Harsh Daddy

by Megan Michaels

“Nuhhhhhh!” Charlie’s hands were white-knuckled, clenching and unclenching on air. “I don’t—’’

  “No one asked you!” He shoved the plug into her, watching the tight stricture of muscle close around the neck.

  “Daddy?”

  “Yes, baby.” He loved hearing her say it, but he couldn’t let it sway what he needed to do.

  “I... are you going to spank me? Please, don’t.”

  So sweet. And, yet, such a bad girl.

  “No, Daddy’s not spanking you.”

  Charlie exhaled loudly, the relief evident with her back relaxing and the unclenching of her bottom.

  “You’ve been naughty, though, haven’t you?”

  “Yes, Sir.”

  “And what happens to naughty girls?” He ran his hand along her marked bottom, the skin silky under his callused and roughened hand.

  “Noooooo.” She choked on her words before continuing, “They get spanked?”

  She didn’t realize it, but her voice had become younger... more innocent, speaking as one would to a daddy. She had regressed, and even though Charlie would fight it, she was a little. He had no doubt; her natural instinct was to revert to a place of security and comfort, seeking the solace of a strong, loving, and caring Daddy. As he twisted the base of the plug, Charlie waggled her hips.

  “Nope. They’re disciplined. Bad girls need discipline—which isn’t always spankings as you’re about to find out.”

  Logan pressed his middle finger into the slit of her sex, her hot flesh sticky with her arousal, and brushed the other fingers over the smooth, silky labia.

  Fuuuuuuuuck!

  Lightly patting her pussy with the now wet palm of his hand, he smacked the puffy mound harshly.

  “Like this. Pussies can be spanked as well, girl. And fucking your little hole is another punishment.” He tapped the plug again. “But today, we’re going to give you a lesson you’ll hate, and find quite painful in a whole different manner.”

  Grasping her upper arm, he helped her stand. Her peach-colored areolae and nipples were tightly furled, the tips hard, and he palmed both of them, the points grazing along his skin. His cock seeped behind his pants, and he was thankful for the overalls to hide his damp boxers.

  With his thumb and forefinger, he pinched her left nipple—hard.

  “Oh!” Her eyes widened, and she rose up on her tiptoes, her hands coming close to interfering, but stopping short.

  “Good choice. You’re a good girl, aren’t you?”

  “Yes... Daddy. I try.”

  With a tilt of his head, he laughed. “Yes, you’re definitely trying. It’s too bad you’re being punished, or else I’d be fucking you right now. But, alas, you’ve been naughty.” Walking toward a nearby pail with wheels, he slid the yellow canister toward her. “There’s a wooden scrub brush in the bottom. You’ll scrub the floors clean. This is beneficial to both of us since you decreed that you hate the smell and dirt of a garage, and I need a good scrub maid, especially one who is naked.”

  If the situation hadn’t been so difficult, Logan would have busted out laughing watching her face. Charlie looked at the pail, then him, back at the bucket, and then the floor. Her mouth had gawped open, and she seemed stunned beyond any comprehension or ability to speak. “Bu... Daddy! I don’t... I... you want... would... on my hands and knees?”

  “Yes, my dear. Has Princess Charlotte Anne Winslow never washed a floor in this manner before?” Logan, wishing to add to her discomfort, inserted a finger into her pussy, wiggling it wildly within her dripping channel. “Your pussy is drenched, girl. Better get that under control or you’ll make a mess of your clean floor.” Abruptly exiting her body, he slapped her backside with the order, “Move! No more discussion. Get this floor cleaned, or else.”

  “Ow! Ow!” She scrambled to the floor, her cries and pleas for mercy pitiful. Reaching into the bucket, she found the brush and dropped it to the floor, swirling it in a circle.

  “That’s right, baby. Just like that.”

  He leaned against his desk, watching her ass jiggle with the movement, but more enticing than her ass was the pendulous breasts swaying with the motion. They brushed and bounced off of each other.

  Although her tears and activity indicated this was pure punishment, her pussy dripping long gossamer strands to the floor or cascading down her legs indicated the opposite.

