by Lucy Wild
“What are you going to do?” she asked, looking back over her shoulder to see him brandishing a stainless steel buttplug. “You’re not, are you?” Even as she said the words, her insides tingled at the thought of it being inside her. Only once in her life had she slid a finger into her bottom, following the advice in an article in her favourite magazine. She’d felt nothing at all but pain and had written off the experiment as a waste of time.
But as he lubricated the plug, she felt something very different, a readiness borne of the hunger in his eyes. “Reach back and pull your cheeks apart,” he said, kneeling between her legs. She did as he asked, feeling his gaze on her most intimate area, feeling both exposed but protected, knowing he knew best, trusting in him.
The tip of the plug made her gasp when it touched her hole, it was colder than she’d expected. He pushed slowly forwards and she winced as her entrance stretched around it, the solidity of it unstoppable. It kept moving, widening her so much she felt she was on the verge of screaming but then it was in, her bottom retracting around it, holding it in place inside it. The heavy presence of it was impossible to ignore and as she was rolled onto her back, it pressed deeper into her, moving against her insides and making her cheeks flush, her breath catching in her throat.
“We better get moving,” he said, quickly getting a nappy on her whilst she attempted to get used to the feeling of her bottom being so solidly filled. Standing up made it worse, gravity tugging the plug downwards until the nappy stopped it moving any further. “Into this dress,” he said, pushing it over her shoulders, “and then get your shoes on.”
They were out of the door a minute later, Abbey carried over his shoulder to the road before being set down and beginning to walk. It felt oddly comforting to be out in public wearing a nappy, so different to the shame of being naked under her dress, even though it rustled against her skin. At least her growing need to relieve herself didn’t matter, there’d be no need to rush off to a bathroom. She could use it for its purpose and make her Papa proud of her, embrace the life of the little.
The plug made her insides throb with desire as she walked and by the time they reached the village hall, she was flushed and breathing hard, doing her best to keep her expression in check as the villagers all turned to look at her. Mr Watson was on the stage again but this time there were no guards, just her and her Papa stood next to each other.
“We are here,” Mr Watson began, “to ascertain whether this miscreant has learned her lesson. Is she still a spoilt brat or is she a welcome addition to our village?”
Papa turned to him and smiled. “Or is she both?”
“That’s enough levity,” Mr Watson snapped back at him. “Miss Moncrieff, are you quite well? You look rather uncomfortable.”
“I’m fine, thank you,” Abbey managed to squeak, shuffling on the spot as her need to relieve herself grew alongside the slight movement of the plug in her rear.
“Then we will proceed. Have you anything to say about your crimes or your punishment before I make my judgement?”
“Yes, Sir. I would like to apologise to you all for what I did and also to thank you.”
“To thank us?”
“Yes, Sir. If it was not for your actions, I would not have met my Papa here.”
Mr Watson coughed. “I am not sure that is entirely appropriate. Why are you looking at him like that?”
“Oh, I admire him, that’s all.”
Mr Watson stared at her before moving his eyes to her Papa. “I will see you both in my room for a moment. This way.”
He stood up, moving to the back of the stage, pushing open a door and then vanishing through it. Abbey followed, each step making her wince with a mixture of pressure, pleasure, and pain all wrapped up together.
She slowly made her way through the door, finding herself in a small office. Mr Watson had already sat behind his desk, looking down at her hips. “What’s inside that nappy?” he asked.
“I’m not sure that’s a reasonable question to ask a lady,” Abbey replied.
“You are not a lady again until I say so. There is something in there, I can tell. No little looks like that without something going on. Get that nappy off.”
“I’d rather she kept it on,” Papa said, speaking for her.
“I don’t care what you’d rather do. Get it off.”
Abbey looked up at her Papa and he nodded reluctantly back at her. She reached down and undid the sides of the nappy, letting it fall to the floor.
“Turn round,” Mr Watson said. Abbey did as he asked, hearing his sharp intake of breath as he saw the base of the plug protruding obscenely from her. “What on earth is that?”
“It’s my plug, Sir.”
“A plug is not suitable for littles, you filthy whore. Get it out and get out of here right now.”
“But…”
“And as for you,” he said, pointing a finger at her Papa. “You’re clearly no longer fit to be the village Papa. I will see to it that no one else will ever attend your nursery.” He turned back to Abbey who was wincing as she slowly began to pull the plug out. “Are you still here? Get out, I said. Get out and go home!”
Abbey left, the plug still inside her as she ran past the rows of villagers, not stopping until she reached her house. The front door hung open just as if she’d only been gone a few minutes. She darted inside and slammed it shut, leaning against it and bursting into tears.
Chapter Twelve
She was still crying when someone knocked on the door a few minutes later. Wiping her face with the back of her hand, she did her best to appear normal as she pulled the door open. A grin spread across her features as she saw her Papa standing there, looking concerned as he stepped inside. “Are you all right, little Abbey? You look upset.”
“Of course I’m upset,” she replied. “He told me I can’t see you anymore. He called me a whore.”
