by Frost, E J
“Because I’ve been super good while you’ve been recovering?”
“Yes.” A harder tap-tap-tap. “And what else?”
I try to think. Nothing immediately comes to mind. “Daddy loves me?”
He chuckles and smacks my butt hard enough to sting. “Yes, I do. But I was thinking of how proud you’ve made me. Today especially, but every day we’ve been together. I’m proud of you as my little girl, and my submissive, and my friend, and my lover.”
“That’s a lot to be proud of.” I wince, because he’s slapping hard enough to really sting now. The crossed wire in my brain will kick in and convert the sting to sexy, needy heat eventually, but it takes a little while to get there.
“It is.” He pauses to rub the sting in. The familiar warmth and pressure works into the muscles of my butt, making me wriggle happily. “I know you didn’t enjoy your time in the playpen this morning, but I was proud of you.” He starts spanking me in earnest. Hard, heavy thuds with the flat of his palm, alternating cheeks, punctuating each word. “I’m proud of you accepting my discipline. I’m proud of you trying to be the bigger person. I’m proud of you even when you stumble, because it shows how hard you’re trying.”
“Thank you, Daddy. Ta very much,” I whisper, turning my face into the soft covers under my cheek. I let every muscle relax and absorb the blows. My legs jerk with the heaviest slaps. Certain reflexes are really hard to control. But mostly I lie still and let the heat spread through me. It starts as a smarting shock that soaks in as Daddy layers blow after blow over my bottom. He’s spanking me to the rhythm of the music, and the beat echoes through me. My heart synchronizes to it. The throbbing in my nipples and clit. My whole body becomes one pulsing mass of pain-pleasure. The sensation wipes every thought from my mind. I simply feel.
When the song switches back to Enigma’s “Return to Innocence,” Daddy stops to rub again. He’s concentrated on the roundest, fleshiest part of my butt-cheeks, and mostly avoided the super-owie crease where my thigh meets my ass. His rubbing soothes the sting and makes everything hot and pulsing and erotic. I wiggle in sheer delight.
“That’s my good girl,” Daddy says, snapping on a glove. “I love seeing you enjoy your spanking. Spread your legs for me and let’s get Stanley into your bottom.”
Dazed, I push my legs apart. Daddy’s warm fingers spread my cheeks. The cool, slick tip of the metal plug presses against my sphincter and I push back to let it in. There’s always that moment of resistance before the muscle yields, before my body opens and accepts the invasion. Then a cold fullness. I sigh. I’ve discovered pleasure in each part of being plugged, but I particularly like this part, before the metal warms, before my body adjusts. While I feel speared by the icy thing he’s put in me. His possession of this very private part of me.
“Mmm, yes.” He rubs my bottom around the plug, moving it around in me as I whimper and moan. “Legs together and cross your ankles again.”
The fullness of the plug in me is more acute with my legs together, even though it’s warming now, and I know that’s what Daddy intends. He’s so deliberate in how he controls me, in each thing he makes me feel.
“Strap now, sweet girl.” He rubs his strap all over my butt. I love his belt, which has a roughened edge that leaves welts. But I love this short, stiff, oiled leather strap even more. It’s the perfect combination of sting and whump, and because it’s shorter, I can often feel the graze of his knuckles over my skin. Even more intimate than his belt.
“Yes, please, Daddy.”
“That’s my girl. There’s no number. I’m just going to strap you until I feel like stopping. No coming. I want you to save your orgasms for when my cock’s in you, but if you’re getting close and feel like you can’t stop, say ‘yellow.’ ”
Boo, no orgasms while I’m being strapped, but at least I’ll get them later. I haven’t had an orgasm yet today, which isn’t a surprise after my discipline this morning, but at least he’s not going to make me wait until tomorrow.
“Yes, Daddy.”
“Good girl.”
He rubs the strap a final time over my cheeks, then lifts it away. I clench my hands into fists, because my instinct with the strap is to reach back and rub after each strike, and in the Bara position, my hands are right there above the ouchie-zone. But Daddy doesn’t like it when I reach back and I’ve been trained better than that. I tuck my thumbs in and clench around them, but relax everywhere else while I wait for the strap to fall.
