Big Daddy

by Ava Sinclair

  “Max… sir…” I try, and he turns away and does something that terrifies me. He hurls the glass across the room, where it hits the wall and shatters. He turns back to me.

  “What the hell do you think you’re doing?”

  “I didn’t drink it…” I started.

  “Are you going to lie to me? I smell it on you!”

  I put my hand to my forehead. “No. I mean that glass… I… I…”

  “How many glasses did you drink, young lady?” He grabs my upper arms, gives me a little shake.

  “One!” I start to cry. “Just one. A little one. I promise!”

  He turns away.

  “I’m sorry!” I say, holding my hands out in supplication. He’s been so good to me. He saved me when I was blacked out, took me home, then brought me here when I was on the verge of losing everything. I agreed to his rules, and as soon as his back is turned, I break one of the most important ones. He stands there, not looking at me. I know what’s going to happen next. He’s going to tell me to get out. He’s going to throw me out and go back to her, leaving me without the one thing I need the most.

  I put my face in my hands and begin to sob. I don’t even realize I’m saying the words until they’re out.

  “I’m sorry, Daddy.”

  He turns back, walks over. He stares down at me for a moment, and then looks away. “Go to your room, Jill,” he says quietly. “I’ll be in there after I clean up this broken glass. I want to find you bent over the bed with your pants and panties down. Understand? You’re getting the belt for this.”

  I don’t know what is stronger: my relief or my fear. He’s not throwing me out. But he is going to spank me. I glance at the leather belt around his waist. I know better than to beg. I deserve this. In fact, I’m relieved in a weird way as I turn and wordlessly walk to the room. I’m even strangely grateful as I shut the door. My hands are shaking as they push down my pants and panties. I lie down over the mattress with my bare ass presented and waiting.

  I startle when I hear the door open. Max doesn’t say anything at first as he stands at the side of the bed. I see his large hands unbuckle his belt, hear the hiss of leather sliding through belt loops. My bottom cheeks clench in expectation.

  “Six,” he says. “And you’re going to answer a question after each one, understand?”

  I can only nod.

  “Grab the covers, Jill,” he says.

  Six. Just six… How bad can it be? I close my eyes when he raises his arm, and a moment later a line of fire whips across the crest of my upturned buttocks. Where the hand spanking spread the pain throughout my bottom, the strike of the belt concentrates the agony into one narrow streak. I lose my grip on the coverlet, sliding off the bed and sinking to my knees on the floor. My hands cup my bum as I rock back and forth. I can feel the first welt forming under my fingers. I look up at Max, feeling betrayed that the man who took me in would hurt me this badly.

  “What did drinking do to your mother?” he asks.

  “I-I-I’m not my mother!” I cry, furiously rubbing my bottom.

  “Not yet,” he says. “But you will be. You cannot drink, understand? As the child of an alcoholic, you cannot drink! Unless you want to be like her…”

  “I don’t want that!” I cry.

  “Then get back up on the bed.” He points his belt back at the mattress and I slowly rise, whimpering in fear now that I know what’s coming.

  I stretch out and scream when the throbbing welt on my bottom is joined by a twin that lands just below it.

  “What happens when you drink, Jill?”

  I don’t come off the bed this time, but I do rock side to side, kicking my legs as if I can kick away the scorching hurt. “I lose control,” comes my sobbing answer.

  There’s no warning for the third and hardest blow. It traverses the other two and I see stars. I can barely hear his next question over my own sobs.

  “Why did you do it?”

  I see Becky’s disdainful face in my mind, the way she looked at me, the way she implied that I was just dressed-up trash. I see the tall, cool blonde with the sleek bun and tailored suit.

  “Because I’m afraid I’ll never be good enough!” I say.

  “You’re not allowed to think like that,” he says, and punctuates the assertion with a lick of the belt that targets the under-curve of my buttocks. My feet drum against the floor and I scream into the blanket.

  Another blow. I can’t tell where this one lands. My whole ass feels like it’s on fire.

  “Is there a rule against alcohol?” he asks.

  “Yes!” I scream, putting my hands back. He barks at me to put them back in place and I do.

