Daddy

by Handel, Shanna

  A blush rises in her cheeks. She looks away, hesitating only another second before reaching up underneath her skirt. She tries to maintain her modesty, tugging at her panties while trying to keep her skirt in place.

  But I want to watch her do my bidding. I flip her skirt up and over her, exposing her bottom to me. I smooth the material over her back and out of my way.

  Her fingertips tremble as she struggles to lie over my lap while reaching behind her and grabbing the waistband of her panties. Releasing a moan of humiliation, she pulls them down, slowly revealing her bare flesh to me.

  “Beautiful.” I smooth my hand over her skin. Goosebumps rise on the back of her thighs. “I’m going to spank you now, to remind you to call me Daddy, or sir, but not Eli. Do you have any questions?”

  “What about when we are in public?”

  If we are out and about that would raise quite a few stares. Or when we eventually go back home to our small town to visit.

  But here in the Village?

  There’s all kind of kink going on. My cock hardens beneath her at the thought of my sweet, obedient little girl calling me Daddy in front of the other Brothers. “At home and in the Village, you will call me Daddy, or sir. Do you understand?”

  She whispers, “Yes, sir.”

  “Good girl.” I run my hand over her smooth buttock again. She gives a little mew, her hips shifting. I bring my hand down in a sharp, hard spank.

  “Ow!” She wiggles but stays in place.

  “It’s only appropriate for a naughty little girl such as yourself to call her husband Daddy, not by his first name. How could you be so naughty as to keep forgetting?”

  “I’m sorry, I’ll try to remember.”

  I bring my hand down again and she screams and squirms. A satisfying red handprint rises on her milky flesh. “I want you to say it, each time I spank you. That will ensure you remember who your daddy is.”

  “Yes... Daddy.”

  I give her bottom another hard spank. “Who’s your daddy, baby girl?”

  “You are, Daddy.”

  “And who’s going to punish you when you’re bad?” I ask, giving the center of her right cheek a stinging smack.

  “Ooh,” she sucks air between her teeth in pain, “you, Daddy.”

  “And who’s going to take care of you and teach you to obey so you stay out of trouble for once in your life?” Two spanks in quick succession right in the center of her ass.

  “Oh, ow! You, you, Daddy!” She wiggles her hips in pain, trying to avoid the next spank.

  I wrap my arm around her waist, pinning her in place. “Naughty girl, wiggling all over my lap. Do I need to take my belt to your bottom?”

  “No, Daddy! I’ll stay in place.”

  I spank her bottom, right cheek, left cheek, then repeat the pattern, each time asking her a question. Each time my cock getting harder as she squeaks out her answer of, “Yes, Daddy.”

  I will never tire of hearing those words escape her lips.

  When her bottom is warm and pink, I slide my finger into her pussy. “Wet for Daddy. You enjoyed your spanking a little too much, didn’t you? No matter, we will start your training, now. Soon you will be my very, very good girl.”

  She goes to stand, but I push her back down over my lap. “Not so fast...”

  “But you’ve already spanked me, Daddy.”

  “I know. But there are other ways daddies punish their baby girls’ naughty bottoms.”

  She gasps, “Like how?”

  From my pocket, I retrieve the beautiful little silver plug for her bottom—I’ve chosen the smallest one we have knowing how tight my girl is. “We like to punish the inside too.”

  As I anticipate, her curious face peers over her shoulder, eyes widening when she sees what’s in my hand. “What’s that... thing?”

  I say, “This, my dear, is your bottom plug.”

  Her eyes go big as saucers. “Wait... you’re going to put that... thing in my bottom?”

  “Say plug, baby girl,” I say.

  Her face becomes as pink as her freshly spanked bottom. “You’re going to put that plug in my bottom? I’ve never had anything in there before.”

  My cock hardens, finding out she’s a back door virgin. I’d suspected so, but as her husband, the news pleases me. “Yes. But first, spread your legs.”

