Daddy's

by Helen Goodman

  "But when you act like a fucking kid you're going to -- mm -- get treated like one. Tomorrow -- ah -- tomorrow I'm going to -- "

  She was bucking now, and a muffled moan escaped from her lips.

  "Tomorrow," he continued, "when I'm less drunk..."

  Her cunt was meeting each of his thrusts now. He was still so angry that the thought of her enjoying this was making him lose his erection. He pulled out and she groaned in disappointment.

  "Tomorrow," he said, grabbing a fistful of her hair and pulling her face up so she could see him, "I'm going to put you over my knee and rip your panties down and beat your ass with my belt."

  Her lower lip trembled. He'd never used his belt on her bare ass before, only with panties. His hand, plenty. Once even her hairbrush. Never his belt.

  "Please!"

  "Shut the fuck up."

  She closed her mouth. He had that tone again. With that punishment looming over her, she knew not to argue, not to make him angrier. Sometimes, very rarely, she did get off on good behavior. She hoped this one be one of those times.

  "You want me to keep fucking you?" He asked.

  She nodded, flushed.

  "Yeah, you liked it?"

  She nodded again but felt uneasy. He was going somewhere with this.

  "Get back on your belly. Spread your legs."

  She obeyed. He grabbed a pillow and placed it under her chin, which she thought odd. Strangely considerate. The uneasiness in her stomach was growing. Her heart was pounding.

  "When I say I don't want to hear a fucking word out of you," he said to the back of her head, "I fucking mean it. Cry all you fucking want. I don't care. But not one fucking word. Are we clear?"

  She nodded.

  He grabbed lube from the drawer, another thing she found odd as she was still very wet. And he grabbed a condom. Stranger still. She was on birth control and had been for years.

  "Not a fucking word," her reminded her. He put the condom on and covered it with lube. She trembled as he climbed over her. Suddenly the pieces fell into place.

  "Wait!" She cried out.

  His hand came down on her behind with brutal force. "What the fuck did I tell you?"

  She shut her mouth and buried her face in the pillow and tried to calm down. She knew she had to relax.

  He pulled her ass cheeks apart and applied a bit of lube to her asshole. His erection was back in full force, encouraged by her muffled sobs. He positioned himself at her asshole -- he thought about fingering her first, very briefly, before deciding against it -- no, he wanted it to hurt. He wanted to make her sorry.

  He pushed his head in slowly. He knew to take it easy. He was sadistic but he didn't want to injure her. Another centimeter.

  "Please don't!" She begged. "Please."

  He grabbed her by the hair. "Not a fucking word, why don't you listen?"

  "Please." Tears streamed down her cheeks. "I don't want this."

  "I know."

  "Please, Julian, please."

  His glare softened. She was really afraid. He pulled out and sat back for a moment. "Do you trust me?"

  "Yes, but--"

  "You trust me. So trust that I know what I'm doing."

  "I don't want this, please," she was becoming frantic.

  "I don't care whether you want this or not. I'm not doing it for you, I'm doing it for me."

  "Please."

  He was getting impatient. Climbing back over her, he ignored her pleas and wrapped his hand around her throat until no sound came out. "Shut the fuck up and listen to what I have to say. If you say another word I will shove my dick down your throat until you pass out, and then I will fuck your ass as hard as I fucking want, and you don't want that, do you Katie?"

  She shook her head. He could feel her shaking.

  "I am going to fuck your ass tonight no matter what. I don't care if I have to tie you to the bed. I don't care if I have to shove your fucking panties down your throat. I don't care if you have to take more of your fucking pills. It's going to happen." He paused, choosing his words carefully. "You trust me. You said you trust me. Well fucking trust me when I say you need to relax. You're scared, that's fine. It'll hurt, I know that. Frankly I don't fucking care. But I'm being kind here. If I wasn't I would be reaming your fucking ass right now. I'll go slowly at first, but seriously, you need to relax or this will be a lot worse than it has to be."

  "You won't--?"

  He interupted her, knowing what she was going to ask. "I'll finish in your cunt, don't worry."

