by Fields, Sara
He reached for the hem of my shirt. I was wearing only a tank top.
“Dean,” I whispered.
“Arms over your head, little girl,” he commanded, and I hesitantly did as he asked. He lifted my tank top, baring the lacy pink bra I had underneath.
He made me feel so shy. I covered myself in an attempt to maintain some semblance of modesty, but he calmly brushed my hands away.
“This color is very becoming on you. I’ll have to remember that when I spoil my little girl with fancy gifts sometime soon,” he murmured.
I blushed. I hadn’t expected any sort of praise from the likes of him and I wasn’t prepared for the way it warmed my heart either because it made it feel like he actually cared.
He couldn’t, could he?
“Turn around,” he said softly, and I did. With practiced ease, he unclasped my bra and then his hands on my shoulders turned me back to face him. I stared at the floor. Sure, he’d seen me naked many times before, but this was different.
“So very beautiful, little girl. It pleases Daddy to see you entirely bare for him,” he said tenderly, and a soft hum of embarrassment fell off my lips. I shivered, not from the cold but from his observant eyes on my skin. He was still fully clothed and the dichotomy of power between us was so off-set. He was in control right now. I wasn’t.
I wasn’t brave enough to ask what he was up to. I was curious though, so I lifted my eyes, watching as he reached for me and gently took my left nipple between two fingers.
“Your body betrays you, little girl. I can see you fighting me but know that Daddy is going to win this little game.”
“What game?” I blurted and he simply smiled.
“Your breathing gets quicker when I touch you. Your eyes dilate, your shoulders round toward me. You want to submit to Daddy, but there’s something deep inside you fighting back,” he murmured.
I didn’t tell him that he was right. I wanted to fight him. I didn’t want to give in to these wicked desires that kept forcing their way out of me whether I liked it or not. I was a proud girl, and he wouldn’t be the one to break me.
He pinched my nipple more firmly before and then he twisted it hard. I gasped in surprise as he grasped my right side and repeated what he’d done to the other. I pitched forward toward him and he caught me as I stumbled, searing agony blazing across my breasts.
“Why are you doing this?” I asked. He smiled knowingly and then he slipped his fingers between my thighs.
I squeaked, trying to press my legs together.
His fingers slid through my folds with ease as he found me just as soaked as he had after he’d whipped me with his belt. My mouth had gone dry with that realization and I froze, unable to stop the way my nipples were pulsing with aching desire and how my pussy wanted to grasp every inch of that massive cock.
“I’m doing this because of this soaking wet little pussy. I’m doing this because I know what you need, little girl, and it’s about time Daddy gave it to you,” he declared, and I shuddered.
My clit throbbed hard. I didn’t want to tell him I wanted what he was offering because I was scared of what that might mean.
Was I a dirty girl? Would he like that? Did I want to call him Daddy?
He took my hand and pressed my palm against his cock.
Yeah. He most definitely liked that. He was hard as a fucking rock and the realization made my pussy tighten instinctively.
“Do you feel how hard you make Daddy, little girl?” he murmured as he slid his other hand around the back of my neck. He pulled my body flush against his and I gasped, now feeling his erection burning hot against my hip.
“Yes, Daddy,” I whimpered.
My thighs pressed together, slipping against one another as my arousal dripped down them.
“Look at Daddy,” he instructed. I hesitantly raised my eyes to meet his and I couldn’t stop worrying my bottom lip. His gaze dropped to my mouth and he gently lifted my chin and pressed his lips to mine in a kiss so gentle that it made my head spin. His kiss was tender, and it caught me off guard. I didn’t know what to make of it.
He was so rough at times and so kind at others. I couldn’t anticipate what he would do next and that worried me.
I kissed him back. I don’t know why I did, but as his lips tangled with mine, that same needling feeling awoke once more. His kiss grew more demanding and possessive, which only fueled my desire for him even higher.
He was so hard against my hip and I shuddered, imagining him slipping between my thighs.
Did I want that?
Finally, he pulled away from me, leaving my lips swollen and achy from his kiss. I stared back into those soulful blue eyes. I remembered what they’d looked like on our wedding day and how I’d regretted my work for the first time that day.
He stripped in front of me, and I couldn’t keep my eyes from his naked flesh just as he couldn’t tear his away from mine. The tension between us was palpable. I wanted to trace my fingers along his corded biceps, edging onto the hard muscles of his chest and the many ridges that lined his stomach. Since I’d seen him last, he’d only gotten harder, his physique more toned and stronger. It made me feel so very small next to him, as if he could simply take me in his palm and crush me in one single blow.
The effect of that dichotomy was chilling and arousing at the same time.
My gaze drew downward as I admired the lines of his hips, the swell of his firm buttocks, and the hard jutting erection that seemed to call my name.
Fuck.
He was a filthy temptation, that’s all this was. Nothing more and nothing less. I turned my head, gazing at myself in the mirror rather than the devilishly naked man next to me.
I had to start thinking with my head and not with the needy little clit between my thighs.
