by Maggie Ryan
“Well, let’s get you into the bath before it becomes cold, shall we?” he said, giving her a grin as he finally allowed her to step from the sodden panties. Though she very much regretted the removal of his finger, she gave another moan when he lifted her into the waiting tub. She giggled as her body disappeared from view with the bubbles encasing every inch except for her head. It felt marvelous even if her behind had protested against the additional heat.
“Daddy?” she asked as he sat on the stool by the tub and reached for the washcloth and lavender body wash.
“Yes, ladybug?”
“Did Mrs. Dryer pack my ‘big girl or little girl’ clothes?” His response could give her the answer as to if he were indeed serious about the diaper comment.
“Now, if I answered that, it might spoil the surprise,” he said, effectively evading her question. “You’ll have to wait.”
Pouting a bit as he lifted the cloth to her face, she said, “But I hate waiting!”
He chuckled, and after washing her face, leaned forward to kiss the tip of her nose. “But you do love surprises.”
That was true and though she had always had a hard time not spilling what gift she had chosen for anyone’s birthday, wedding, or other special occasions, this man treated surprises as if they were state secrets which early revelation could send him to the gallows for treason. There was not a single thing she could do to pull a secret out of him before he decided to divulge it. Letting it go, she took pleasure in the feel of the soft cloth against her skin and the aroma of lavender that seemed to expand to fill the bathroom.
She lifted each arm and then each leg, giggling when he spent a few minutes tweaking her toes, squealing when the tickling threatened to have her slide beneath the water’s surface. With his instruction, she bent forward so he could wash her back and then moaned again when the cloth ran across her breasts, his fingers finding her taut nipples, giving each of them a special, very thorough scrubbing of their own.
By the time he ordered her to stand, she could only pray her legs would hold her.
“Bend over and grab the edge, sweetie,” Dalton said, applying more bath gel to the cloth. “Legs apart. Daddy needs to make sure your kitty is nice and clean.” Her breath hitched as she obeyed, her legs wide, her fingers gripping the tub’s edge. Taking a bubble bath had always been one of her most favorite things in the world even as a real little girl. It had taken on an entirely new meaning when instead of her hand covered in a washcloth to run over her body it was this man’s hand. She moaned as she felt it slide between her legs, obviously in absolutely no hurry to finish the job. Instead, the cloth moved slowly back and forth, a single digit assuring that the lips of her sex were pushed open and the small bundle of nerves situated between them was stimulated with every single stroke until her knees were shaking, and her knuckles were white with the tightness of her hold on the tub.
“Oh, Daddy,” she moaned, pushing her bottom back towards him when his finger left her panting. She’d been so close to soaring off the mountain; his attentions had her climbing only to be left standing on the precipice of the abyss.
“Steady now. Daddy’s not done.” And he wasn’t. His next destination the globes of the bottom she’d shoved into greater prominence though this scrubbing wasn’t anywhere near as delicious as the former. Her spanking had assured that she’d be tender for a few hours, and the rubbing of the cloth against her flesh seemed to be reigniting the burn from her punishment. Knowing it would not do to complain as she’d earned that tender ass herself, she bit her bottom lip to keep from crying out, slamming her eyes shut when a finger slid into the crevice of her bottom.
“Relax,” Dalton said softly, “let your cheeks hang loose so that Daddy can properly wash your sweet little heinie hole.”
God, he had a way with words that instantly enflamed her…the heat flooding her facial cheeks and moving through every cell of her body. She was an attorney. She’d been using multi-syllable words and complicated paragraphs full of legalese for years, and yet not a single turn of phrase affected her as these two little words did. It took conscious effort not only to obey but to stifle her moan of pleasure as what she’d always considered private was penetrated by a cloth covered digit. Proper ladies didn’t acknowledge the existence of this dark, hidden orifice much less derive pleasure from what was considered taboo. And yet, none of that mattered to her daddy. He would do as he wished, pursue what he desired with a passion that mimicked the drive which had made him an incredibly successful, wealthy man.
