Page 57 of Butterfly

“Nine, Daddy, sorry.”

He didn’t say anything, and I clenched everything in anticipation of the last spank—completely shocked when he brought his hand around to my front. Was he going to get me off instead?

The burn from his last spank—right on my pussy—told me otherwise.

“Ten, Daddy!” I screamed, barely holding off from coming.

“Good girl, you took your punishment so well,” he said, as I shook from the effort of staving off the approaching orgasm. It was so close I could taste it.

“Please, Daddy,” I begged.

“Mmm. Please, what?”

“Please, let me come…”

“Good girl,” he praised. “My good little butterfly. She gets exactly what she needs. Daddy will always give you what you need. Wait here. And do not touch yourself.”

I waited as Mason disappeared out of his room, closing the door softly behind him and locking it. The pleasure began to dissipate and I breathed more easily, relieved and disappointed. Was he done with me?

When he returned with a pint of peaches and cream ice cream, something in my heart went squishy. I didn’t even know you could get my favorite ice cream on campus.

“Mason, thank you, but I’m not hungry,” I said again.

“You’ll have a little,” he said.

“Mason…”

But he was flipping me over onto my back, kneeling down in front of me, dragging me down the bed by my thighs before throwing both my legs over his shoulders. Before I could say anything, he’d spooned up some ice cream and reached his hand up so the spoon brushed my lips. I couldn’t help myself; I opened my mouth to savor my favorite treat.

“Good girl.”

His hand disappeared, and as I swallowed the sweet, tangy, smooth ice cream, something cold, wet, and sticky hit my breasts. I jumped.

“What?”

“It’s my turn for dessert,” he growled, and then his mouth enveloped my left breast. He began swirling his tongue around my nipple and the combination of cold ice cream and his hot mouth brought the orgasm back. He moved his mouth to my right breast, and when he licked me there, there was more cold ice cream beneath his hot mouth.

I moaned, writhing beneath him, as he trailed ice cream down my ribcage to my belly button to my right hip, his tongue following. As he licked and sucked my skin, I discovered new erogenous zones I’d never known existed: my left lower rib, the area right under my belly button, my hip bone. Pausing, he spooned more ice cream into my mouth. I swallowed down the taste of fresh peaches and cream, the silky sweetness a tease on my tongue as Mason continued to tease me, making his way from my hip bone to my pussy, before he swirled circles around my clit with his tongue.

I screamed as the orgasm broke over me like a tidal wave. Screamed again as he began licking and sucking and biting, not relenting, the orgasm continuing as it sucked me down, down, down beneath the surface. It was so intense, so brilliantly, painfully pleasurable, I wasn’t sure I’d ever make it out.

Finally, he stopped, placing soft kisses above my mound and on my thighs as he rose to his feet and pulled me into his arms.

“I think that’s my favorite dessert now,” he commented.

“What, peaches and cream ice cream?” I asked shakily.

“No, Daddy’s pussy,” he corrected me. “Although if I could make an ice cream that tasted like you, I would. I’d never share it though, just keep it to myself. I’d have to make you come over and over and over again and package it up, leave it in the freezer for whenever I was hungry.” He looked at me, considering.

Everything in me went tight all over at the thought. He chuckled.

“Some other time.”

He stroked my back for a bit, both of us silent, me on his lap, him surrounding, big, and hard, and perfect. I felt safe and protected in a way I never had before, which was funny, since he was the one who I’d once needed protection from.

And maybe still did.

He’d spanked me, without my permission.

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