Daddy Commands

by Maggie Ryan

  Tapping a finger against my lips, he said, “Open.”

  I did and as he slid inside, I tasted cherry. He’d coated his entire cock with oil. I licked along his shaft, like I would a lollipop. I hadn’t taken my first suckle before I gasped around his shaft as the vibrations increased inside. It was like a thousand little fingers were massaging each of my passages. It was indescribable. Brett reached down to stroke his finger across my lips that were stretched around his cock.

  “Suck, baby. Come when you want, but don’t stop sucking.”

  He may have given permission, but he still remained in control. I saw the remote in his right hand, and he seemed to know the very moment I was at the brink because he’d press some sort of lever and the vibrations would ease off. Remembering that I wasn’t the only one in this erotic scene, I concentrated on pleasuring him. He wasn’t pumping into me, not going deep enough to hit the back of my throat and suddenly, I wanted more.

  “Orrr,” I begged, trying to take more by lifting my head, but the angle was hard to maintain.

  “More?”

  “Ezz, peeze,” I managed, the cock in my mouth hindering my speech. Thank God he didn’t need clarification. Leaning forward, he fed me more. I didn’t care if I appeared a greedy girl. I wanted it all. His cock in my mouth, the pleasure on his face, and the orgasm that he kept just out of reach. When I lifted my arms, he took both wrists in one of his hands and pinned them to the ground, and I discovered I wanted that as well.

  Brett was a man in control, not only of me, but of himself. I had no idea how long I sucked, licked, gagged, and moaned. Time lost all meaning as I was taken to the brink again and again, my hips jerking, my ass rubbing against the blanket, not to dislodge the object, but to pull it deeper inside me. I didn’t care what I looked like, what I sounded like… I just wanted to come and have my husband come with me.

  “Poor baby,” Brett said, stroking my lips again. “So squirmy, so horny.”

  How he could sound so fucking calm when his cock was buried in my mouth, his balls slapping against my chin with each forward thrust, I didn’t know and, frankly, I didn’t care.

  “Peeze… zir… peeze!”

  “Such a beautiful girl, such a sweet submissive. Ready to fly, baby?”

  “Ezz!”

  He raised the remote and I watched as he twisted the dial. My scream was garbled as I exploded. My entire lower half jerked and gyrated as the first orgasm hadn’t ebbed before another rolled over me. I didn’t even realize that Brett had pulled his cock out until my scream was loud… really loud. He bent forward, capturing my mouth with his, swallowing the sound.

  When he pulled away so I could breathe, I was gasping—not for oxygen, but to beg… “Please… oh, God, please. It’s too much.”

  He brought me down slowly, the intensity decreasing in increments, the sensations still washing over me like a tsunami. When I stopped contracting so violently, he held his cock against my lips. I blushed, thinking he’d been very smart to remove it as there was a chance that I might have bitten him. I opened my mouth, sucking hard and within a few moments, he came, and I swallowed every drop with pleasure.

  I discovered that the object in my pussy was a ribbed dildo with an attachment that had been pressed against my clit. The object in my ass was not a zucchini, but a silver metal sphere that was egg-shaped. Once I was toy free, Brett lay down and pulled me to lie on top of him.

  “I’m gathering you enjoyed my dessert choices?”

  “I’m not sure if enjoy is a strong enough word,” I said, brushing my lips against his chest. “That was the most intense, most fantastic thing I’ve ever done.” Lifting my head, I smiled. “Other than marrying you, of course.”

  “Of course,” he said, pulling me up until our lips met, and in our Garden of Eden, I realized we’d created our own special sauce of cherry and strawberry combined with the essence of Adam and Eve, and it was delicious.

