by Frost, E J
Her ass tips up even further. “Oooh, Daddy.”
“You want your plug, baby doll?”
She turns her head to the side, and I brush her hair off her face with my clean hand so I can look down into her glazed eyes. “Yes, Daddy. Please.”
“Good girl.” I push it in slowly, letting her adjust. She shakes as the plug goes in, and her labia flare, pink and wet. I seat the plug, then take off the glove, turning it inside-out, and toss it to the floor. I’ll clean up later. Right now, the siren call of her needy cunt is too strong to deny, and I rub my fingers up and down her pouty lips to wet them, then slide my fingers into her.
Her back arches. “Oh, Daddy. Oh, Daddy!”
“Yes, honey baby. How does it feel with Morris in you?”
“Full, Daddy.”
I can tell she’s enjoying it from the tightness around my fingers.
“Mmm. Just get used to that for a minute.” I finger her gently, letting her adjust to the sensation of movement in her cunt while her ass is full of plug. Within a dozen strokes, she’s wriggling, tugging on the cuffs, unable to keep still. I rub my free hand up and down her back. “Easy, baby. There’s so much more to come.”
She whimpers. “Daddy, please.”
“Sh, little girl. I’m going to take my fingers out of you and you’re going to turn over onto your back. Knees up and spread. Daddy wants to put your necklace back on, but first there’s the matter of your four demerits, little girl.”
“Oh, Daddy, please, I’m sorry. I’m sorry I yawned. I was so sleepy, but I did pay attention.”
“To every word?” I tease.
She shifts around on her knees, trying to avoid the discipline she knows is coming. “No,” she admits in a tiny voice. “Not every word.”
“I didn’t think so.” I withdraw my fingers to her throaty protest, but she turns over immediately and lifts her knees. “Such a good girl,” I praise her and watch the flush spread down her chest.
I lean over her and cup her breasts while giving her a deep, good-morning kiss. Her mouth is minty, her lips already swollen from where she was biting them while I was inserting the plug. I nip her lower lip until she squeaks, then sit back to smile down at her while circling my thumbs over her nipples to bring them erect.
“I’m going to paddle you, Emmy,” I tell her, feeling each word shudder through her. Her motions telegraph straight to my cock, already distended and brushing against my thighs. “First I’m going to clamp your nipples. Then your clit.” I take one hand off her breast to pick up the Y clamp and show it to her. Her eyes dart back and forth from the shiny, dangling clamps to my face. “Then I’m going to hold your legs open while I paddle your inner thighs. Have you ever been paddled there before?”
She shakes her head, biting her lip with her little white teeth.
“No? Since it’s a tender spot, there will be just ten strokes for each demerit. Forty in all. Ten on each thigh.”
I let that sink in for moment and watch her eyes widen.
“Wh-where—?”
“Ten on each breast, baby doll. Have you had your breasts paddled before?”
“Nuh-no, Daddy. Please, Daddy, I’ve had my breasts flogged and it hurt so much.”
“The paddle has a nasty bite, but it fades fast. It won’t hurt for as long afterwards as a flogging. Will that help you stay focused and pay attention when I tell you to in the future?”
Her big eyes fill; a tear spills down each temple as she nods.
“That’s my good girl. Daddy will be so proud of you if you can take ten strokes on each breast. If it becomes too much, you can ask Daddy to paddle the undersides of your arms instead.”
“Th-thank you, Daddy. Ta very much.”
“Good girl. Ready?”
She nods and I begin.
* * *
She’s screaming by the time I finish her thighs, the soft skin bright red, her body straining as I hold her knee against the bed. Before I even switched legs, she was begging me to stop, promising she’d pay attention to every word in future. I praise her and tell her I believe her between slaps of the paddle, while she jerks against the cuffs and howls. But I don’t let her off by a single stroke. These are consequences and she needs to know I’ll follow through. I give her a count of three between smacks, so she has time if she needs to use her safe word, and so we both have time for the anticipation to build. I stroke her heated skin, wrap my finger around the chain of the Y clamp and pull up to stretch her nipples and clit. She writhes and sobs and begs and I love each and every noise I wring out of her.