“That’s my good little girl,” he said, having long dropped the washcloth to press the full length of his middle finger into her bottom. “I’ll have you nice and clean in just a minute, won’t I, babygirl?”
“Ye…yes, Daddy,” she whispered, her teeth biting a bit harder into her lip when a second finger joined the first. When he began to to scissor his fingers, stretching her little hole, forcing it to relax, she whimpered, the burn both painful and pleasurable, the taboo of the act causing her tummy to flip, her sex to spasm and her heart to hammer. Was he preparing her to have her bottom invaded by something else, something much longer, much thicker than the fingers he had buried inside her back passage? Even when he popped his fingers free, though she felt grateful, she also felt empty, not that she’d ever in a million years admit that to him. It was simply not a subject she cared to discuss.
After steadying her to sit again, Dalton washed her hair and then helped her to stand as he reached to flip the toggle, allowing the water to begin to drain. “Hmm, let’s take care of that little fuzz as well.” She stood, shivering a bit with the chill of the air against her heated skin as he moved away only to return with the shaving equipment.
When they’d first begun to live the dynamic of age-play, she’d discovered he intended to keep her smooth and bare. The first time he’d reached for shaving equipment, she’d held her hands over her private parts, the sight of the straight edge razor causing her to tremble. She’d instantly proclaimed that she was more than willing to spend her lunch hour at a nearby spa where she could be waxed. She’d even assured him that waxing would last far longer than shaving. Her daddy had just grinned and shaken his head.
“Little girls do not go to spas alone, and they most certainly do not let some stranger touch their kitty. Shaving your fuzzies is Daddy’s responsibility, and one he derives a great deal of pleasure from.” That declaration had been the end of the discussion. And, just like the first time, he gave her a quick rinse with the hand-held sprayer to remove the bubbles clinging to her skin and then lifted her to sit on a towel he’d pulled from the warming bar and placed on the wide table that had been custom crafted for the large master bathroom. It provided a sturdy surface for Dalton to arrange his girl into various positions at a height that made it easy for him to attend to her needs.
“Knees up and legs spread nice and wide,” he instructed as he began to whip up a lather in the antique shaving mug he always used for this ritual.
Would she ever, just once be able to obey without her face feeling as if it were on fire? Pulling her knees to her chest, wrapping her hands around her ankles, she allowed her legs to fall open. Her hands remained in place, keeping her legs from closing as she presented the very core of her femininity to this man. As he set aside the lather-filled mug to run the straight edge razor that had been in his family for generations across the leather strop several times, she felt her freshly scrubbed pussy begin to fill with moisture. How something that would have feminists all over the world screaming foul could arouse her so very much was a mystery she knew she’d never solve. He used the strop to not only sharpen the blade but had often used it to stripe her backside. It too was a product crafted decades before, its leather strong and yet supple enough to wrap around the curves of her ass to teach a naughty girl a lesson whether she be of this era or one eons past.
“Good girl. Now this will tickle a bit,” he teased, again picking up the shaving brush. She gasped as he began to appl
y the soapy froth to her mound, her legs trembling a bit when he swirled its bristles between her labia lips, coating her clit with lather even as he concealed the fuzz of her pubic hair with the thick cream. “Don’t move,” he warned before he placed the razor against her flesh. Drawing her bottom lip once more between her teeth, she watched as he carefully swiped the lather from her body, leaving a smooth line amidst the mountain of lather. Stroke after stroke had her pubis becoming fuzz free and her arousal dripping to mix with the shaving cream. Soft moans slipped past her lips as he cleaned the blade after every pass.
“Okay, to the edge, sweetie. You know what to do.”
