by Celia Crown
Mr. Stephan and Daddy talks in their deep baritone voices about business. It’s things that I know, but I don’t understand them. I’m not focused on that. I occasionally search for Daddy’s eyes and try to hold onto the mere seconds of contact before he breaks it to look at Mr. Stephan.
Did I do something wrong?
It can’t be. We were fine yesterday, and I just woke up, so there is no time for me to do something stupid. Every time Daddy gets mad at me, it’s always my fault because I do something or the other to provoke his temper.
Time passes by, and I’m stiffly on Mr. Stephan’s lap, stewing in all the problematic times that I roused Daddy’s notorious wrath. I try not to let Mr. Stephan’s wandering hands affect me, but my traitorous body melts in his arms, and when he pulls me to his chest, I’m compliant.
Daddy’s probably mad at me from the start, so there’s no point of salvaging his good grace when he’s the one that told me to sit on Mr. Stephan’s lap.
I’m not sure when the conversation ended, but it feels like years since Daddy touched me. He’s plucking me off Mr. Stephan’s lap as the other man stands. Their towering presence casts a shadow over me as they sandwich me with their intimidating presence.
I’m Daddy’s little girl, so it’s natural for me to seek the arms that I’m more familiar with. Daddy closes one arm around me, and I bury my face into his side while he finishes the conversation with Mr. Stephan.
My tiny hands turn into fists on the back of his shirt and the front too, and it’s easier for me to finally look up at Mr. Stephan. I still feel the heat of his gaze burning down on me and the twitching ache on my butt where he smacked me, but nothing compares both of their attention drawn on me in split seconds.
“Say goodbye to him,” Daddy reminds me of my manners.
I reluctantly lift my tiny hand up from Daddy’s shirt and waves quickly before my claws are sinking into his shirt again.
Mr. Stephan’s hand traces my jawline delicately before cupping my rosy cheek. His entire hand face crushes my head easily, and I won’t be able to stop him.
Daddy can; he is strong and protective.
He doesn’t do anything but says, “It’s good to have you back.”
Mr. Stephan looks up from my shy gaze to him and nods, “It’s good to be back.”
Then, his gaze drops to mine, and I can feel the weight of Daddy’s eyes on me too. The arm around my shoulder should be comforting, but I’m being trapped with two personifications of a predator.
Mr. Stephan smiles; his smile is breathtaking and lascivious.
“I will see you soon.”
Chapter Two
Pepper
When the man left, it’s just Daddy and me in his office.
I sniff and nudge my face into his side while he pats my hair with his big hand. The gesture is assuring as I lean into his warmth and the scent of his alcoholic drink that he had with Mr. Stephan.
It still bugs me to wonder why Daddy is in a business of sweets and yet, his preference leans towards bitterness with the wine cellar in the underground storage and black coffee.
My preference is a glass of water in the morning and a warm glass of milk at night to help me sleep better. The strong taste of coffee and alcohol suits Daddy in a way that keeps his mysteriousness on point, and I always find it really arousing when he has a glass of those amber liquids.
I never know what they taste like because he doesn’t let any alcohol touch my body. He says it’s my body’s ability to handle alcohol that worries him.
Personally speaking, I think I can handle one tiny sip of it. I’m a big girl. I can determine what I like and what I don’t like based on experience.
Daddy is usually never wrong, so when he says that alcohol is not good for me whether I like the taste or not, then it’s probably not good for me.
“What do you think of Stephan?” Daddy asks when he puts me on his lap.
I stare in the reflection of the black screen, and the girl that stares back is flushed to the neck when I think back to that monstrosity of a man. Squirming on Daddy’s lap, I twist my body away from the computer screen to press my face into his neck.
My lips find the strong pulse and press it firmly there. I desperately trying to forget the consuming touches of Mr. Stephan and it’s hard to do so when Daddy’s hand on my butt reminds me of the slaps that had my panties wet.
“He’s… okay,” I answer in his neck.
