Posted originally on the Archive_of_Our_Own at https://archiveofourown.org/
works/1002120.
  Rating:
      Explicit
  Archive Warning:
      Underage
  Category:
      F/M
  Fandom:
      No_Fandom, Original_Work
  Additional Tags:
      Oral_Sex, Blow_Jobs, Come_Swallowing, Older_Man/Younger_Woman,
      Manipulation, Mind_Games, Mind_Manipulation, Oral_Fixation, Porn_With
      Plot, PWP, Smut
  Series:
      Part 1 of Prepatory
  Stats:
      Published: 2013-10-13 Words: 3810
****** October ******
by Vonnelise
Summary
     A snippy sixteen-year-old is left in a house by her parents with a
     behavioral expert who has promised to fix her with his "methods".
Neither of them has talked to me in a week. My parents, I mean. Ever since they
walked in on me giving Jimmy Owens a blowjob. We’ve been to different
behavioral institutions for the past year to see if they’d take me. Some have,
some haven’t. I’m a hazard, as some of them have put it. I just shrug my
shoulders; I just like to have fun. My parents don’t talk to me directly, but
they sure as hell love talking to the headmasters about me.
This is the fifteenth facility we’ve been to in twelve months. Colorado is
where we end up. Cool place, as much as I can see. The house is up in the
mountains, surrounded by trees and plains. If I do end up here, I wouldn’t mind
it. It’s just a few miles from the city, but it would be a challenge to try and
sneak out. It’s big, ginormous, huge. Bricks, glass, and light. That’s what the
house seems to be made out of. Yeah, I definitely wouldn’t have a problem with
living here.
“This shit’s hot,” I say when we get out of the car, admiring the place. Mom
and Dad both fix me with an eye roll before starting the trek up to the front
door. I can finally fully take in the outside of the house properly. The house
is white brick while the stairs leading up to the door are brown brick. There
are little planted trees everywhere, and the trees seem to get bigger in the
back yard. The large wooded door swifts open as soon as we touch the first step
up. My eyes could not have prepared me for the man that is standing before me.
He’s tall, about six-foot-five. His black suit matches his black hair that’s
tied back in an extremely neat pony tail. His eyes are as emerald as they get.
The man seems to be in his mid-thirties.
I lick my lips. I’ve never been with an older man, but I’d love to try it now.
“You all must be the Stocktons, come on in,” The man says with the brightest
smile I’ve seen in years. His arm is outstretched pointing to the inside of the
home. My parents shake the hand of the man as they step inside. I’m the last to
step in and his smile falters a bit as he looks at me. Not really in a
distasteful way, but in a kind of curious way. But his devastatingly bright
smile is back on his face in a second. “Hello, Miss Harlow,” he whispers
silently to me as he takes my hand in his. His hands are warm and smooth.
How the hell does he already know my name? I snatch my hand back from his and
walk into the house, next to my parents. “This is a nice place you have here,
Mr. Callahan,” my Dad muses. I look to my right to find a large living room. I
crane my neck to see if there’s a ceiling. And sure enough, after my neck can
crane no more, are the ceilings. I look back down at the furniture. A long
black, leather sofa with maroon pillows sit in front of the fire place where
the flat screen T.V. rests.
“Thank you, Mr. Stockton. I only want the best for my girls,” the man replies
as he shuts the door. “Where are your girls, anyway?” I ask. The man looks at
me for a second with an evaluating smile on his face. “Whenever I have
potential students come, I send them all away to a resort not too far from
here. Come, I’ll explain everything in my office,” he bristly passes us all and
we follow him down the long wide hallway. As we walk, we pass by the kitchen
(which is jaw dropping), a den, and a bathroom. He leads us all the way into
the back of the house where he opens a door that leads to an office.
Everything’s dark. Dark wood, dark furniture, dark book cases, dark books. My
parents take the two black leather seats that sit in front of the cherry wood
desk while Mr. Callahan sits in the chair behind the desk. I let out a snort
and plop down on the couch on the side. “Would any of you like anything to
drink?’ He asks. We all decline and wait for him to get down to business.
“Mr. and Mrs. Stockton, we only talked a little on the phone. I’d like for you
two to tell me more about the behavioral problem with Harlow,” when he says my
name, his hand motions to me in a dismissive way that I cannot stand. What’s
with this guy?
“Well, it’s been going on for a while now. We thought that maybe she was going
through a stage, but it’s gotten worse. She sneaks out, she parties, does
drugs, skips school, been kicked out of school, and has been sexually active.