  The next blow catches the top of my thighs. It takes my breath away. When I finally find it again, it enters as a gasp and emerges as a pathetic bawl.

  “What do you need, Jill? What do you need that I’m not giving you to make this better?”

  “I need you to fuck me!”

  Oh, god. I didn’t mean to say that. I didn’t. I’m not even drunk.

  I stand up, trying to control the hiccoughing sobs as I pull my pants and panties over my scalded backside. Max didn’t tell me I could get up. I brace myself for a scolding, but instead, he puts a finger under my chin and tips it up.

  “Why do you think you need that?”

  “I’m sorry,” I say. “I shouldn’t have said it.”

  “But you did. So tell me why.”

  I catch my breath. I can’t tell him the complete truth. I can’t tell him I spied on him today, that I’m worried sick about the blonde woman. I’m not ready to talk about Becky. But I can be honest about the heart of my fears.

  “You treat me like a little girl,” I say. “Like your little girl. You’re better to me than I deserve. When I screwed up today, I was sure you’d throw me out. But you didn’t. You spanked me.” Fresh tears trickle from my eyes. “It hurts so bad…” I drop my hands to my bottom and rub. “But it also makes me feel…” A flush creeps over my cheeks and my teeth worry my bottom lip. Even as my ass is burning, I can feel the throb between my legs. “Maybe I shouldn’t be here. You’re trying to teach me. I know that. But since the first spanking, all I can think of is… being with you. But if you’re my daddy…”

  “Not your daddy,” he says. “I’m your daddy dom.” He pulls me to him, kisses me on the top of my head. “There’s a difference.” Now he steps back, taking me by the arms as he looks into my eyes. “When you’re bad, and I spank your ass, I’m spanking you as my little girl. But understand, young lady, if I fuck you, I fuck you as a woman. You’re both, Jill. You’re a little girl on the inside, but a woman on the outside. To deny both parts of who you are would be wrong.”

  I look up at him. “Do you want me?” I ask boldly. I must know.

  “That’s a loaded question, baby.” He pauses. “Yeah. Yeah, I do. I wanted you the moment I saw you. But at the time, you needed a firm hand more than a hard fucking.”

  “I want both,” I say. “Does that make me awful?”

  He shakes his head. “No, but baby, I don’t think you know what you’re asking for. I’m not a tender lover.”

  “I don’t want tender,” I say. Between my legs, my pussy is pulsing wetness. I don’t care that my ass feels like it’s on fire. I want this. I want it. I need it. “Please,” I say.

  He steps back, undoes his tie and removes it. His eyes are riveted on me. I start to lift the hem of my sweater.

  “No,” he says. “Don’t undress. You just stand there. You don’t do a thing until I tell you, understand?”

  I nod. My nipples are rock hard and aching. The throb between my legs is fierce. He’s unbuttoning his shirt. I watch as the muscles of his broad, bare chest are revealed once again. Pectoralis major. Rectus abdominus. External oblique. My fingers ache to touch them, but I stand obediently in place, my hands at my sides—a well-spanked child about to flip the switch and have Max Iver treat me as a woman.

  I scroll through what I
know of sex, the few lovers I’ve had, the fumbling touches, jerky thrusts. “Did you come?” lovers would invariably ask. Yes? No? Maybe? I never could give them a satisfactory answer because while I felt pleasure with some of them, I always felt like something was missing. Max Iver hasn’t even put his hands on my naked body, and I already know this is going to be different.

  He’s tossed his shirt aside. He’s kicked his shoes off and now they’re on the floor beside his belt. His cock has raised an impressive tent on the front of his trousers. You’re gonna get it, my schoolmates used to say to one another when they were in trouble. You’re gonna get it, my inner child says to the woman staring at the man in front of her. But am I ready for what I think I want?

  He walks over to me and pushes me down onto the bed. I wince when my ass hits the mattress. He raises my right leg, pulling off my stylish boot, then does the same to the other. He reaches for the cuffs of my leggings, and I cry out when he jerks them down and off. He leans over me, supporting himself with one arm as he takes hold of my panties. I hear the fabric rip, and gasp in wide-eyed surprise. He pulls me to sitting, lifts my sweater over my head in one pull. His hand goes behind my back, unsnapping the strap of my bra. My breasts tumble free as he pulls it off.

