by Measha Stone
“I told you about your language and your tone, young lady.” He flipped up the skirt she’d worn for him—which she now regretted doing—and laid a heavy hand on her upturned bottom. A finger traced the words on her panties. “I think we can take these off. You aren’t being a good girl right now.” He yanked down the panties and tossed them on the table.
“I didn’t do anything!” A moment ago, he’d been so pleased with her.
“Your tone of voice has been unacceptable, and now you’re cursing again.” He delivered one hard swat to the up-curve of her ass.
“You’re avoiding the issue.” She struggled against him, but he wrapped his arm around her waist, keeping her immobile.
“We’ll talk about the shelter after you’ve taken your spanking and we’ve dealt with this issue of your behavior.” His hand pulled away and crashed down on her again, and again.
She wiggled and pushed and tried to avoid his heavy hand. But he was relentless.
“You were just so happy!” She tried to appeal to her earlier win with him.
“You were a good girl then, now you’re being naughty. I told you Daddy will take care of you. I promised you that, and I still mean it. And right now, that means getting the attitude out of my baby girl.”
“No!” She bucked up at him, but he easily trapped her in place with one leg. The spanks rained down on her upturned backside. He didn’t spare an inch, peppering not only her bottom but her thighs as well.
“Yes. My bad girl will learn not to talk back, not to curse, and not to use that tone of voice with me. Just because you don’t like my answer doesn’t mean you get to throw a fit.”
The punishment stretched on forever.
Tears spilled over, dripping to the kitchen floor. He wasn’t going to stop, not until she submitted, not until she had learned.
She could have used a softer tone. She didn’t need to curse and push her plate like some insolent brat. It had started out so nice. He’d been happy, had been pleased with her surprise, and then she went and ruined it all. She’d thrown a fit when she didn’t get her way.
“I-I’m sorry, Daddy!” she cried, trying to block his hand with her own. Easily captured and restrained, he continued the spanking as though she hadn’t moved.
“Almost done.” He softened the blows, but the slaps continued.
“I’ll be a good girl now.” She sniffled and yanked her hand back from his grip to brace against the floor to steady herself.
He delivered a sharp slap to each cheek then stopped. The tears didn’t, and she realized she was sobbing softly. All the anger she felt moments ago seemed lighter, nearly gone, even with a throbbing-hot backside.
She was lifted up from his lap, only to be put right back on it, though her bottom was seated on his thighs instead of her tummy. The rough denim of his jeans rubbed her, and she tried to find a comfortable spot. There is no comfortable spot for a freshly spanked bottom.
He wrapped his arms around her and pulled her forward until she was resting her head on his shoulder. She continued to cry, but silent tears.
“Shhh, Carissa-girl. Daddy’s here. It’s going to be okay.”
“You’re going to let him take away the shelter. You can’t stop him.” She sniffled but didn’t pull away from him. She’d been angry with him. Not his father, but him for seeming powerless.
They were facing a situation that even her daddy couldn’t fix. What could be worse than knowing he couldn’t help.
“No more about the shelter tonight,” he decreed.
She wrapped her arms around his neck and sighed. He may not be able to fix everything, to make everything all bright and better, but in that moment, in his arms, she felt safe from everything outside of them. Daddy would take care of her.
“My butt hurts,” she whispered into his ear. “Can you rub it for me?”
He pulled back, studying her face. “I think something can be arranged.” He stood from the table, carrying her as though she were weightless.
Only when they were in her bedroom did he put her down onto her feet. He worked the buttons of her blouse, one by one, until he’d undone the entire row. She watched his face, watched the concentration and the arousal flash across his features as he unwrapped her body.
He pushed the blouse over her shoulders and let it fall to the floor. She nibbled on the inside of her cheek as his hands cupped her breasts.
“Bad girls don’t get to have their pussies played with. Isn’t that what I said to you before?” His voice came out choked, as though the idea of not fucking her in that moment was as painful to him as her.
“Yes, Daddy.” She remembered, and she hated that he never let her come if she earned a punishment.
“And if I tell you tonight is no different. That tonight I’ll take what I want from your body, fuck you until I come and leave you completely void of any release, what will you do?”
Do? He wouldn’t, couldn’t do that to her. Would he?
“Nothing?” She tried to ignore the sensations his fingers were bringing her while he played with her nipples through the lace of her bra.
“That’s not an answer.” He chided, clearly amused by her worry.
“I’ll let you. I won’t argue,” she said with more confidence. She could try to manipulate him, could maybe steal her own orgasm, or take one later after he’d fallen asleep, but she wouldn’t. No, if Daddy didn’t give it to her, she wouldn’t take it. She trusted him to give her what she needed, even if it wasn’t what she wanted.
“There’s my good girl.” He slid his fingers into the cups of her bra, pushing them down until her breasts popped free. Taking her nipples between his fingertips, he rolled them.
Her heart raced, and her breath became shallow, but she kept her eyes on him.
“I love your tits.” He leaned down and suckled her right breast. As he did so, he reached behind her and unclasped the bra. He dragged the straps down her arms and let the lacy fabric fall to her feet.
