Hunter's Baby Girl

by Samantha Morgan

  I smirked at him. “On you, or on me?” I asked.

  “On you,” he said. So I took one of his big, powerful hands in my own while my other hand removed the elastic from my ponytail. I shook out my thick, dark hair. I knew from the look in his eye that the effect was appreciated.

  We stared into each other’s eyes as I placed his hand on the back of my head and curled my fingers over his. I pulled his hand, gently, and felt a slight tug on my hair. “Don’t yank,” I said. “Just maintain that grip.” We never broke eye contact.

  “Now pull a little bit harder. Just a bit more at a time.” I pulled a bit more, slowly increasing the force. I felt myself tingle all over. “It’s a very sensitive area, the scalp,” I said softly.

  “I see,” Hunter murmured, still staring into my eyes. He pulled a little harder, and I gasped. But this time it wasn’t out of pain.

  I sensed the heat building up between us all over again and let him take control. I loved the feeling of giving myself over this way.

  He pulled a little harder, on his own. I gasped again, teetering on the edge of pleasure and pain as my head tipped back. I felt his mouth on my exposed throat and sighed deeply. I let go of his hand on my head and wrapped my arms around him.

  “That feels so good,” I murmured, melting into the water as he kissed and nibbled the skin over my throat. His free hand trailed from my neck down my chest, and over my sensitive breasts. I gasped.

  “You are so beautiful,” he whispered between kisses on my shoulders. I felt the heat rise in me as his skillful fingers worked my nipples. He teased me with his mouth, roaming farther and farther down my chest but never quite replacing his fingers. I needed more. I whimpered.

  I felt him chuckle against me, and he swiftly lifted me until I was kneeling rather than sitting on his lap. This gave him perfect access to plunder my tits, which he did with relish. I moaned long and loud, the sound bouncing off the walls of the room.

  He held me to him with one hand on my lower back. The other roamed farther down until it stroked my ass. The warmth from the water had soothed any pain I’d felt back there for now, so all I felt as his hand traveled over my slick skin was bliss. My head rolled back and forth, the spark he’d ignited in me now a fire that threatened to consume me. His hand slipped between my cheeks and grazed my sensitive, secret place. I gasped in both surprise and pleasure, the sensation foreign to me. I wanted to pull away, but his strong hand on my back held me in place. I had no choice but to give in to the blissful sensations he was bestowing on me.

  He stroked one side, then the other, then between. Back and forth, again and again, his hand gliding over me. His mouth never stopping its assault on my nipples. The combination of his lips and tongue alternately sucking, then flicking, my nipples and his hand with its naughty exploration soon had me panting and begging for release.

  I gripped his strong shoulders, my fingers digging into his muscles, while his hand slipped farther down until his fingers were grazing my bud. I nearly leapt from the water when he finally made contact with that burning, aching part of me. It didn’t take much time for the fire inside me to sweep completely over me.

  “Yes!” I screamed, and I convulsed against him as I came. All I could do was call his name again and again as I shuddered, wracked with almost impossible pleasure.

  When I came to, as it were, I was in his arms with my head on his shoulder. His hand was running up and down my back, and I heard him murmuring little assurances in my ear that everything was all right.

  “Thank you,” I whispered. Then, as I had before, I asked, “What about you?”

  He chuckled. I felt the breath on my ear. “Not quite yet,” he whispered. “But soon.”

  Somewhere in the haze of my post-orgasmic state, I wondered what he had in mind for when the time finally came for his pleasure.

  Chapter 6

  I made dinner about a week later for Hunter, and he loved it. Chicken and potatoes with basil pesto sauce and tomatoes and cheese. It was one of those things I saw on Pinterest, and it turned out really good. After we ate, I wasted little time clearing the table, and after the dishes were rinsed and put in the dishwasher to be completed, I went to the bedroom and retrieved the thing he wanted, or perhaps more correctly, the thing I wanted.