  Logan had one more task to do before he could enjoy this view with impunity. Pulling his cell phone out of his pocket, he dialed. “Hey, Rob, this is Logan. Yeah. Keep yourselves busy for say... another hour before coming back.”

  “You sure, boss?”

  “Positive. We’ll get the job done before five o’clock, and I need... more time.”

  Rob chuckled on the other line.

  He knows.

  “I bet you do, boss. No worries, we’ll continue here. There’s a Portugal soccer game on at the restaurant, and the guys will be more than happy to stay here longer.”

  “See you in an hour; I owe you one.”

  “Yeah, you do.”

  Logan tapped the red phone icon, hanging up, and tossed the phone onto the desk. Leaning back in his chair, he unzipped his overalls and pulled his hard-as-a-rock cock out, his hand gliding along the hot length.

  “Be sure to clean the floor well, Charlie. You may have to eat your dinner off of it. And when I’m ready, I’ll call you over to wash my semen off the floor.”

  Chapter Nine

  “Forehead on the floor, ass up. Let me see this plug while I inspect your work.”

  His work boots clomped slowly around her crouched form. Her heart pounded within her chest, and her knees throbbed and ached from washing this damn floor free from all the goddamn oil these damn grease monkeys spread around.

  She, Charlotte Anne Winslow, a reporter, educated at the College of William and Mary, employed in the political scene of Washington D.C., had washed a filthy floor on her hands and knees for this dirty daddy who would now be inspecting her work.

  Fuck my life.

  Charlotte swore if he said one negative thing about all her hard work, she’d kick him in the shin. However, as riled as she felt, she was more concerned with pissing him off and adding more punishment. Instead of lifting her head to determine where he was, she watched his boots scraping along the concrete, listening for any audible commentary.

  “Mmm. It appears you worked hard on this floor. Seems a sore ass with a naughty-girl butt plug in it did the trick. From now on we’ll be using scrubbing as a hated chore to correct behavior. How does that sound, girl?”

  “Like pure hell... Daddy.”

  He laughed a full rolling belly laugh and sauntered back toward her, his hand lightly slapping her cold ass before palming her wet cunt. Shit!

  “Ohhh. What do we have we here? And you’re aroused by the work, that’s even better. I love a hard-working wench who creams while doing domestic chores.”

  “Fuck you.”

  “Excuse me.” The burn in her scalp accompanied the backward pull of her head, forcing her to look him in the eye. “Care to repeat what you just said?”

  “No... Sir.”

  “Repeat it anyway.” The burn intensified with the twist of his hand in her scalp.

  “Ahhhhh. Okay. Okay.”

  He loosened his grip enough that she could think once again.

  “I said, fuck you.”

  “Not wise, was it?” Pulling her by the hair, he dragged her to her feet, his nose almost touching her own. “You’ll speak to me with respect. Time for you to learn this lesson—the hard way.”

  She stumbled, barely able to keep up with his wide, fast gait, and he roughly bent her over the desk, her tits pressing into the cold hard metal. With several harsh swats to her still sore ass, he murmured, “Let’s get this out of you.”

  He tugged on the glass insertable in her anus, the muscle screaming with the yank, finding relief when it was extracted entirely from her little hole. The assuagement was temporary, however
, when the tip of his cock pressed against the wrinkled hole.

  “Oh, no!”

  “Oh, yes. Who is in charge, Charlie?”

  “You are, Daddy.”

  He once again tightened his fist within her hair, growling loudly, “Say it again!”

  “Daddy is in charge!”

  “That’s right.” He thrust his cock into her back entrance, the scream of pain gurgling from her throat, along with a low, long growl.

  “Fuuuuuuck...”

  “That’s right. Bad girls don’t get to choose pleasure, and they answer to their daddy for their disrespect.”

  “Ohhh.” She heard a tube of lube being opened, and she felt the warm liquid oozing along her bottom hole, giving her a bit of ease.

  “You. Will. Speak. To me. With. Respect.” Logan thrust deeply into her channel, accentuating every word.

  “Yesssss! Yes, Daddy.”