“That was my fault, I shouldn’t have put the plug in you.”
“Why did you?”
He sighed, walking past her into the nearest room. Throwing a box off an armchair, he sat down, looking round at all the chaos the removal men had left. “I need to be honest with you,” he said, motioning for her to sit. She perched on the edge of a box, the plug pushing itself further into her as she did so. “The plug was mine, it was not part of the nursery, nor is it part of being a little.”
“What is it for then?”
“It was to test you, to see how obedient you were. I didn’t think you would agree to keep it in but when you obeyed me all the way to the village hall, I panicked, I thought maybe if I said nothing, no one in there would notice but damn that Watson, he’s like a bloody hawk.”
“But why did you need to test me?”
“Don’t you get it, Abbey? It’s because you’re special. I thought that from the minute I saw you enter the club. I spilled the drink on you to test you and by God, I was right. I never had anyone come through my door who has been such a completely perfect little girl for me. You made me feel things I have never felt before. The first time I spanked you, I had to resist fucking you there and then. You are beautiful and submissive yet defiant, you’ve a brain in your head and you do things to me with that mouth of yours that…” He fanned his face. “I must stop talking about it, I’m not your Papa anymore.”
“What do you mean?”
“They’ve told me I’m not the village Papa anymore, I’m not fit to discipline anyone after what I did. You don’t need to be with me anymore.”
“What if I want to be with you?”
“What? What are you talking about?”
Abbey stood up, walking over to him and climbing onto his lap, curling up against his chest. “What if I remain your little Abbey and you my Papa?” She blinked innocently up at him. “How does that sound?”
“You mean, permanently?”
She nodded. “Maybe.”
“I…I don’t know. Are you sure you’ve thought this through? Would you really be happy submittin
g to me like that? Wearing what I tell you? Doing what I tell you?”
“You’re my Papa,” she replied, running a hand down his chest. “You know what’s best for me.”
His hand went to her back, stroking it gently. “That’s right,” he said quietly. “I do know what’s best for you. Now stand up.”
“Yes, Papa.” At once she was on her feet, standing with her hands behind her back, wanting to please him.
“This place is a mess,” he said, waving his arms at the boxes behind him. “A good little girl keeps her rooms tidy for her Papa.”
“I am sorry, Papa.”
“Sorry is not good enough. Put your hands on that windowsill and do not move.”
Abbey did as he asked, bending forwards, staring at the garden outside as he moved towards her. He lifted her dress to expose her bottom and she wondered how she looked with the plug still sticking out of her. His hand slammed down on her buttocks a second later, pushing the plug deep into her. It had barely returned to its normal place before he spanked her again. His hand slapped down on her right buttock with enough force to make her cry out, her mouth still open when he did it again.
Her bottom began to heat up as he spanked her, a heat that spread through her until she barely knew where she was. She looked out at the trees, the leaves blowing in the breeze, her mind leaving herself as his hand landed again and again, the echoing smacking sounds spreading through the room. His blows moved lower and then he landed a single smack on her pussy, a stinging sensation that sent her shooting upright.
“I told you to stay in place,” he growled, shoving her back down. “Do not move again.” He struck directly over the plug and she screamed, a loud primal scream of freedom that seemed to exorcise her past even as it sent her regressing back. The pain was good, the pain was love, the ragged breathing of her Papa was evidence of his desire to teach her, but also his desire to have her. When she heard his clothes being removed, she didn’t look, not wanting to incur his wrath.
A minute later, the tip of his cock was brushing between her legs, her wetness sliding over his shaft as he moved against her, teasing his way towards her entrance. She shuffled her hips, swaying back to try and draw him in. He seemed oblivious, taking his time to stroke over her until she couldn’t help but beg him, “Please fuck me, Papa,” she muttered, spreading her legs and looking back at him. “Please.”
“Hush, little Abbey,” he replied, moving the tip to her entrance and then sliding gloriously forwards. As he moved into her, she felt the heat of his flesh on her inner walls, spreading and widening as her wetness helped him glide ever deeper. She had expected the size of him to hurt her but instead she just felt fuller than she ever had, a sensation she wanted to last forever.
He pulled all the way back and then he was inside her again, a movement that turned her mind to jelly, she was aching for him to enter her, then too full of him then needing him again. All the time he kept moving, his hand going to the plug, tugging and turning it in place, making her cry out with noises she’d never heard herself make before, guttural, animal sounds of pure lust.
She began pushing back against him, making him move faster, knowing what was coming. She moved one hand under herself to her clit, remaining in place with the other balanced on the windowsill. Touching her clit eased the ache just enough but in seconds the ache was back, the need was back, the want was back. She stroked her nub for mere seconds as he slammed into her and then a climax hit her that was more powerful than any she’d ever had in her life.
Her legs gave way and it was only the swift movement of his hands to her hips that kept her from collapsing to the floor. Her whole body shook with the power of it, her eyes losing their focus, her mouth open, her core filled with spreading contractions of heat that moved through her body whilst he continued to thrust into her.