  Max lays me back down and leans over me. He trails a finger down my jawline, down my neck, down further to circle the lower portion of my breast. He finds a nipple, rolls it between his fingertips, and pinches it, sending a current of pleasure straight to my pussy.

  I arch into his hand, silently hoping his mouth will take the place of the fingers clutching my nipple, but instead, he raises up and flips me over on my belly. He pushes my hair aside, and I feel his teeth nip the skin on my shoulder. His hands move from my shoulders down to my buttocks.

  “Your ass is so red, baby,” he says. “Does it hurt?”

  “Yes, sir,” I say.

  “Do you want me to make it better?” He’s rubbing my ass, squeezing the welts softly at first, and then harder. It hurts, but it’s a delicious kind of hurt that makes my pussy quiver and clench. I cry out when he nips one of the welts, then gasp as he spreads my ass cheeks.

  “Have you ever had a man take you here?” He presses a finger against the tight crinkle of my anus.

  I look back and shake my head.

  “I’m going to,” he said. “You’re tight. I can tell by looking. I’ll get your ass ready. I’ll train it. Eventually, you’ll take my cock there, too. All of it.”

  I’m suffering from emotional whiplash. The man who has committed himself to nurturing me is speaking to me now in the most explicit of terms. He pulls my hips up and back, leaving my upper body resting on the mattress. His fingers slide through the slick seam of my pussy, and I shudder at his touch.

  “You’re bare,” he says. “Did you shave yourself for me?”

  I flush. I don’t know how to answer. I’ve always kept myself trimmed, but shortly after the first spanking, I removed the little strip of hair on either side of my cleft. It just felt… right.

  “It feels good,” he says, sparing me the embarrassment of answering. “I like it.” He pauses. “From now on, I shave you. Understand? No one touches your pussy but me. Not even you. I’m in charge inside the bedroom and outside. Understand?”

  Oh, yes, sir, I think, but I can’t say it because his authoritative tone has me more aroused than I can stand. I can only whimper now. My excitement is tinged with fear that feeds it. His touch is not gentle. He pulls my hair, dragging me up to all fours as his demanding finger continues to slide through my slit. With each pass, he grazes my clit and I wriggle in frustration, my hips pushing back, seeking his hand. He pushes his fingers into my pussy, pumping once, twice, three times. My girlish whimpers turn to womanly moans as I’m transformed through his touch.

  “Please,” I say. He has me on the edge of an orgasm, but whenever I feel like I’m going to come, he withdraws his touch just enough to deny me the pleasure.

  His mouth is by my ear. “Here’s a tip for you, baby. I can punish you as a woman, too. How would you feel if I just stopped now? Just stopped and left you hanging with your hot, wet pussy aching to be fucked. How would you feel if I just walked away?”

  “Don’t…” It’s a desperate plea. “Please don’t.”

  He lies down beside me and lifts me so that I’m straddling his chest.

  “Grab the headboard, Jill,” he says, and I lean forward to clasp the wooden frame in front of me. As I do, he lifts my hips and slides under me until I’m straddling his face. I realize his intent just as his tongue slides across the folds of my inner labia, sending a wild rush of pleasure through me.

  I’ve had partners perform oral sex, but not like this. He has my hips in his viselike grip, holding me immobile. He catches my clit, drawing on it with a demanding pressure. I hold back, insecure about coming on the face pressed tight in between my legs, but I can’t resist what he’s doing. The ripple of pleasure rolls through me and I scream, bucking against the stabbing tongue, the nipping teeth that torment and tease my sensitive flesh.

  I’m on top. This is typically a dominant position for a woman. But I feel helpless, even with him underneath me, and I realize this is by design. This is Max Iver showing me that no matter how we’re aligned, he is in charge. And this? It’s the sexiest fucking moment of my fucked-up life.

  His mouth pulls on my clit, draws on it. He’s relentless, and no sooner have I recovered from one orgasm when another knocks me down. My legs are shaking when I find myself on my back and under him once more.