The first strike, across both cheeks, takes my breath away and floods my eyes with smarting tears. The initial sting is always a surprise, until it morphs into a line of pure need. As I get my breath back, I moan. Every muscle unwinds as I let the air flow out of my lungs. I imagine it like the videos I’ve seen of wildfire: the transparent shimmer of heat, followed by the crackling line of flame, sweeping up from my ass, into my lungs, and out of my mouth as I breathe.
The second strike is easier: a little hitch, and then my body releases, every muscle going limp. The third is faster, and with the fourth, we find our rhythm. Our breaths come together. Our bodies move together. My back arches to lift my bottom for each strike. His torso twists slightly as he lifts and lowers the strap. He hasn’t told me to count and I don’t. The lines of heat spread down over my cheeks, each one just a little lower than the one before. When he reaches the crease, he reverses direction and works back up. These strikes are more intense, overlapping skin that’s already scorched. My moans become gasps, and if Daddy hadn’t told me not to come, I’d be humping his leg, chasing my orgasm. Instead, I relax into it and let the sensations flow through me, while I imagine that I’m a baby dragon stretched over my Daddy’s knees, breathing fire with each strike.
A really horny baby dragon.
I don’t know how many I’ve taken when Daddy lays the strap across my cheeks, bends over, and kisses the skin he’s blistered. He turns his head so his cheek, so smooth he must have just shaved, rests on my fevered skin. “Your ass is a gorgeous color, little girl.”
I swallow, and giggle, and think again of that picture of the suspended subbie. What Daddy sees isn’t what most men would see: the knobs of my spine, my prominent ribs, the small imperfections in my skin. Daddy sees the marks of my submission, and those are beautiful to him.
“On your back, little girl. I think your pussy needs to be matched up.”
I squee. There’s nothing better than a pussy spanking when I’ve already had my bottom beaten and I’m pumped up on endorphins.
I scoot off Daddy’s legs and pause until he points at the headboard, then arrange myself on my back with my head on a pillow and my legs spread. Daddy runs his hot palm up and down my body, between my breasts, over my bare mound. He tickles my labia, slick from the spanking, with his fingertips, before he sits back on his heels and smiles at me.
“Will there be any coming during your pussy spanking?”
I shake my head. “No, Daddy. I’m saving my orgasms for when you give me your wolfy-penis.”
“That’s right.” His rich tone is full of both laughter and pride. He’s happy with me. Daddydaddydaddy.
He reaches around the sides of the bed and pulls up the long black straps he’s fixed to the frame. At the end of each strap is a Velcro cuff. He fastens the cuffs around my ankles, then adjusts the straps so my legs are spread wide.
“I’m leaving your arms free, little girl. I want to see some self-control. No reaching down. Hands stay above your belly button.”
I wriggle. I love when he challenges me like this, but I hate it, too. Controlling my natural reaction to shield my vulnerable bits and soothe freshly spanked skin makes me stay in my head. I can’t just let go and react. Mindful submission, Daddy calls it when he talks with Master Niall. It’s more meaningful than mindless submission. I get that. And I want my submission to be meaningful. But it’s a challenge, and as with every challenge, fear of failing makes my palms prickle and my tummy clench.
Daddy smiles at me
as he kneels between my legs. He reaches out and taps the tip of my nose before he leans over to give me a kiss. “I saw each and every one of those thoughts, Emmy.”
I smile shyly. He probably did. Logan can read me terrifyingly well. And I don’t try to hide anything. Not anymore.
“Mindful submission, Daddy.”
He grins before he sits back. “You’ve been listening to my conversations with Niall. You know what his punishment is for earwigging.”
Niall’s a serious sadist. He sews his subbies’ ears shut if he catches them eavesdropping. “I’m lucky my daddy isn’t as harsh as Master Niall.”
“You are. Now let’s see what color we can turn this pussy.” He taps my mons firmly with the flats of his fingers. Not hard. Not yet. Just enough for the impact to ring through me like a bell. My eyes roll back until all I see is black. I grip my elbows above my head and shudder with delight.
For pussy spankings, Daddy used a different rhythm. Three taps and then a hard slap. He’s not going particularly fast until his playlist changes over and Sting’s “Desert Rose” comes on. Daddy’s such a child of the Eighties.