  Her fucking cunt was dripping.

  Goddamn it! What is wrong with me?

  How could she possibly be aroused by this forceful taking of her ass? However, she already knew that she’d be masturbating to these activities for the rest of her life.

  Christ.

  Are all mechanics hot like this?

  The very act of fucking in the car garage with his cock poking out from his coveralls and pounding into her dark back channel had her clenching with need.

  He thrust harder, his growl and grunts interrupting her musings. “Are you listening, cunt?”

  She stiffened. “I don’t like that.” She cleared her throat. “Please, Daddy. Don’t call me that word.”

  He stilled. “Agreed. I won’t call you that again, I’m sorry. I should have asked first how you felt about name-calling. I apologize.” Logan kissed her between her shoulder blades before thrusting into her again—harder than any of the previous pushes.

  Charlie bit her lip, grunting with the force.

  “How do you talk to me, girl?”

  “With... respect.” She trembled, her voice wavering with the intensity of his prowess.

  “Yes. Damn straight.” He continued to pound into her, and her clit rubbed against the edge of the desk, her hips grinding, and her buttocks clenching with the climb to her orgasm.

  “You’re not supposed to come, princess.” Logan paused. “Ask Daddy to fuck your ass and let you come.”

  “Noooooo.” She couldn’t imagine anything more embarrassing.

  “Say it.”

  Growling, she paused, wanting to refuse, but the pounding of her clit clouded her thinking... and resolve. “D-Daddy?”

  “Yes, baby.”

  He made it worse by saying that; her hips lurched, her legs quivering with her need. “Fuuuuuck. Daddy, fuck my little hole.” Her voice sounded small to her own ears, not like the grown woman she was, the one who had just scrubbed his fucking floor to a spotless state, not the woman who reported with journalistic prowess in the country’s capital. No, instead, she sounded like a little girl, one begging her daddy for mercy.

  “Jesus Christ.” He slammed into her ass so hard she felt a piercing pain run through her core—a delicious ache that had her body trembling and quaking with the escalation toward her orgasm.

  “May I come, Daddy?”

  “Fuuuuuuuuck. Yes. Come for Daddy, Charlie. Come. Come now!”

  With a shrill scream, her body stiffened, her cunt gushing, her juices squirting from her like a fire hose, while her bottom hole clenched tightly around his hot, hard cock. The intensity of her orgasm had her seeing stars. She milked him, her ass convulsing around him, strangling his hot length.

  “Arrrrrrrrgh!” Logan spurted his hot seed into her dark channel, coating and filling her, his now slippery length pistoning within her bottom. “Jesus!”

  It was then that Charlie’s pussy clenched tightly again, and she jerked and spasmed with her second orgasm. She squirted again, and watched from between her legs as her juices arced through the air, splattering on the concrete floor, puddling between their shaky legs.

  “Dear God!” It was all she could say... there were no other words. And thankfully, none were needed because she could find neither the strength nor the mental capacity to say anything worthy of hearing.

  Charlie slid in the puddle of her excitement, relishing in the fact that she had squirted—not once, but twice—and during anal. Her breathing was beyond labored, and her body was still trembling, although the rhythmic quakes were lessening.

  Logan’s cock had slipped out of her ass, but he still remained hunched over her, catching his breath as well.

  After a few moments, he pulled his sweaty chest from her back, slowly rising and helping her to stand up straight as well. He cleared his throat, taking in her naked form, and then looking around the garage he smiled mischievously. “You did a great job on the floor, guess we have an area to clean up before the rest of the men come back.”

  Her face warmed with her blush, and she felt it creeping to her neck and chest as well. Dropping her gaze to the widening wet spot that was her squirting orgasm, she felt humiliation and... pride. And with her mouth kicking up into a grin, she looked through her eyelashes at him.

  “Naughty girl... you enjoyed that, didn’t you?”

  “I did, Sir.”

  “If you’re a good girl, we can do it again later, with less pain and more excitement... you can experience all of this as a reward.”

  Charlie felt her heart race.

  Fuck, yes, please!

