“Such a naughty little tease. Daddy’s going to have to deal with that, isn’t he?” he mused, and I shuddered, even as he grasped me by the arm and turned me around so that my cheek was flush against the stone. My nipples pressed against the warm surface and I shook with anticipation of what he would do next.
His knuckles traced down the length of my spine and my breathing quickened as they descended until they slid down the cleft of my backside. With his fingers, he parted me there slightly and I stopped drawing in air at all. I froze, not sure what he was going to do and almost afraid to know.
“One day, when you’re especially naughty, Daddy is going to punish you here,” he murmured as his fingertip slowly tapped my bottom hole. That single digit felt as heavy as his palm even though I knew that it wasn’t. My head swirled with confusion.
Good girls didn’t do that.
Good girls didn’t want that.
Then why the fuck did I?
“Daddy, please,” I begged. His finger fell away.
“Do you want Daddy’s cock, little girl?” he asked.
Why did that make my inside swirl with desire when he said it like that?
Think with your head, Willow. Jesus Christ.
I turned my head away and I didn’t dignify him with an answer. Almost as if he could read the indecision in my silence, his palm cracked hard against my backside. I squeaked in surprise at the sudden sting, realizing it hurt far more on a wet bottom. He spanked me hard several times before he dipped his fingers lower and slid them in between the wet folds of my pussy.
“You’re not ready for Daddy’s cock, little girl. You’re going to have to earn it,” he whispered, and I moaned with need as his fingers ground hard against my clit.
Why did that have to feel so incredible? Why couldn’t I hate his cruelty like any other normal girl would? Why was I so desperate to feel his cock sink between my thighs?
Those demanding fingers pressed harder against my needy bud, forcing me closer toward the edge of my own release.
“You were never in control, little girl, and now Daddy’s going to show you,” he said darkly, and I squealed with the dangerous intent behind those words. Those teasing fingers quickened, pressing more firmly and moving even faster over my clit. My thighs shook just a little and I felt that delicious precipice of bliss fast approaching. He forced me right to the edge and as my cries of pleasure soon became more desperate, he tore his hand away seconds before I could find relief.
He started spanking me again. Harder. Meaner. Infinitely crueler.
“Oh,” I cried out in surprise. I hadn’t expected him to be so firm with me again so soon. Maybe I should have.
His hand peppered my backside hard enough to ignite the welts his belt left behind and then his breath brushed against the tiny hairs along my ear, and I was instantly on high alert.
“Spread your legs,” he commanded.
“But I—” I countered, and he cut me off.
“Daddy said to spread your legs, so you will spread your legs, little girl,” he chastised, and a thrill of terror and arousal pulsed through me at the thinly veiled threat.
“Yes, Daddy,” I whimpered, and I finally did as I was told.
Slowly, I slid one foot to the side, slipping across the wet stones beneath my toes far too easily. It felt as though butterflies were dancing inside my stomach. I drew in one breathy pant after the next, unsure of what was to come. Would he allow me orgasm now? Would he come with me too?
Caught between the intoxicating edge of fear and curiosity, I opened my legs as wide as I dared.
“Wider, little girl,” he growled, and my core tightened so hard that a cry escaped my throat.
“Daddy, please,” I groaned, my voice shaking for him.
“Daddy likes it when you cry for him,” he said as he slipped his hand back in between my thighs. His foot pushed mine a bit wider and stayed there. I nervously realized that he was holding me open.
For what?
I didn’t have to wait long to find out.
His palm smacked between my thighs firmly and the resulting sting was almost enough to bring me to my knees. I tried to close my legs, but he wouldn’t let me, and a strangled wail escaped my throat as I slowly came to recognize just how trapped I was.
“Daddy especially likes it when you cry for him like that,” he said and even as his palm branded my pussy again, I couldn’t control the simmering arousal that blazed through me because of it. I don’t know why I even thought I could.
My thighs trembled.
His palm cracked even more firmly against my sensitive flesh and I tried to push against the wall to escape it, but there would be no running for me. Not this time.
His hand told me that again and again as I keened for him. My body shook and my voice quivered until I was on the verge of tears. I didn’t want to fall apart in front of him.
Not again.
I never cried in front of my marks. Until him and I still didn’t know how to handle that.
Did he like it? Had it made him hard?
“Daddy, please. It hurts,” I whined. He growled seductively in my ear and I could feel the velvet iron of his cock pressing against my sore bottom cheek. My inner walls clenched greedily around empty air and even as his palm continued to punish my pussy, I knew that it wasn’t just the wetness of the shower in between my legs.
Despite the pain, my own arousal was there too.
Why the fuck did having my pussy smacked make me want to come all over again?
His fingers returned to soothe my clit, teasing it softly enough to drive me wild with need. I squirmed
