Papa's Desires

by Sue Lyndon

  The firm length of him pressed against her belly and she wriggled closer. Her need to complete her climax ached within her.

  “None of that, Camellia,” Papa said, landing a stinging swat to the top of her thigh before moving her away from his cock. “You will get your pleasure when I give it. If I give it.”

  Cammie mewled. She needed a release and she needed to be held in Papa’s loving arms afterward. This had turned into a horrible, awful afternoon.

  Papa gave her several more swats on her hot bottom then set her on her feet in front of him. He took the letter from her hands and said, “Go get on your bed, Cammie, on your hands and knees.”

  Cammie knew what that meant. Something was going to happen to her bottom hole. But, if it meant an end to the embarrassment of reading her letter, then that was fine by her. Papa had trained her rear hole with plugs so now she could take his big cock in her backend. That sure made Papa happy. She liked it too, though it was shameful when her papa made her open her cheeks so he could see her little pucker.

  Papa dropped the letter on the bed between her hands. “I believe you have not finished reading this.”

  Ohhh. She did not like the way this was going. Papa moved to stand behind her and she heard him open his trousers and lower them, then his hands gripped the globes of her rear end and pulled them wide. He put his fingers into her kitty and tsked. “You are very wet, little Cammie. I wonder why.” He gathered moisture from her slick folds and used it to lubricate her tight opening.

  He paused long enough to land a swat on her left cheek. “Read,” he ordered.

  She sighed. “If your papa is anything like mine, he will probably like to touch you and kiss you all over your body. Sometimes your papa might even put his mouth on your kitty. If he kisses your mouth after that, you will be able to taste your juices on his lips. It is a very naughty feeling, but I enjoy it. I like touching and kissing my papa all over his body too. Sometimes I put his cock in my mouth and suck on it until he reaches his climax. That makes my papa very happy and sometimes I get a new dress or hat the next day.”

  Papa coughed several times but when Cammie snuck a glance at him over her shoulder, his lips were pressed together like he was trying to hold something back instead of letting a cough out.

  “I hope this answers some of your questions. I am sure your papa will be happy to show you everything you need to know to be a good and pleasing wife.

  Yours affectionately,

  Cammie

  P.S. Burn this letter as soon as you read it.”

  She found the last line particularly galling. If Hyacinth had followed her instructions, she would not be in this predicament in the first place.

  And then it dawned on her...Cynny’s papa had read the letter too. And brought it to her papa. “D-did Lord Grayson say whether Cynny got in trouble for this letter?” she asked, hesitantly.

  “Oh, yes. As I understand it, she has been spending a significant part of the day in the naughty chair and I expect that Lord Grayson has some plans for her.” Papa continued to probe her back hole with his fingers while they spoke and Cammie had to pay close attention in order to say the things on her mind.

  “This letter has caused a lot of problems hasn’t it, Papa?”

  “I believe that is putting it mildly.”

  “I-I am so very, very sorry, Papa.” Her heart felt like it had broken into a thousand pieces. She had caused so many problems for the people she loved best, Papa and Cynny.

  Papa slid his shaft into her achy kitty and Cammie sighed at the pleasure of it, though it was short lived. “You are certainly wet, Cammie. So much better to get my cock ready for your bottom hole, do you not agree?” He pressed against her back opening and pushed into her well-trained pucker.

  Cammie whimpered deep in her throat and gripped the bedcovers in her hands.

  “I am curious, little miss letter writer, why you did not share with your friend how much you enjoy having your papa’s cock in your backside.”

  Cammie gasped and swiveled her head around to stare at him. “Papa! Was what I written not shameful enough? How could I tell her about - about, this?” She braced and groaned after a particularly hard thrust from Papa.

  “Well,” Papa gave her left cheek a hard swat while he pumped his cock in and out of her bunghole, “I believe I would like to hear you explain it now, as though you were writing a letter. It will be easier to describe as it is happening.”

  “Papa! No!” she wailed, her face flaming with shame.

