He straightened, bracing her hips with his hands, their flesh slapping together over and over, her hand still playing with her clit and pussy. When her asshole constricted him in a vice-like hold, she screamed for the second time that night with her climax. He swore he screamed himself, a deep, guttural shout erupting from him as he spurted his warm seed into her dark channel.
The two of them shivered and convulsed for a few minutes, silent, delighting in their sexual union.
“Daddy, that wasn’t scary at all. You were right.” Her voice was weak and tired, as if forming words may have been more than she could handle at that moment.
He understood that completely, feeling the same way himself. “What was that? I think I need you to say that again — and louder.”
She sighed, but played along nicely — well, perhaps with a little attitude — and shouted. “Daddy, you were right!”
“That’s a good girl. You’ll find that I’m usually right.” He chuckled, tickling her ribs, and slipping out of her. Reaching for one of the wash cloths he brought into the room to clean them both up, he scooped her from the table, carrying her to their bedroom and laying her upon his chest. As they laid in the cool quiet, he played with her hair, running his hands lightly across her skin.
“I’m so glad I found you, little girl.”
“I’m glad I found you too, Daddy.” He continued to stroke her, until her breathing steadied in to a rhythmic pattern and she slipped off to sleep.
His girl.
Epilogue
Dylan and Brittney
As she expected, Dylan was less than pleased with her behavior at her father’s house. He’d warned her of the consequences, told her that she’d be receiving a spanking if she misbehaved. He knew how much she hated the strop, but for fights, it was the implement of choice. Thankfully, she had told him about the incident with Sunni, or he would have added a switching to what she was already receiving.
Dylan had only been her Daddy for less than a year, but it felt like they’d been together for much longer. When they’d met, it had been less than romantic, but soon enough it had become apparent that both of them were most comfortable with him being her Daddy. She still remembered fondly the time they’d met…
* * *
Dylan walked up to her table at the local coffee shop. “You know, Gabby works hard here, and customers like you make it that much harder. She didn’t deserve the tongue lashing you just gave her — although I can think of someone here who does deserve a good lashing.”
“Who the fuck are you? And tell me again why I should give fuck?” Brittney was amazed that this stranger was telling her how to behave in a coffee shop. A gorgeous stranger — but still a stranger.
“I’m someone who cares about people. Obviously, that isn’t a concern for you. It seems that you’re one of those spoiled girls that only cares about her needs.” He put his hands on his hips — his very lean, trim hips. He had one of those scrumptious scruffy beards trimmed neatly and close. He must have come to the coffee shop directly from the shower, the smell of cologne and soap wafting around him, his damp hair mussed with a slight wave that softened his harsh look.
His looks were distracting to her, but he needed to go sit down — far away. She figured she’d send him off with an arrow to his ass. “I see that you’re alone. I’d like to say that I’m surprised, but actually I’m not. Maybe you need to go sit back down and evaluate your people skills? You know, try to figure out why you’ll be jacking off at home alone — just you and your controlling personality.”
His eyes had narrowed, a tic showing in his jaw. “I’m alone because that’s how I choose to live at this point in my life. As for controlling — you have no idea, little girl. I don’t have just a controlling personality. I’ve got a hand of steel too. And if you’re not careful with that acerbic tongue, you may find out just how hard this hand can be when applied to your cute, plump ass.”
Brittney, for the first time in a long time, had been at a loss for words. She’d stared up at him, swallowing loudly.
“That’s what I thought.” He nodded at her. “Now, I’m not telling you, because that’d be controlling.” The corner of his mouth kicked up a little. “So, I’m suggesting. If I were you, I’d apologize to Gabby for being so unfriendly, especially if you plan on coming back here often. It helps to have the barista like you. Have a good day.”
Dylan had spun on his heel, walking back over to his table. Brittney made sure to ogle his tight ass which led to the most amazing muscled thighs she’d ever seen. He caught her staring and winked at her before pulling out his phone, totally ignoring her, sipping his coffee as if nothing had occurred. And as much as it bothered her to comply with his “suggestion,” she decided to apologize to Gabby.
