“Good sore? Or does it hurt badly enough that you want to light me on fire?”
“Daddy. That’s silly. It doesn’t hurt. It…” I draw in a slow breath, aiming for honesty. I clench my knees together as I continue, “The constant reminder is making me wet.”
“Ah. That’s good to know. I have a friend who goes to Surrender who has experience with this sort of thing. His name is Bryson. I’m going to call him and see if he’s available to talk to us.”
“What sort of thing?” Why do we need someone to talk with us?
“Submissives who react to pain with intense pleasure. It’s not unheard of. I’ve just never dominated anyone who would have needed three orgasms instead of a good cry after the spanking I gave you.”
“Does that make me weird, Daddy?” I have no experience with spanking at all. That was my first time. I didn’t know I would even like it. It certainly didn’t bring me to tears like he expected.
“Nope. There’s no such thing as weird, Little one. Lots of Littles get aroused from a spanking. That’s normal. But when the spanking gets more and more intense, eventually, it hurts. It gives them the emotional relief they need when they break and start crying. It’s extremely cathartic. You have no frame of reference, but I suspect you got the same release. Instead of getting it from a good cry, you got it from three intense orgasms. I’m guessing, though. This is out of my wheelhouse. And how would you know? You’ve never experienced it either.”
I listen closely. He’s right. It’s hard to know. While he was spanking me, all I knew was that I needed to come. As the pain increased, my need to orgasm grew. All I could think about was the ache I felt in my pussy with every slap of his hand. I might have died two deaths if he hadn’t let me come. A part of me had been concerned that he wouldn’t understand what I was feeling and give me the relief I craved. But he did. He gave me everything I needed and then some.
“So… You’re still saying I’m weird.”
He narrows his gaze. “Are you arguing with your Daddy?”
“Depends. Do I get spanked or a timeout for arguing?”
He surprises me when he tips his head back and laughs. I love the sound of his laugh. He’s shared it with me more and more each day. I wouldn’t say he was always an extremely serious person, but he didn’t smile a lot in class. Mostly, he laughed at bad English language jokes that made the students groan.
Suddenly, he shoves the covers down, rolls me onto my back, and climbs over the top of me, pinning me to the bed. He even takes my hands and lifts them over my head.
I’m not giggling now. That’s for sure. I’m instantly panting. My ass hurts from being dragged into this position, and the sting reminds me that his spanking made me horny. Or maybe the sting alone just makes me horny.
I open my mouth to speak, but I never get a chance. His lips are on mine in less than a second. He’s kissing me. On the mouth. This is new. It’s amazing.
When he licks the seam between my lips, I open for him, and then he’s not just kissing me. He’s devouring me. He moans, driving my arousal higher.
I’m naked. He’s wearing nothing but his briefs. So I tug my legs free from under him and wrap them around his waist. God, this feels good. His cock is nestled against my pussy. I’m so wet that I’m soaking his boxers.
When he grinds his erection against me, I cry out.
He’s relentless, not releasing my lips. He even sucks my tongue, drawing it into his mouth. And then he’s kissing me again as if this is the last kiss we’ll ever have. Both the first and the last.
Lord, I hope not. Now that I’ve been kissed by him, I never want it to end. I’m ruined. I’ve been kissed before. A few times. Sloppy boys in high school. Nothing like this. My brain cells leak out of my head.
He’s panting harder than me when he releases my lips to stare down at me. He’s so intense, searching my face like he’s looking for answers. I don’t know the questions, but I do know the answer: yes.
“I can’t go another hour without being inside you, Simone.”
“Good. I don’t want you to.”
“Do you understand how much you mean to me?”
I nod. I think I do. It’s so hard to grasp that he could seriously be this into me. After four years of flirting with him and three weeks of hoping he would call, I’m in his home. I haven’t left for a week. I’m never leaving. Not for any length of time. Right? Is it too good to be true?
“Simone, I need to be certain you believe me when I tell you how important you are to me. Tell me you know that you’re mine.”
“Okay.”
“Tell me, baby.”
I lick my lips. My heart is racing. “I’m yours.”
He smiles. “You’re going to give me this gift?”
