by Adrian Amos
Once I'm up, daddy gently pushes my back down—resistance impossible without the control of my arms—easily bending me over and forcing my chest to the mattress.
He grabs my blue satin panties, pulling them down leisurely, a marked contrast from his usually furious yank. He shimmies them down, and just before they leave my butt, I feel them cling to my pussy, pulling strands of juice down with them, my pussy soaked completely.
Or so I thought I couldn't get any wetter.
Daddy removes them and orders me to spread my legs. I do, standing with a wide stance, my ass in the air and my chest against the mattress. Daddy reaches for something on the bed that I hadn't noticed before. When he picks it up, butterflies in my stomach scatter trying to get the hell out of Denmark.
A silver paddle with 6 holes poking through sits firmly in his hand.
Holy shit! How was I so lost in thought that I didn't see that lying right next to him?!
“What's that for?” I ask, innocently.
“This?” he laughs, spinning the paddle in his hand, “It's for you.”
I gulp, and I swear I can feel a spasm in my buttocks.
“You think daddy's hand feels good. Wait until you get a taste of this.”
When he disappears behind me, I brace for impact.
His hand lands on my butt, patting it. I jump like I'd just seen the murderer in a movie pop out from the shadows.
Daddy laughs again, enjoying my nervousness. “Calm down, babygirl. I'm just getting you ready for the plug.”
“Plug?
“Oh, this is daddy's special.” From the corner of my vision, I can see a tapered, pink butt plug flopping around as daddy waves it at me.
“Oh...” I say, stuck in fascination at what he's doing. The plug is as thick as daddy's cock, long and tapering until it gets to a bulge that immediately shrinks back down to the size of the tip, ending with a flange at the end.
“This spanking is going to feel nice and tight for you.” His hand glides through my ass crack, leaving behind a slimy residue. I squirm, the icky goo warm and inviting in a place not meant to be inviting.
The plug glides through my crack, swiping through the goo and collecting it on its tip. When daddy's got enough, the tip finds my asshole. I flinch and pull forward, pressing against the side of the bed.
But daddy follows right after, keeping me pinned against the bed in an effort to prevent further escape. “Hey, hey, babygirl,” he warns, “be a good girl and take your punishment.”
Unable to move forward this time, daddy pushes the dildo up my ass. I groan as the molded silicon enters me, spreading open a hole that I didn't know could spread so wide. Slowly, daddy pushes the lubed object in, the tapered plug getting wider the farther he gets inside.
When it gets to the widest part, I hold my breath, straining as daddy violates my naughty hole. I'm about to cry out when the dildo punches all the way in. It gets sucked in and my ass engulfs it, my anus circling around the small point connecting the bulge and the flange. The large bulb is inside me completely, keeping the dildo from being pushed out.
The only way it's coming out is when daddy pulls it out!
“Here we go, babycakes. A naughty slut like you deserves a real punishment.”
So focused on the tense fullness in my ass, I'm caught off guard as daddy brings the paddle against my ass.
I jolt, the impact of the strike driving me into the bed. A wave of pleasure bursts through me, an overwhelming combination feeding me. The sting of the paddle burns my ass far more than any hand could possibly. The blaze is intense, but a secondary pain is also introduced: the movement of the plug inside my ass.
The plug doesn't move forward, but it feels like it drives deep into me. It then ricochets off my anal walls, bouncing inside me before settling down again.
The weapon attacks me outside and in, keeping my mind confused, unable to concentrate on a single sensation.
No clarity is gained before daddy brings the paddle against me again, stinging and fucking my ass with it. I twitch and moan, the plug doing its punishment inside me. I plant my feet hard onto the floor, keeping my legs spread as daddy spanks the dildo into me.
“Yes, daddy,” I moan.
I was wet for nearly the entire night and day, only to find that it was an immature form of arousal. Only a few strikes into my punishment, I can feel my pussy dripping with enthusiasm, spilling down my leg.