The next week when Brittney showed up for her coffee, Dylan wasted no time coming up to where she had been sitting, asking if she’d like to go to dinner with him. And the rest was, as the saying went, history.
He’d acquired a little girl that day, and she learned to not only call him Daddy, but trust him in every way. Even though he was only seven years her senior, it seemed on a maturity level that Dylan was double her age — in every way.
* * *
Brittney had been lying over Dylan’s MacGyvered spanking bench for God knew how long. It was actually a medical table, one he’d purchased not long after they’d met. It had been used in breast clinics having openings for each breast, allowing them to dangle free for biopsies, and he had covered it with expensive leather, turning it into the bench of pain she was intimately familiar with. Her comfort mattered to him — unless it was time for her ass to be spanked.
Then all bets were off.
The craftsman who’d modified the table had sewn a long roll pillow into the leather, one that raised her hips, preventing her from clenching, and therefore, bruising. Dylan had them install handcuffs too for securing both her hands and feet. His pride and joy though were the openings in the table for her breasts, leaving them to swing and dangle freely below her. The table was equipped with an electronic foot pedal to angle it up or down, and he’d spent an inordinate amount of time many days clamping, chaining, sucking, and pinching her nipples until she’d scream with her orgasm.
Her Daddy loved breasts, and he never missed an opportunity to “play with his girls.” Today, he’d propped the table up, after she’d been handcuffed and strapped in, her nipples squeezed within the cruelest clamps they owned. Even now her breasts ached, the initial pain fading into a partial numbness that caused her sex to clench and yearn for his cock. It took everything she had to not grind her mound on the smooth — and now slick — leather under her pussy. She knew that if he walked in to find her masturbating, he’d put a vibrator in and torture her for hours, bringing her to the brink of an orgasm, only to shut it off, over and over again.
Daddy was the person who decided when she would orgasm. It didn’t mean she wouldn’t grumble or give him some trouble for it, but she had learned — painfully — that obeying this rule was much preferable to the consequences for defiance.
“Have you been thinking, Sassy?”
“Yes, Daddy.” Her whole body tensed, her heart racing in her chest, the anticipation of the punishment almost as bad as the punishment itself. “Are you seeping onto my table?”
Jesus.
She hated when he asked that question. “Don’t you already know?”
“Who asks the questions, Brittney Leigh?” He slapped both thighs so hard she gasped.
“You, Daddy.”
“So answer the question… and don’t lie.”
As if she’d even think of lying about dripping all over his expensive leather. She guessed he was probably drooling just looking at the streams of juice.
“Yes. Of course, I am.” She knew she sounded exasperated, but her body’s betrayal had pissed her off. Here she was worried about her punishment, and yet her pussy was dripping with the excess of her arousal. It just didn’t make sense.
“Seems I’ve talked to you about your attitude already. Maybe it’s time for a plug?”
“N-no. Daddy, please?” The embarrassment of a punishment plug upset her more than the plug itself, though the reasons why still confused her. The fine line between pain and pleasure continually amazed her — especially if what was done to her was the result of her being a “good girl” or a “bad girl.” Many days the “good girl” spankings she received were harder and left more bruises. Standing in the corner, receiving a plug or even anal sex as a “bad girl” punishment seemed to upset her much more. As with most things in their D/s relationship, it was all in the mindset.
“Ahhh!” Dylan had inserted a finger into her anus.
“What is Daddy doing, Sassy?”
She groaned loudly. He did humiliation too well, and it always worked for her. “You stuck your finger in my… little hole.”
“Yes, I did. Why did I do that?” He pumped it within her, the tight muscle burning with every insertion.
“B-because… Ahhh... b-because I was sarcastic and—”
“Sassy?” She nodded her head. “So, naughty girls have to remember who’s in charge and when Daddy puts his finger into your bottom, do you remember that you’re to mind your tongue?”