  She was relieved. Still terrified, but relieved. The final moment before his orgasms were brutal, always -- his penis was big enough, wide enough, and he was rough enough that is hurt -- it really hurt, no matter how much she had been enjoying herself before. It was as if the only times he really lost control were when he was coming.

  "I don't want to hear another word," he said. "If I do I'll use my belt on you right now, Katie. I'm drunk and I'm angry and you. Do. Not. Want that."

  She nodded.

  "Back on your fucking stomach," he ordered. Then, "the pillow is there for you to bite if the pain gets to be too much,"

  Katie sobbed in acknowledgement.

  Julian climbed over her once more. After applying more lube, he pushed the head of his penis into her ass. He waited a few seconds, then pushed a little further. Katie was no longer crying, although occasionally a whimper would escape her lips.

  Further he pushed. Still slowly. He was in about halfway. Katie squeezed her eyes shut and unconsciously cleched the muscles.

  "Loosen up," he warned.

  She tried. The more she focused the the more tense she became.

  Julian pulled out completely and Katie let out a sob of relief, but it was premature. He added more lube to his penis first, and then her asshole, and returned to his task.

  This time he wasn't quiet as patient. He entered her in one swift motion, stopping at the place he had been before. Katie bit the pillow which muffled her shriek.

  Centimeter by centimeter, Julian pushed himself deeply into her asshole. She was crying now.

  "I'm in," he grunted when, finally, she had taken most of his length -- he knew he wouldn't be able to go any further. He pulled out slowly and pushed himself back in again. Katie sobbed. He pulled out slowly again, pushed in again. "You're okay," he assured her gently. "The worst part is over."

  He was short of breath as his thrusts became more rythmic, and he considered very seriously breaking his word and finishing in her ass anyway -- but he knew he couldn't. His movements became swifter, more regular, and although Katie was sobbing into her pillow she was getting wet. She liked it. She really did like it. But that doesn't mean it didn't hurt like hell.

  He picked up his pace, getting rougher. Grabbing her by the hair he asked , "you like this?"

  "Yes," she whispered.

  "You're a whore." He pulled out, panting. Katie was panting too.

  Julian ripped the condom off and tossed it to the floor. He grabbed Katie's leg and flipped her over onto her back, and without hesitation he was buried deep in pussy with his thumb rubbing her clit. She tried to push his hand away -- she was too sensitive and he was too rough, the whole thing would be more enjoyable if she could do it herself -- but he ignored her.

  "Nuh--" she gasped. She was close. It hurt. Each time he brought his thumb over it her legs spasmed. He felt it. That just encouraged him to increase his speed.

  "Jul..." She was short of breath, could hardly form words. Each time he entered her it was like the wind got knocked out of her.

  "Julian, you have to slow down."

  "I don't have to do anything."

  "Please stop, please...let go..."

  "Beg me," was his gutteral reply.

  She was too proud. Instead she just closed her mouth and lay her head to the side so she didn't have to look at him.

  Suddenly he grabbed her by the face and slapped her across the cheek. He had pulled out of her and was now sitting on her
stomach. She stared down his glistening cock between her breasts.

  "I fucking told you to beg me," He snarled, yanking on a handful of her hair. "It's either that or I fuck your throat -- your choice."

  She did not want him to fuck her throat. Not when he was drunk, not when he was angry.

  "Please fuck me," she whispered.

  "Where? What hole?"

  She blushed. He knew she was shy about things like that.

  "Huh?" He demanded, slapping her again.

  "My p...my pussy. Please."

  "My pussy," he corrected her.

  She nodded.

  He pushed himself back into her, watching her face closely for any sign of distress. None yet.

  "I told you to fucking beg me," he reminded. "I want you to beg me."

  She nodded again.

  He picked up where he left off, ramming into her cunt -- which accepted him readily -- and abusing her scandalized clit, with each touch sending shock waves through her body. He picked up the pace on both fronts.

  "Please," she whimpered, trying to grab his hand again. "Please, please, Julian. Please slow down. Please -- ah -- no, no, no, no...please no more, please slow down."