Daddy pushes my face away from his pulse and holds me in his lap to gaze into my eyes. My cheeks burn as I watch his handsome face morph into a tycoon that runs his business with an iron fist. Strength leaves my body as I lean in with the intent to kiss him. I haven’t got my morning kiss yet because he was already out of bed when I woke up.
He’s so busy these days.
“What don’t you like about him?”
I press my lips to his and the remnant of black coffee bites at me, but it’s addicting when it’s Daddy’s lips delivering it. I can get used to the taste of black coffee, and maybe I can get Daddy to let me taste one drop of his amber drink someday.
It’s going to be a hard sell, but I think I can do it. I just have to play my hands very delicately, or Daddy will toss me on the bed and use my little pussy to his own discretion. It typically means the whole night is his time to use me like a fuck-doll., I don’t know how I survived those times since I’m always crying.
I get so sensitive that it hurts.
A slap across my butt jerks me out of my thoughts, “Pay attention, little girl.”
I whimper softly while trailing the scruff on his jawline; it’s sharp and defined with a hint of animosity that would break my skin.
“I’m sorry, Daddy.”
He soothes the throbbing with his palm. My little booty-shorts deflected the movement when he first threw his hand down.
My shorts are giving me mixed feelings. I want to feel the full effect when his hand collides with my butt, but I also don’t want to moan like a dirty, little girl.
I still don’t understand why he did it.
“What don’t you like about him?” Daddy asks again. This time I’m prepared to answer while he pats my thigh with his other hand.
“He hit me,” I whine with a pout.
Daddy’s black hair tickles my face when he bends down to nip on my neck. I have to press my thighs together and hope that he doesn’t feel the wetness trickling down from my soaked underwear.
“Where did he hit you?” His hot tongue swipes across my skin, and I tilt my head to give him more space.
I sniff and put my hand over his. His fingers squeeze my plumpness, and I move his hand to make my point.
“Right here, Daddy. He hit me here,” I said while he flexes his fingers.
The aching remains strong and stable, but it’s the sting on my skin that makes me fidget on his lap.
He questions lightly, “Why don’t you like it?” My lips wobble in confusion.
I’m presented with a dilemma; I could say I enjoyed Mr. Stephan’s hand and get punished for letting another man touch me or I could lie and say I didn’t, but I would get spanked for not telling the truth.
I’m stuck either way.
“Only Daddy can touch me,” I stick to the rule that he set down earlier in our relationship.
He chuckles, dark and growly as my nipples tighten under my bra. I’m greedy for his love, so I wrap my arms around his neck to scoot closer to him. He indulges on my needy behavior with a kiss to my lips and an edging to my panties.
I close my legs as I hope he gets the message that this is not the time to touch my underwear. They’re too wet, and I won’t be able to explain it to him that it’s a normal body reaction when it comes in contact with something it likes.
My body likes being spanked, and Daddy knows that too well. He knows that I have to change my panties several times throughout the day when he’s in a particularly sadistic mood and teases me until I’m begging for his big cock to stretch my tiny puss
y.
“Daddy, no…” I shake my head and push his advancing hand away from the side of my shorts.
His eyes darken at my resistance as he stares deep into my eyes, and I swallow with difficulty when he stops his fingers just at the frilly lace under my shorts.
He sneers with a mean smirk, “Are you hiding something from me?”
I can’t help but nod.
The white planes of his teeth stretch with a figment of my imagination shattering around the image of a gentle dominant. Daddy is a difficult man to read; he contradicts himself in many ways, and when I think he’s one thing, he goes in the opposite direction.
He slaps my butt, and I jump off his lap, the pain spans across the size of his hand as the aching shoots down to my toes. When I keep my gaze down on my socks, I steer clear of the clean glare of his shoes. It’s so clean that I can almost see my own reflection, and it’s not the best time to remind myself of how red my face is; I can feel it.
“Pants off,” Daddy hisses, and I immediately find the waistband of my shorts.