  “Yes, sir.” Feeling the pressure from my hand to part them further, she complies, widening her legs. I can see her glistening sex, the swollen lips of her begging pussy, all cased between the pink cheeks of her round ass. The musky scent of her arousal reaches me and the desire to bend her over this stool and fuck her is almost too great to resist.

  But what kind of daddy would I be if I didn’t train my baby girl to obey me first?

  I slide the plug inside of her slick heat. She moans, lying limp over my lap, enjoying the shameful intrusion. I turn it, swirling it to gather her slickness, lubing it for her tight little bottom. When I pull it back out, she whimpers in displeasure.

  Exchanging the plug for my thick fingers, I enter her pussy, plunging within in, fucking her tight hole until she’s bucking over my lap, crying for more. I leave her, panting and begging, sliding my lubed fingers up to her rosebud.

  “Oh, please, don’t,” she cries. But her bottom pushes up higher in the air, wanting my attention. I press one fingertip past the tight ring of muscles, into her bottom. “That feels... oh... it...”

  I press further until she gasps. “Oh, my! It feels so strange, but I kind of like it.”

  I chuckle, relishing the fact I’ve married an anal girl. “Of course you do. You’re a Bachman Beauty. Now for your plug to make it official.”

  She gasps in surprise. “Do all the ladies’ husbands do... this to them?”

  “You can say it.” I slide my finger from her ass.

  She whispers, “Do all the wives... do their husbands... plug their... bottoms?”

  “Yes. And you’re next.” I remove my finger and press the lubed head of the plug against her tight entrance.

  She lets out a whine, then asks, “And—do they like it?”

  I slowly begin to push the plug inside of her. “It serves a purpose.”

  She whispers, “Which is?”

  “To remind you to obey. And to prepare your ass for me to take it with my cock.” With that, I push the plug all the way into her bottom.

  She gasps, wiggling over my lap, which earns her a spank on her thighs.

  I pull her up, holding her skirts around her waist, and seat her naked, spanked and plugged bare bottom on my lap. What she does next takes me by complete surprise.

  It takes her a moment to settle, shifting her weight from cheek to cheek until she finds a semi-comfortable position. She wraps her arms around my neck, holding me tightly. Snuggles her face down into the crook of my neck, and whispers, “I love you, Daddy.”

  Her words warm my heart. My arms wrap around her as I place a kiss on the top of her head, hoping one day I can return her love. “You mean so much to me, Charlotte.”

  Chapter Eight

  Charlotte

  I know he doesn’t love me back but it felt so good to say it that I don’t even care. Not much, at least.

  But maybe he will... one day.

  Eli is the most amazing husband a woman could ask for. I lack for nothing. Within two days of marrying me, he had me signing stacks of papers—naming me the beneficiary of his life insurance policy, creating savings accounts for me, putting stocks in my name.

  He tells me I’m trying too hard. Commands me to relax, to enjoy the house and decorate it as I will. He gives me credit cards, cash, a small fortune I could never spend. He’s set up outings with the other Beauties. Encourages me to buy a new wardrobe, to treat myself to whatever it is I might want.

  Tonight he’s taking me out to dinner. I’ve had another failed attempt in the kitchen, and now a week after the chicken incident, the house is full of smoke for a second time.

  I long to please him.
I flip through the rack, looking over all of the dresses I’ve purchased. “What should I wear?”

  I choose a pink silk number. One that reminds me of that dress I wore three long years ago to the Bachman gala. What better way to earn your husband’s love than with subtle reminders of your past together?

  The material glides down my body like water. I wear no bra, no panties underneath. There’s not a hair on my body to disrupt the smoothness of the silk.

  I pile my hair onto of my head, trying to look more grown up than I feel. As I twist and turn in the mirror, I think of the last time I burnt our dinner. A flush rises in my cheeks as I think of him sliding the plug in my pussy, his finger entering my bottom, him pushing the plug inside of my ass. His promise to one day take me there with his cock. Moisture pools between my thighs and I rethink the no-panty decision.

  Eli appears in the reflection of the mirror, dressed in a black jacket.

  The sight of him sends butterflies trembling through my stomach. I twist the sword pendant around my neck, appraising him. “You look handsome.”

