For Her Own Good

by Parker, Tamsen

  It’s that peculiar mix of comfort and slight humiliation being turned bottoms up over Lowry’s thighs that has me starting to feel spaced out and dreamy. And when he slides a hand under my skirt and drags it over the frilly underwear I picked special for today, he groans and I let out a small moan of my own.

  “What are you doing to me, Star? I swear I used to be a fine, upstanding citizen and now all I can think of is you in your little outfits and your darling shoes, and this…”

  He fists a hand in my hair and I don’t even care that he’s crushing the ringlets that took me an hour to perfect—they’ve clearly served their purpose.

  “And how I want to turn you over my knee and spank your bottom until it’s bright red before I stuff my cock inside this”—there’s a slight pause because he’s shoved his hand full-on inside my panties, nudged my thighs apart and speared his fingers into my core, making me gasp—“tight little pussy of yours. You’re so wet for me already, darling. I love how wet my little girl gets for me.”

  I rock back against his fingers, trying to get more of them inside me, fuck back against him while I rub my clit against his thigh and get myself off. There’s no way he’ll let me, but a girl’s gotta try.

  Of course he tsks at me, knowing what I’m trying to do, and withdraws his fingers with a spank to my cheek.

  “What a naughty little thing you are, trying to rub one off on Daddy’s thigh. You didn’t think I’d let you get away with that, did you?”

  I whimper and collapse, feeling the loss of his fingers keenly. “No, Daddy.”

  “That’s right, I’m the one in charge here, not you. You’ll take what I give you, no more, no less. Perhaps you need a spanking to remind you of how things work.”

  He doesn’t wait for a response, but tugs down the ruffly underwear until it rests in the crease between ass and thigh, and it’s that delicious kind of humiliation, knowing my butt is perfectly framed by my dress rucked up around my waist and the ruffles at the bottom. He must be thinking the same thing, because he grabs my cheeks in both hands and squeezes them.

  “Like ripe peaches. That’s what your bottom looks like, Star, all round and firm and begging to be squeezed.”

  He kneads at me for a bit, and it’s all I can do to keep my hips still for him, to not rut against his leg. It helps that I am dying of embarrassment, my face flaming with how much I like this and also with thoughts of why. Why do I like this?

  But when he plants a palm at the small of my back and then starts to spank me, it doesn’t seem to matter so much anymore. The point is that I do like it. Like the way his hand lands against my flesh, the sting of it followed by a heat that builds with every passing blow.

  Lowry works me over, his hand making contact with what feels like every exposed inch of my ass, and layering the hits on top of each other. That’s how the heat builds, the warmth radiating out after each spank, but part of it remaining until the slaps raining down on me are hard. Not enough to feel punished, as though I’ve been bad and need to be corrected—I think he’d make it very clear if I was really being punished—but enough to make me feel as though none of this is under my control anymore, none of this is my responsibility.

  Lowry is going to spank my bottom until he’s felt I’ve had enough and that’s how things are going to be. I shouldn’t bother to fight, but just enjoy the repeated contact, and how he’s so carefully attending to me.

  Which is maybe strange? That it feels so good to me that he’s spanking me so very thoroughly. Would I feel the same delight and peace if he were attentioning me in some other way? I wouldn’t be averse to finding out, but there’s something about being spanked that is a perfect storm of everything I want and love. I love, too, the way he drags a hand over my heated bottom when he’s done.

  “You were such a good girl, Star, taking that spanking. Your bottom is the nicest shade of pink now, and all warmed up. Can you feel that?”

  Oh, I can, and when he switches to fingertips drifting whisper-soft over my abused flesh, I get chills. Serves to provide a contrast that bows my spine and makes me squirm as a shudder runs through me. “Yes, Daddy.”

  “Good girl,” he murmurs as he continues to stroke my bottom. I could fall asleep like this. Or maybe I’m too horny to fall asleep? Especially when I think about how he had his fingers inside me before. I’d like for him to do that again. I’d like for him to fuck me again, make me take his big cock inside me…

  Just then, he strokes a finger into the top of the cleft of my ass and it makes me start.