It pools on my feet, and he makes me step out of it. The pair of cotton pink panties hug my hip as he clasps both hands around my thighs. From his seated position, I have no doubt he can see the wet patch and his smirk says it all.
He’s angry.
“Sit your ass on the desk,” Daddy commands, and my body does what it’s told.
I shiver at the cold mahogany desk pressing on my butt as the heel of my hand knocks against the keyboard. My knees press tight to stop him from looking at the humiliatingly dark spot, but he pries my legs open with easy strength.
“You fucking dirty, little girl,” he sneers as his nails dig into the tenderness of my thighs.
The shot of pain tips my hips up. I try to push my shirt down to cover it and hope that he wouldn’t be too mad about my body having a reaction to Mr. Stephan’s ministration.
“You like being touched by another man.” He pulls my panties to the side, and the cool air brushes against my sensitive folds.
They’re still red and swollen from yesterday’s brutal love-making, and the soreness heightens with the slick running from my tiny hole.
A calloused thumb roughly pushes down on my throbbing clit, and my elbows give up on supporting me. I start trembling as my back hits the keyboard. The little keys dig into my back, but the shirt has a bit of cushion, so it doesn’t hurt too badly.
“I-I don’t!” I squeal in discomfort. Daddy rubs faster with the intention of killing me slowly.
I’m sensitive to touch on a daily basis, but it’s even worse when Daddy has been using my tiny pussy for his cum to stay in. Sometimes, he’s nice and lets me off with a warning when I do something bad, but he doesn’t give second chances a lot.
It’s why everything below my waist is aching all the time.
Daddy is a big, mean man.
“Don’t fucking lie to me,” he snaps and throws the chair back as he shoots up.
He glares down on me with a ferociousness of a beast, hungry and impatient as he takes his cock out. My mouth waters at the veiny girth and I want to feel the heaviness on my tongue as I suck on him, but he has something else in mind.
“You want me to punish you, don’t you,” it’s not a question in the tone he says it, and my heart leaps several beats.
“Getting wet just by Stephan’s little spanking… you are treading on dangerous waters, little girl.” Daddy pushes his massive cock between my folds, slick coating his shaft as he thrusts in without warning.
I scramble to find his arms for support, but he’s too far away, so I settle by pressing my forearms on my swaying breasts. I’m still a good girl even though I got wet from Mr. Stephan, and I make sure to not knock over some things on his desk.
“I’m sorry, Daddy. I didn’t mean to,” I hiccup with a sniffle.
He laughs deeply from his rumbling chest as he hooks my legs to the side of the desk. I can see his big cock splitting my pussy as my warm juices trickle down to my butt.
He mocks, “You’re sorry?” He sinks to the hilt and grinds down on my clit.
Stars burst behind my vision, and I couldn’t contain the cum that burst around his hammering thickness as he pays no attention to my hypersensitivity.
“Are you sorry for being a filthy, little slut or are you sorry that I caught you lying?” These are questions that I’m not supposed to answer because Daddy already knows the answer as my quivering slit tightens around the girth and length.
“You wanted me to get jealous,” he points out. His cock spreads and tugs on my walls even though they are already sore from yesterday.
“Is this what you want for being such a bad girl? You want Daddy to come in and see you sitting on another man’s lap,” he scoffs with a smirk, “You do, you wanted me to throw you on this desk and fuck your tiny, little cunt in front of Stephan.”
Hearing his name makes my walls clench, and my thoughts run wild as my nipples harden even more under my bra. They’re neglected even now, and it brings another level of desperation in me that has my fingers clawing at the front of his shirt.
“D-Daddy, no. I don’t—” I shake my head, denial dripping in the form of my cum smearing on the desk.
“You want him,” Daddy states the desire in me for Mr. Stephan, and I try so hard to deny it because it’s the only thing that makes sense for me to do.
Daddy would never allow me to have Mr. Stephan, and I’m not sure if I do. Well, that’s a lie. I do want that utterly sexy man, but I have Daddy, and I can’t be a greedy, little girl. Daddy would frown at me since he might think that he’s not enough.