She released her legs as she sat up to scoot her bottom to the edge of the table. With the soles of her feet planted flat on the table, Dalton helped her to lie back. Her hands no longer held her legs though she once again spread them wide. Instead, they moved to grip the globes of her tender ass to pull them apart. Required participation in the ritual only added to the naughty feeling of the act as she felt the brush swirl over her anus. A few careful strokes of the razor assured that not a single follicle was left behind. When Dalton grinned and bent forward, his tongue swiping along the divide that she presented so wantonly, she shuddered. But when his tongue pushed into her heinie hole, its passage made far easier by his fingers’ earlier attention, she moaned and her pussy gushed. Lids closed over cerulean blue eyes as the sensations overtook her. His tongue probed, pushed in and out of her anus, leaving her slick and on the edge of splintering apart.
“Pl…please,” she stammered, her need ratcheting up with every plunge and extraction. Her desire bloomed with every lick of his tongue as it traveled over her perineum, through her sodden sex to return for another dip into her dark passage. “Oh…please, Daddy.”
He pleasured/tortured her for several minutes, not allowing her to find her release as her nipples tightened into hard points, her chest heaved with her panting, and her fingers trembled to maintain the spread required by her daddy. Only when he was ready did his head lift, his chin glistening with her juices, the tongue he’d buried deep within her sex licking along his lips to consume her essence. “Forgive me,” he said, his eyes reflecting the desire she knew was within hers, “it’s rude of Daddy to start enjoying his dessert before it’s time.”
“I-I don’t mind,” she said. “It’s okay, Daddy.”
He chuckled but straightened completely, signaling that he was the one in control. Holding out his arms, she sighed but released her cheeks to reach for him, snuggling into his chest. “You’re trembling,” he said, pulling another thick towel off the warming rack and wrapping it around her. “I’d feel horrible if you caught a chill while I indulged myself.”
She knew that while there might be some truth in that statement, if he truly wished to keep her spread open on the table, he would. No, this was just another act in the play they shared. He sat on the vanity bench, positioning her so that she straddled his knees facing away as he picked up the brush. Despite her arousal that threatened to consume her, with each stroke of the brush, she relaxed a bit more. The warmth of the air from the hair-dryer helped keep her from becoming chilled, the exposure due to the spread required with her position keeping her arousal evident as she could not only feel herself leaking onto his trousers, she could smell her scent caused by her lust filling the air. Knowing that she couldn’t control her body’s reaction due to the sensations this man was capable of making her feel, she sank fully into submission. He might spank her, he might tease her, he might torture her until she’d offer him anything if allowed to come but she knew that he owned her heart and held her soul in the palms of his hands.
And she wouldn’t change a single thing.
Chapter Five
Clicking off the hair dryer, Dalton ran his hands through the length of Colette’s hair. Warm tresses slid through his fingers, soft curls straightening with a slight pull only to spring back into curls when released. He loved the texture of her hair as much as he loved the color. Copper and gold combined with red evoked visions of the sunset or the glow of embers in a fire. He loved everything about her hair, from the way it draped over her body, covering her breasts, giving him delightful little peeks at her pebbled nipples to how it would shield her face when she was draped over his lap getting her bottom spanked. He also loved fisting handfuls of it to guide her head down the length of his erection when she was attending to him with her sweet mouth, or pulling her head back to nibble on her neck when she was on her hands and knees, his cock ramming in and out of her pussy. Her soft sigh and the relaxing of her body against him made him again acknowledge how very honored he was to be the man she’d not only married but had chosen to submit to. He buried his nose in her hair, inhaling the scent of baby shampoo combined with the delicious scent of her arousal that was all her own.
What could be better than the feel of a beautiful woman within your arms, her head covered in silky curls tucked beneath your chin? Not much, Dalton thought and then grinned. The next few minutes would declare him a liar as he had every intention of feeling Coco come apart in his arms…something he considered the absolute best thing on Earth. Depositing her on the bed for the second time in the past couple of hours, he only then pulled the towel from her.
“Under the covers, baby.” He watched as she quickly obeyed, her thinness assuring she did feel the chill far more quickly than he ever did. When she rolled to her side, he shook his head. “No, honey. On your back.” The fact that the position would force her bottom to come into contact with the sheets was just one of the reasons for the instruction. A reminder as to why her ass was uncomfortable would only assure her relief when he lifted her sore cheeks up to enjoy his feast. Once she was on her back, her brow a bit furrowed as she attempted to settle into a more comfortable position, he drew the sheet and duvet up to her chin.