He pulled back, bringing his nose to gently rub hers. “I want you to offer your tits to me, Carissa-girl. Cup them and serve them to me.”
She swallowed. If she had still been wearing her panties, they’d be soaked already.
Cupping her breasts, she pushed them up, holding them steady as he brought his mouth back to her chest. “Good girl, feeding Daddy like you’re told.” He suckled the left breast, flicking his tongue over the peaked nipple.
He bit down hard and released, moving back to the right breast. Her hands tightened. Her nails bit into her flesh as she held her breast to his mouth, rubbing his bottom lip with her nipple.
His grin showed his pleasure. “Do that again,” he ordered while sticking out his tongue. Her clit pulsated, begging for attention, a little touch, a caress, hell, a smack would do, just so long as there was connection.
Ignoring her wants for the moment, she ran her nipple up and down his tongue, feeling the roughness of it. Without warning, he closed his mouth over her breast and sucked. Hard. She squealed a little and had to take a small step toward him. She dropped her breasts and steadied herself by holding his shoulders.
When he pulled away from her again, her nipple was wet, the cool air of the room sharpening the peak. He licked his lips. “Get on the bed,” he instructed while undoing his belt.
She scrambled onto the bed on her back, watching him as he pulled the strip of leather this way and that before pulling it free from the loops.
“Spread your legs,” he demanded holding the belt in one hand, already doubled over.
She wanted to protest, to ask what he was going to do, but his eyes told her it would be best for her to be obedient, to express the trust she finally admitted to herself she held for him. Her legs spread apart; her wet pussy was on display to him.
He didn’t strike her as she had anticipated. He draped the belt over her mons and left it there. The leather touched her sensitive, wanting, hungry clit while he stripped out of his clothing.
Damn he was p
owerful. His sculpted chest, chiseled abs, all of this physical strength made him a beauty to behold, but it was his concentration on her, his self-discipline that made her body ache for his.
He climbed on the bed, never taking his gaze off of her. Lifting the belt from her pussy, he unfolded it. “Hands,” he ordered.
Shaking, but otherwise obedient, she put out her hands to him. The leather was wrapped around both wrists several times.
“Over your head,” he ordered again, his voice as raw as his expression.
She moved her arms to where he wanted them, and again he shifted. He worked the small end of the belt through the slats of her headboard and closed the buckle, effectively binding her to the bed.
He looked over the length of her, his lips wet and parted, and his cock pressing against her arm. His hard cock.
“Keep being a good girl,” he said in a much softer tone, and trailed his hand along her collarbone. An electric spark ignited when he dragged his fingers through the valley between her breasts, down the length of her belly, and stopped right at the spot over her clit.
“Please.” She whispered her plea, but the desperation was there all the same. If he didn’t touch her soon, she would shatter.
His middle finger pressed on her clit, and she arched her hips, unable to stop herself. Completely lost in her own desire. Lower he moved, until his finger toyed with her entrance, circling the rim.
“Oh, please!” she begged again, spreading her legs wider.
“Please what, Carissa-girl? Tell me exactly what you want right now.” He wasn’t watching her face. He had his gaze locked on his own hand, her pussy.
“Please put your finger inside of me—two, three. Please!” She could hear her own desperation, but it didn’t matter. She was desperate. Completely at his service and at his whim.
“Remember, I haven’t said you can come. I could toy with you like this, fuck you with my fingers like this—” He thrust two fingers into her pussy, and she moaned at the suddenly full sensation. “I could fuck you like this and never let you come.”
“Yes, I know.” She nodded. He would, and he could. By the determination in his eyes, she worried part of her punishment would be to hold her orgasm just out of reach. But she would be able to bring him his joy. He would have fun playing with her, and he’d find his own fulfillment, and even that—even being used in that way—would bring her a sense of completion.
His fingers continued to work in and out of her while the heel of his palm brushed her clit.
“You are so beautiful being fucked like this. Tied to your bed, waiting to see if I’ll give you what you want. Wondering if I’m going to stop finger fucking you and instead fuck you with my cock. Wondering if I’ll let you come, or if I’ll leave you wanting.”
“Please.” It was the only word her brain seemed to be able to handle.
He laughed.
“Clean my fingers.” He pulled out of her pussy and brought his glistening fingers to her mouth, shoving them in before she was ready. Licking her own juices from his fingers made her want everything even more.
“Good girl.”
He pulled away and moved to kneel between her legs.
Again, his fingers touched her sex, pulling her lips apart, almost too far apart, before using the fat of his thumb to play with her clit.
She nearly shot off the bed with the sharp peak in pleasure, and he laughed again.
“I think my girl likes when Daddy’s completely in control. I think you like being tied down and used.”
“Yes!” She nodded, hoping he would touch her again.
He shifted his weight and grasped the base of his cock, pressing the head against her pussy entrance.
“Lift your legs onto my shoulders,” he instructed, and she did, moving more quickly than ever before.