  “Shh, love. I know we haven’t done this before, but I want to touch you. If you don’t like it or don’t want me to or need me to stop for any reason at all, say ‘penguin,’ okay? You can say ‘no’ and ‘stop’ and I’ll check in with you the first couple of times, but I thought you might like to tell me no but still mean yes. I know you’ve used safewords with Jade before. Just like that. Tell me you understand.”

  “I understand, Daddy.”

  And I like the idea very much. It’s nice that he’s not making me say yes to this, as it’s something I’ve struggled with in the past. I don’t know why. Lots of people enjoy anal play and I don’t honestly think there’s anything to be ashamed of, but those taboos and shame are really hardwired, aren’t they?

  So he’s going to do this and I have the safety of being able to make it stop, but also the freedom of not having to affirm that this is something I want. Hell, can even protest that I’m a good girl and of course don’t want this, but have him “force” it on me anyway so I can take my pleasure.

  “Tell me your word so I know you remember.”

  It makes me smile, and huff a little laugh. Of course he would pick a ridiculous word so I won’t forget it and if I have to say it, some of the tension will automatically be broken. “Penguin.”

  “That’s right. Do you have any lube? I don’t want to hurt you.”

  I have to bury my face in BB-8 before I find the nerve to respond because, conveniently, once I’m in this headspace, I get embarrassed even more easily. “Top drawer of the nightstand.”

  “Up you get, then,” he says, and I push up on my hands until I’m kneeling back, red-faced with my heels digging into my sore bottom. I get a once-over with his assessing gaze.

  “I love your outfit, darling, but I’d like you better naked at the moment. Strip off and then get back over my lap.”

  I don’t need to be told twice. As he rummages in the drawer, I pull my dress over my head and shimmy out of my undies, leaving my clothes a heap on the floor. And then he’s patting his thigh and I do as he’s asked. The cloth of his pants is a stark contrast to my skin and it makes me feel even more naked, knowing he’s not.

  He doesn’t use the lube right away but must set it down. There’s something about the delay that builds anticipation, makes me clench my thighs together. And then his hands are on me again. Same heavy weight at the small of my back, and smooth easy circles over my cheeks with his other hand before he switches to the drag of his fingertips. Whereas he’d stopped close to the top before, he eases a finger further into my cleft and it makes me want to squirm. Beg for more or tell him to stop or, I don’t know, anything besides tolerating this insinuating, teasing motion that makes me think of everything while he’s giving me nothing. Is this his plan? To get me riled up and make me beg? I don’t like it, but I’ll do it.

  But no, I think he’s taking his time, exploring and enjoying me. Possibly relishing being allowed to do this. The level of intimacy I have permitted this man is far above any I’ve allowed anyone else, and I think he knows that. Not just is aware of it, but values the trust I place in him. Perhaps enjoys it in the same way I like to soak in his care and attention. Does it make his heart light up with the knowledge that I chose him? Because I have. And would like to know him as intimately as he knows me.

  His fingertip skates over my asshole and I want to die a little. Because ohmygod, that is my asshole. Maybe it wouldn’t be so weird if there
was a nicer word for it, but all the euphemisms I’ve ever heard are cringe-worthy, so asshole it is.

  And oh god. He’s so gentle and thorough as he touches me, rubs around my hole and strokes my perineum in a way that renders me into a puddle. Such a secret, small place that can make a person feel so very good and, for me, intensely submissive and vulnerable. And to be handled with such care tells me I’m not mistaken in having put my trust in him. He’s earned it back, with interest.

  A good thing too, because his hands leave my body and I’m guessing I know why. A snick of a cap confirms my suspicions, and there are a few beats before he’s touching me again. He warmed the lube between his fingers so I wouldn’t get a shock of cold gel, and I appreciate it.

  I also—jeez, what is it about lube that makes everything even filthier? Like, this was getting dirty before, but now with the slickness, it’s more so. Maybe because the prospect of him fingering my ass has gotten that much closer?

