Page 37 of Daddy's Princess

Oliver’s smile is somewhere between devilishly pleased and proud. He quickly changes our positions, and for the second time, I find myself over his lap. He doesn’t dive right into the spanking. Instead, he massages my bottom. Occasionally, he dips a finger into my pussy, thrusting his thick digit inside before teasing my clit, then goes back to rubbing my backside. By the time his hand cracks down on my butt for the first time, I’m so relaxed, yet on edge that the sting doesn’t even register.

He spanks every inch of my upturned bottom. Warming the skin until my skin feels electrified. The spanking stops, and he’s back to alternating between rubbing my spanked cheeks and teasing my pussy. I’m wetter than I’ve ever been, but I can’t find it in me to be embarrassed by it, and Oliver doesn’t seem to mind one bit.

The next time his hand cracks down on my backside, it’s harder. Each spank is harder than the last. He warmed me up so well that even though it hurts, every stroke is pure pleasure. I sink into the sensations until I’m floating in a sea of pleasure. I come back to myself bit by bit and realize Oliver has changed our positions. I’m now flat on my back, and he’s on top of me. His rock-hard cock nestled against my dripping pussy.

“There she is,” Oliver says with a smile, then kisses me soft and sweet. “You okay?”

“Perfect, daddy. Better as soon as I can feel you inside me.”

He doesn’t make me wait. In one long, sure stroke, he enters me. Filling me up until I’m so full, I can feel him everywhere. “Fuck, babygirl. So damn tight.” Oliver pulls back until he’s poised just at my entrance, then thrusts fully into me again. “This pussy is mine now.”

“Yours,” I agree, moving my hips up to meet his thrusts. Our bodies move together as if we’ve done this a million times. Faster than I thought possible, I’m teetering on the edge of orgasm.

“Don’t you dare come without permission,” he growls.

“Please, daddy?”

“Not yet.” He thrusts deep then grinds against my clit. Over and over, he does this until I feel like I’ll explode into a million pieces if he doesn’t let me come… Hell, I might explode into a million bright shiny pieces if he does let me come.

“Can I come, daddy? Please?”

Oliver must sense that I’m at my limit because his next word is a growled command to come on his cock. And I do. I explode into a billion glittering pieces. He fucks me right through one orgasm into another. With his thumb on my clit, he rubs until wave after wave of pleasure sweeps over me drowning me in ecstasy.

“Gonna fill this little pussy with my come. Do you want that, babygirl? You want daddy’s come?”

“Yes!” The word is somewhere between a scream and a moan. I shudder when I feel his cock swell just before I’m flooded with his heat. His cock pulses inside me until I’m so full I can feel our combined releases escaping with his every movement.

The last thing I remember before falling into a deep, peaceful sleep is Oliver carefully cleaning me with a warm cloth.

15

Sugar

I wake up,stretching lazily. It takes me a moment to remember where I am, and that I’m definitely not on my lumpy mattress. Oliver’s bed is massive and probably the softest, comfiest bed I’ve ever slept in. I could live in a bed like this. I reach out and realize the other side of the bed is empty. Oliver isn’t here. I push away the little stab of disappointment at being left alone.

The room is completely dark, but I easily make my way to the attached bathroom. I take care of my bladder’s desperate need for relief. I smile when I notice the brand-new toothbrush laid out on top of a neatly folded shirt and gray sweatpants.

Oh man, I can imagine him in these sweatpants. They’d sit low on his hips, showing off that distractingly sexy line that points straight to the promised land. I can practically see the outline of his big cock through the gray material. Just the thought is enough spank bank material for the rest of my life. My new number one goal in life is to see Oliver wearing these pants.

I quickly brush my teeth. When I’m done, I catch a glimpse of myself in the mirror, and I look frightful. My hair is a wild tangle. There is a dark mark on the upper curve of one breast. I smile, totally pleased with the fact that Oliver marked me. I know I should probably be upset by it, but I love the thought of wearing this small mark that says I’m his—or at least that I was for one night.

My pussy aches in the best way and my butt is sore from my spanking. I feel amazing. Each little ache and pain reminders of last night that make me all warm and fuzzy inside. Last night was absolutely everything I’ve ever wanted. I’ve scened with several dominants in the past. Not a ridiculous number, but enough to know that things aren’t always that intense. I’ve never been able to let go so thoroughly that I entered sub-space. I’ve heard other submissives talk about it and rave about how wonderful it is to experience. Until last night, I thought it wasn’t possible for me. Turns out, I just needed the right daddy to take me there because that lovely floating feeling that overtook my mind could only be one thing.

I can see why submissives chase that feeling. It’s the freest I’ve ever felt in my life. Like nothing could touch me. The world didn’t matter at that moment. Nothing mattered, but Oliver and the expert way he meted out punishment and pleasure.

I admire the hickey one more time, then pull the white button-down shirt over my head, it falls to mid-thigh and is so big it swallows me up. But it smells like Oliver, so I don’t care that it looks ridiculous on me. No matter how tight I cinch the drawstring on the sweatpants, they won’t stay up. I decide to skip them. The shirt covers me like a dress, heck it fits me a lot more conservatively than most of Candace’s everyday outfits cover her.

It only takes me a couple minutes to find Oliver. He’s on the phone in his home office. From the deep furrows of frustration on his brow, the phone call is not making him happy. The desire to rub the wrinkles until his skin is smooth once again is so great, I have to force myself to remain in the doorway.

Oliver looks up, and upon seeing me in the doorway, the lines of stress melt away, and he smiles at me. His smile falls as he looks me up and down. For a moment, I’m worried I misunderstood the clothes he left out… or maybe he’s upset that I’m not wearing the pants. Then his eyes are burning into mine with such force I can feel the same desire that burns bright inside of me reflected in him.

“I don’t fucking care, Thompson. Fix it. You have until tomorrow to make it happen.” Without waiting for a response, he hangs up the phone then drops it to his desktop.

I take a couple steps into the room, feeling shy all of a sudden. “Hi,” I say quietly.

“Good morning, beautiful. How did you sleep?”

“Better than ever,” I answer honestly.

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