  Chapter Seven

  Brett

  I left Hannah to sleep beneath the tree. She’d looked so peaceful and had such a sweet sated smile on her lips—lips that had worshipped my cock so beautifully—that I didn’t have the heart to wake her. Not bothering to shower despite the oil on my body, I pulled on a pair of sweats and a t-shirt and unloaded the car. It took several trips, but once I had all the pots and plants set along the edge of the patio, the bags of dirt piled beside them, I put the last box on a dolly and wheeled it through the gate. After returning to the garage for my tools, I spent the next hour assembling the porch swing. The associate at the store had helped me select the proper hanger kit and after measuring to make sure there was enough distance behind the swing to keep it from slamming into the wall of the house, I spent another hour installing all the lag screws into the joists. I had to go back to the garage for two sawhorses to support the swing’s weight while I adjusted the chains.

  Finally, I hung the swing and took a seat. It was the perfect height for me. I could easily set it in motion with a simple push of my foot. It might be a little tall for Hannah, but I was picturing her curled up beside me with her feet tucked under her or sitting on my lap, so this worked. I’d just returned from carrying the box, trash, sawhorses, and tools back to the garage when I saw the branches of the tree part. I’d picked up her clothes after I’d left the lair, but she’d managed to rob me of the opportunity to see her walk across the yard naked as she stepped out, her hair messy from sleep and the blanket wrapped around her like a cloak.

  “Hey,” I said when she reached the patio steps. “Feel better?”

  “Yes.” She looked at all the pots and plants. “I would have helped, but thanks for letting me nap.”

  “You’re welcome,” I said, stepping aside so that she’d have an unobstructed view of the swing.

  “Oh, wow! Brett, that’s perfect!” She moved toward it and then stopped. “I don’t want to get it all sticky. Let me go shower, and I’ll help with the planting and we can swing.”

  “No, it’s silly to shower and then get dirty all over again.” Reaching for her, I tugged the blanket.

  “But you’re dressed,” she said, her fingers gripping to retain her covering.

  She’d been pushed past her limits and had done very well. I didn’t want to push her too far, too fast. Releasing my hold, I pulled my t-shirt over my head. “How about we share our clothes and the planting?”

  Her nod and her smile told me I’d made the right choice. And the fact that she released the blanket and stood before me nude, told me she was losing at least a bit of her inhibitions. I slipped the shirt over her head, and she lifted onto her tiptoes and kissed me.

  “Thanks.”

  I could hear her stomach rumble and picked her up and carried her to the swing. “Don’t worry about the swing. It’s washable. We’ll eat first.”

  By the time we’d eaten, swinging gently the entire time, and planted all the seeds as well as transferred the plants to their new pots, it was getting dark and we were both filthy. Oil was evidently a dirt magnet and streaks covered our arms, faces, Hannah’s legs, and my chest. When I pulled out the garden hose, she shook her head and held up her hands.

  “Don’t you dare!”

  Grinning, I arched my eyebrow. “Don’t plants need water?”

  “Oh… I thought… yes, they need water.”

  I turned and gave the plants a long drink, but when I moved to the pots that she’d planted with seeds, she came forward.

  “No!” she said, grabbing the hose and then shrieking when water splashed her t-shirt.

  “Hey, don’t blame me,” I said when she looked up at me with disbelief on her face. “You did that yourself.”

  “Really?” she said and then turned the hose on me.

  Never one to back down, I grabbed both her and the hose. “I think you missed a melon,” I said, soaking the shirt over her right breast as she sputtered. Once both breasts were beautifully molded by the wet shirt, nipples pushing against the fabric, I smiled.

&n
bsp; “God, you are gorgeous.”

  She stopped wiggling and giggled. “You are so bad. I just meant you have to adjust the spray to a gentle mist or else the water could blast the seeds right out of the pot.”

  I held the hose out. “I can trust you, right?”

  “Right. I’m only going to water the veggies.”

  I should have known better. The moment she had possession, she turned the water on me again, this time directed at my crotch.

  “Hannah Rose Griffith!”

  She looked up at me with those big blue eyes. “Zucchini is a veggie, sir.”

  I looked down to see that my cock was growing. “My, look at that, you do seem to have a very green thumb.”

  Laughing, she adjusted the nozzle and finished the watering. After rolling the hose back on its reel, I saw her at the patio door, shaking her head.

  “We are going to track mud all through the house.”