“Yes, Daddy.”
He pulled out, her body relaxing despite the burn still present. She heard the implement cabinet open and knew he’d be getting his belt. The buckle jingled as he pulled it out, then he walked back, laying the leather horizontally over her back.
“We’re going to start with a long hand spanking first. I want this to be memorable.” He immediately started slapping her bottom with hard crisp slaps. “You are not allowed to fight. We do not use our hand to communicate. You’ve been spanked for this before, haven’t you, Sassy?”
“Not so hard! Yes. Yes.” She found herself saying ‘oh’ or ‘ow’ more and more with every few swats until she had started to cry.
“You were warned. Told that if you were spanked or got in trouble with your father that when you got home, Daddy would use his belt on you. Right?”
“Yes, Daddy.”
She tried to wiggle or move to avoid his hand, but the damned strap around her waist had her immobile, just the way he liked her to be. His hand stilled, rubbing in a soothing and yet very annoying way, upon her sensitive flesh.
“What was it you called Sunni?”
She hesitated — too long, apparently — his hand raining down spanks on her ass so fast that her hands clenched into fists, fighting against the handcuffs to protect her backside.
It’s going to be a long fucking night!
“What makes you think you can decide how long it takes for you to answer a question? When a question is asked, you answer, girl.”
“Yes, Daddy.” She hiccupped, and then continued, “I called her a whore and poor white trash. B-but she called me a slut, too.” She looked over her shoulder, trying to gauge his reaction to that piece of news.
His teeth clenched. He was fiercely protective of his baby girl, and she loved that about him. “Did she get spanked by her Daddy for that?”
“Oh yes. Really bad.”
“Good! Then it’s my job to spank your ass just as hard. What did your father use on her little butt?”
“He used his belt too.” She hated admitting to that. It guaranteed that he’d be using that next.
She felt like a live wire as she waited for him to pick up the leather strap laying across her back. The ominous weight of the leather was a constant reminder of her comeuppance. Instead, his fingers eased between the lips of her pussy, gliding through the slickness, resting upon her clit, teasing it with his feathery touch. Dylan’s fingers spread her open, and then he lightly blew on her, her sensitive nub of nerves jumping and pulsing so fast that she started to pant, lifting her hips as much as the strap would allow, giving him space to continue.
He pistoned his fingers into her sex, her scent filling the air, the strap preventing her from pushing back onto him. Her arousal pushed her to impale herself on those fingers, the frustration at the restriction making her growl. His rich chuckle rolled over her, her sex clenching. She loved his deep voice, loved lying against his chest, hearing him talk or hum above her.
“C’mon, baby, let’s get your orgasm out of the way so you don’t go to bed frustrated. I want my Sassy to sleep well tonight.” He increased the rhythm of his thrusts, pumping her hard, her muscles constricting around his finger, sucking on the wonderful intrusion. She pressed her hips into the leather roll, clenching her ass and screaming with her orgasm, milking him, shuddering with every rolling quake that overtook her body.
His fingers lightly stroked her sensitive flesh until she became so oversensitive that she whined for him to stop.
“There. Did you enjoy that, baby?”
“God, yes. Thank you.”
“You are most welcome. But I’m sorry to say that it’s time for this pink ass to be belted, girl.”
She didn’t try to talk him out of it, knowing that it wouldn’t matter if she tried to plead with him or cajole him. He was implacable when it came to discipline, believing that one only grew when the discipline was consistent, clear, and firm.
She felt him remove the belt, the soft supple leather, warmed by his body, tapped against her ass. He lashed her bottom three times across the same spot, hard and fast. She didn’t have time to think or restrain her reaction, she just shrieked. She swore the pain danced all along her nerve endings, vibrating down her legs.
“Oh, God!”
“Are you ever allowed to instigate a fight? Again, is fighting allowed?” Three more strikes landed just below the first three.
“No, Daddy.” She coughed on a sob, unable to hold it in any longer.