  It was called The Merciful One, a wooden paddle small enough to be used with one hand, light and thin. Smaller than one which might be found in a principal’s office, but sturdier than those which came with a string and ball attached. I had it made for him, at his request, and from my own experience, I knew it was perfect. It stung like a son of a bitch when applied properly, but at the same time, it wasn’t heavy enough to cause an actual injury.

  “Thank you, Daddy,” I said as I placed it in his waiting hand. I then pulled the only other chair from under the table and placed it in the center of the room. This one he had crafted for their special sessions. Once a hard-backed dining chair, he had removed most of the back. Now, above the chair’s seat, only the two supporting posts remained, along with the very top plank of what had once been the back support. Sitting in the chair, the remaining support would touch me just below my shoulders, but I never sat in the chair. It was designed specifically for two positions. One was the main reason for the chair’s modifications. If I lay on the chair, with my head and shoulders between the supports, it was the perfect size to allow my knees to be pulled up over my head and tied to the top, leaving me in the most intimately vulnerable position. The second use for the chair was what it was to be used for this night.

  I lay sideways across the chair’s seat, resting my stomach on the soft padding, my arms and legs dangling from either side. I waited as patiently as I could, but with some difficulty. He would take his time, because he knew I wanted this. He would tease me before he began. It was more torturous than anything he would do with the paddle itself. The thought of asking him to hurry never entered my mind. The wait was hell, but what a delightful hell it was. My Daddy knew my sins and exactly how to celebrate them, incorporating my punishment into my heavenly reward.

  His hand on the small of my back told me that he was ready; it gently held me in place with the warmth of a deep embrace. His free hand slid behind me, his fingers protruding past the paddle’s handle, gliding lightly across my skin. The first swat stung deep, sending rapid shockwaves through my body and causing my skin to tingle ecstatically beneath the paddle. My legs began to tremble immediately as I allowed my head to hang motionless.

  “Thank you, Daddy,” I managed, trying to make the strain in my voice sound, at the least, like it originated a bit more from pain than pleasure. But it was often harder than I could manage. All he had to do was let one finger slip and touch me there, and he would know damn well how much I liked it.

  A second swat came harder than the first, sending an echoing smack bouncing off the walls before returning to my welcoming ears. Even the sound of the paddle as it quickly reddened my ass caused a barely controllable urge to beg for more. A third swat, then a fourth and fifth came in rapid succession, stealing any delusions of control from my body. I moaned loudly as Hunter applied the wood again and again, any semblance of displeasure lost to me completely. When I felt the handle of the paddle placed into his left hand on the small of my back, I could not hold back the whimper.

  “Yes,” I said, knowing he would now know my desire, my appreciation. His finger slid effortlessly inside my aching opening, the sopping sound it made only heightening my desire and my need. A second finger found no further resistance than the first, as he quickened the pace, plowing his fingers inside me again and again. It was only when a third finger was added that the pace slowed, my pussy tightening around him hungrily.

  His left hand left my back and found my hair, pulling my head backward toward him and holding me in place as his fingers plunged deeper into me. When his thumb extended and pressed against the darker opening between my legs, I thought I might lose consciousness. But he didn’t push it inside, merely applying
pressure, teasing me with the thought of being penetrated in both openings at once. He knew I loved it. The absolute lack of control, the purest form of submission in my eyes. I craved it as much as anything else.

  “Good girl, Hayley… but you aren’t cumming tonight.” His words pulled me from my haze, and a mild panic set in.

  “But Daddy! I made dinner perfectly and got the dishes ready to be washed!”

  “Yes, and I thank you, baby girl, but you cheated on your test last week. Did you think I would forget? I did tell you that you would be punished, didn’t I?”

  I sighed angrily. Sometimes being a Little Girl wasn’t fun. I wanted to cum. “I’m so sorry, Daddy! I’ll never do it again.”

  “I know you won’t. This will ensure it. No more buts. Time for bed.”

  I pouted all the way to my room but smiled as he tucked me in. I really loved this. The being cared for, I could really get used to it.