  “This gown... it looks familiar.” He comes up behind me, his hand sliding around my waist, resting on my belly. His lips kiss the back of my neck. “Have I seen it before?”

  Smirking to myself, I say, “I don’t think so. It’s new.”

  He studies it another moment, then says. “Be downstairs in ten minutes. We have reservations and I don’t want to be late.” He gives my ass a warning smack, leaving the room.

  I’d best not be late.

  I release my breath, my skin tingling from where he’s touched me. Will he always have such a hold over me? Over my body? Will I always melt in his presence like I do?

  I sure hope so.

  Choosing the teardrop earrings, I place one in each lobe. Turning my head from side to side, I watch the fine jewelry sparkle under the lights. Satisfied I look presentable, I leave the bathroom, heading downstairs to meet my husband.

  He waits for me by the front door. I slow my pace, making my way down the stairs, swaying my hips slightly, like I’ve seen the other wives do, making the silk dance over my curves.

  Eyeing me hungrily, he growls, “Let’s go.”

  He offers me his arm and I accept. He opens the door and we step out into the cool night, my nipples instantly peaking to attention. Their change does not go unnoticed by him; a wolfish grin covers his face.

  We arrive at the sleek black car, a driver dressed in uniform stands by to open the rear door for us. Eli gestures for me to step in first. I duck my head and get into the car. The leather scent of the seats is strong, as if this car is brand new. Easily I slide across the bench, my silk slippery against the smooth leather.

  Eli joins me and the driver closes the door. He gives me a look as if I were a piece of steak, and he, the hungriest man alive. Resting his arm on the armrest cut into the door, he pushes a thin silver button. A soft whirring noise fills the car.

  Before me, a mirrored window rises from the floor. I watch in amazement as it grows taller, meeting the roof of the car and clicking into place.

  Eli says, “Total privacy. And soundproof.”

  “And the mirror?” I ask, watching my curious reflection.

  His gaze meets mine in the mirror. “For my pleasure.” Closing the gap between us, his mouth finds mine. His hands wrap around me, running through the hair on the back of my head, winding hair around his fist and tugging as his kisses envelop me.

  The car pulls onto the road, smooth and silent. I catch a glance of my flushed cheeks, my mussed hair. I barely recognize the sex kitten in the reflection—is it truly me? I watch my face as Eli kisses his way down my neck, lowering the neckline of my gown and exposing my breasts.

  I take it all in as if I’m gazing at a scene in a movie, finding it highly erotic to watch him enjoying my body. He takes a breast in his hand, sucking and biting at the nipple. Gasping in pleasure, I run my fingers through his thick hair.

  He murmurs, “Have I told you, you have the most beautiful breasts, wife?”

  I reply, “Only daily, husband.”

  His hands go to my hips, pushing up the thin material of my dress. When his hands slip between my thighs and he finds no fabric there, he gives a hiss. “No panties. How very naughty. I ought to take you over my knee and spank you for being so immodest.”

  I eye the mirrored glass, wondering just how soundproof it is. “You wouldn’t dare.”

  “Try me.” He gives a dark chuckle. But his hands are too busy to carry out his threat.

  I moan with pleasure as his fingertip slides down my slick folds in an intimate massage. He slips inside me, gathering the juices of my arousal. My breath catches in my throat as he slowly begins rubbing my swollen clit.

  Within seconds, he’s got me grinding my hips, bucking and gasping against the seat. A climax rises within me, then explodes, hard and sharp and fast. But instead of feeling satisfaction, it only serves to create a sudden craving to have him buried deep inside of me.

  My hands are on his belt, unbuckling it as quickly as I can. He sits back in the seat, unzipping his trousers and freeing his cock.

  Rucking the dress around my bare hips, I climb over him, my knees pressed into either side of the leather seat.

  His hands go to my feet, sliding off my shoes. He holds one up, examining it curiously. “Flip-flops?”

  I shrug. “I’m a creature of comfort.” I line my entrance up with the head of his cock, and just like that day in the elevator, the first time we were together, I slowly lower myself down. His gaze locks with mine and I move down, down until I’m full of him. Unable to help myself, I sneak a glance over my shoulder.