With no other words, he thrust into her. The positioning made her tighter for him, made his cock feel impossibly large. The stretch was nearly painful but instantly brought her to the brink of an orgasm.
He wrapped his arms around her legs, pulling them together and resting her ankles on his left shoulder.
“Oh. God,” she moaned, biting down on her own lip. So full, so impossibly full, and yet still needing more.
He thrust. Hard and unyielding. He wasn’t being soft with her. She didn’t want gentle, she wanted—this. She wanted harshness, and purpose.
A slap to her ass renewed the fire from her earlier spanking.
A hard thrust, another smack.
“I have you right where I want you. Tied up, ass in the air, and my cock buried in you.” He held tight to her legs and pounded his cock into her.
“Please! Please, I have to!” She could feel the eruption building.
“Need to what, Carissa-girl? Ask for what you want. Ask for permission.”
“Please! Please, may I come? I have to come. Please, may I?”
He plowed into her again. Growling and nipping at her calf.
“Yes, Carissa-girl. Come for me. Come all over my cock, and I want to hear it. I want to hear you scream.” He bit down on her calf again.
She couldn’t have kept her voice down even if there had been a gun to her head. The orgasm stole all coherent thought or action. Her eyes squeezed closed, her mouth opened, and she screamed. She yelled out with each wave of the powerful release he’d driven her into.
He held tight to her legs, and his strokes became more forceful. The bed banged against the wall, but she didn’t care. He didn’t seem to either.
Two more thrusts, and he stilled. His cock felt thicker, filling her more, and then his orgasm took him away from her. He was lost to his own pleasure, and she was lost in him.
When he came back to reality, he gently parted her legs and brought them down to the mattress. He leaned over her, pressing his chest to her and kissed her nose then her lips. A seductive, sensual kiss.
“You can make me break my own rules,” he kissed her again. “But there’s a price for such power, Carissa-girl.”
She looked up at him, the leather biting into her wrists. “What’s that?”
“You don’t own your orgasms anymore. They all belong to me. No more touching yourself without my permission. Not even to pet your pretty pussy. It’s mine, and I’m not that good at sharing.”
Another kiss and he went about unbuckling the belt before bringing her arms back to her sides, rubbing them and checking to be sure she was okay.
No touching? At all?
Such a demanding daddy.
Such a dream.
Chapter 15
Saturdays were meant for sleeping in and spending the day making love to the woman who’d captured your heart.
Except the woman who held his heart captive still couldn’t admit how strongly she felt for him. Putting that damn time stamp on their relationship had been stupid. Fucking stupid.
It had been a way for her to ease into the idea of a real relationship, but he hadn’t thought it all the way through. She was warming to him, really coming to trust him and give over to him, but she still fought against the idea they could last. That she could be his baby girl for more than a month.
He cursed himself for allowing it.
So, instead of sinking himself into the warmth and wetness of his girl, he stood at his office window watching the city come to life.
She was spending the day at the clinic. The regular nurse had an emergency, and they needed Carissa to lead a discussion group on healthy children habits, or something like that. He’d been disappointed when she’d said she couldn’t meet him until the evening, but he understood.
They had only one week left. Not long enough, especially since her shifts at the hospital were longer this week. She’d taken some doubles to help out a few co-workers, and the shelter was having a booster day or something, and she needed to be there to help give flu shots.
He could call off the time stamp.
But he wouldn’t. Forcing her wouldn’t get them anywhere. No, he’d have to wait
the next week out and have the conversation. Until then, he needed to stop focusing on the possibility of losing her. How could he lose her?
Instead, he had to focus on his father.
He’d spent the week looking for a new location. Somewhere his father could build his hotel and not have to take down the shelter. But he was being a coward.
An absolute coward.
His father shouldn’t have so much hold on him. He’d worked hard to get out of his grip, but it seemed some small part of him still wanted a connection, wanted his father at least to value him as a son. Shouldn’t the fact that keeping the shelter protected was important to him mean something to his own father? Was money so much more important than him?
“Hey. I wasn’t expecting you in today.” Garrick’s voice pulled Jamison from his thoughts.
“Yeah. Carissa’s going to be at the shelter most of the day, and I should start looking at a new project. Dark Lace wants to expand already. The other partners want to open another club out in the suburbs. The BDSM community is pretty underserved out there, so it’s not a bad idea.”
“I heard about that. It might be the perfect thing to really sink ourselves into. You know, not only invest, but actually run.”
“What? You? I thought you wanted to just cash distribution checks.”
“Yeah, well, I don’t like Jade working at that ER. I never did. Some of the shit that goes on there during her overnight shifts makes me want to send an armed guard to follow her around. But, unless we move out to the burbs, it won’t matter if she switches hospitals. She’ll still be around all the crazy shit I want her away from.”
“You’re talking like someone who’s going to get married and start popping out babies.”
“Fuck you.” Garrick laughed. “It wouldn’t be the worst thing, leaving the city.”
“No. It wouldn’t.”
“Carissa still being evasive?”
“She’s as stubborn as you predicted.” Jamison opened a bottle of water from his fridge, handing one to Garrick as well.