by Adrian Amos
My tongue runs round the scoop of ice cream on my cone.
I don't even think I used the puppy dog eyes. It's like I barely even have to try anymore. My stepfather just melts from whatever I say... kind of like this ice cream.
I take a chunk out of the bulb of frozen dairy. I look at him across the table, but he's focused on his own confectionery mess.
What can I say? I'm his little angel, and he'd do anything for me. And I might be using that to my advantage lately.
I want a new palette of makeup? We go to Ulta.
I want to take a vacation with my friends? He hands me his credit card.
I want to skip out on college and live at home? He doesn't even think twice.
I want ice cream? We go to the neighborhood mall.
I used to have to beg and manipulate to get what I wanted, but now he's so wrapped around my finger that the mere utterance of wanting something sends him scurrying to find it for me. Which is kind of humorous when you think about what a big and burly man he is. He's probably twice my size, but he seems like a fragile mess when he's trying to please me.
In fact, a small droplet of ice cream falls from my cone, landing on my bare thigh. I glance down, but I barely pay it any mind. I'll get it in a moment.
But daddy says, “Oh shoot. Hold on a second. I'll get you some napkins.” He gets up from the table and heads off to the nearest store.
I shrug, swiping the ice cream off my leg with my finger and licking it clean. There, clean. He's so whipped that he panics and runs off right away at the simplest inconvenience.
But as I watch him run off, I notice out of the corner of my eye a little shop I'd never seen before. It looks so... interesting. It's got a bright pink neon sign, like the sexiest pink you've ever seen. It's called Eve's Dresser, and it looks way more exciting than any ice cream cone could ever be.
I glance over at daddy, who's disappeared through the mall crowd.
He'd never let me go in there. He's such a prude.
But... if he doesn't know...
He'll absolutely hate it if I'm not where he left me.
That said, you ever been so spoiled, you do whatever you want because you know you'll get away with it? Like, what consequences could there possibly be? I can't even remember the last time the man even raised his voice at me. If he ever has.
So I stand up and trot over to my new fascination, devouring my cone on the way over. Before I enter, I take a quick look over my shoulder to see if daddy's noticed yet, but he's no where to be found.
I walk inside. The cold A/C hits me, causing me to shiver from my tank top down to my jean shorts. The smell of rubber—or latex—or something sanitized—wafts over in a huge gust. It smells so weird, but somehow still exciting. Like, everything in this perverted sex dungeon is probably made of that stuff, so it's almost arousing taking it all in at once.
The guy at the counter is older, gray beard and all. He's busy reading a magazine, so I make my way through the serpentine layout without alerting him.
There are racks and racks of weird, sexy toys. There's handcuffs, paddles, condoms, whips, fake dolls, and... oooooohhh, that's a nice looking dildo over there.
The purple beast catches my eye. It's thick, dual pronged for clit stimulation. It looks like a monster's big dick! I've never really been interested in this type of stuff before: every other dildo I've owned has always been pocket sized. But I'm feeling kind of turned on looking at it. What would something that thick feel like stretching me out? I squeeze my thighs together as I imagine the feeling of it inside me.
I get that urge when I shop, that urge I feel when I really want something. I want it so badly I'd make a scene in the store just to get it.
I turn around, only to remember daddy's not around. There's no one to hand me his card or to make a scene for.
I pull it off the peg and turn it around.
Fifty fucking dollars?! I can't afford that. If daddy were—no, of course not. He'd never buy me something like this. The blood in his face would probably drain and he'd faint if he saw me looking at this.
I sigh, studying the pussy pulverizer intensely. God, all the things I could do with this, all the fun I could have. I'd probably fuck myself crazy for the next few days. It's not like I've got a job or school to distract me. I'd work my pussy every day if it meant I wouldn't have to work an actual job.
But without a job, how the hell could I buy this?