“Aren’t you…joining me, Daddy?” she asked, her eyes wide.
“Of course, but there’s no reason for you not to be warm until I do.” Her brow instantly smoothed and her eyes sparkled. It didn’t take long for him to undress, his jutting erection speaking of his own arousal as vividly as her glistening thighs had earlier. As he moved to his side of the bed, he saw her licking her lips. He grinned wondering if she were remembering her penance. His cock stiffened even further as he pulled back the covers and joined her in their bed.
“Daddy! You’re cold!” she exclaimed, jerking a bit when he positioned himself over her.
“Don’t worry, ladybug, I’ll warm you up, and this time it won’t require a spanking.”
“I love you, Daddy,” she said softly, her eyes on his.
“I love you too, babygirl.” Cupping her face between his palms, he kissed her. What began with a tease, a slide of his tongue along the same lips she’d been licking, soon turned into the demand she part them. Pushing inside he found the warmth and the taste that was uniquely hers. Her arms wrapped around his neck as he claimed her mouth, his tongue dueling with hers as he deepened the kiss. Soft moans had his cock jerking and his heart racing as she clung to him. From the moment he’d seen her at a corporate fundraiser, he’d known.
It had taken months to convince her that he was interested in far more than bedding her and every moment, every encounter, every date had been a step to fulfilling what he’d decided the second their eyes met across the room. She would be his.
His lover.
His submissive.
His wife.
His little girl.
She’d never asked how he’d known something that she’d never admitted to herself much less another soul. She’d never questioned how he just knew she was ready to be his in every way. Instead, she’d given him her complete trust to lead her down a path very few traveled, in a role even fewer understood. It was a gift that he’d never take for granted and one he returned to her with his undivided attention to her welfare. Whether it was to reassure her of her strengths when she doubted her abilities in some huge legal battle, to spank her bottom raw wh
en she disobeyed, to hold and comfort her, or to fuck her until she was boneless, he would rather die than to fail her.
Pulling back from the kiss in order to draw breath, he began to move down her body. His tongue painted a path over her skin causing her to shiver, his warm exhales drawing soft sounds of contentment as he dried the moisture he’d created with his licks as his lips nibbled lightly. Long before he reached her breasts she was squirming, her hands pushing against his shoulders. He grinned and was reminded of the old ditty about the determination of the common ant. Like they, she seemed determined to move him into the position desired. However, unlike the little insects that could shove, move, and carry far more than double their body weight, her small size assured defeat, but he couldn’t help but respect her for the effort. Though, of course, as her daddy, he couldn’t allow her to even think she was in control.
“Be still, and let Daddy play.”
“But, Daddy, I need you now!” she whined, her back bowing as his tongue ran in a circle around her areola, her nipple puckering tighter with every single stroke. Her hand moved from his shoulder to press against the back of his head, again attempting to lead him where she wanted.
Lifting his head, he shook it. “Some little girl seems to have forgotten her place,” he said, leaning over and opening the drawer to his nightstand. She mewled as he removed the leather cuffs.
“No, Daddy, I’ll be good.”
“Coco, sweetheart, when are you going to learn that you do not tell Daddy no and you aren’t in control? Hands.” It was obvious he didn’t expect an answer but did expect her to offer him her hands. Placing the fur-lined cuffs around each wrist, he then guided her arms above her head. With a click, the metal rings on the cuffs were secured to the headboard. Hearing her soft gasp, he grinned. Although Colette would never admit it, he knew that being restrained allowed his little one to sink even deeper into submission. Taking away her ability to move freely also removed any sense of responsibility. Being restrained meant that her daddy was the only one in control. She had absolutely no choice but to accept any and all things he’d choose to do to her. The only way she could stop any activity was to safeword…something she’d never done before.