  "Keep going," he grunted. "Keep begging." He was getting close. "Please let me finish myself. Please, oh! Please, oh no, no, no..."

  He pressed harder, moved faster, in circular movements his thumb worked her clit. He felt his orgasm building in the pit of his stomach and he wanted to make her cum with him. He wanted her insides to milk his cock. And, of course, he wanted it to hurt.

  "Please!" She was almost in tears. "Please Jules, oh please!" She was pulling at his hand frantically. Her legs spasmed, she tried pressing them together to push him out but it was impossible.

  "No no no no no," she gasped. This was it. "No no no Julian no Jules, please...puh..." She cried out, coming hard, her overworked clit still induring his abuse and she thrashed, trying to push him off, trying to separate his hand from her body, anything for relief.

  And as her pussy began to spasm Julian came too, pumping throughout, still focused on her clit, his unwanted attention causing her insides to clench around him at will.

  Finally, exhausted, he collapsed beside her.

  After a few moments of silence he asked, "you still want me to sleep in here?"

  She nodded. Her face was still wet from her tears. He dried them gently with the bedsheet.

  "Okay, he said, then smiled. "But we're not done." He got to his feet.

  "What?" Her voice caught in her throat. "Julian, what?"

  He was digging through one of his drawers now, looking for something in particular. She couldn't see in the dark.

  "What is it? Please, what is it?"

  He came back to the bed, holding something in his hand. "Close your eyes."

  "No."

  He shot her a warning look. "Come on, Katie, don't be stupid."

  "Please no more."

  "Close your eyes. I won't say it again."

  She obeyed. When she felt a hand on her thigh she instinctively pressed her legs shut, protecting her sex. He spread them easily.

  "What is it, please, please...oh!"

  His fingers were fondling her clit, just a mere touch was torture.

  "Stop, please!"

  "I'm almost done."

  "Please no, please no."

  And then something snapped shut right on her clit and she shrieked, her whole body jerking. She reached between her legs but he grabbed her wrists and held them tight.

  "You can open your eyes now."

  She did. "No, please," she whined when she saw the clothespin between her legs.

  "Yeah," he said matter of factly.

  "When, for how long?"

  "You're gonna sleep like that."

  She could hardly form words. Even the slightest shift in position sent pain through her clit. "I can't...I'll never be able to fall asleep like this."

  He tossed the bottle of pills onto the bed beside her. "Sure you will."

  The End.

  Up in Smoke

  Trypp walked towards the back room where his uncle kept the machine that would safely extract his extremely magical blood, as did his mate Reno. She didn't trust the necromancer with her beloved Trypp, even if he was Trypp's biological uncle. As she went in the back her mind flashed pictures of shiny things around the uncles shop, and she remembered what happened to the thief when they came in. Not really wanting her kleptomaniac little sister turned into a rat she stuck her head back through the curtain.

  "Star!" Stars head shot up, she had been half hanging on the glass counter with her head down to look it all the shiny things in the case.

  "Huh?" the youngest sister of just 18 responded, having been startled from a transfixed gaze at all of the bobbles and nicknacks in the shop.

  "Don't, and I mean do not touch anything, you understand?"

  Star she knew was a bit of a kleptomaniac, even though she really couldn't help it, Reno wasn't about to take the chance with the ancient necromancer. "I wont, jeez." Star rolled her eyes.

  Trypp's uncle looked back into the shop, his jaw half rotted away he spoke very strangely, like he was talking from inside a tin can. His voice was very serious when he rang out. "Especially that lamp!" He went then into the back to retrieve his payment for the spell cast for Trypp and his group of friends.

  Star looked around the shop. "lamp?" she wondered.

  Her huge blue eyes scanned everywhere for a shinny lamp. What was so damn fantastic about a lamp that made it so she couldn't touch it? She wondered. Star was only four feet tall, her mother was a wild elf, her father a catree, a wild elf would normally grow to just over five feet, but a catree? Now they never grew past four and a half feet, and that was really tall.