  Papa swatted her bottom hard and continued his punishment. “I will stop spanking when you start talking.”

  Ohh. He spanked with determination. With little choice but to obey, Cammie spoke, “My papa likes to put his c-cock inside my b-bottom hole.” She paused and held tight to the bed clothes as her papa jammed into her hard. “He will use the …” her voice trailed off.

  Papa smacked her thigh. “Keep going,” he said, his voice hoarse with emotion. “You had better finish your explanation before I finish what I am doing back here.”

  “But, Papa, it is too embarrassing to say out loud.”

  “Say it,” Papa growled.

  “Papa uses the m-moisture from my kitty to make his cock slick.”

  “Good girl.” Papa’s breath was labored.

  “Then he will push it into my bottom hole. It is important to keep your muscles soft and relaxed so he can get in without causing pain. Once he is inside you, your bottom hole feels so full, but it is most satisfying.” Cammie pushed back against Papa’s cock, trying to achieve the fullness she spoke about. A moan erupted from deep in her throat.

  “Satisfying? Is that all?” Papa grabbed her hips and jammed into her little arsehole over and over.

  “Papa,” she shouted as she achieved her climax, “it is wonderful!”

  And he shot his hot seed into her before they both collapsed upon the bed.

  Chapter 14

  The irony of her situation was not lost on Cynny. A little slip of paper with a letter on it from Cammie was found easily, and unintentionally, while the gold watch that she had hidden in what she thought was plain sight was yet to be found. For over one week she had been waiting for someone to discover Papa’s watch, which she had placed behind the leg of a couch in the drawing room assuming it would be retrieved quickly. Papa would believe it had been misplaced. He would be happy to have it back, she would be relieved to no longer have the worry of it, and Papa would be none the wiser. He could continue on blissfully believing The Weasels were a figment of her vivid imagination.

  But no. Apparently the good people of Grayson House did not have the proclivity for nosiness and concealing things that prevailed at Talcott House. Daisy would have ferreted out that watch before the sun had set the day it was hidden. Perhaps that was one of the many differences between those who had lived in refined homes, even as servants, and those who had scraped and thieved for their existence like Cynny had.

  The letter had been found and she was in the naughty chair, her tummy knotted up wondering what would happen to her when Papa returned. It was probably not such a great mystery, given his propensity for butt plugs and spankings.

  Papa had gone to show the letter to Cammie’s papa. Oh, the knot in her stomach got bigger. She did not imagine that Cammie’s papa would take any more kindly to the letter than her papa had. Did Cammie’s papa know about butt plugs? For Cammie’s sake, she hoped he did not.

  Yes, she had to admit the butt plug aroused her in a most embarrassing way, as did taking her papa’s cock into her back hole, but that still did not make it any less humiliating to have to bend over and hold her bottom cheeks apart while Papa massaged the salve into her little pucker, stroking his fingers in and out of her tight hole. He said it was to help her get ready for the plug or his cock, but she often heard his breathing get heavier while he did it, so she was not so sure Papa was only thinking of her comfort at those times.

  Her comfort. Misery washed over her in a wave. Sit
ting in the naughty chair was likely to be the most comfort she would experience for quite some time. Even after Papa’s punishment ended, she knew the sting would linger in her backside for a long time. It reminded her of the time when she had to sleep on her tummy after Miss Wickersham put that awful piece of ginger root in her hiney hole.

  Despite her worries over her pending discipline, Cynny could not help feeling anxious about the watch. While Papa was gone, she could go and move it to some place where it would be found. Leaving the naughty chair was a big no-no, but, she reasoned, she already had a harsh punishment looming on the horizon so what difference would it make if he caught her disobeying his instructions? Besides, she was confident she would be able to make her way to the drawing room, hide the watch in plain sight and get back to the naughty chair before Papa returned.

  She had no idea where Cammie lived, but London was a big city and it was not as though Ashton Manor, Cammie’s new home, was right around the corner.