The next smack sends juice shooting from my cunt. Not dripping; flying from me with force, as if it were ejected from me. The next spank does the same thing, my pussy covered, my legs soaked.
I curve my back, lifting my ass for daddy's next swing. He comes down hard on me and I can feel the buildup inside me.
“Oh fuck, daddy. It feels so good!”
“You little slut.”
“Keep going, daddy, keep spanking me.”
His next hit makes my pussy quiver, the pain transforming into pure pleasure.
I moan so loud that daddy's reaction is instantaneous: his next swing comes down in a split second, followed by another a split second after that.
“Oh shit,” I growl, as daddy lays into me. He feeds my moans by smacking me faster and faster, furiously striking me, my pussy pulsing with every hit.
“Oh God, oh god, oh god!” I repeat over and over as daddy's paddle connects with my words.
“Fuck!” I shout, my backing arching as I seize up. My body freezes in that position as daddy continues to wail on me, no longer provoking a reaction from me. Instead, the buildup inside me wells up and up and up as I hold it in my stomach.
His smacks only add to it as an orgasm finally explodes from me, my back giving way and curving in and out, the pulses from my pussy causing my muscles to spasm uncontrollably. My pussy vibrates as daddy's discipline hand doesn't let up; my ass seizes around the plug, squeezing and contracting as the silicon shifts inside me.
I moan out, screaming at the top of my lungs as my orgasm wrecks my body.
“Oh, shit,” daddy says, dropping the paddle from his hand, “I need to feel this. I need to. I can't wait anymore.”
My body shakes as daddy presses up behind me. He grabs my hips and rams his cock into me, gliding so easily that his body falls into me, meeting no resistance whatsoever.
My orgasm dissipates but immediately starts flaring right back up as daddy's huge cock fucks me from behind. He slides into me, and each time he does, his dick presses against the dildo through my vaginal wall, shifting it up just as his pelvis slams into me, pushing the flange deeper in.
It's like I'm getting double penetrated!
Daddy's hands squeeze the flesh of my hips as he plows hard into me. He then grabs the bundle of rope holding my arms and latches onto it, picking me up off the bed as he pulls it back towards him.
I can't get any words out, so fucking exhausted that all I can do is focus on breathing.
Suspended just a few inches off the bed, held aloft by daddy pulling my tied arms up, daddy fucks the shit out of me, his cock pounding with lustful abandon.
My thighs pressed firmly against the bed, my ass bucks back into daddy, feeding his cock into me deeper and faster. He reaches down with his free hand and pushes hard on the dildo, keeping it shoved firmly up my tight ass.
“Yes, yes, yes, you little slut. Come on. Come on. Come for me again. Come on daddy's dick.”
With daddy's words degrading me, my arms suspended, my ass filled, and his cock having its way with me, I'm given no choice but to come for a second time, my body spasming the same way as before.
I moan, “Ooooooohhhhh, daddy!”
My back shakes again, bouncing up and down as my muscles contract around daddy and the dildo.
Squeezing and sucking, pulling and massaging, my cunt draws daddy's cock deep inside.
Daddy groans, holding his cock inside me as my body works him over. I shudder as I feel daddy's own body give way.
He moans, and a few seconds later, his cock starts to pulse.<
br />
One. Two. Three.
The third pulse fires a wad of jizz into my pussy, and each subsequent pulse fires more cum than I can measure, filling my pussy up with hot semen. My orgasm drags his seed deeper inside me, warming me up as my body tries to get me pregnant.
Daddy twitches behind me, his cock pouring what's left of his balls into my cunt, making sure it deposits every last drop it can.
When daddy pulls out, I feel a great sense of relief from the overwhelmingly full sensation that's consumed me for the past 10 minutes or so.
A break would be sorely needed.
But instead of pulling the plug out, daddy helps me to my feet, guiding me back to the closet.
“What are you doing, daddy?” I ask, concerned that something is happening that my frazzled mind can't comprehend.