  Star was a whopping four feet tall at eighteen, it sucked. Having to go to school all those years with humans, they would tease her incessantly about being five years old, which of course, if you looked at how her body developed, she wasn't.

  She sighed, not seeing anything like a shiny lamp. Then she saw it, an old "Aladdin Style" lamp. An oil lamp from way, way back when, but it was nowhere near bright or shiny. As a matter of fact, it was downright crusty.

  Star went to it, watching the rest of their group as she meandered towards what she was specifically told to leave alone. There were words on it, just around the foot of the base. She could make out a few letters but not enough to put together what it said.

  Star sighed, she wasn't allowed to touch it, but maybe, just maybe she thought, then blew on it hard as she could in an attempt to blow away the sooty dirt that caked it. To her chagrin the dirt remained and didn't even show her any new letters.

  Her being a catree she was cursed with the curious nature of the cat. Being a wild elf didn't help, other then they weren't furry, they were so close to catree's, other races often mistook them for one another.

  Star laid her ears back to listen to the necromancer grouch in the back room. He was still draining Trypp for all he could get. "cant touch, cant touch" she thought over and over. Then her curious and deceptively devious mind came up with a solution. Star pulled a paint brush from her belly pouch and brushed at the dirt. She wasn't touching it! The paint brush was. But to no avail, the dirt stubbornly stuck in the lettering. Star sighed and glared at the offending dirt.

  "Really?" she growled.

  Then she grinned again. She licked the paintbrush and stabbed the tip of it into the lettering, making tiny swirling motions within the line of letters, then it began to come clean. A large grin swept across her lips as she could now read the lettering, not noticing the ichor black smoke wafting from the pour spout of the lamp.

  "Beware all ye who rub this lamp for the curse of greed shall doom you forever." she read aloud to herself.

  She hmmphed and stood up straight, then and only then did she notice the smoke. Star gasped and took two or three steps back just as the uncle came from the back room, he bellowed. "Oh gods damn it! I tol
d you not to touch it!"

  Star shot out a panicked "I'm sorry!"

  As he walked over to the table the lamp stood on, smoke still wafting from the spout, as if it had a full bag of charcoal inside burning.

  Star went defensive and sputtered. "But I didn't touch it I used a paint brush!"

  He glowered at her, "Did you get your DNA on it?"

  She was just sure she was going to be turned into a rat and curled her shoulders to her chin in defense. She tilted her head cocking a brow at him as one side of her lip curled. "Huh? My what?!" wondering why that would matter.

  "Your DNA? Skin, spit, anything like that?"

  Meekly she half whispered. "Well, I licked the brush..." She held the now dusty brush up for him to see.

  The half dead man sighed loudly, "Fine, he is your problem now, not mine." then he marched away still speaking. "His name is Lumin, and he's being dramatic because there's females here, ridiculous sort he is."

  Star watched the necromancer go back into the back and heard him tell Trypp, in an annoyed voice. "You know how to lock up, I'll be in my laboratory."

  Trypp knew he was going to use the new blood to rejuvenate his body back to a living state, which was going to take him a while. "Alright..."

  Star looked from the back room door to the lamp. "Lumin?" she couldn't understand how a person could be smoke.

  Shortly a man appeared where the smoke had been compiling. He wasn't tall at all and looked rather like a boy, Star was just overjoyed he was like her, short. Four foot eight short.

  She nearly squealed in delight as he bowed and kissed her fingertips. "Lumin, and I am at your service lovely lady Star, just to know though, I cannot resurrect, or make anyone fall in love, as well, killing people is so very out of the question. Other then that beautiful one, I am at your service."

  Star blinked several times and repeatedly to him.

  Reno laughed. "A djinn, wonderful."

  Trypp scowled. "Yeah, and the second he grants her last wish she will get sucked up into that lamp to take his place."

  Star wasn't listening to them. Lumin had all her attention, he was so roguish he was charming, long gossamer like white hair laid on his shoulders, framing his doll like round face perfectly. His eyes were the color of sapphires, and every bit as shiny. His skin was pale, but that was to figure as he did after all live in a lamp.