He reached for me and his touch was molten fire. A soft gasp escaped my lips as he wrapped his fingers around my upper arm and prodded me forward into the shower. After tapping a series of complex commands into a touch keypad, the shower roared to life. Above me, a soft rain of water gently pounded against my skin. It was the perfect temperature. A tropically scented steam billowed down all around us and I gasped at the warm feeling of it.
The hot water cascaded onto my back and I moaned softly when it dripped down my scalded bottom. The heated water made the sore ache flare to life for several long moments before it began to fade to a manageable level. I pressed my palm against the stone, surprised to find that that was warm too.
This was definitely the best shower I’d ever stepped into in my life.
“Turn around, little girl,” Dean instructed, and I was too relaxed to think of anything but simply obeying him. I did as he asked, and I heard him fiddling with something behind me. Then his fingers returned to my scalp.
He was going to bathe me himself.
My heart almost stopped at the sweetness of the whole thing. His hands felt electric against my skin as he cared for me, so very different from the man who had thrashed my bare bottom with his belt. I didn’t know what to say so I said nothing at all. I just enjoyed every part of it.
He massaged shampoo into my scalp, taking extra care behind my ears and at the top of my neck. Surprisingly, he made sure to turn my head just enough so that he could ensure that there wasn’t any soap getting in my eyes. When he was finished, he carefully coaxed me backwards into the spray of the rain shower. He helped me rinse it all away with practiced ease.
Next, he poured a luxurious mango-scented body wash onto a thick loofah and rubbed it against my skin. The soapy surface felt soft as it exfoliated my flesh and I sighed with pleasure at the feeling. With tenderness that I wasn’t sure I deserved, he even soaped up my welted backside, taking care to only put enough pressure to clean it and not enough to really hurt.
I enjoyed myself and when the time came to rinse off again once more, I was almost disappointed, but he took a jar of sugar scrub off a built-in shelf and started rubbing it all over my body after that.
; This… this was incredible. A girl could get used to being spoiled like this.
He conditioned my hair next with a multitude of beautifully scented oils and used his nails to massage it deep into every strand. I couldn’t help myself as I moaned softly.
This was pure unadulterated luxury.
He took a comb and brushed through my hair with the conditioner still in it, taking care to gently loosen every tangle until each run through was smooth. For a while, I just allowed myself to feel and enjoy the moment, forgetting that this was dangerous, that if anyone ever found out the two of us would be good as dead.
I knew this was temporary. The first moment I could, I was going to have to run. Only this time, I would be taking nothing when I did.
He lifted my chin, peering into my eyes with those ocean blue depths of his.
“You’re standing right next to me, little girl, but I know you’re far away from me right now,” he murmured.
So gentle. So trusting. So utterly, intoxicatingly sweet.
My heart died a little on the inside to know that I was going to have to hurt him again.
“It’s nothing. I’m just enjoying this,” I whispered, turning my lips up with a practiced smile. His mouth tensed and I grinned more widely, trying to convince him that all was well.
He started to bathe himself and I hesitantly took the loofah into my hands. When he wasn’t looking, I lifted it and began to scrub his back. His resulting groan made my legs feel weak.
He turned toward me and I continued on his chest, taking care of him as he’d done me.
At this moment, the future didn’t matter. Right now, it was just the two of us.
A streak of boldness jolted through me from God knows where and I moved downward. I traced the soapy loofah down the sharp line of his hipbone, just glancing against the iron-hard erection between his thighs. He didn’t stop me. He just let me explore on my own with the loofah.
I glided it up and down his shaft, enjoying the way his cock would jerk from time to time under the spray of the water. He was so impossibly hard that it was an angry red bordering on purple.
Bathing me had turned him on. Or maybe it had been the fact that my bottom was still red from his punishment. I didn’t know and it really didn’t matter to me.
I had turned him on. I made him this hard and that was a powerful feeling that I didn’t want to let go of.
Tentatively, I pressed the fingers of my other hand against the base of his shaft, dragging upward in concert with the loofah. He groaned softly with desire and I grew more brazen still and grasped him even more firmly within my hand.
“You think you’re in control right now. Don’t you, little girl?” he said, his voice thick with arousal. There was a distinctive edge to his words that made my core tighten with my own passionate need. I ignored my own and focused on him instead.
I stroked my hand up and down him thick length more firmly and he pressed me back against the stone wall. His body towered around mine, closing me in and holding me captive while my hand was still on his cock.
“Is that what you want, little girl? Do you want Daddy’s cock?” he whispered, and I shook hard because maybe somewhere deep inside me did want that.
I decided to play coy.
“Maybe,” I teased, and he chuckled, but in a dangerous way that made my toes curl with nervous anxiety.
“Such a naughty little tease. Daddy’s going to have to deal with that, isn’t he?” he mused, and I shuddered, even as he grasped me by the arm and turned me around so that my cheek was flush against the stone. My nipples pressed against the warm surface and I shook with anticipation of what he would do next.
His knuckles traced down the length of my spine and my breathing quickened as they descended until they slid down the cleft of my backside. With his fingers, he parted me there slightly and I stopped drawing in air at all. I froze, not sure what he was going to do and almost afraid to know.