  My back is arched, my legs spread, straddling his. The round cheeks of my ass push outward, ready to ride. My hands go to either side of his head, clutching onto the seat back.

  Just when I think I’m in control, he grabs my hips, lifting me and bringing me back down, hard and fast. I cry out as he enters me, my pussy stretching and pulsing, wanting more. He rocks his hips, moving mine to his satisfaction.

  My hand goes to the roof of the car, bracing myself. My fingers want to clutch at something, anything, as this bucking bull takes me for the roughest ride of my life. He’s so big, and going so deep thanks to the angled seat, I fear I’ll tear in two. But then the sweet beginnings of an orgasm fill me.

  How can it be that two people forced to be together can make such a perfect sexual match? He knows what turns me on, and I in turn know exactly what to say, what to do to elicit that predatory growl from his lips. It’s as if our bodies were made for one another.

  As if we were made for one another.

  His hands wrap around my ass, squeezing my flesh and pulling my cheeks apart as he thrusts upward, entering me further still. His gaze does not leave my face as he watches me cry out. One more thrust and—my mind goes blank. Every muscle in my body tightens, contracts, and then—sweet release.

  I come in a shudder, my fingernails digging into his shoulders, my mouth crying his name. He gives a deep growl and comes inside of me. I can feel his cock pulsing, his hot seed filling me.

  Marking me as his.

  I begin to climb over him, but he stops me. Holding up my dress, he pulls a cloth from his pocket, wiping and cleaning the cum from my pussy. All the while, never taking his eyes from mine. The gesture is so intimate, I feel even more connected to him in this moment than when he was inside of me.

  “All clean.” He crumples the cloth, slipping it back into his pocket.

  Completely spent, I slide down beside him and he wraps his arm around my shoulders. I snuggle down into his side, feeling more content than I’ve ever known.

  But then he does something that touches me deep inside. He takes care to smooth my hair back into place. He wraps a protective arm around my shoulder. Leaning down, he places a sweet kiss on my forehead.

  Making me feel like the luckiest girl in the world.

  We arrive at the restaurant. I go to open my c
ar door, but Eli puts his hand over mine to stop me. Remembering my new standing in life, I sit back, waiting for the driver to open my door. Will I ever get used to this treatment?

  Something in Eli’s face tells me it’s important to him that I try. I take the driver’s hand as he offers it to me, helping me from the car.

  Making the best attempt at smoothing my dress, I’m amazed by the wrinkle-less fabric. No doubt a product of buying such high-end clothing. I wait by my door for Eli to come and take my arm.

  He offers it to me and I slip mine into his. Trying to swallow my pride, I can’t help the welling in my chest at the thought of what a sight the two of us must be. Curious heads turn as we make our way through the doors of the most opulent hotel I’ve ever seen.

  We arrive at the elevator—also manned by a person in uniform—and ride up to the top floor. Candlelight glows at each of the white linen-covered tables. The place settings are extravagant, with more forks and spoons than I’ll be able to keep up with. In the corner, a string quartet plays quietly, adding an element of magic to the evening.

  As we walk into the restaurant, my hand goes over my heart. “There’s no place like this back at home.”

  He jokes, “The food can’t compete with our little deli, but I thought you’d enjoy the atmosphere.”

  Of course he’s picked this place just to please me. I give him a grateful smile, feeling fully appreciative for all that he’s brought to my life in this short amount of time. “Thank you. It’s beautiful.”

  “I hope you like frogs’ legs and snails, because that’s all they serve. You’ll have to get used to delicate cuisine, now that you’re married to a billionaire.”

  Snails? Frogs’ legs? My stomach turns. Putting on a brave face, I say, “I’ll try whatever you order.”

  He leans down, whispering in my ear, “Then how about steak?”

  I’m suddenly reconsidering the blackened meal in the trashcan at home. It’s not sounding so bad now. Cringing, I whisper back, “With the snails?”

  He smiles a teasing smile I remember from our younger days. “Without.”