We just don’t know what to do with her anymore. All other behavioral programs
have denied her or they expelled her. We just don’t know what to do anymore. I
snort and say, “I wouldn’t count giving blow jobs as being too sexually active…
At least on my part.” My parents have perfected the art of ignoring me, but Mr.
Callahan casts a look directly into my eyes. He has a smile on his face that
only I can see from where his hands are covering his mouth in front of my
parents.
“Do you have an idea of where she may have inherited this behavior?” The black-
haired man asks. My parents put on their bewildered, victim face. They know
exactly where I got it from. “We don’t know. We’ve done everything good parents
would do. I just don’t know where we went wrong. Or if we went wrong at all,”
my Mom says, she sounds as if she’s about to cry. Jesus, she’s really pulling
out all the stops tonight.
 
“Mrs. Stockton, no need to cry. Don’t worry, we’ll get to the bottom of this
and help your daughter,” the guy says as he hands my mother a handkerchief. She
takes it thankfully and blows her nose. I roll my eyes as I continue to pick my
nails. “Not to be rude, but I like to talk to the students alone, to hear what
they’re thinking. So if you two would ever be so kind to move into the sitting
area outside for a moment.” I just notice that he has an accent. A Southern
accent. Texas or Louisiana, maybe. My parents pick themselves up and go into
the hallway. Callahan shuts the door after them, and then turns to me. “Harlow,
would you like to take a seat at my desk?” He asks.
I look up at him from my nails, then go and sit at the chair my Dad was just
sitting in. I hear his footsteps behind me as he walks my way. Surprisingly, he
takes the seat next to me, instead of the one behind the desk. “Hello, Harlow.
I’m Leo Callahan. How are you?” He asks with that gorgeous smile on his face.
“Fine,” I snap. He lets out a small chuckle.
“That’s great. Would you like to tell me in your own words why your parents
brought you to me?” Another surprise from our guy Callahan. None of the other
people from past programs or boarding schools have ever asked me that question.
I hide my astonishment, and answer the question. “They summed it up pretty
well, don’t you think?” I ask. He does that annoying little chuckle again.
“Nothing you’d like to add?” Callahan presses when he’s done with his laugh. I
shrug my shoulders. “I wouldn’t count weed as a hardcore drug as they like to
make it seem.” Callahan agrees. “I wouldn’t either, but it is counted as a
gateway drug.” I snort at that as I look out the wide window and out into the
mountains. “I’m not counting on doing any other drugs. I have shit to do later
on in life.”
“Like what?” He asks. My head snaps over to him. Is this guy mocking me? “Are
you mocking me? You don’t think I have things planned for myself?” Callahan
holds up his hands in surrender. “I didn’t say anything like that. I actually
want to know,” he explains. I narrow my eyes at him, but when I see that he’s
not about to pop out a smile, I continue. “I want to go to school for
photography,” I tell him. His eyes light up at that.
“Interesting. I’ve dabbled in photography a bit myself.” I quirk an eyebrow at
him. “Really?” I ask. He nods his head and reaches for something on his desk. A
leather bound portfolio is in his hands. He flips to the first page where a man
on his snowboard is in midair with the sun and trees behind him Callahan flips
to the next page where an old rocking chair is sitting on the porch in black
and white. There seems to be a white almost ghostly figure wisping by the
chair. I point at it.
“What’s that?” I ask. That smile is back on his face. “Good eye, not that many
people catch on to that. I took this when I was back in my home state of
Louisiana. Visited an old back road house that’s been abandoned since the
1800’s. It’s said that spirits still roam freely there, so I had to take a few
pictures,” he explains.
Cool, but I don’t want him to get any ideas that I’m falling for his little
trick. He finds something I like and thinks we’re going to connect like that,
and then soon he finds the root of all my “problems”. I’ve been poked and
prodded at for too long to not know the signs.
“You live here?” I ask, “Or just work here?” Callahan closes the portfolio when
he notices that I’m through with the subject. “Both,” he answers. “How many
rooms?” “Eight bedrooms and seven bathrooms.” I nod my head. Impressive. “So
what’s your method in teaching me how to be a good girl?” I purr while I push
up my chest and lean toward him. His eyes descend down to my half exposed
breasts, before they go back up to my face and he leans back to the other side
of his chair. Denied. And for the first time in my life. Kinda hurts.
“I’m not going to tell you step-by-step on what I’m going to do because then
you’d know all my tricks. But I can tell you this much, I’m not like all the
other behavioral experts you’ve been to.” That catches my attention.
