by Amy Faye
His hands caught her under the arm. “Up.”
She put her feet under her as quickly as she could; in the moment that she thought that she’d caught her weight, Thayer pushed her back onto the bed. Harper’s body bounced gently as she landed on the bed.
“On your belly,” he said roughly. “Go on.”
She rolled without a word. His hands found a place on her ass and smacked down. There must have been buttons and rivets positioned perfectly for it to strike him right back, but it didn’t stop him paddling her. Harper let out a yelp with the first blow, and then the second came, and another yelp.
“You like that?”
She wasn’t sure what she liked. She knew that she liked it when he was pleased with her, though. She knew that she had to like it, but that didn’t mean that she didn’t actually like it, too. She nodded.
“I want to hear you say it,” he said. His finger found the tender spot between her thighs, and he rubbed it through the layers of denim. Her legs squirmed, letting whatever weight they carried slip.
“I love it,” she moaned. “I love it, Daddy, please spank me more.”
His hand came down again on her ass, harder still. The pain was almost blinding, now, and it drove her absolutely insane. Harper let out a groan and her legs wobbled unsteadily under herself.
“Are you going to fuck me, Daddy?”
His hand came down on her ass again, and she yelped again, a shiver running down her spine.
“No,” he said. “I’m not.”
“Oh, please, Daddy,” she groaned. Her ass felt like it was on fire, but he spanked it again.
“You’re going to swallow my cum,” he said. “And every day, you’re going to bring yourself to the edge, but you’re not going to go over it unless I give you permission, is that understood?”
Harper shivered at the demanding tone of his voice. He pulled gently to roll her over, and she rolled herself. He was less gentle pulling her head up from the mattress, and less gentle still thrusting into her waiting mouth.
His cock was diamond-hard and it wasn’t getting any smaller. Her difficulty with it, though, was fading. The biggest reason for that, of course, was that he didn’t rely on her to do anything at all.
His hips moved, and his cock entered her throat, and then he pulled back and she could breathe again for the space of a second or so. Then it was shoved into her mouth again, and she was accepting what he was giving in spite of herself.
She could feel his fingers digging into her hair, could feel his need as he moved faster, harder, thrusting his cock deeper into her mouth. Her head hurt, her jaw felt like it had been stretched too far for what seemed to be forever.
His need grew as he thrusted, until he was just forcing himself as deep as he throat would allow with every movement, each thrust trying to get deeper than the last. His fingers dug into her scalp, hard, and her own fingers were stuffed into the waist of her jean shorts and toying with herself, building up to a completion that she knew she wouldn’t be allowed to reach.
Then she felt him spasm in her throat and hot, sticky cum shot down her throat automatically, past her gag reflex and even her ability to refuse to swallow, and straight down her throat.
Then, his orgasm complete, Daddy… or, Thayer, she corrected mentally, walked away and locked the door behind him, and left her in a puddle of her own arousal.
Ten
Harper’s gut twisted as she lay in bed. It was supposed to be different. It was supposed to be better. She was a strong. She was smart. It had just been a long year, and this was supposed to be a detox.
She did the dishes. She mopped the floors. She did everything he told her to. She did it with feeling. Like she was supposed to. It was all very purifying. She was paying for whatever she’d done wrong in the only way that she knew how, the only way that would help her in the slightest.
And it wasn’t working.
Harper sat up and knelt down on the ground. Praying felt strange to her. It hadn’t ever felt like it worked. Maybe she was just doing it wrong. Maybe that was her mistake, too, or maybe God was too angry with her for whatever she’d done to listen. This time was no different. She said the words anyways.
At the end of the procedure, she was no different than she had been before it. The same as everything else.
Before she’d signed up for this, sitting at her desk, Harper had told herself that this was a mistake. She’d known it deep down.
Oh, she didn’t know what kind of mistake it was that she was making. She thought that it was going to be unpleasant in some way. That the price she paid for her penance would be too high. But that wasn’t the case.
No, the problem was that it wasn’t doing anything. She was still the same person that she was before she started. Oh, she could make the motions of someone who was contrite, and someone who was suffering. She could hurt, physically. She could be exhausted. She could approach servitude with a good heart, whatever.
It didn’t touch her. In the end, she was choosing to do those things. She wasn’t becoming contrite. She wasn’t becoming good-hearted. She wasn’t becoming better than she’d been when she left.
Harper took a deep breath and rose from the floor. She checked the list of her chores for the day once again. Every item on the list had a thick cross-out running through it. Because she had the entire list finished, and she still had plenty of the day left. The next five hours stared at her like the barrel of a gun pointed at her.
She sucked in a breath, and laid back down, and told herself to sleep. She would feel better in the morning, or whenever Thayer woke her. He’d have something for her to do. That would get her mind off things. For a little while, at least, she’d be able to get over the nerves through sheer effort to do what she was told. And if that was all she could do then it would still be enough.