  Chapter 7

  We decided that it would be better for me to keep our playdates at my house, at least in the beginning. It wasn’t that I didn’t trust Hunter, after our conversation in the tub, and afterward as we dried off and then ate popcorn while watching a movie in the living room. I trusted him implicitly. He was a genuine, good guy. And he was very open to talking about anything I had in mind. Still, because this was so new to me, we agreed that playing in a familiar atmosphere would be more fun for now.

  I felt deeply indebted to him for his understanding and generosity. And he was generous, for sure. The fact that he focused so much on my comfort and pleasure went a long way. I still wondered why he wouldn’t let himself become consumed, as I had. It felt as though he was just as concerned over controlling himself as he was over controlling me. But I’d already asked enough personal questions in the bathtub; I thought it best to let sleeping dogs lie for now.

  We decided on Tuesday for our next playdate. And I was surprised I didn’t get fired somewhere between Monday morning and Tuesday evening, so completely out the window was my concentration.

  “You okay?” my boss asked at one point on Tuesday afternoon, after handing back a typo-riddled contract I’d given to him for review. “You seem distant so far this week. Distracted.”

  I could hardly meet his eyes. It was true; I’d been daydreaming, again, while I typed up that document. I couldn’t get my mind off Hunter and the memories of what he’d done to me so far, not to mention fantasies over what he might do to me next.

  “I’m so sorry,” I said hurriedly and snatched the contract from him. “I’ll fix this right up and have it over to you in a few minutes.”

  But my meager apology wasn’t enough. He looked at me, stern and concerned at once. “This isn’t like you. I give you much more leeway than anybody else in the office because I know I can depend on you. Is everything all right? Do you need help with something?”

  I smiled sheepishly. Ian was very sweet. I’d been working with him for over five years, since I left college. This was only supposed to be a “temporary” position until I found my “real” job one day. Funny how time flies. Now I was the right hand of the company’s president.

  “Really, Ian, I’m okay. It’s nothing serious, just a few personal things that cropped up recently.”

  “Do you need any help?” he asked.

  “I don’t think so. It’s nothing I can’t handle. I’ll be more careful with my work and not let it affect me any further. I promise. And thank you as always for being so understanding.”

  As soon as he went back to his office, I set myself to the task of getting the darn contract right this time. Just because I was having fun in my personal life didn’t mean I could take advantage of my boss’s kindness. I’d seen what happened to others who took things too far with him, and it wasn’t pretty. I’d also never seen those people in this office again.

  Of course, there was always going to be a part of me that didn’t exactly hate the idea of never seeing this office again as the work I did was complete drudgery compared to what I really wanted to do. But it was better than nothing. For now, anyway.

  Still, even with the concern over my job, I managed to find a way to use the situation to my advantage in terms of working it into my playtime. The run-in with Ian had given me an idea.

  When I got home, I put on dinner. Or, at least, fake dinner. I had no intention of eating burned food.

  By the time Hunter arrived, I had the smoke detector going off. The timing couldn’t have been more perfect.

  “What did you do?” he asked, all anger and brusqueness.

  “I got distracted!” I shouted over the sound of the alarm. I used a broom to press the button on the detector while he opened the windows. It wasn’t extremely smoky; the alarm had just sounded when he walked through the door, in fact. He was prompt, and I relied on that promptness to avoid any actual danger.

  “How did you get distracted while cooking dinner?” he asked. He walked over to the frying pan where a couple of charred hot dogs were still smoking. I could see a smile playing at the corners of his mouth, but he managed to stay in character.

  He sighed heavily and turned to me. “How many times do I have to tell you not to take your attention from the stove for a single minute?” he asked, exasperated. “I don’t just say these things to hear myself speak!”

  I rolled my eyes. “I’m sorry,” I mumbled.

  “I don’t think you really are,” he said. His voice lowered dangerously. “I think you don’t understand how severe this could have been. A kitchen full of smoke is the least of what could have happened! You could have hurt yourself or burned the house down. And then what would I do?”