  “Star? You doing okay? You’re being such a good girl for me, but you’re so quiet I wanted to check.”

  “Yes, Daddy.”

  “You like how this feels? Me stroking your tight little arsehole?”

  Christ on a cracker. “Yes,” I choke, and he takes pity on me, not demanding more but instead applying a bit of pressure to the aforementioned tight little asshole. Which at once makes me spread my legs in the ache for penetration but also squirm because, oh god.

  “That’s a good girl, open up for me, Star. Someday I’m going to get my entire cock inside you here, but today I think I’m just going to finger-fuck your arsehole.”

  Filthy, filthy, and I want it.

  He takes his time, adding more lube and stroking me, lulling me into comfort with the sensation. It starts to be less strange that he’s touching me here, and almost becomes obvious. Indeed, why wouldn’t he touch me here? It feels so freaking good. Every so often, he presses against my hole, murmuring to me, encouraging me, telling me what a good girl I am, and soon he’s pressing with intent. Not a diffuse sort of pressure, but with a purpose to penetrate. To push a finger inside of me.

  “Come on, love, let me in. I’m going to make you feel so good, but you have to relax and let me in. That’s it. There’s my good, obedient girl.”

  Obedient. If anyone else described me that way, I’d laugh in their face. I have been respectful, dutiful, even, but obedient? That, I shape myself into only for Lowry—and I suppose Jade—and only at discrete times like these.

  It’s an odd thing to focus on, to let myself be open in order for Lowry to violate me with a finger. But violate isn’t right. Conquer, perhaps, or breach, but I don’t feel violated. I feel loved.

  I’m rewarded by the advance of his finger inside me, still with the same easing stroke, and then he draws back out to apply more lube and press forward inside of me again. Again and again until it’s easy for him to sink his finger into my bottom, all the way to his knuckle, and the strangeness of it has melted away into more attention to how much I enjoy being penetrated by him, having him inside me, the rocking motion of being fucked gently by any part of him.

  Which is perhaps why I’ve started to squirm in earnest. Press my hips back to meet his finger, create more of a thrust than a slow stroke. Because I want to get fucked like this, get off like this. I’m so turned on that any modesty I had is gone now.

  “Don’t be naughty, little girl. Don’t you dare come yet, or there will be serious consequences.”

  The threat of which makes me whimper and clench around him. Part of me wants to be punished. To provoke gentle, loving Lowry into a man who would hurt me more. But I can’t imagine he’d lose control even then. Especially not then. He’s too careful with me. But he also likes to push me.

  He applies more pressure to the small of my back, holding me down and making me feel so very at his mercy before his hand is gone and I hear the short clip of the lube bottle opening again.

  “You’re going to take two of my fingers and then you’ll be allowed to rub off on my thigh until you come. That’s what’s going to happen: I’m going to stuff your tight little hole as full as it’s ever been and then you’re going to hump my leg until you come like the dirty little girl you are. Understand?”

  What has been soothing is suddenly electrified and takes on a different cast.

  “No!”

  There’s the briefest pause in the rhythm he’d established.

  “You can say no all you want, little girl. You know the word if you really want this to be over. But until I hear it, I’m going to keep going. You’re going to take everything I give you, because Daddy knows what’s best for his little girl. I bet you’re feeling pretty horny and frustrated right now, aren’t you? And maybe you like how I’m stroking this finger in and out of your arse, but you’re going to like it even more when your tight little hole is stretched around two of my fingers and I’m fucking you with them, nice and rough.”

  “Oh…” My moan is pathetic and needy, and I rock back, because I do want that. But I can’t take it. I want…I want to be coaxed, to be told, to have these things done to me because he knows me so well and not because it’s my idea. “Daddy, please don’t. It’s too small, you won’t be able to fit them in.”

  “Yes, I will. You were worried Daddy’s big fat cock wouldn’t fit in your tight little pussy too, and did it?”

  Oh god, did it ever.