  Screwing up her courage, she slipped from the chair and made her way to the door. Opening it slowly so as not to make a noise, she peeked into the hallway. Seeing it was empty, she scurried down the stairs and into the drawing room. The tables were shiny and polished to a high gloss. The maids were thorough, yet none of them had found that watch. She glanced about the room and spied a new hiding place on the mantle. Surely someone would see it there. Heart pounding, she rushed to the couch, knelt down and reached behind the leg where she had placed it.

  Nothing.

  She laid upon the carpet and swung her arm all around the leg in case the watch had been dislodged, but she did not find it. Shoving her face beneath the couch, she searched desperately for any sign of the golden timepiece. Frantic, she inched her way further down the dark area under the sofa. Oh please, she prayed. I have to find that watch and leave it for someone to find. I promise never to ask for anything else ever again.

  Despite her heartfelt pleas, the area beneath the couch was empty.

  With a sigh of resignation, she made to work her way backward and out from under the furniture. She had no idea how much time had passed since she entered the room and she dared not be away from the naughty chair a moment longer than necessary. She had just about emerged from beneath the sofa when strong fingers gripped her ankle and gave a firm tug.

  Papa had returned.

  Grayson did not know which was more gut wrenching — the fact that Cynny had lied to his face about not having any secrets from him, or the fact that despite his explicit instructions, she had left the naughty chair in order to hide under the couch in the drawing room. Did she also think he was too foolish not to find her? Her diminutive body did make it possible for her to crawl under the furniture, but did she think he would not look for her? Not go to the ends of the earth to find her? Not because of his desire to inflict punishment, but because she was his very heart and soul. He shuddered to imagine his life without her, without her sweet submission and ready passion.

  He had believed she felt the same about him, but her deception and disobedience gave him serious pause.

  After his visit with Lord Cavendish, whom he found he liked quite well, Grayson had headed back home with the intention of giving Cynny a hearty spanking and a stern lecture about honesty.

  When he walked into his library and saw the naughty chair was empty, his heart plunged. Had she run away? Most distressing, she had not trusted him enough to stay and face her punishment. Did she think him a barbarian? Cruel and heartless?

  He reached for his pocket watch and cursed. Though it had been several weeks, the decades long habit of checking the hour remained. Regardless, he did not think sufficient time had passed for her to go far. He called for Reynolds, the butler.

  “I have not seen Lady Grayson, my lord,” he said, “though I did hear some odd noises coming from the drawing room which I had intended to investigate when you called for me.”

  Grayson thanked him and set off on an ungentlemanly trot for the drawing room. Assuming his little scamp of a bride might be up to something, he had opened the door carefully and glanced about the room. At first, he had not seen her or noticed anything amiss, until a closer look at the sofa revealed his wife’s protruding ankles.

  He towered above her, hands on hips, a variety of emotions battling within him. He was hurt, angry and disappointed, to say the least. But looking down at his little wife, her eyes wide with surprise, her breath shallow pants and her hair loosened from the braids he had managed to weave that morning, little wisps of her golden tresses glinting in the sunlight. Bloody hell, she was adorable.

  Regardless, she had behaved atrociously and it was his duty to enforce the rules of the household.

  She had not uttered a sound since he pulled her out from under the couch. He had not spoken either. Apparently they both were at a loss for words.

  He took the lead. “I am very disappointed in you, Hyacinth.” It was a simple, honest statement, and he watched as sadness flickered across her face.

  “I am sorry, Papa,” she said, her voice barely a whisper. Her lips quivered and she blinked back tears. “I-I never meant to disappoint you.”

  “Did you not think that disobeying my instructions would disappoint me?”

  “Yes, but I planned to be back before … oh…” her voice trailed off.

  “So it would not be disappointing for you to disobey me as long as I did not find out? Did we not have a discussion this very morning about secrets and the importance of being honest with each other?”

  “Yes.”

  “And did you not promise you were not hiding anything else?”