  “Then let’s at least minimize the damage,” I said, scooping her up into my arms and not setting her down until we reached our master bath. Stripping her, I dropped my pants and joined her in the shower.

  “Hands on the seat, legs spread,” I instructed, turning her to face away from me. Once she’d planted her hands and shifted her feet, I thrust into her. She moaned and then yelped when I swatted her right cheek. I let her know this wasn’t punishment by rubbing the sting away. Her pussy spasmed as I added a matching handprint to her left buttock. Pumping and swatting, as she pushed back against me, it didn’t take long before I was close to coming. “Play with your clit,” I said, wrapping an arm around her waist so she wouldn’t feel unstable with only one hand to brace herself.

  The sight of her fingers sliding over her clit each time I withdrew was a gift. Every time she’d bent over to pat dirt around a plant, I’d gotten glimpses of her pink pussy lips. I gentled my swats and my thrusts, giving her time to get to the point where she was begging.

  “May I come, sir?”

  “We’ll come together,” I said, driving deep. It didn’t take but a few strokes before she came, the walls of her cunt squeezing along the length of my shaft, drawing my own release. Pulling her up, my cock still inside her, I kissed the curve of her neck.

  “Like I said, absolutely gorgeous.”

  We washed each other, hands roaming, fingers stroking. I shampooed her hair, loving her purrs of pleasure as I massaged her scalp.

  The water was cooling by the time we stepped out. I wrapped a towel around my waist.

  “I’ll clean up the mess,” I said, wetting a washcloth in the sink.

  “No, I can do that,” she protested, wrapping the ends of her towel above her breasts.

  “You go ahead and dry your hair, babe,” I countered, running a hand over mine which, being short, took no time at all to dry.

  “Thanks.”

  Giving her a quick kiss, I left the bathroom. By the time I returned, she was wearing a sky-blue nightgown and her hair was laying in soft waves down her back. Despite her nap, she was looking a bit beat.

  I pulled on a clean pair of sweat pants. “How about a sandwich and some soup?”

  “I’m not really hungry, but I’ll make you one.”

  “I can make it myself. Why don’t you pick a movie and curl up on the couch?”

  I chuckled when I brought my plate into the living room. It seemed my little recruit had a tendency to twist my commands while still obeying them. She was curled up on the couch, sound asleep; the video she’d chosen was tucked in the hand that also cradled her cheek. Setting down my plate, I scooped her up and carried her to bed. She never stirred as I tucked her in and bent to kiss her cheek. Though it was relatively early, her day had not only started hours earlier than was normal for her, she’d exercised, run a mile, spent several hours planting her container garden, not to mention the incredible sex we’d shared. I couldn’t fault her for crashing.

  Eating my dinner, I watched the rest of a ballgame and then clicked off the TV and locked up the house. I slid into bed, moving to spoon against my wife, cupping her breast and loving the soft sound of pleasure she made even in slumber. Nuzzling my lips against her shoulder, I thought about the fact that while she’d had a bit of piss and vinegar throughout the day, she reminded me of the plants in her garden. The seed of our dynamic had been planted and would take both nurturing and pruning to coax it to blossom. But, the fruit of that labor would be beautiful. I was not about to let another month, much less another year pass watching her become stressed, unhappy, and so very lost. Putting the blame where it belonged, I vowed again to become the man she needed.

  Chapter Eight

  Hannah

  Pulling the box out of the backseat of my car, I moaned. I’d learned that Brett had been serious when enrolling me in his boot camp. Yesterday, he’d awakened me in the same manner, but I’d managed to report on time, with socks and shoes on my feet. I’d grinned a bit seeing the look of disbelief cross his face knowing that he’d not have a reason to give me either an incentive or order me to my knees. We’d run a mile and a half and it hadn’t been any easier than the day before.

  Today, I had stolen the need for ungodly pot banging by setting my alarm for 5:25 a.m., only to learn that weekdays’ rise and shine was at 5:00! After dragging myself through two miles, Brett praising me the entire way, I’d forgone a shower, dropping back into bed the moment he left for work. What had shocked me was that, once prone, all I could think about was all the stuff I had to do.