And then it clicks. I look to my sides. No one in the store besides me. I have to stand on my tippy toes to look over the nearby rack at the man at the counter. He's still fixated on his magazine, turning the pages lazily as he struggles to make it through his shift.
I look at the plastic package once more. Should I? Could I get away with it?
I glance back at the guy. No change.
Okay, here I go. I don't have anywhere to stuff it, but if I keep it snug against my body and walk slowly, the guy probably won't even notice me leaving.
I twist my body a few times, looking up at the racks as if curious at everything in front of me. I sigh, giving off the illusion I hadn't found anything. I keep my elbow tucked in and the package up against my stomach.
I'll just have to get a bag from another store and hide it with the other stuff daddy bought so he won't notice.
But as I'm about to exit through the open doorway, the man's voice comes from directly behind me: “Hey.”
I freeze, my body going taut. I turn my head to find him standing directly behind me.
“You gonna buy that?” he asks.
I swallow, completely stunned by his appearance. It takes me three—maybe four—seconds to finally respond to him. “Uh, yeah. Yeah, I'm going to buy it.”
He crosses his arms. “Because it looks like you were about to walk out of here with it.”
“What? This?” I pull the package from out of the crook of my arm, nonchalantly waving it. “No, why would I walk out of here with this?”
“Because you've never had a man?”
I roll my eyes. “Oh, haha.”
“Oh, you think this is funny?”
I shake my head, “No, I was just pretend laughing. Can't you tell?” Sometimes I just can't help the snark. I'm not one to let someone make fun of me.
“What I know,” he says, snatching my wrist, preventing me from fleeing, “is I just caught a fucking shoplifter.”
“Hey, no—fucking—let me go!” I cry out, trying to yank my arm away from the man towering over me.
“Wait, wait, wait!” Daddy comes running in from the outside, having seen me arguing through the doorway.
“Is this your daughter, sir?” the man aggressively asks.
“Yes, it is.”
“You know she's trying to shoplift, right now?”
“I see that, I see that. She didn't mean anything by it. She's just young.”
“I don't care how old she is. She's still a fucking thief!” He grabs the package from my grip and waves it in the air. Blood rushes to my face as he holds the massive dildo above my head. Oh my god...
Daddy sees it and, as blood rushes to my face, it drains from his, just as I predicted. He clears his throat. “Sir, please, it's just a misunderstanding. Look, I'll pay you for it. I'll even pay you extra, just for the trouble.”
Daddy pulls out a hundred, holding it out for the man to take. “See,” he continues, reaffirming, “it's not a problem.”
The man studies it for a moment before letting my wrist go, taking the money, and shoving the package into daddy's chest. “Fine,” he says, pointing his finger, “no refunds. Get the hell out of here.”
“Thank you,” daddy says, groveling like a sycophant. Daddy puts his arm around my shoulder and guides me out of the store. He looks at the package again and brings it down to his side, out of his and everyone else's view.
“You didn't need to give him all that money. I'm sure he was just bullshitting. He wasn't going to do anything.”
Daddy doesn't respond, he
doesn't even turn to look at me. He's just staring forward, his face tense but blank, ushering us back to our bags. He throws the dildo into the bags, picks them up, and heads off to the car at a determined pace. I have to double time my steps to keep up, half walking and half jogging.
“Daddy, wait up,” I say. Daddy does not, refusing to look at me and keeping ahead a few steps. He's obviously mad, but I've never seen him like this. I don't even know how to break through.
So I don't. I keep silent, getting into the passenger side as daddy loads everything up. The ride home is tense, not a word spoken between us.
But my mind stays occupied nonetheless. All I can think about is the dildo in one of the bags in the trunk. I can't believe I actually got it! I can't believe it's coming home with me!
The thought of breaking the packaging open, locking the door, and just going to town on my cunt tonight, you know, after daddy's gone to bed? Oh god, the burning in my pussy is hot, causing me to shift in my seat and squeeze my thighs together.
I'm so wet right now, I won't even have to lube it up when I stick it in!