He is, he’s all I need, and I don’t need Mr. Stephan.
“I see the way you look at him, little girl. You want him fucking your pretty pussy with his cock and cum inside you; you don’t want him to stop, do you? You want Stephan to tear your tiny cunt open and fuck until you’re leaking with his cum.”
I shake my head vigorously. I’m half a mile behind on my thoughts, and I’m trying my best to gather my splintered concentration back to Daddy’s massive cock pummeling inside me.
“You want him,” Daddy’s voice is adamant and confident. It’s as if he knows something that I don’t.
It’s not surprising since he does know more things that I do. He has experiences that many people would only dream of getting. His wealth and status get him to places and see things that aren’t accessible to normal civilians, and it forms the intelligence that he has.
“I’m sorry,” I say again with teary eyes, sniffing brokenly as I wait for the disappointment on his face.
He leans down and looks me into the eyes, “Tell me, do you want him?”.
My lips wobble, “Yeah… I want Mr. Stephan. I’m sorry, Daddy.”
I expect a fit of rage and hands branding his anger onto my hips. I expect a storm of profanities and a sigh of disappointment, but I am not expecting Daddy to look so pleased.
It’s only for a split second that I have to stew in the bewilderment because he’s breaching my folds with new vigor and it’s much rougher than before as his zipper bites down on my clit while grinding painfully on it.
It’s so different from my silk panties, but the small amount of pain pushes me over the edge with a balls-deep thrust. Daddy’s cock is stuck inside me as it thickens with milky spurts spraying messily in my trembling walls.
The coil of muscles that form in the shape of his girth tightens as I take in all the cum; it’s so much that the creamy whites slip down between my snug folds. I flinch at the draw against my fiery nerves as Daddy slides out. Cum leaks from my gaping hole as it ruins his mahogany desk.
I don’t think he cares, and I know I don’t because Daddy is snapping back the cold patch of my panties over my throbbing pussy. He helps me up, and I’m limp against his body. He’s so big and so strong that he can carry me without much effort.
I have to find out the secret to his stamina; every time we make love, he still has enough strength to do ot
her things while I’m always halfway into dreamland.
I murmur into his neck as he locks my legs around his waist and carries me out his office. I can hardly form words; the special structure of the mansion escapes me as I feel the breeze caress my bare legs.
“Are you mad, Daddy?” I ask carefully.
It’s best to get this over with. At least I’ll know where his mind is at instead of trying to search that stoic face for answers.
He asks back with nonchalance in his tone, “About what?”
I blink the haziness away and mouth his neck, “Please don’t make me say it!”
“You have to be clear about what you mean,” he comments plainly.
The familiar hallways tell me that he’s making his way towards the master bedroom. Sleep sounds so appealing right now. Even though it’s already early in the morning, I figure that a couple of hours in bed won’t hurt.
Daddy doesn’t let me sleep for too long. It’s bad for my health, and my body gets uncomfortable from not moving much.
“About… Mr. Stephan,” I mutter under my breath, and he has to hear it because his ear is right there.
Daddy wouldn’t be the man that brings in millions of dollars in one day if he wasn’t mean and resolute.
“What about him?” He pushes my hips down, and his rigid abs scrapes on my clit over my panties.
I choke a moan, “I-I let him touch me…”
“And?” Daddy urges firmly.
“And I liked it.” I hide my face into his broad shoulder, and the tip of my ears burn with redness.
He asks, “Do you want him back here?” I promptly shake my head with a whine in my throat.
He’s trying to torture me. Daddy would never let another man in his home. If that point is impossible, then there’s no way he would let Mr. Stephan touch me again.
The thing that bothers me is that Daddy isn’t mad. He didn’t even blink an eye when he walked into the office with me on Mr. Stephan’s lap. I thought his temper would flare, and he would plunk me away like the barbaric man that he is.
That didn’t happen, and it left me trying to remember where things have changed.