After the tenth stroke on her second leg, I lean over and kiss her, letting her settle for a moment. She looks up at me, and I see again that well I fell down last night. She’s hiding nothing. In this moment, all she feels is reverence. I’m enforcing the rules I’ve given her, which makes her feel safe and cared for. I’m giving her the pain she deserves for her lack of focus. She’d do absolutely anything for me right now.
“I’m proud of you, baby doll,” I tell her, and through her tears, I see that platinum shine. “Daddy’s going to reward you with a little orgasm. It’s going to hurt while Daddy fucks you because your thighs are sore, but it’s going to feel good when you come.”
“Yes, Daddy,” she whimpers. “Ta very much, Daddy.”
“Sweet baby.” I move between her thighs. Holding my cock, I rub the head up and down her pussy lips, drenched from the paddling. I bump her clit, still held in the rubber jaws of the Y clamp with each stroke and she goes wild, kicking her legs out. I wait for her to settle, murmuring to her about what a good girl she is, how crazy Daddy is about his baby, until she lifts her knees again. Then I push my cock into her sweet, pulsing cunt, thrusting deep until my thighs slap hers.
She howls with the onslaught of pain and pleasure, bucking and thrashing. I lower my weight onto her and ride her into an orgasm that wrings completely different screams out of her. Hoarse and growling, these sound like they’re ripped out of her chest. Her contractions are so strong, she lifts us both off the mattress. I grab the headboard to hold us steady as she judders against me.
She sobs as she comes down from that peak of intense sensation. I hold her tightly and slow my strokes until I’m motionless, lying hard within her as her little cunt clutches and pulses. What achingly sweet sensations. Emily comes beautifully. I stroke her cheek and throat and kiss her wet eyelids while I tell her what an angel she is, how proud she makes Daddy. Her sobs fade to whimpers and I withdraw from her slowly.
I release her clit from the clamp to her muffled howl. It’s already red and swollen and don’t want it to become desensitized. She deserves another orgasm after I paddle her breasts. These are consequences, not punishment, and while I generally don’t reward my subs with orgasms after they’ve broken a rule, I have no problem reinforcing a simple lesson in focus with pleasure. While she watches me tearfully, I take the clamp off each nipple and rub against the returning rush of blood. She whimpers when I get a little meaner, tugging and pinching her nipples. I warm up her left breast with a couple of cupped-palm slaps. Her skin flushes right from the first hit. She’s so beautifully responsive.
When I pick up the black paddle, she begins tugging on the cuffs.
“Please, Daddy, no,” she begs. “Please just your hand. I’ve learned my lesson. I’ll pay attention to every word. Please, please, the paddle stings so much. I hate the paddle.”
I keep warming her up while I answer her. Pinching and pulling on her nipples between slaps. “Is that the choice Daddy gave you?”
She shakes her head, eyes filling, dark hair sticking to her red, wet cheeks. Beautiful girl.
“Then you must be trying to negotiate consequences with Daddy. Is that what you’re trying to do?”
She bites at her lower lip, realizing her mistake. What she’s really trying to do is to get me to give her pleasure instead of pain, because she’s clearly turned-on by the tit-spanking, while the paddle tips over into pain she has to wor
k through. This is something pretty much every bottom tries at some point. I’m not going to be too harsh with her about it. The delay will only build her anticipation, which is no bad thing.
“Once I’ve told you what the consequences are, am I going to change my mind?”
She sniffles and shakes her head. “No, Daddy.”
“Then trying to get me to do something else is one of two things. One, you’re trying to delay the inevitable because you’re enjoying the warm-up. Or, two, you’re questioning Daddy’s right to correct you any way he wants. Which is it, Emmy?”
She’s too smart to compound her mistake. “The first one, Daddy.”
“Uh-huh. If you want me to keep doing something, you only have to ask, baby doll. Daddy will decide whether you get more of what you like. But the rest of your paddling is coming, and nothing is going to change that. Trying to negotiate with Daddy is a waste of time. Are you wasting Daddy’s time?”