  His face is shiny, his eyes glazed with feral lust. I taste my own arousal as his mouth closes on mine, his tongue still demanding as it swoops over mine. He holds my hands above my head with one of his, lifts my left leg with the other. He pushes against me, the covered bulge of his cock pushing against the bare wet mound of my pussy.

  He raises to kneeling, and I watch as he pushes his pants and underwear down to free his cock. It’s beautiful, long, and thick, with a network of veins mapping the surface. I want to touch them, to trace them with my fingers. I want to put him in my mouth. But he’s not given me permission.

  He rises from the bed and walks across the room. I feel a moment of desperation. Is he going to leave? Is he going to leave me hanging, like he said? Instead, he sits on a small sofa across the room. His cock juts straight up from the apex of his huge muscular thighs.

  “Come here,” he says.

  My legs are still rubbery as I rise and walk over.

  He sits forward, opens his arms to me. “Sit in my lap.”

  I obey, but I know he wants more than that. He guides me as I straddle him. I gasp as he centers the mouth of my pussy over the flared head of his cock. I feel the walls of my pussy stretch wide to accommodate the thickness of his cock as it imbeds itself to previously unmatched depths.

  “Who’s your daddy?” he asks quietly when he’s inside me.

  I almost come from the question, which is asked without sarcasm. He runs his hand down the side of my face, down my arm, all the way down until it’s resting on my hip. He pushes my hair out of my face with the other, puts his thumb to my mouth. I suck on it for a moment, eyes closed, before answering his question.

  “You are,” I say. My daddy. My daddy dom. Big daddy, I think. I’m full, full of his cock but also with the satisfaction of knowing this means something to him.

  And then he fucks me, driving his hips up hard, ramming his cock into me. I hold on tight, trying to find the rhythm, but he’s taken control and I can only be open for him as I’m swept away by the plunging upstrokes of pleasure. My head falls back. I know I won’t fall because he’s got me. His mouth finds my breasts. He nips them, moves up to nip my shoulders. He fucks me until I’m sore, which doesn’t take long. I come hard on his cock, clenching and drawing on him from within. I can feel it jerk inside of me. He’s close, but he holds back. He stands, still embedded in me, and walks to the bed. He lifts me off, throws me down, takes my hands and stre
tches them above my head as he falls between my legs. He drives into me, pushing me up toward the headboard I’d been clutching earlier. My legs go around his slim waist. I scream my pleasure until my voice is hoarse. I’ve lost count of how many times I’ve climaxed. His hands are under my ass, squeezing. It hurts, but the pain and pleasure are welded together to a spear point of ecstasy. I abandon myself to sensation, helpless, overcome. I’m losing control, but for the first time in my life, it’s to something wonderful.

  “I’ve got you, baby. I’ve got you,” he says as I cry out once more. And now he’s coming, too. I feel warmth spurt deep into my sated pussy. He pulls me against him as he fills me with his creamy tribute. I cling to him, taking pleasure from his pleasure.

  When it’s over, he picks me up and takes me back to my room. He doesn’t tuck me into this bed, his bed. He puts me in my own, even though it’s early in the day. He tucks me in, naked, with his seed seeping from between my legs, and sits beside me for a moment.

  “This is the last time I’ll fuck you after a spanking,” he says. “Don’t take what just happened as a sign that I’m okay with what I came home to.”

  He’s back in full daddy dom mode.

  I nod.

  “You’re going to take a nap,” he says. “You’re exhausted.”

  He’s right. I am.

  “Are you mad at me?” I ask.

  “No. But I won’t lie. You disappointed me.” He pauses. “You need to be honest with me, Jill. If you’re upset, if you feel like you can’t keep it together… you have my number.”

  “I don’t want to be a burden,” I say. “I don’t want to bother you.”

  “It’s never a bother for me to take care of my little girl.”

  “I’m scared,” I say.

  “Of what?”

  “Sometimes my mother…” I say.

  “Put that out of your mind. Your mother is out of the picture. Your father is gone. Stop dwelling on them. Focus on what you have, Jill.”

  I feel myself smiling. He tucks the cover under my chin. What he asks isn’t so easy, but for the moment, I can try.