“Your punishment isn't over, babycakes.”
“What?” I ask, before being shoved back down to my knees in the closet.
“You're going to think about what just happened,” he says, his voice both stern and mocking at the same time. “And then in an hour, daddy's going to be ready to continue.”
“Really?”
Daddy smirks, his word trailing as he closes the door in the middle of them. “How else do freaks get treated?”
I swallow, my mouth dry as my knees become accustomed to the carpet again.
How am I going to last another hour?
But as I think that, I flex my anus, realizing the plug is still inside me, pressed immovably into the soles of my upturned feet. I notice the gushing juices from my panties-less cunt, and the warm semen dripping down my thighs as they squeeze together. I smell daddy's cologne as my eyes start to adjust to the darkness all over again.
This isn't so bad. Not one bit.
I clench on the dildo, feeling it brush against my walls. Another small trickle of cum emerges.
Oh, this is just the type of punishment a freak like me deserves.
- - -
Daddy, Don't I Look Just Like Her?
I knock on his door, the thuds hollow as they reverberate throughout the empty condo.
I feel devious and conspiratorial, like a spy in the movies. I think the large jacket I borrowed from my mother is the culprit in that, especially since I'm using it to cover the lingerie I'm wearing.
Yes, lingerie under my huge coat. Like I said, in the movies. It seems like a cool thing to do. I have to shake my nose a little to erase the smirk on my face.
I'm doing something wrong, kind of. I think a lot of people would see it as betraying my mother, but with how she lives her life and how she treats people, I don't think anyone could possibly betray her and not be at least partially justified.
I'm not making excuses, I swear! Just take my stepdad, for instance: right now he's holed up in a condo he just bought and started renovating. He and my mom are in the process of divorcing.
You think, well, he's in a shitty, barren condo because he did something wrong to her, right?
Nope. She screwed him over royally. That woman is addicted to every vice I can think of, from smoking to drinking to gambling to stealing to cheating to being an all-around horrible bitch. When she wasn't crushing my stepdad's dignity, she was spending every last cent he ever made. She literally emptied his savings he had before he met her.
When I say my mother is a virus, I mean it.
And my poor ol' stepdad is a saint, giving that woman so many chances that it's criminal. Even when she did all this shit to him, he was still the one to move out and basically give her everything: the house, a car, and future promises of alimony.
He still loves her, I know it, but I think after all the years, he's finally hit the point where he knows he has to let her go. And it pains him deeply.
That's the only thing that's making me nervous at the moment. When he answers that door, when I see this run-down condo, I'm hoping the look on his face doesn't immediately break my heart.
I'm hoping that when he sees me, it puts a smile on his face. At least, I hope when I offer him my body, he forgets all about that nasty woman.
Because he deserves it. The man took care of me for the last 5 years of my life; through all the shit my mother's done to him, he's always taken care of me like his own daughter. I'm just glad I'm 20 now, old enough to repay him for everything he's done. Without him, I think I'd have given up a long time ago—I'd say about the moment my mother gave up on me.
I hear his footsteps approaching the door. The locks come undone and the door opens cautiously.
He's disheveled, his hair a mess and face unshaven. His face isn't twisted in sadness, but he looks like he hasn't slept in a while. Oddly, though, he smells like he just got out of the shower, shampoo and body wash spilling through the door. How the hell does someone take a shower and somehow not look cleaner?
“Hey, daddy,” I whisper, clearing my throat as a bout of sudden nervousness catches in my throat. Maybe I am more nervous than I thought.
His brow pinches together, confusion evident as his voice pitches. “Hey, Mindy. What are you doing here?”
“I came to see you.”
“Oh,” he says, unsure of what to say, “I thought you'd be with your mother.”
I roll my eyes, wanting him to know that I'm on his side and don't approve of her. I shake my head. “No, I don't want to be around her at all. I haven't spoken to her in a week.”