“No, Daddy. I’m sorry, Daddy. I wasn’t being disrespectful.” Her lower lip quivers and fresh tears spill down her temples.
I love seeing her like this. Restrained to my will. Marked by my hand. A little anxious and wholly vulnerable and so, so aroused. It flips every switch. My cock’s straining against my stomach. My blood’s surging, singing in my ears, even more electrified than when I was running. There’s no high better than topping.
I warm her up for several more minutes, until her breasts are stained a glorious sunrise pink. She’s clearly loving this part. She writhes and strains against the cuffs—wiggly little thing. Her chest rises to each slap. Her legs thrash on the bed behind me, knees jerking with each impact, hitting me in the back several times, for which she apologizes sweetly. The whole room is perfumed with her bready musk. I don’t need to check to know how wet she is.
After she’s had long enough to wallow in the pain she’s enjoying, I pick up the paddle again and without giving her any time to protest, slap it down on her left breast.
She throws her head back. “Nooo, Daddy. That hurts sooo much!”
“That’s not something you get to decide, baby doll. Daddy decides what you can take unless you use your safe word,” I say, confident she’s nowhere close to her limit. “Count of ten.”
She counts the ten strokes, down across the top of her breast, catching the nipple so it glows red, up the side of her breast as I pinch her nipple with my free hand to stretch the flesh and intensify the sensation. She’s howling by five. Straining and bucking so hard by eight that I hold her down for the last two strikes.
“Ten, ten, ten,” she pants the number like a mantra, and I know she’s thinking she’s done, that I’ll give her a break, let her recover, before the last set.
Instead, I move straight to her right breast, capture her nipple between my two fingers, twist to stretch her skin, and swing the paddle hard against the side of her breast, building the pain even higher.
I expect her to scream. Her mouth opens, but no sound comes out. Her body contracts, bearing down into the bed instead of up, knees slamming up against my sides. While she’s still absorbing the pain, I slap the side of her breast three times in quick succession. She throws her head back. More of those hoarse screams rip out of her. Her belly works wildly under me and I realize she’s climaxed again, just from the paddling.
Without asking permission.
It wasn’t intentional. The orgasm was probably as much a surprise to her as it was to me, but she’s going to have to pay for it later. I’ll hold discipline in reserve, though. I don’t want to confuse it with what we’re doing now, nor overwhelm her during the scene I’ve scheduled.
I bring her down with lighter slaps of the paddle, down the top of her breast, giving her a count of two between each stroke. Her breathing slows and on the eighth stroke, she opens tear-stained eyes. I cup her cheek with my hand as I give her the last two strokes. She whimpers through them but smiles when I stop. “Ta very much, Daddy.”
“Good baby.” I stroke her cheek to heighten the praise. “You’ve taken your paddling and earned your necklace back. Do you want it now?”
She nods, eagerness written all over her little, red face.
I put the paddle aside and pick up the necklace from where it’s ended up near the foot of the bed. “Lift your head.”
She does, and I fasten the collar back around her throat. I center the pearl against the hollow of her throat and stroke her ember-red breasts.
“Happy to have that back, baby doll?”
“Yes, Daddy.”
“Good girl. Daddy’s going to fuck you until he comes now. Do you want it on your back or your front?”
She wriggles. “Can I come again?”
I consider. I could deny her an orgasm to make up for that stealth orgasm earlier. But I have something better in mind, and it will be more fun if she thinks she’s gotten away with it for a while.
“Yes. Good girl for asking.”
“On my back.”
“Do you like it best on your back, baby?” I ask, as I position her with her knees tight to her chest. Her cunt’s exposed and open to me. Morris’s purple gem winks in her ass. She’s flushed everywhere. Her face, her breasts, her inner thighs, her labia. Red and wet and ready. I stroke her cunt before giving it a sharp slap with my fingers.
She whimpers. “Yes, Daddy. Yes, like that.”
“You like it when I slap your cunt, sweetheart?”