A second orgasm hit before the first had even faded away, then a third. Still he kept moving, faster and faster. “I can’t take it,” she muttered. “It’s too much.”
“Should I stop?” he asked, pausing inside her.
“No,” she replied, pushing her hips back at him. “Never stop, for God’s sake, never stop fucking me.”
He rammed home into her, grinding against her hips, his shaft twitching inside her. She didn’t let him stop, pulling off him and turning to face him, kissing him frantically, her body pressed against his. Together they fell to the floor and then he was in her again, his body crushing hers as he stared down into her eyes, his face a picture of lust. “Fuck, you’re amazing,” he said, slamming into her again and again, her body matching his motions until his mouth fell open and a groan emerged. “Oh fuck.” He buried himself in her and she felt his cock moving inside her, a spurt of his cum gushing deep into her as he remained perfectly still. She wrapped her legs round his back, her arms round his shoulders, pulling him down onto her, holding him close, never wanting to let him go ever again. “Thank you, Papa,” she said, kissing him softly as his eyes blinked open. “Thank you so much.”
Chapter Thirteen
Abbey’s father walked into the house, wincing as if not sure what was awaiting him in there. His features changed when he saw a perfect home waiting for him. The bookcases were filled, the furniture in place, there was not a single box to be seen. “Abbey?” he shouted, putting his case down. “Are you here?”
“Father!” she shouted, running downstairs and throwing her arms around him. “You’re back.”
“You seem in a very good mood,” he replied, hugging her back. “Village life must be good for you. You look full of the joys of Spring. And you’ve tidied too.”
“I’m just happy to see you. Come through, I’ll make you a coffee.”
“You’ll make me a coffee? Who are you and what have you done with my daughter?”
“Stop it,” she pouted, flicking the kettle on. “How was your trip? Everything all right?”
“Yes, thank you,” he said, frowning slightly as he looked at her. “Are you feeling guilty? Have you had a wild party or something while I was away?”
“Nothing of the sort.”
“What have you been up to then?”
“Oh, nothing much.”
“Really? Did you get to know some of the locals like I suggested?”
“I did.” She grinned broadly.”
“And they liked you?”
“Eventually. In fact, I’m going out for tea at one of their houses this evening.”
“Oh, really. What’s her name?”
“Actually it’s a he.”
“Okay, what’s his name?”
“Abbey paused, frowning slightly. “I don’t know. I just call him by his nickname.”
“You don’t know his name but you’re going to his house for tea? I’m not sure I understand. Are you sure you’re all right?”
“Don’t worry, Father, I’m absolutely fine.”
She kissed his cheek and then headed out of the door, leaving him to watch her through the window whilst wondering what had happened to her. She was like a different person, skipping down the path like that.
Better not be late, Abbey thought. After all, Papa was waiting for her with the plug in one hand and his new cane in the other. Her whole body tingled at the thought of bending over whilst he brandished the cane behind her. She grinned as she turned the corner and vanished from her father’s sight, heading instead to the house of her Papa.
She knocked on the door, waiting nervously as she heard movement within the house. Papa was ready for her. “Come in,” he said as he opened the door. “I’ve laid things out for you upstairs.”
He followed her through the hallway, she could feel his looming presence behind her as she ascended the staircase to the first floor. Passing by a closed door, she entered the next room on her left. Inside the bed awaited her. On a table beside it was a cane, four lengths of black rope, a silver metal buttplug and an incongruous dummy, so out of place yet perfectly in keeping with the rest.
“On your front,�
�� Papa said, pointing at the bed.
She picked up the dummy on the way, sucking rapidly upon it as she lay down and her wrists were bound to the corners of the bed. She attempted to tug at the bonds, testing their strength but the knots were too well done for her to move her hands more than a couple of inches in any direction.
He bound her ankles in silence, only speaking once she was tied down to the bed. “You’ve been a bad little girl,” he said, landing a light swat on her behind. “Haven’t you?”
“I had no choice,” she mumbled through the dummy. “I had to wait for him to get home.”
“No excuses. You left here without permission. You know that is forbidden.”
“I am sorry, Papa.”
“You will be,” he said, picking up the plug.
She watched as he reverently applied oil to every inch of the plug, carrying it behind her where she could not see what was happening. “I will ask permission next time,” she said. “Please, don’t punish me.”
“If I didn’t, you would not learn,” he replied.
She felt the plug sliding between her buttocks, nudging its way into her, stretching her entrance as her clit began to throb, filling with blood and desire for him. As the plug delved deeper, she moaned around the dummy, wanting something more, wanting him. Just as she began to wince with pain, thinking she could stretch no wider, it was in, held in place by her muscles as he crossed to the cane, whipping it through the air twice.
“This will hurt,” he said, moving back out of sight. “But I only do it because I care about you.”
“I know, Papa,” she replied. It had been the same every day until her father’s return. He had spanked her for some infraction or other, each time telling her it was because he cared. She had come to yearn for his hand on her behind, the closeness she felt, pain intensifying her desire for him, knowing he would soon be inside her.
