. I wonder if they ever compared braids.

Jay passes me the dessert. The spicy warmth contrasts with the coldness of the spoon. Sliding Barbie from my cunt, Jay examines her.

“Ah, poor baby,” Jay says. “Want to come close, hmm, really close?” She places her mouth over the plastic dome and draws the wet cylinder in. Barbies legs scissor slowly beneath with the suctioning motion.

She slices Barbie’s wrapping off with my nail scissors. It doesn’t take much effort to slip off. Jay washes her gently in the basin which I could view from the bedroom. The yoga pants are soaked from my cum. Jay pats them dry. She perches the doll next to my fern. All bright-eyed and glowing, it makes a sweet picture. There should be a post-orgasm Barbie with a look of complete and utter exhaustion, eyes heavy and mouth slightly open. Would be such a delight to see how hard she worked.

“Go to the loo now if you need to,” Jay directed. I did as she asked.

Returning, I see her in a strap. She holds my gaze in the doorway. I collapse. I can’t see. Jay walks over to me kicking my hamstring.

“Get up. Move.”

I inch forward.

“C’mon, I don’t have all day, Girl. Crawl if you have too.”

I’m on all fours. She straddles me. Feeling the strap on me, I quiver. Eventually, I get to the bed.

“Put your arse up. Take a deep breath in. Good Girl. Now, I’m going to slide this in your cunt. It will go deep. I’ll reward you for making Daddy happy. With each inch of my cock I will feed you one strawberry. I want you to eat all 4. Once that’s done, you pat your cunt like a little kitten and come like a fucking train. Is that understood?”

“Answer me.”

“Yes Daddy.”

She keeps her promise. The explosion begins.

“I hate you talking to other girls, I want to piss on their faces, your cock is mine, nobody else’s, mine, this is all I want, this is everything, I’m gonna tear your flesh and eat it up, I need you in me always.”

I turn my head. She smirks and strokes my hair, her strong body towering against the sunlight.

Planets collide in my mind and I tumble. I don’t want her cock gone. Slowly, it leaves my cunt. God, if only I could give her the moon. My orgasm lasts a few minutes as it usually does. Writhing, holding the pillow, Jay encases me in her arms. Delirious, flooded with oxycontin, I roll onto her pressing my mouth on her mons. I suck and suck and suck. My tongue licks the right side of her clit which shoots the sensation to her brain making her anus pulsate. I love that word. So noble for an orifice so sweetly perverse.

I slide my fingers in. She opens up for me. Slowly, my fist moves in and out. My mouth works furiously tasting salt and tangelos. I take my left hand and rub the north of her clit. It’s nerve-endings release the magic.

Plucking a red grape from the fruit-bowl, I slip it into her. Drawing it back with my mouth from her cunt, it becomes a game of cat and mouse. Just as it wishes to escape, I quickly draw it back in. Eventually, I crush it. I l watch her shake as she orgasms. I still keep sucking.

“Jeez Girl, how do you do this to me?” We lie close for a while.

I leave and return with a warm, olive-coloured flannel. Jay’s resting. I open her legs and wipe her cunt, up, down, around. I long to taste the tangelo syrup once more but she needs to sleep. I take a pro-biotic capsule from my bedside drawer and insert it inside her. It deftly swims upstream. All I want is to look after her, make her happy.

Closing my eyes, I give thanks. For the calmness. For such a stroke of the warm divine. The sunbeams strike and I draw the curtains closer. Did the neighbour have to cut the branches off? I sit, appreciating the sanctuary that is our room. I pick up the Mother Mary Icon and wipe it down with the flannel. That’s better. A reminder to set up some semblance of order to the day. I make my way to the kitchen and start breakfast.

Published by Cally Gibson

Cally Gibson is a parent, volunteer and scholar living in Auckland, New Zealand. Having always identified as bi, she had childhood fantasies of marrying and setting up house with all genders. Interests include fitness, Samuel R Delany, Angela Carter, Child Psychology (both Piaget and Steiner) and lake swimming. Due to her low blood pressure, everything Butch makes her faint.

2 thoughts on “Cinnamon Breakfast, Guest Post by Callie Gibson”

  1. Sue says:

    I love that Jay is a perfect, majestic butch who is mid-50s muscular and chunky. It gives me hope that my butch is out there somewhere.

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