His head drops slightly, a disapproving tone crawling into his voice. “You really should, Mindy. You know she's in a hard place right now and could use your support.”
See? Told you. Saint. Even when the woman shatters his world, he's still looking out for her. I definitely don't have the heart to tell him that my mother hasn't mentioned him once, hasn't cried, hasn't even emoted beyond anger at having to go out and buy her own cigarettes for once.
“No, daddy. She's fine. I wanted to come and visit you. I think you could probably use my company more.”
He smiles, “Well, yeah,” he says, stepping to the side, “come in. I'm surprised you even wanted to see me.”
“I definitely want to see you,” I respond, shuffling into the condo with my coat sealed shut, “It's tough without you there.”
He closes the door behind me. “It's hard now, but it'll get better.”
“Oh, daddy,” I say, canvassing the living room of the condo in mid-renovation.
Better for whom?
Certainly not me, stuck with my awful mother. It doesn't look like it is for him either. The small condo is absolutely barren, like I remember it when he first bought it. He didn't have time to do anything with it—other than start painting—before he'd had enough of my mom. Half of one wall is painted, the roller and bucket in the corner where part of the carpeting had been ripped up. I guess he's somewhat lucky that he didn't get too far in tearing the place apart. At least it's functional at the moment.
“Daddy, you don't even have a bed in here!” I gasp. He's been sleeping on the floor, a blanket and pillow pushed up against the corner. His living condition is worse than I imagined, and a tinge of worry washes over me when I realize there's no where to lay down for us.
“Uhh...” he mumbles.
“You've had some time to go out and get some stuff.” It's been a week since he'd left, so I thought he'd have something of comfort here. The only piece of furniture he has in the entire condo is a tall wooden stool. And the only reason he has it is that he used it during renovation as a stand for his paint canisters, rollers, and brushes. Now he's probably using it as his only place to sit and eat breakfast in the morning.
“I just...” he hesitates, “haven't been in the mood to go out shopping.”
Ugh. My heart sinks, the weight of sadness pulling me down. I was hoping I wouldn't feel like this, since I want this to be special for my stepdad. I want him to get past that woman and start his life over.
With me.
I can't let him be eaten up by that banshee. It's just not fair to a great man like him.
&nb
sp; That's why I'm here. I mean, I've always had a small crush on my stepfather, but I never thought too much about it because he was with my mom. But now, now that he's free from her, it's not even that I want to act on my attraction to him. I want to make him happy, like he tried so hard to do when he was living with us.
I don't want him to remember our time together as something that nearly destroyed his life. I can't let that happen: he's too important to me. I'll give him everything of me so that he can walk away from this whole shitty situation without fear or remorse.
I don't know if he sees me that way. I don't know what he'll think. But I do know something: he loves—or loved—my mother, and I'm almost a replica of her. Well, a replica of what she used to be. She was once a gorgeous woman, when she and my stepfather met, but the ravages of so much debauchery and excess turned her into a fat and ugly woman. Her skin became dull and saggy, wrinkled and dry. The transformation was startling to say the least.
I, though, look exactly as she did when she was young. A thin brunette with amazing curves from top to bottom. Dark and exotic is how we've both been described. The only change I had to implement to make the comparison between us uncanny was to curl my hair, forcing waves into normally straight hair. I gotta say, I like it a lot; it makes me feel incredibly adult and sexy.
I'm just hoping it's enough to convince him. To say 'See? You don't have to give up. You can have me, instead, and relive your life like you were younger.” If his love for my mother was based at all on her looks, then he's going to have a hard time resisting me.
“I don't really have much to eat,” he says, “but we can certainly go out and get a bite.”
“Maybe later, daddy,” I reply. I grab the stool, resigned to the knowledge that it's all I have to work with. I set it down in the middle of the room. “We can always eat afterwards.”
“After what?”
I sit down on the stool, having to climb the two sets of support bars holding the legs together in order to ascend the tall seat. I swing the coat around so that I can sit comfortably without trapping it beneath me.