The faster beat, tap-tap-tap-smack, ramps me up. The heat builds from sunburn to bonfire to inferno and before the second chorus, I’m twisting against the cuffs on my ankles, moaning with every tap, gasping at the smack, and clinging to the rails of the headboard to keep from reaching down, grabbing my Daddy and demanding that he give me his cock before I implode. Oh, God, this hurts so good.
When the song ends, Daddy takes the inflamed skin of my mons and labia and squeezes it in his fingers. It feels like he’s digging meat hooks into me. I howl, arching up off the bed. In desperation, I grab the headboard to keep myself from reaching down and tearing his fingers out of my flesh.
“Good girl,” Daddy says, his voice thick with pleasure. He releases my poor pussy and I sag back into the mattress, whimpering. “Such a pretty pink. I want it rosy red, little girl. Take it for me.”
“Yes, Daddy.” It’s a whisper because my throat is dry, not because there’s any thought of denying him. Not a single cell in my body wants that.
“That’s my girl.” He begins his pattern of tapping and slapping again, on my tenderized flesh. The song changes over to Seal’s “Kiss from a Rose” and Daddy keeps time to the music. The pain’s swelling now, just like my flesh must be swelling. Tighter and tighter. It becomes a tolling bell within me, echoing at the taps and reverberating down to my bones on the smacks. I shudder and sob after each slap, not because the pain’s unbearable, but because Daddy’s pushed me beyond the envelope of comfortable, day-to-day emotions. Everything’s jangled. Pain and pleasure. Hurt and happiness. It all overflows.
Daddy reaches under me, grips my ass, and lifts my hips. He braces himself over me, lines up, and pushes into me. I’m slick from the spanking, but so swollen that Daddy has to work his way in, his heavy groans a counterpoint to my high-pitched whimpers. “Oh, yes, little girl. Your pussy’s so warm.”
His cock feels cool, a balm over my enflamed tissues, but only until he starts thrusting. Then the friction burns me all over again, wave after wave of flame eating through me. I begin to shudder, my legs straining against the cuffs.
“Daddy, please,” I beg. “Please can I come?”
“Yes, little girl,” he growls, his mouth so close to my ear I can feel the hot lick of his breath. “Come for me.”
With barely a second’s pause, I do. Wailing my release. My body clamps down on the thick, thrusting invasion in my bruised pussy, the rigid intrusion in my stinging ass. I’m so deliciously penetrated. I buck under him as the contractions shoot liquid fire through my veins. I’m burned out of my skin by pleasure, and when Daddy gives me his entire weight, thrusting hard against my climax, I scream with the melding of our bodies. Logan roars in my ear and I feel him jerk heavily within me, before he adds his own heat to what’s filling me. His release pushes me over the edge into another orgasm, softer, a dive into deep water rather than falling off a cliff into oblivion.
I float, cradled in Daddy’s hard arms. He likes to stay in me after he comes. A warm, sticky tether binding us together. More tangible and yet looser than the connection I feel between our spirits. We’ve always fit, Daddy and me. Like pieces of the puzzles we like to do together. Right from the very beginning. But every time we fuse together like this, what’s between us locks even tighter.
“I love you, Daddy,” I whisper. “Ta very much for my orgasms.”
“Mmm.” He nuzzles my cheek. “Love you, too, and you’re very welcome. I didn’t expect to come that fast, little girl. You got me really worked up.”
I got him worked up? He made me come just by telling me to. “Me, too.”
“I’d intended to last a little longer and give you a few more orgasms. You’ve been very patient since this morning and I wanted to reward you.”
I wriggle and squeeze his shoulders. “That’s okay. I’m feeling pretty well-rewarded.”
“How about we go to sleep early and I’ll wake you in a couple of hours while your pussy’s still nice and hot?”
Now that sounds like a plan. “Okay, Daddy!”
He chuckles and shifts his weight off me before withdrawing and rolling to his side. “There’s my enthusiastic girl. Let me clean you up and then we’ll have a big cuddle.”
He uncuffs me and, after checking the circulation in my toes, cleans me up with the baby wipes we keep in the bedside table. After a few kisses, he goes to the bathroom to get ready for bed, while I drink the bottle of water on the nightstand to ease my throat. I can already tell I’m going to be sleeping with the plug in. That makes me scowl into the water bottle. But if it means I get another fucking in the middle of the night while I’m still wearing the plug, that makes the discomfort—and the potentially gross removal in the morning—worthwhile.