“And how so?” I ask. He huffs out a chuckle for some reason. “My methods are
different. Don’t worry, if your parents pick to send you here, you’ll find out
as soon as later today.” “That confident, huh?” I say. He nods his head. “That
confident.”
By the time we’ve taken a tour of the whole house, I can see that my parents
are sold on the idea of leaving me here. And I’m not that opposed to the idea,
either. With the pool that over looks the woody forest and the mountains, and
the gigantic bedrooms; this place seems like more of a resort than anything.
We go back into Callahan’s office to sign the papers. My parents have signed me
up for thirteen months. No contact with them except for letters. That’s fine
with me; I don’t like being by them anyway.
My bags are in the car’s trunk, and my dad and Callahan go outside to get my
suitcases, while my Mom and I are on the front porch. “I hope you’re happy,” I
tell her. “I am. Because I finally feel as if you’ll get the help that you
deserve with being here. That’s all we ever wanted for you, Harlow,” she says.
I roll my eyes.
“Whatever. I can do it. We’ve been separate way longer than thirteen months in
the past, now haven’t we mommy?” My comment ends the whole conversation. I know
it does when I hear her sniff back the tears. Great, just in time for the men
to get back here with my stuff. They drop my bags off into the foyer. “Lots of
stuff, Harlow,” Dad says as he cracks his back.
“Yeah well, when you live like me, not knowing where your next shelter will be,
you have to pack responsibly,” I snap back. Dad purses his lips. “Your daughter
will be in great hands, Mr. and Mrs. Stockton, I assure you. The next time you
see Harlow, she’ll be a fine citizen of society,” Callahan pounces in. Yeah,
yeah whatever.
My parents give me an awkward kiss good-bye before leaving. Callahan shuts the
door after them and I can finally breathe easy. I turn and make my way to the
leather sofa in the living room and plop down. “So, when do the girls get
back?” I ask. There’s a pause before I hear his footsteps again. “There aren’t
any other girls,” he says in a normal conversational voice. What?
“What do you mean there aren’t any other girls?” I ask. A smirk crosses his
face. “What I mean, is that there are no other girls here but you. You’re the
only girl in the program. My methods are only for one student at a time and no
more,” he says as he takes a seat in the leather chair. My heart is racing at
this point. And this is the person my parents have left me with for thirteen
months?!
“Th-then why did you say that the girls were at a resort?” I ask. He looks at
me as if I just asked the most stupid question in the world. “Because no one
would leave their teenage daughter in a house with a grown man for an x amount
of time by herself. I had to think of something, Harlow. Trust me, my methods
work.” He mentioned that before.
“What exactly are your methods, Leo?” I ask. That smirk is back on his face. He
leans back in his chair with his legs spread wide open. The bulge between them
is poking out heavily. My eyes drop right to it. “What do you like to do
sexually, Harlow?” He asks. I lick my lips before answering.
“I like to give head more than anything.” “And why is that?” He asks. I need to
get back some control from this conversation. “What does it matter to you?” His
lips quirk up at my remark. “Just asking. It’s not pleasing to the girl.” I
shrug my shoulders. “Yeah, well. It’s all about control.” A frown appears on
his face. “How do you mean?” I let out a huff of laughter. “Believe me; giving
head is the best way to get men to do what you want.” His eyebrow cocks in
interest. I continue. “That’s like the best thing you can do physically for a
man, and they will do anything to get that feeling back over, and over, and
over again. It’s science, really.”
Callahan inconspicuously fixes the bulge in his pants. “I don’t necessarily
think that’s true,” he says in an almost whisper. That sparks my interest. “And
why do you think that?” I ask. He shrugs his left shoulder nonchalantly.
“Because of the way I run the blowjob,” he senses my confusion and continues.
“I take control. The woman hardly has a choice, other than to hold her mouth
open and swallow.” Shivers run down my spine at his words.
“Things are done my way when I’m doing it,” I boast. His legs spread wider and
he sits up, staring right at me. “Then prove it.” My mouth is hanging open. I
mean, I guess I should’ve guessed where this was going, but I can’t help but be
surprised by his forwardness. But none the less, I slide to the floor, and
crawl over to him. I stop right between his legs and am about to unzip his
pants when he brushes my hands aside.
“No, you don’t get the prize after doing nothing. First, you have to suck on
these before you get my dick,” Callahan says as he slides down his zipper. He
digs into his boxers until his big round balls pop out. My eyes widen. I’ve
done it before, but not this early in the game. And I’ve never seen any that
big. Well, I have just been working on boys my own age. That reminds me, I have
to ask this man how old he is later.
I lean forward and give them an experimental lick. They taste clean, like skin.