Or she could try to buy her way out. She had enough money, no doubt. She didn’t desperately need it. She could get a job doing something. There were plenty of jobs out there, and that might hold in it the golden ticket to figuring out how to become less broken.
Her eyes stayed shut. Eventually, in fits and spurts, she slept. Every few minutes she’d wake up, turn over, and go back to sleep, and after an hour of that, her body decided that she was really serious about sleeping after all. It might as well let her.
When Harper woke, it was because Thayer woke her. She was never a light sleeper at home, but napping wasn’t a usual habit at home, either. So it might have been normal when he opened the door that she immediately woke up, like someone had popped a balloon by her head.
“You’re home,” she said.
“I’m home,” he agreed.
“Welcome back. How was your day?”
“Your work looks good.”
Harper took a breath and looked down at the mattress. “I’m sorry.”
“What are you sorry for?”
“I don’t know if I can do this. I can pay you back your money, but—”
Thayer’s eyes stopped her in her tracks. They weren’t angry. Weren’t amused. They just held her in a level gaze that didn’t seem to particularly understand or care what she thought that she could or couldn’t do.
“I’m thinking no,” he answered simply.
“I wanted to do this to feel… I don’t know. Different, somehow.”
“So you hoped, what? I would be like a therapist?”
“Please,” Harper growled. “I was already seeing a therapist. Blood-sucking harpy, more like. She just wanted my money, didn’t want to help with a damned thing. And what was I going to do, find a new one?”
“Usually. Look, Harper. You’re not going to change. Nothing will have you waking up as a new person. You’re past that now. So you can get with the program, or not, but you’re not leaving until your contract is up.”
Her head hurt. “Don’t lecture me.”
“You’ll get over it,” he answered. “Turn over.”
Harper did so automatically. The request was perfect
ly reasonable, and his tone was so conversational that it didn’t really occur to her to worry about what it was that he was planning to do when she’d finished turning over.
His hand came down on her ass so hard that her body tensed up in preference to letting her scream out.
“Nothing, huh? I guess I’m getting old. Too old to be dishing out punishments. But you know what?” He leaned down, his hand squeezing the flesh of her ass. His ass, for another nine months. “I am who I am, and who I am likes it.”
His hand rose up again and then slapped down on her again, and this time It wrenched a yelp from her mouth. Harper clenched her jaw and waited for a third spanking that didn’t come. He’d stood up. And his cock was hard.
Eleven
There were a lot of thing that Harper couldn’t do. She couldn’t figure out how she was supposed to feel about herself. She couldn’t multiply two-digit numbers in her head, except the really obvious ones. She couldn’t keep her head above water while simultaneously paying the world back for everything she’d been given without ever really asking for it.
But there were things she could do, and sucking cock was one of them. He was still big, and her jaw still hurt from doing it. But she was starting to get used to it. Her body didn’t fight her as much any more, and that was about all that she could ask for.
His cock entered her mouth slowly. She was getting better at handling it, and he was getting better at letting her adjust. It was a partnership, in a way. He could do what he liked with her, and if that meant that he wanted to roughly enter her mouth and fuck her throat hard, then she wouldn’t stop him.
But then, it might not result in a good time for him. She’d do her best, but being surprised with a cucumber in your mouth is a great way to make a girl’s teeth scrape somewhere that no man wants to have teeth scraping.
Her tongue worked in her mouth, rubbing the shaft of his cock up and down slowly. Harper savored the taste of his skin, the feeling of fullness in her mouth. It was surprising how easily her body turned itself on. Her pussy tingled at the sensation of his cock in her mouth, as if she were already teasing it, already getting prepared for a fucking that she knew she wasn’t going to receive. He hadn’t taken her since that night out in his truck, and as far as she knew he wasn’t going to, no matter how much she wanted him to.
His hips started to move faster, and Harper tensed herself for what was to come. He would use her body, and she would let him. Hell, in spite of herself, she’d enjoy being used by him. There was something about it that came close to giving her the oblivion that she craved. It reduced her to nothing more than a hole to fuck.
That was payment, in a way, and it felt good. It felt so good that just servicing him like this brought her so dangerously close to the edge that she didn’t dare to bring play with fire by trying to bring herself closer to the edge. Not without his permission.
He entered her throat, his hands holding her stiff and still, and then pulled out. Slowly. He was taking his time, savoring the feeling, and she savored the distinction. Today was going to take longer to get him off, and she was fine with that. She was Daddy’s slave, and he would use her however he liked. She would serve him however he liked. Her body was to be used.
His throat opened up for him again. Her body tingled at it. She tried to breathe through her nose, but for the moment her breath was caught. He pulled back and out of her mouth entirely and let her head drop. Harper laid back, panting. Wanting more. Needing more, in spite of herself.
Her entire body felt like it was on fire as her blood pumped oxygen, massively quicker than she’d expected.
“Catch your breath,” he said, though he didn’t need to tell her to. “I’m planning to come on you.”
“Should…” Harper took a heaving breath. “I strip?”