  Now, at eight o’clock, I was lugging the box of t-shirts up Stephanie’s sidewalk.

  “Hi! Come in!” Stephanie said, opening the door with a big smile. “I’ve got coffee and muffins.”

  I really didn’t deserve her cheerful greeting or the offer of food, but I wasn’t going to look a gift horse in the mouth. “Thanks, and I want to say I’m so sorry about being such a…” Man, the truth hurt sometimes, but I plowed ahead. “A bitch.”

  “No, no, I understand. You’ve always had such high expectations, and if you didn’t like the shirts, I wasn’t going to complain.”

  Now I felt even worse. “No, I was definitely out of line. You did a great job. I just have a bit of trouble letting go.” Taking a seat at her kitchen table, looking around her spotless, gleaming kitchen, the aroma of freshly baked muffins in the air, I shook my head. “Though how you managed to get them done so fast, keep a house so neat it could be in a magazine, and bake is beyond me.”

  Stephanie laughed and brought over a mug of coffee and the plate of muffins. Sliding into her chair, she spooned some sugar and poured some cream into her own cup before answering. “I’ve been an army brat my whole life. I grew up with schedules practically covering every hour of the day.” She picked a muffin off the plate. “I always swore I’d marry some laidback dude who couldn’t care less about housework or schedules, but, what can I say? I fell in love with Gary and he’s just as strict as my folks if not more so.”

  “Still, your house looks amazing and these muffins are incredible,” I said, taking another bite and practically moaning, which had nothing to do with sore muscles.

  “Thanks! So, did you keep out a shirt for yourself?”

  “Um, no, why?”

  She cocked her head. “I thought that chairing the committee meant you would be joining the team in the run.”

  “Team?” I asked, never once having considered actually participating other than advertising the event.

  “Sure. All of us are going to run. Won’t you consider it? We’d love to have you, and it will be fun.”

  I could feel every muscle in my body urging me to say hell no, but I realized that, other than being with women on various committees, I hadn’t really made any close friends. “Well, Brett and I have started running every day, but I’m warning you, by the time we get home, I feel like I’m going to either die or puke.”

  “That’s all right. I’m sure we’ll be doing more walking than running. How many kilometers are y’all running?”

 
“Um, no idea about kilometers, but every day he’s been increasing the distance. This morning it was two miles.”

  She laughed. “Then you’re almost there! Five kilometers is only a little over three miles.”

  “It is?” I asked, never bothering with anything other than miles, inches, or yards.

  “Yup. Hey, at the rate you’re training, you might want to consider entering the Mudder Run. You get sponsors to donate so much money per mile or event conquered and the money goes to support our wounded soldiers. Gary and I are going to do it. He’s done them before, and I’ve watched but never entered one. But, it looks like a blast!”

  “How far is that run?”

  “Anywhere from ten to twelve miles, but it’s not just a run. You get to climb ropes, walk across beams, scale walls, swing from rings, and crawl under and through stuff. Granted, you’ll be exhausted when it’s over, but it’s for such a good cause.”

  I couldn’t argue with that, but knew I was in no shape to enter—not without looking like a total loser. Still, something about the excitement she showed was compelling. “I can’t climb a rope to save my life.”

  “You can join me to train if you want. I’m not very good, but I can probably give you a couple of tips. And, to be honest, it would make training a lot less boring if I know that we are encouraging each other.”

  “When is this… what did you call it?”

  “Mudder Run.”

  “Is that named after some veteran?” I asked, finishing my muffin and telling myself I did not need another one.

  She laughed again. “No, it’s because of the mud.” Evidently seeing the confusion on my face, she continued. “Every obstacle is surrounded by dirt and mud. Half the fun is trying to get through it without losing your shoes. Oh, don’t wear really good ones as you’re supposed to leave them at the finish line. They are cleaned and donated as well.”

  “Wow.” Remembering the fun Brett and I had with the water hose and the shower sex we’d shared afterwards, I could feel my face flushing. I suddenly had a great idea. “When do you train? I mean, is Gary around?”