The day couldn't have gone any better, I'd say.
When we pull up the drive way, I unbuckle my seat belt, ready to drop down and pull that dildo out of the trunk. But before I can open the door, daddy says, “Go to your room.”
“What?” I ask, confused.
“I said go to your room.”
“Why?”
Daddy turns to look at me for the first time in the past thirty minutes. The rage in his eyes is vibrant, causing a slight tremor in his lids as he stares at me.
“Oh, come on, you can't be mad—“
“Go. To. Your. Fucking. Room! Now!”
I gulp. Holy shit. Daddy's never spoken to me like that.
Even then, though, I'm not scared, just annoyed. I huff, jumping out of the truck and running off to my room. I slam my door, sitting down on the bed, waiting for this whole thing to be over.
How long is he going to keep this up? He can't be mad at me forever. I'm sure as hell not staying in here all day. I need to get that dildo. If he throws it out, I'll climb through the trash, I don't care.
I realize, as defiant as I see myself, when daddy raised his voice at me, I immediately did as he told me. I reacted almost unconsciously. I don't know what that means, but—
The door opens. Daddy walks in with the bags, plopping them down on the floor.
“What?” I ask. “What do you want?” Still defiant, I guess. But it is strange daddy walked into my room without knocking. He never does that. If I had that dildo right now, yikes, he would have caught me redhanded, that's for sure.
He shakes his head. “My god,” he realizes, “I've been spoiling you rotten.”
Duh, daddy, duh! Of course, I don't say that, I'm not ready to give up the game, so I mutter instead, “No, daddy, of course not. You do what makes me happy, that's all.”
“No,” he shakes his head. “No, I've messed you up. I feel like an idiot.”
I don't know what got into me, why I cracked when I normally hold my cool better than anyone, but just hearing daddy call himself an idiot—like, obviously, you're an idiot—just makes me break out laughing.
“This is what I'm talking about.” He puts his hands on his hips. “This goddamn disrespect.”
“No, daddy,” I say, between gasping breaths, “it's not like that.” My counter is weak as I can't think straight through my stupid laughter.
“I can't believe—I can't believe you'd shoplift. I just never thought you'd stoop so low.”
My laughing finally subsides, and I shrug, “I still don't get what the big deal is.”
“What the big deal is? If I didn't step in, you'd probably be in jail right now. You'd have a record, for Christ's sake! You know how long that'd follow you around? You're not sixteen anymore. You're an adult. This stuff has serious consequences.”
I roll my eyes. “Please, he wasn't going to do anything.”
“Why? Because you'd suck his dick to get out of trouble?”
I'm taken aback and red flushes my face. “Daddy...” It's shocking he'd say something so horrible to me. “No! I wasn't going to do anything like that!”
He reaches into the bag, pulling out my gift to myself. “I think any girl desperate enough to steal something like this... has got some issues.”
“I'm not a slut, daddy. I just really wanted it, that's all. I'd never suck someone's dick...”
“Yeah, well, without me around, you probably would've been sucking dick to get out of trouble.”
I blush again. Without daddy around? “That's so fucked up. I would've been fine.”
He shakes his head. “You just don't get it. You really think you can get away with this stuff because you get away with it with me? No, this stops now. You need to know there are consequences to your actions.”
What does that even mean? Like, what? Is he going to punish me? “I think it's a little too late now, don't you, daddy?”
“No.” He points his finger at me. “Stand up.”
My voice cracks. “Why?”
Daddy says it again, but this time with so much force it shakes my rib cage. “Stand up.”
I do, leaping to my feet at daddy's fury. As I do, daddy reaches for his pants, unbuckling his belt and pulling the strap out from all his belt loops.
“Daddy”—I titter—”what a-are you doing?” I feel fear for the first time looking at daddy, completely caught off guard by his behavior.
“Walk over to this wall.” He points to an empty piece of wall next to the door.
To my surprise, I walk over without question. Did I all of a sudden become timid?