“One day, when you’re especially naughty, Daddy is going to punish you here,” he murmured as his fingertip slowly tapped my bottom hole. That single digit felt as heavy as his palm even though I knew that it wasn’t. My head swirled with confusion.
Good girls didn’t do that.
Good girls didn’t want that.
Then why the fuck did I?
“Daddy, please,” I begged. His finger fell away.
“Do you want Daddy’s cock, little girl?” he asked.
Why did that make my inside swirl with desire when he said it like that?
Think with your head, Willow. Jesus Christ.
I turned my head away and I didn’t dignify him with an answer. Almost as if he could read the indecision in my silence, his palm cracked hard against my backside. I squeaked in surprise at the sudden sting, realizing it hurt far more on a wet bottom. He spanked me hard several times before he dipped his fingers lower and slid them in between the wet folds of my pussy.
“You’re not ready for Daddy’s cock, little girl. You’re going to have to earn it,” he whispered, and I moaned with need as his fingers ground hard against my clit.
Why did that have to feel so incredible? Why couldn’t I hate his cruelty like any other normal girl would? Why was I so desperate to feel his cock sink between my thighs?
Those demanding fingers pressed harder against my needy bud, forcing me closer toward the edge of my own release.
“You were never in control, little girl, and now Daddy’s going to show you,” he said darkly, and I squealed with the dangerous intent behind those words. Those teasing fingers quickened, pressing more firmly and moving even faster over my clit. My thighs shook just a little and I felt that delicious precipice of bliss fast approaching. He forced me right to the edge and as my cries of pleasure soon became more desperate, he tore his hand away seconds before I could find relief.
He started spanking me again. Harder. Meaner. Infinitely crueler.
“Oh,” I cried out in surprise. I hadn’t expected him to be so firm with me again so soon. Maybe I should have.
His hand peppered my backside hard enough to ignite the welts his belt left behind and then his breath brushed against the tiny hairs along my ear, and I was instantly on high alert.
“Spread your legs,” he commanded.
“But I—” I countered, and he cut me off.
“Daddy said to spread your legs, so you will spread your legs, little girl,” he chastised, and a thrill of terror and arousal pulsed through me at the thinly veiled threat.
“Yes, Daddy,” I whimpered, and I finally did as I was told.
Slowly, I slid one foot to the side, slipping across the wet stones beneath my toes far too easily. It felt as though butterflies were dancing inside my stomach. I drew in one breathy pant after the next, unsure of what was to come. Would he allow me orgasm now? Would he come with me too?
Caught between the intoxicating edge of fear and curiosity, I opened my legs as wide as I dared.
“Wider, little girl,” he growled, and my core tightened so hard that a cry escaped my throat.
“Daddy, please,” I groaned, my voice shaking for him.
“Daddy likes it when you cry for him,” he said as he slipped his hand back in between my thighs. His foot pushed mine a bit wider and stayed there. I nervously realized that he was holding me open.
For what?
I didn’t have to wait long to find out.
His palm smacked between my thighs firmly and the resulting sting was almost enough to bring me to my knees. I tried to close my legs, but he wouldn’t let me, and a strangled wail escaped my throat as I slowly came to recognize just how trapped I was.
“Daddy especially likes it when you cry for him like that,” he said and even as his palm branded my pussy again, I couldn’t control the simmering arousal that blazed through me because of it. I don’t know why I even thought I could.
My thighs trembled.
His palm cracked even more firmly against my sensitive flesh and I tried to push again
st the wall to escape it, but there would be no running for me. Not this time.
His hand told me that again and again as I keened for him. My body shook and my voice quivered until I was on the verge of tears. I didn’t want to fall apart in front of him.
Not again.
I never cried in front of my marks. Until him and I still didn’t know how to handle that.
Did he like it? Had it made him hard?
“Daddy, please. It hurts,” I whined. He growled seductively in my ear and I could feel the velvet iron of his cock pressing against my sore bottom cheek. My inner walls clenched greedily around empty air and even as his palm continued to punish my pussy, I knew that it wasn’t just the wetness of the shower in between my legs.
Despite the pain, my own arousal was there too.
Why the fuck did having my pussy smacked make me want to come all over again?
His fingers returned to soothe my clit, teasing it softly enough to drive me wild with need. I squirmed against him, trying to grind myself against his fingers.
I wanted him inside me, but I knew better than to ask for that now. I would get every last inch of him when he was ready and not a moment before.
He teased me toward the edge of orgasm once again, those devilish fingers working my body with skillful ease. Within moment, I was ready to come again with the folds of my pussy still burning from his punishing blows.
My hips rolled lewdly, and I could do nothing to stop them. My orgasm seemed just out of my reach and then I started to do the unthinkable.
“Please, Daddy. Please,” I begged.
“Please what, little girl? You’re going to have to be far more specific when you tell Daddy what you need,” he answered, and a harsh shudder raced down my spine.
I felt a heated flush race over my cheeks, and I was vaguely thankful that my face was pressed against the stone tile. He wouldn’t be able to see what his words were doing to me.
“I…”
“Tell Daddy, little girl, or this little pussy is going to get spanked bright red instead of just pink,” he warned, and my inner walls nearly convulsed at the meaning behind those words.
“Please. Daddy.”