  With faux reluctance because it’s fun and it gives me a thrill, I concede, “Yes, Daddy.”

  “That’s right. So, trust me when I say you can take two of my fingers up your arse and that you’re going to like it. You’re going to come so hard that your pussy is going to convulse around nothing at all, and you’ll beg me to fill that hole too. Think about that, Star. Think about me plugging your arse and fucking your cunt. For today we’ll have to take turns, so let’s get started. I’ll be gentle and go slow first, but you’re going to take two fingers in your bottom, stretching that hole.”

  Oh, fuck. Fuck fuck fuck. How does he know? But he does, so there’s nothing left for me to say but “yes, Daddy.”

  I have to close my eyes to even breathe because I can’t take any more stimulation than what’s already being heaped upon me. This is one of the things that are both a blessing and curse about Lowry: he makes me feel so goddamn much. Even when I’ve been as physically intimate with other partners as I’ve been with him, even when they’ve reached this far inside my body, never have they reached this far inside of my soul.

  So, I breathe and relax, try to be open for him, because he’s right, I know he’s right. He’s going to make me feel so good and I won’t regret this. And while being bottoms up over his knee is delightful in its own squirmy, mortified way, I can’t wait for him to fuck me this way too. To feel his cock fill me up and reach so very deep inside me, his hips flush against my ass and the backs of my thighs as he pounds me. It will feel so dirty and so good and…I don’t know, complete in some way? As though every part of me is his, as though he’s mastered everything about me and knows how to, yes, manipulate me, but instead of using that information to hurt me, uses it to care for me and make me feel good.

  He’s working his second finger in much the way he did the first, with great patience and caution, and also by sliding in and out, adding more lube as he sees fit. It’s a little bit agonizing, the way my body stretches around the intrusion, but it does in fact stretch, it doesn’t tear. I can do this, I can take this, just as he said I could.

  “God, you’re beautiful, little girl. And so fucking sexy, letting me push my fingers into your arse, stretch out your hole and fuck you like this. Makes me feel so good that you trust me enough to let me do this. And wasn’t I right? I knew you could do it and that it would make you feel good.”

  “Yes, Daddy. You were right.”

  “That’s my good girl. And good girls get rewarded. Would you like your reward, Star?”

  “Yes, Daddy, please.”

  I’m not proud of how my voice com
es out as a whimpering plea, but it probably makes him happy. Altogether, I know he’s quite pleased because I can feel the hard length of his erection against my hip. Which is at once deeply satisfying because he’s being turned on by me, but also scary in its own way. Lowry is…not a small man. When he fucks my ass with his cock instead of his fingers, it’s going to be intimidating. I know he’ll make it enjoyable, but jeez. I won’t be entirely acting when I tell him I’m not sure if it will fit.

  He squeezes my ass cheek and then gives the same side a spank, making my flesh heat up in an instant, as if it had forgotten about the thorough spanking I’d been treated to earlier and just now remembered. I have never in my life been this aware of, this focused on, my ass. And why the hell not, because this is amazing.

  “Then spread your legs. That’s it.”

  Oh. With my thighs parted more, I get more contact on my mound and my clit, and Christ.

  “Go on, princess. Rut against my thigh and show me what a filthy little girl you are. I want to hear you, I want your sounds, and I want you to come. I want to feel your muscles clamp down on my fingers when you climax.”

  His dirty directives make me want to hide under a table but also grind against his thigh, and when he senses I’m stuck between those two impulses, he urges me on. “Come on. You can do it. Make your daddy proud. I want you to come all over me and scream my name when you do.”

  I don’t know about screaming, because hi, apartment building, but the other things? Yes. I do want to make him proud, I do want to please him, and fuck yes, I want to come. So, a little shyly at first, I press back against his fingers, forcing them farther inside me, and there’s something about being active now instead of the passivity of having him be the one to make all the overtures that is at once humiliating but also empowering and it’s all so much in my head. I’m about to get lost in it when Lowry calls my attention back to my body with another spank, hard this time, to my cheek.