  “Please wipe this up, Charlie, and then you can take a long nap; you earned it.” Pointing his finger at her, his gravelly voice warned, “Stay out of trouble.”

  She swallowed, her ass still sore—very. “Yes, Daddy.”

  Chapter Ten

  Logan headed up the stairs and went into his bedroom and was pleasantly surprised to find that Charlie had decided to sleep naked, her marked ass clearly visible.

  Logan ran his fingers through her hair, the tendrils damp, smelling mint from the shampoo and conditioner in his shower.

  Her body was petite and slender with generous breasts and ass, both of which called to him. Was there anything sexier than a woman straight from the shower, or waking a woman up for sex—and he had both lying before him.

  Logan shook his head and walked away. It wasn’t the time. He had taken her a few times already, and her body was used and sore. She needed the rest for recuperation, and he would use the time to contact his boss with some of the new details he and his men had figured out today.

  Then he’d make some dinner. A nice pot of spaghetti and some of his mother’s homemade meatballs would do.

  He tiptoed out of the room, heading to the living room, grabbing his laptop and checking that the coaster and placemat under it were in the exact position he’d left them. He wouldn’t make the mistake again of letting her get into his laptop.

  The fingerprint and eye scanner, along with his lengthy, complicated password, meant a triple layer of security. His computer roared to life, and he punched the keys, entering into his email program.

  Hey Mack,

  The guys and I were in contact with some of the minions for the Tomasso family today. Through a mic, they told the informant that they would be coming after Nancy’s husband later this week. With Charlotte out of the way and his wife sequestered with you all, they have fallen into the plan. I’m hoping we can beef up staff and have SWAT available per our standard protocol. I’ll be here with the girl, assuring her safety and in touch with you all. Contact me if you need anything else or have questions.

  Logan

  He checked his incoming emails, cleaning house by deleting and saving important ones to files. He searched the web, reading headlines and in particular, local headlines looking for any hints of movement within the mafia or suspicious deaths and what would appear as normal domestic scuffles that could be activity among rival families.

  Lastly, he checked the obituaries, scanning for any suicides that could be chemically induced deaths or someon
e murdering a member of a family and making it appear a suicide.

  He found headlines showing two D.C. cops who supposedly committed suicide outside of the precinct—both within a week. The hackles on the back of his neck rose, suspecting they were mafia-planned killings.

  Pulling out his cell phone, he texted Jimmy, his contact in the FBI office with an inside track to the cops and mafia:

  Logan: Hey Jimmy. I just saw a couple of cops committed suicide in D.C. this week. Check to see if they have any contacts with the Tomassos or Finellis. It seems odd that two of them would kill themselves outside the precinct, especially within a week.

  Jimmy: Yeah, I saw that as well. It seems odd to me too. I’ll get on that.

  Logan: Thanks. I’ll wait to hear from you. Keep this on the down-low.

  Jimmy: Yeah, no problem. As always.

  He shut his phone off and slipped it into his pocket. It was time to start dinner. Rising, he went to the kitchen, opening the fridge and pulling out fresh tomatoes, onions, and peppers. Filling his arms with the fresh produce, he also grabbed the parmesan cheese and a pack of hamburger he had left defrosting on the top shelf. Carefully placing the items on the counter, he grabbed the cutting board and chef’s knife and began chopping the vegetables to make the sauce he had learned to make as a young boy watching his mother.

  It felt good to have someone to cook for besides himself. Logan hoped he wasn’t getting ahead of himself, but Charlie seemed interested, seemed to enjoy him. But he couldn’t help but wonder if she would walk away when this was all done. Would he be alone once again, going from one FBI contract to another, filling his life with work?

  Maybe.

  He exhaled, hoping she would stay. She, of course, saw him as an agent, but more than that, she saw him as a blue-collar worker—a dirty mechanic—her dirty daddy.

  When this was all over, she may be surprised at how he lived. It didn’t matter. However, he wanted a woman who wanted him for who he was... loving him for himself, not what he could do for her.

  And to think those goons would have hurt her, taken her captive, and only God knows what they would’ve done to his girl.