After I confirm that they’re clean, I lap them up in my saliva before sucking
one into my mouth. Just one is in my mouth and it’s already filling me. I slick
up the left one to get it in my mouth and it works. Right when I suck both of
them in, I hear a gasp from above. My eyes flicker up to Callahan who’s looking
right at me. There’s no mocking smirk there, nor a frown. Just a concentrated
stare.
I suck on his balls as if they’re going to give me something. They feel heavy
and right in my mouth. “That’s good, that’s good. Now you can have your prize,”
Callahan says as he hurriedly pulls his cock out. It’s long, thick, and red at
the tip. Pre-cum drips from it constantly. When his balls squish out of my
mouth, a loud *pop* fills the air and we both groan at it. I lick a stripe from
his balls all the way up to the tip. My hand grasps the base of it while I lick
the slit, trying to get all of his juice onto my tongue. His breath heightens,
but he settles back into the chair.
When I feel ready, I engulf the head into my mouth, and it’s like nothing I’ve
ever had. All I can taste, all I can feel, all I can see is Callahan, and it’s
pretty intoxicating. I take more into my mouth, and the half that cannot fit, I
just stroke. The slicker my mouth and his dick gets, the louder the noise gets.
The sounds that are coming from this beautiful house are nasty and sloppy, and
I love it. His moans are getting louder.
“Your mouth should be used just for this. Just for sucking my cock. That’s all
you can really do with this mouth, isn’t it?” He groans. If there’s one thing
that I’ve learned from giving head for so long is that if they’re still making
fully understandable sentences, then you’re not doing it right. I garble up
more saliva to make the strokes easier, stroke him harder, and suck a little
more fiercely. A low, choked out moan escapes from Callahan’s mouth. That’s
more like it.
The taste of pre-cum is getting more and more to the front. He’s getting close.
I swallow as much as I can before I can choke on it. “Fuck, fuck, fuck,” Leo
moans over and over again. I slide my hand down to my skirt and lift it up to
get under my panties. A moan also escapes me when I start to rub my clit. “Y-
you’re ge-gettin’ off on this?” He asks between moans. His accent comes out
more with the less fucks he gives. I hum my answer which seems to be enough for
him.
All of a sudden, Callahan grabs the back of my head to keep me in place as he
stands up. I continue to suckle as he gets into stands. He lightly yanks on my
hair to make me let go. It doesn’t really work at first, because I want to
continue to suck. But soon the yanks start to sting and I let go. “What the
hell?” I pant as our eyes meet each other. A smirk is on his face as he starts
to quickly stroke himself. “Open your mouth, stick out your tongue,” he
commands. His idea just slid over to my brain, and I do as I’m told.
He lays his cock head on the tip of my tongue as he gets closer and closer to
his release. I make myself useful by licking the underside of his dick. He
starts to buck and says, “’Bouta cum on your tongue!” A few seconds later,
Callahan releases a never-ending moan as he spurts globs and globs of come onto
my tongue. Most of it lands on my tongue, but some ends up on my lips and
cheeks. He continues to stroke until there’s nothing left, not even drops. When
he’s done coming, he takes in deep gulps of breaths as he slaps his cock on my
messy tongue. The room fills with the wet smacking sounds.
“Oh, fuck, Harlow. You’re really good at that. Never has a girl your age made
me come like that. And all over that cute. Pink. Tongue.” He emphasis every
word with a loud smack of his dick on tongue. I keep eye contact as I take one
last lick of his dick, before dipping my tongue back into my mouth, and
swallowing with my mouth open, just for him to see.
“Damn, girl. I can’t get hard that fast,” Callahan protests as he tucks himself
back in. I smirk and rise back onto my feet. “Told you you’d like it,” I gloat.
He nods his head, rolling his eyes a bit. “Yeah, yeah, you passed,” he mumbles.
My lips turn into a pout. “I passed what?” I ask. “The test. That was all a
test. I found out one of the things that you like doing the most and made you
prove it to me. To see if you have a self-esteem issue or not.” I don’t follow,
but my anger is rising. “What?” I seethe.
“People with low self-esteem always feel as if they have to prove something to
everyone. Like how you felt that you had to prove something as small as your
dick-sucking skills to me. We’ll work on more of this as we go along the days,
come now,” Callahan explains as he walks out of the living room and on to
another subject. My eyes follow him, but my feet do not. I wish that I felt
that I was in some kind of danger, but I don’t. That maybe shows how much I’m
screwed up in the head. Whatever that’s going to happen over these next
thirteen months, I think I’m going to like them and hate them at the same time.
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