  I shrugged, my eyes on the floor. I heard him sigh again, then heard the sound of him removing his jacket. “It looks like you’re going to have to be taught a lesson, Little Girl,” he said. “I can’t have you doing this again.”

  He looked around the kitchen and found the ceramic jar in which I stored spatulas and wooden spoons. I glanced up from the corner of my eye and saw his hand dance over the tops of the tools. “How can I make sure you don’t forget this lesson?” he asked himself. I bit my lip in anticipation.

  Finally, he selected a sturdy wooden spoon. “Bend over the table,” he said. I sighed dramatically and dragged my feet to stand in front of him, then bent over with my forearms resting on the table. I’d worn the same plaid skirt I’d worn on Friday, if only because the idea of working jeans over my sore butt afterward did not appeal to me.

  He flipped up the back of my skirt with one motion; I’d worn a pair of briefs, which covered me fully. He yanked them down to my knees with force enough to make me gasp in surprise.

  “Such a nice, ripe ass,” he murmured. “I hate to have to mark it up like this. But you need to learn, for your own good. Do you agree that you need to learn?”

  “Yes, Daddy,” I retorted. “I need to learn my lesson. I need you to spank me.”

  He growled softly, and I felt myself respond to him immediately. Then the feeling of hard wood slapping against my bare skin swept all thought out of my mind, replacing it with total pleasure.

  “Mmmm . . .” I couldn’t help moaning softly.

  “I better not hear you enjoying this, Little Girl,” he murmured. “How else will you learn what not to do?” I felt a sharper smack from the spoon, and I jumped as if shocked. Within a moment, though, the sting disappeared as it always did, and all that was left was the pleasure.

  Smack! “Tell me,” he said. Smack!

  “Tell you what?” I gasped. Smack!

  “Tell me how you’ll do as you’re told from now on.” Smack! Smack!

  “I will,” I groaned.

  Smack! This time, even harder. “Tell me you’ll do as you’re told.”

  “I’ll do as I’m told!” I cried out. It was difficult to think or speak clearly. The delicious sensations were driving me insane and tearing me apart inside. I felt that familiar warmth between my legs, to match the warmth of my ass where the wood made conta
ct.

  Smack! “I only do this for your own good,” I heard him say. Smack!

  I closed my eyes, holding on to the table for dear life. It was the only thing holding me up, since my knees were weak and my mind was miles away. Smack! I trembled, falling further and further into bliss. Smack!

  “Tell Daddy you’ll be a good girl from now on.” He smacked with the spoon again, and again. I was losing my grip on myself, my consciousness focused only on what my Daddy was doing to me.

  “I’ll be good, Daddy!” I cried out.

  I reached the point again, as I had before, where each blow melded into the others and created just one, never-ending haze of pleasure. I was enveloped in it, all of my senses wrapped up in it. I heard myself whimpering and moaning, on and on. It was an all-encompassing level I’d never experienced before. I was lost to it.

  I had no idea how long I lay across the table after my spanking was over; all I know is that I heard Hunter calling my name as if from far away.

  “Hayley? Hayley,” Hunter was saying, crouched beside the table. I opened my eyes and saw him there, with a look of concern on his face.

  “Are you okay?” he asked. I couldn’t speak. All I could do was close my eyes again and smile, slowly. I hadn’t come, but I still felt the experience of post-orgasmic bliss. My muscles were relaxed, and I felt a sense of satisfaction wash over me.

  He gently rubbed my back and murmured softly as I came back to reality. Finally, after endless minutes, I opened my eyes again and saw him there. Still there, still caring for me.

  “That was . . . special,” I whispered. He chuckled.

  “I could tell it was,” he said with a smile. “So . . . do you actually want dinner?”

  I had to laugh; I’d totally forgotten about our real dinner. I’d intended to cook something for us, but I felt totally spent.

  “It’s okay,” he said. “We can just order in.” He stood up and reviewed the menus hanging on the fridge. “Chinese?” he asked. I nodded and pushed myself up onto my palms. I still had to lean on the table for support.