“Hands on the wall.”
I put my hands up, laying my palms flat against the wall. “Daddy, I don't get it. What are you doing?”
“You're going to see how the world treats girls who steal. They don't treat you like I do, they're not going to look out for you. They're going to steal you're innocence as fast as they can.”
“Daddy, you sound crazy.”
I feel daddy's hands circle around my hips, reaching for the button on my jean shorts. He unbuttons them, letting the shorts fall to the floor. My face burns as I stand in my white, cotton panties.
“Daddy!”
“The way you think you're going to get away with everything, you need to realize something”—I hear the tightening and slap of leather behind me—“the world is going to fuck you the first chance it gets.”
Wha—
A swing of daddy's hand and the crack of leather explodes against my ass, a sharp, splintering sting that causes my lower back to spasm.
“Daddy!” I scream, pulling away and turning toward him.
Daddy steps toward me, grabbing my arm and spinning me back around. “Hands back on the wall! Now!”
I react, lifting my hands and replacing them.
“You move again, and I'm going to make this a whole lot worse.”
“I'm a grown woman, you can't treat me—“
“Under my roof? No job? You'll do what I tell you.”
Another swing of his hand and the belt shuts me up. “Now count them.”
I swallow as the next swing echoes through the room. “One,” I croak. The belt smacks me with such force, my body seems to vibrate in response. A sharp sting radiates out from my ass, pulsing like waves through my body. I can feel my skin growing tighter as it flames up, most likely reddening with each new smack of daddy's justice.
“Five,” I say. It seems like forever, each new spanking a painful bite in my flesh followed by a torturous few seconds between each new number. Daddy relishes the pause, altering the length of time between spankings by milliseconds, but long enough to where I can't predict the next crack of the whip.
The next strike catches me off guard in its timing. The radiating sting does something unexpected: traveling outward, it makes a noticeable stop at the mound over my pussy.
The next slap does the same thing, buil
ding a well of energy stored deep in my gut. Is this turning me on? I mean, my pussy was wet before, but it feels like daddy's spanks are turning me on all by themselves.
I smirk, a near giggle escaping, the pressure inside me tingling with pleasure.
Daddy does not take it lightly. “Are you laughing again?”
“No, daddy it's—“ I can't go on. I can't explain how the spanking is turning me on. You can't just say something like that.
But my silence only makes daddy angrier. “Okay, then, it's time we take this seriously.”
Seriously? How the hell is getting belted not the most serious thing possible?
“Daddy, I didn't mean—“
Daddy's hand slips into one of the bags. Out comes the giant purple dildo again.
“What are you doing with that?”
I motion to turn, but daddy points a finger and sneers at me. “If you move, I swear to god...”
I snap back in position, my hands firmly planted against the wall. I can't see what's he's doing behind me, but I hear the furious tearing of plastic. My heart begins to race as I imagine what he's going to do with that thing.
Daddy comes into my periphery vision. In his hand is the giant cock, scary in its size. Daddy reaches for the remote control to my television. Why would he—he dislodges the back shielding, shaking the batteries free.
Wait! That dildo takes batteries?! I didn't even read that in the store.
Daddy clicks them into place, and the whir of the tiny motor starts. After examining it for a brief moment, daddy turns is back off.
“Daddy, this isn't right. I don't know if you're trying to teach me something about 'being a slut', but I promise you, I'm not, I swear!”
“Oh really?” he mockingly asks. He steps behind me, his fingers slipping beneath the waistband of my panties. He slides them down, exposing my ass. “You didn't think I could see that wet spot between your legs.”
Oh my god! My face burns fiery hot as I look down at my panties hanging between my thighs. They're absolutely soaked in juice, the cotton panties working wonderfully to absorb every bit of my arousal. I bring my legs together, feeling the slosh of liquid gather on my inner thighs.
“Every time I've hit you, that wet spot's gotten bigger. You might think you're not a slut, but your body doesn't lie.”