I pull up the sheets and rearrange the pillows while I wait for Daddy. He’s wearing a big smile when he returns and climbs into bed with me. “Hello, little girl.”
“Hi, Daddy.”
He holds out his phone to me. “Fifteen minutes of looking at shelters, then it’s lights out.”
I could do it on my phone, but the rule is that once I’m in bed, no electronics, or anything that distracts me from Bedtime. So, I don’t bring my phone with me into the bedroom anymore. Best to avoid temptation.
There are tons of choices in the nearby shelters, which makes me want to cry. There are so many kitties that need a home. And pretty much every one I see appeals to me. A kitty of my own! It almost doesn’t matter which kitty I get. I think about asking Daddy if I can have more than one, but that seems greedy and I’m not sure I can even take care of one pet yet. Finally, I settle on an adorable tabby at a shelter that’s only about ten minutes away.
“Can we go to this shelter tomorrow?” I hold the phone out.
“Sure, little girl. We’ll go before lunch.”
“Ta, Daddy.” He takes the phone from me and plugs in his charger. While he’s dealing with his phone, I grab a book and snuggle down against him.
“Beauty and the Beast. Mmm, I like this one,” Daddy says as I open it.
I know he does. That’s why I keep picking it. It’s luminously illustrated by Mercer Mayer. I don’t know who gave it to me, only that I’ve always had it, and always treasured it. It’s one of the few books I replaced after Maman destroyed my things, scouring used book stores until I found another copy. The cover’s a little tattered, the page edges a little worn, but the illustrations are still perfect. I hold the book open as he reads it to me. Before I turn each page, we spend time admiring the illustrations. Daddy points out the things he really likes, like the drops of dew on the roses, and the jewels in Beauty’s hair. I appreciate the artistry, but mostly I look at Daddy’s face, muscles slack, eyes droopy, ready to sleep. He’s relaxing finally, my stressed daddy.
When he finishes the story, I tuck the book away before kissing his cheek. “Love you, Daddy.”
; “Love you, too, little girl. Good day?”
I nod and cuddle in. “I’m sorry it started with a punishment.”
“Discipline, sweetie,” he says around a yawn. “You haven’t earned a real punishment yet.”
I hope I never do. The idea of riding a pony board or being given a cold-water enema by a displeased daddy makes me feel shaky and sick.
“When do you want me to apologize to Rachel?”
I want to get it over with, so hopefully he’ll say we’re going to Blunts tomorrow.
“Mmm, not sure I want you to apologize to Rachel. You answer to me, little girl. You’ve been disciplined. You’ve apologized. It’s done. You’ve promised me you’ll be the bigger person next time and I’ve told you the situation’s being handled so she won’t be a thorn in our sides for much longer. That’s the end of it. Agreed?”
“Yes, Daddy.” I give him a big hug of appreciation. I would have apologized to Rachel if he wanted me to, but I’m kind of glad he doesn’t.
“Good. Night-night, little girl. I love you lots.”
“Night-night, Daddy. Love you lots and lots and lots.”
With a happy murmur, Daddy tucks me tightly against his side and closes his eyes.
He wakes me two hours later, his eyes gleaming, hot and wolfy even in the dark, and gives me three orgasms before he finally lets me go back to sleep.
Chapter Four
Logan
I stand in the bedroom doorway and watch my little girl sleep. She rolled over and curled up around her favorite stuffed animal, Peter Aloha Bunny, when I got up an hour ago to work out. Now she’s sleeping with her arms thrown over her head, like a chimpanzee.
My cheeky little monkey.
I have no idea how I got so lucky.
Quietly, so I don’t wake her, I strip off my sweaty tee and shorts and drop them in the hamper before I walk naked down the hall to the bathroom. When I renovated my parents’ house, the one thing I couldn’t have from my wish-list was an en suite bathroom. I thought the huge mortgage I took on the house would stretch that far, but after paying for their funerals, paying the inheritance tax, giving my sister her half, buying a full membership at Blunts, and extensively renovating the basement, rerouting the plumbing to make another bathroom turned out to be prohibitively expensive.