“No. It. Isn’t!” He whipped the underside of her bottom, not stopping on three this time. She lost track of the number of licks he gave her. When the strap finally stilled, her pitiful cries rent the air.
He rubbed her bottom, squeezing her flesh roughly. “Are you going to fight again, Sassy?”
“Ow! Oh, G-god. Please stop rubbing, it hurts. N-no, I won’t fight again. I p-promise. Can we be done, p-please can we be done?”
Dylan paused long enough that she thought he might relent. “Who decides when a punishment is over? Is it you, Sassy?”
She felt like a blubbering child. “N-no!” Her voice broke into heartbroken sobs. It wasn’t her decision. But damn, she wished she could decide — just once.
“Time to reinforce the lesson. These will be to your sit spot and thighs, girl.”
It was always the worst part and no mental preparation seemed to help. She just took a deep breath and on her exhale, he lashed her thighs and ass – hard. It didn’t last long, thankfully. She heard the belt clatter to the floor and his soothing murmurs above her. He kissed her temples, face, and hair, stroking and caressing her.
Brittney swore she’d never think of fighting again. She’d remember this. But she knew, deep inside, that someone would upset her and she’d forget. Maybe. Maybe this time she’d remember. Maybe this time his lesson would stick.
“Jesus. I hope you’ve learned this time. I’m not going to be able to use the belt more than I did today. Next time you’ll be switched. Do you hear me?”
“Y-yes, Sir. I won’t do it again, Daddy.”
“I certainly hope so. I hate seeing my girl like this. Let’s get you up and cuddle a bit.”
He undid the strap and handcuffs, helping her off the table, and scooping her up into his lap in the nearby rocking chair. Brittney nestled her nose in his neck. She loved the smell of him, his slow steady breathing, the rhythm of his heart calming her. And even though there were days that she wondered why she submitted to all of it, there were also moments such as these that convinced her that this life was for her. The moments of peace that followed a punishment, the one hundred percent assuredness that he cared about her – not just what she did, but how she grew and matured as a perso
n.
Her Daddy loved her. He understood her insecurities, her weaknesses, and her foibles. It didn’t mean that he tolerated them all, or that he didn’t develop goals for her to achieve to improve, but it meant when she failed or did something stupid, she didn’t have to fear that he would leave her or be done with her. He only expected her to try her best to improve and sometimes that meant he gave her incentive to move in a different direction in the future.
“How’s my baby?” He kissed her forehead.
“I’m okay. My bottom hurts really bad.” She felt silly saying it, but knew he wouldn’t care.
“I bet. Daddy wanted you to know he doesn’t like it when you’re fighting.” He ran the back of his knuckles lightly up and down her arm.
“Well… you succeeded. Maybe too well.”
Dylan laughed, squeezing her tightly. “My Sassy. I love you, baby. You know that, right?”
“Yes, I do.” Brittney felt his cock under her — hard, hot, and pulsing. She shifted, rubbing her thigh over the sensitive flesh tenting his pants.
“Sassy? I know what you’re doing. Stop.” He shifted her on his lap. “Besides, I want you on your knees, giving me a blow job.”
Brittney sat up straighter to see if he was joking, but his face was serious. When he quirked an eyebrow at her, she practically leapt off his lap, kneeling as requested. She situated herself between his knees, undoing his belt and zipper, tugging on the sides of his pants and boxers. Dylan lifted his hips slightly to aid in their descent, his cock springing free from the constraints of his clothes. With one hand she cupped his balls, while the other wrapped around the silky hardness, the skin hot against her palm. She leaned forward, circling the bulbous head with her tongue, laving the tip with quick licks.
She drew him into her mouth slowly, pulling on him with a suction, chuckling when she heard him suck his breath through his teeth.
“Brat!” He wove his hand through her hair, taking away her ability to control the blow job. Now, he was in control, just as he liked it. He held her head still as he pounded his cock further and further down the back of her throat, pulling out to allow her to catch her breath.
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