She nods, banging her forehead against her knees as I do it again and again until her labia glow as bright as her thighs and breasts. Then I shove my aching cock between those hot, swollen lips, cover her with my body, and bang her into the mattress. She wails as I pound her. I press my mouth against her temple and growl to her. “That’s my girl. That’s my little girl who comes so hard for her daddy. I love those noises you make when you come. I love seeing you shake. Shake for me, baby girl. Shake all over for Daddy.”
She responds immediately, trembling everywhere, but mostly deep inside. Squeezing and clutching at me as I pound deeply. Her little passage, compressed from the plug in her ass, swollen from our earlier fucking, grabs me with each thrust. Her wails rise to those tormented yowls again. I slide my arms under her and crush her to me as I fuck into her, slamming her against the bed again and again as the magnificent tension building in my balls uncoils. Groaning my pleasure into her hair, I shoot inside her until I’m empty, burned clean from another of those extended orgasms Emily gives me. She shakes under me, head back, hands and feet spasming, beautiful little convulsions.
I collapse on her, panting, sweating so hard I’m going to need another shower.
After a minute, Emily stirs under me and I realize I’ve still got her folded in half, crushed into the mattress, and impaled front and back. “Baby doll, are you okay?”
“Probably,” she murmurs.
That doesn’t sound good. I lift up, straightening my arms.
She grins up at me. “I can’t feel anything but my chin. But when I can feel again, I think everything’ll be okay.”
“Your chin?”
“Uh-huh. It’s itching.”
I shake my head at my crazy baby doll and scratch her chin while I rearrange her under me, pushing her legs to either side and sliding a pillow under her head. I should pull out, but I’m enjoying where I am too much. Everything’s juicy and interlocked and I don’t want to move.
“I’m staying in you for a while,” I tell her.
“Okay, Daddy.” She wriggles down into the bed. Although she seems comfortable, she’s been restrained for nearly an hour and I try not to leave my bottoms restrained for more than an hour without a break. I unbuckle her wrists and bring her arms down, wrapping one around my neck. The other, I let fall to the bed before taking her wrist in my hand and under the pretense of rubbing the marks she’s given herself, straining against the cuffs, I work the pressure points in her wrist.
“That feels awesome, Daddy.”
I grin at her. “My cock in you or what I’m doing t
o your wrist?”
That gets me a big grin in return. “Both.”
“You said you hadn’t been hypnotized before?”
She shakes her head, her hair bunching into dark whorls on the pillow.
“Do you know that hypnotherapy can be used to relieve things like anxiety?”
“Are you a hypnotherapist?”
“No, but I did hypnotherapy after I left the Navy. When I was holding your wrists last night, you went into a trance. Do you remember that?” I ask.
She works her lower lip between her teeth as she considers my question. “I think so,” she says finally. “I remember you were holding my wrists and everything got floaty and happy. Then you counted down from ten and let go of my wrists and we ate dinner. I remember all of that.”
“Do you remember telling me how many calories you had left for dinner?”
She nods, watching my face closely.
“That was a very good girl. I want you to tell me things like that, Emmy.”
“Okay.” She works her lip again. “You’re not mad at me for calorie-counting?”
“No,” I reassure her. “How many calories are you allowed each day?”
“Fifteen hundred,” she says, her voice going small. I know without looking it up that’s not enough. She can’t afford to lose weight. But that’s a battle for another time. Not this morning when we’re enjoying the post-orgasmic haze and I have something to offer her.
“Whenever you want Daddy to order for you, just tell me how many calories you have left.”
“I’d like you to order for me all the time,” she whispers, big eyes searching mine.
I’ll need to learn her food preferences damn fast. “I can do that.”
“Thank you, Daddy.”
“You’re welcome, baby doll. Do you also remember talking to Teresa and Michael at dinner? How relaxed you were?”
“Yes. Teresa’s so nice.”
“She is, but you were charming, Emmy. You’ve got so much to offer, sweetheart, once you relax. I know social situations are hard for you. They make you anxious, don’t they?”