He was breathing hard, too, she heard. He’d been closer than she thought. She’d done better than she thought.
“No,” he said finally. “I don’t think so.”
“Yes, Daddy.”
His hand stroked his hardness.
“Put your hand in your pants,” he said softly.
“I’m worried that I’ll…”
“Go ahead,” he said. “I want a show.”
Her fingers worked the clasp on her jeans. Her hand would have trouble fitting comfortably inside, with the waistband closed.
“On or off?”
“On,” he answered. “Go on.”
Harper fit her hands into her panties. It felt good. Better than she’d remembered. Better than she’d expected. He didn’t stay away long, so his demand that she get close to the edge every day rarely required that she do anything to herself. If she did anything, then it would only have made her more sensitive, and driven her crazy.
“Like this, Daddy?”
“Just like that,” he said. His eyes watched her hand, moving inside her jeans as her fingers traced lazy circles over her entrance, teasing a sensation. As the feeling started to grow, started to become stronger, started threatening to overwhelm her and bring her close to the edge, her fingers moved faster. She pressed harder.
“It feels good, Daddy. Oh, I want you to fuck me.” She was surprised how much she meant it.
“I know,” he said. “Too bad.”
She looked over at him. His hand moved on his cock, faster now, but he wasn’t desperate. No more than she was. She moved faster. Her hips started to move themselves in rhythm to her hands, and Harper started to feel something building up in herself.
“Oh, it feels so good,” she moaned. Her hips pressed up off the bed, reaching for more pleasure. Reaching for an orgasm that was just off the horizon. Her fingers worked furiously. She was so close, so deliciously close.
And then she felt herself fall over the edge, and her body tensed up, her fingers still working themselves furiously back and forth, pressing roughly down on herself. Her eyes rolled back in her head and her body twitched as she came.
“Open your mouth,” Thayer growled beside her.
“Cum for me, Daddy,” she panted.
He entered her mouth roughly this time. She did her best to keep her mouth open wide for him, to avoid hurting him, and his cock thrust deep into her mouth, into her throat, and she felt impossibly full. Then he exploded in her mouth and filled her with the salty, thick cum that she’d begun to expect.
Twelve
Harper’s eyes snapped open. The phone beside her head buzzed quietly. She didn’t stop it right away. It was better to let it keep going until she was up. She could just turn it off and go to sleep with no problem. But if it kept going, she would stay awake. Then she’d be up, and there would be no problem.
Beside the bed, there was a list. There always was, every day. Today, the list was longer than usual. There were a dozen or so things that needed to be done; most of them were actually two or three things. Doing the dishes, for example, was really quite an affair that would take ten minutes at a time throughout the whole day.
But this time, number one was written in thick letters, covered over and over by repeated marks of the pen. You are always going to be yourself, it said. Big letters. She read it. It was number one on the list. The first thing that she needed to do.
Harper forced herself out of bed and padded barefoot in her pajamas through the house. Down in the kitchen was the coffee maker, and down in the kitchen was where she could start work.
But the first item on the list was generally the most important. Today, though? How was she supposed to act on this? Ignore it?
Daddy wouldn’t have written it if he weren’t serious. He wasn’t that kind of person. Hadn’t been and wouldn’t be. After all, it was like he said: you are who you are. That’s not going to change, not after all this time. And he’s not going to change. Not really.
Oh, he can learn things. He can start to do what she wants him to do, if that’s what he wants. But there’s no change, really. Just a change in actions, but not a change who he is underneath. Harper took a deep breath.
Nothing was going to change for her, not really. So what was the problem? Where did it all start?
She needed to work. Serious soul-searching? It could come later, if she needed it, but she wouldn’t. She knew she wouldn’t. It was pretty much impossible. Right?
So she did what she had to do. She ignored it. She set the coffee brewing, and then bent down and started unloading the dishwasher. It was her usual morning routine. The thing that she was supposed to do. Her whole day was a routine, with the exception of little jobs that changed from day to day. Sometimes, it was to clean his office; others, she was supposed to clean the den.
Some days she was supposed to clean in the nude, for reasons she couldn’t begin to fathom. Nobody could see her. Nobody was watching, and there was no way that he could have a camera recording the whole thing. She’d have seen it.
Today was like any other day. Put the laundry in. Rinse the morning dishes and put those in, along with anything else in the dishwasher. Run that, and go clean. Finish cleaning, and go unload the dishwasher again. Leave it open for inspection.
It took no longer than normal, and by two she was laying on her bed, waiting. Waiting for something to happen. She checked the list again. Looked over the items crossed off the list. Except for one.
You are always going to be yourself, it said. Like it wasn’t obvious. Of course she was always going to be herself. Who else would she be? It wasn’t like she was going to change into someone else. She wasn’t going to start calling herself by a different name.
Even that wouldn’t really change who she was underneath. Maybe she’d have a cooler name, or a more pretentious name, or a more humble name, or whatever. But there was no way that she was going to change into a wholly different person. She wasn’t going to wake up a man.