  “Yes.”

  “Damn it, Hyacinth, have you nothing else to say for yourself, to explain yourself, besides ‘yes’?”

  “Papa?” she asked. “M-may I get up from the floor, please?”

  “Of course.” He reached down and lifted her to her feet, her small body trembling in his hands. It reminded him of their first carriage ride after their impromptu marriage. “Hyacinth,” he said, taking her hand in his, “are you afraid?”

  “A little, P-papa.” She glanced up at him, trepidation in her eyes.

  “Do you recall our wedding day, Cynny, when I said you needn’t fear me?”

  “Yes, Papa. But I have been very naughty and I know I deserve a stern punishment.”

  “Oh, you will be punished, you may rely on it. And it will be painful. But, I would never do anything to cause you serious harm, do you understand the difference, Cynny?”

  “Y-yes, Papa. I believe so,” she said, though her voice quivered.

  He drew her close to him. “This afternoon is going to be difficult for both of us. I do not enjoy disciplining you, little girl. But I know it is my duty to help you become the best little girl and best wife you can.” A shuddering breath escaped her body and he felt her relax against him.

  “I am so very, very sorry, Papa.”

  Cynny had no idea how many messes she could make in one day, but today had to be a record breaker. She wound her arms around Papa’s waist, drawing strength and comfort from him, fighting against the sobs threatening to erupt from the depths of her soul.

  After a few moments, Papa pried her arms from his body and set her away from him. “There can be no avoiding it, Hyacinth, so let us commence your punishment the sooner to be done with it.”

  She nodded. She hated the idea of punishment, but she also knew that once it was over, the deed would be forgotten, never to be spoken of again. Her papa had taught her that and he had been true to his word.

  “We shall need privacy. Let us adjourn to my bedchamber.”

  A pit of dread formed in Cynny’s stomach. Much as she tried to remind herself of Papa’s words that she need not fear him, fear engulfed her entire body and she fought against trembling as he took her hand and exited the drawing room.

  They walked in silence for several paces when suddenly Reynolds rushed into the hallway, dragging Liza, one of the downstairs housemaids, behind him, a fir
m grip on her wrist.

  “My lord,” the butler said, once he caught his breath, “there is a thief amongst us.”

  Cynny gasped and her blood ran cold. This was it. But how had Reynolds discovered her horrible secret? Did Liza know?

  “A thief?” Papa said. “I cannot abide thievery.”

  A prickle of sheer dread ran down Cynny’s spine. Papa would never forgive her.

  The butler tugged on the housemaid’s arm and presented her to Lord Grayson as though she was a pheasant he had just bagged. “I caught her myself,” he said. “Your missing watch clutched in her sticky fingers.” Reynolds held the watch out and Papa took it in his hand, a smile of pleasure on his face as he examined his missing heirloom.

  “My lord,” Liza bobbed a curtsy, “‘tis a lie.”

  “Red handed, I say. Stealing from a kind employer such as you, my lord. Disgraceful.”

  Cynny had never seen Reynolds so animated, he almost had her convinced of Liza’s guilt.

  Though, of course, she knew the allegation was without merit.

  The four of them stood in the wide hallway outside the drawing room. “Liza,” Papa said and Cynny recognized his stern, no-nonsense voice, “what have you to say for yourself?”

  The maid stood firm and looked Papa in the eye. Cynny felt horrible for her. Although Papa had told her it was not proper for her to be friends with the help—that was when he had arranged for Lady Tiffin and Lady Harding to call upon her to welcome her to the neighborhood— Cynny had still taken a liking to the young maid. And well she knew the indignation of a false accusation. Despite her brave front, Cynny could see Liza’s hands tremble. If Papa believed the butler, Liza could be arrested. Fired, at the very least.

  Liza had once confided that she sent her wages home as support for her widowed mother and younger sister. Whenever she got an afternoon off, Cook gave her extra food to take to her family. What would happen to them without Liza’s help?