I’m not pleading, and I’m sure not crying. It will take far more than a hot ass for me willingly to shackle myself to this man for the rest of my life.
“Fuck. You,” I snarl. My backside burns hotter and stings more since he stopped spanking me. With more determination than strength, I throw everything I have into getting off his lap.
He lets me go. I never would have fallen on the floor otherwise. I know he’s playing with me even as I crab-crawl to get out of arm’s reach. He’s up off the side of the bed, his fist in my hair before I make it very far.
I yelp as he yanks me to my knees and manage only one wild swing before he has my wrist in his other hand. He spins me around, and I fall over the footrail of the bed. Tired as I am, I actually stop to rest when my face hits the mattress. Panting, I give him all the time he needs to catch my wrists and pull them down through my legs.
I hear the click of the chain again, just before he locks my wrists to a railing bar. He has my left ankle next. The muscles up the inside of my thigh strain as he stretches me. I didn’t know there was more than one manacle on the bed until he binds me to the left bedpost again.
Too late, I kick and shout, but he already has my right ankle. With a clink of chain and the snap of yet another manacle, I’m fixed to the far-right bedpost. I can’t move. I’m trapped, bent over, and spread wide, and there’s nothing I can do to stop him as he smacks my defenseless bottom.
“Something tells me I stopped too soon. No worries, Princess. Not only does Daddy know how to bring little girls to heel, I know exactly what to do for your filthy little mouth.”
Chapter 6
Viktor
Pretty as she is, she’s even more so bent over with her legs widely spread. Slickness along the folds of her pussy shimmers and shines with everything she wants so badly to hide but can’t. I’ve never felt so powerful or invigorated, although this game—Daddy and Little girl—is anything but new to me. I pace the floor behind her, admiring how gorgeous she is when she can’t help but submit.
All I want is to fuck, but work first. When work is done, Daddy will play.
Unable to help myself, my hand settles on the soft heat of her blushing ass, stroking the back of one tensing leg, then the other. She whimpers, but she isn’t gagged or protesting, not even when I let my hand wander to the crease of her ass, following it down past the quivering bud of her asshole into the slick heat of her pussy. She’s dripping, so wet, her unmistakable arousal coats my fingers as I part her folds and sink my finger into her.
Her pussy spasms, hugging my finger with all the eagerness she’d rather burrow into the blankets than allow me to see.Her back hunches, and she pulls at her trapped wrists. Tiny whimpers try to convince me she doesn’t want this, but I can feel the beating of her heart, the pulsing in her tight pussy, and the gush of all that slickness as she fights not to like it.
There’s so much more for her to enjoy, so much more for Daddy to show her.
Aligning my thumb with the tense brown ring of her ass, I apply pressure until no matter how she struggles to squeeze and lock me out, her body yields, and I sink in. She groans and hides her face, but it’s more humbling than painful.Wait for it, Princess.I will delight in showing her all the many ways I can make the hurt feel good. This is just a taste, a playful lesson of what to expect if and when she disobeys.
“Stop!” she moans, but her fluttering pussy is flexing, gripping,beggingmy finger for more as I pump my thumb in and out of her ass. My cock is going to be in this ass. She’s going to cry, groan, squeal, and love every minute.
Taking away both my thumb and finger, I give her bottom a brisk slap and head to the bar on the far side of my bedroom, near the spacious closet and bathroom. I keep one eye on her as I make myself a fresh ginger Moscow Mule and spy her peeking back at me. Every tense line of her body shows how nervous she is, but human beings aren’t meant to be tense all the time, and eventually, bit by bit, she relaxes. She watches, more puzzled than concerned, as I select a piece of ginger root from the small store I keep in the bar fridge. She doesn’t know what’s in store for her. There’s no change in her visible concern as I peel the root, every bit as useful in the bedroom as in the kitchen. I grate a healthy dose into my glass before scoring the sides to make sure the juice irritants are flowing before notching the base.
“Wh-What… is that?” she stammers, watching as I cross the room to the bed. She rears up as much as she’s able when I take a bottle of lube from the nightside table. The lines of her bodytense again, and her tone turns demanding in her nervousness. “What is that?”
She’s not that innocent. The ginger maybe not, but she knows what the lube is for.
I return to her at the foot of the bed. She’s squirming, pulling at the cuffs on her wrists, thrashing her bottom this way and that, trying to keep both the lube and ginger root always in her sight as I step behind her. Every muscle she has flinches when I pop the lid on the lube. The only sound she makes is the tiniest squeak as I squeeze a dollop of gel onto the tight pucker of her asshole.
She can’t fight me. She can’t kick or snap her legs shut, and she certainly can’t rear up far enough to get her chest off the mattress, much less stand, as I rub the lube around her hole with my thumb. I won’t always be gentle, but it suits me to make her like what I do. I want her to want my touch. I want her to ache for it, especially on those days when I decide to make it hurt.
“Wait!” Her legs stiffen, her bare toes raking furrows in the carpet as all ten ball up into tight little curls. Her fingers clutch the bar she’s cuffed to as her back bows.
Pressing my slick thumb to her equally slick backside, I once more show her just how good Daddy can make it.
Welcome to my world, Princess. You’re Daddy’s play toy now.
She buries her face between her arms, smothering her mew of dismay in the blankets. She can tell me no, but this is not the body of a woman who wants me to stop. Her wanton arousal spills through her folds to drip from her poor, neglected, swollen clit. It peeks at me from out the cover of her flesh as I gently fuck her bottom with my thumb, over and over, until it doesn’t matter how desperately she tries to muffle it, and there is no hiding her breathy moans.
Pulling my thumb out, I replace it with the prodding tip of the peeled ginger root. It’s not much bigger than my thumb, but her toes still curl tight as I press it in. She squeezes, fighting to keep it out, but the lube works in my favor, forcing the unyielding firmness of the root to penetrate, no matter how many breathless ‘nos’ she squeaks and whimpers into the bedding, although there aren’t many. Just two soft protests quickly broken by gasps as I force her to take the widest part of the base. Arching, she throws back her head, casting her gasp of relief toward the ceiling as it pops into place.
“You’re crazy,” she gasps. “Why would you do that? You’re crazy!”
“Don’t push it out,” I warn. “If it leaves your body one second before I physically remove it, I will strap your naughty bottom until you can’t sit down for the rest of the night.”
Her breathing hitches, and she hides her face again, but she doesn’t flinch. The tiny involuntary squirm as my hand rests on her back seems more like writhing, her flesh silently crying out for my touch. I caress her, avoiding the pale lines of old scars that cut across her back, her ass, even the tops of her thighs—her father will pay for each one—but this… this is Daddy’s gentleness. It’s her first lesson, and it’s far more important I read her body correctly than to be distracted by them.
I’m not a good man—no one will ever hear me say otherwise—but my entire adult sexuality has developed around making women want to submit. I can’t think of one good reason to justify the hurt these scars prove she’s endured. Real men don’t do that. Real fathers love, shelter, and protect until the day a husband assumes that privileged responsibility. Alviero forgot that. Before this is over, I will remind him, and he will bleed for every scar he marked her with, but I can’t afford to let myself fixate on that right now.
