Page 29 of Sugar Daddies

One form of punishment down, another is to come.

Mr. Stephan does smile when I look up at him, but he nods at me, and it’s an association that takes off some weight in my heart.

I slowly and awkwardly stumble towards Daddy and plop over his lap, the towel shifts, but it’s resilient around his hip, and I can feel the heat from his thick cock rubbing my belly.

I’m familiar with this position, and I know what is to come, but I’m afraid that this time will be more severe than the other times when I was a brat.

The wall is my punishment from Mr. Stephan, and I never knew how effective it is for me to stay still for who knows how long until he told me to move. I can understand why some parents use a timeout on their children; it’s boring and unstimulating. It’s like being in maximum security prison’s isolation cell.

I never felt more thankful than when Mr. Stephan called me around.

Daddy tugs my panties down to my knees and leaves it there for the soaked fabric to stick to the back of my skin while he ominously puts one big hand around one cheek. The expectancy of his hit comes with greater force than I anticipated; rawness exploded on my butt in the stretch of his promised reprimand.

My heart pounds with a threat of escaping from my ribs as I canfeelthe bruise forming at my skin. Another swipe of his palm has friction zipping throughout the length of my body, the sting on the same butt-cheek burns with the love from his palm, and I swallow the cry for him to stop.

It’s a sick rhythm that I can’t predict when the edges of my vision get swamped with darkness seizing control over my prone, tense body.

He doesn’t verbally reprimand me; his hand does enough talking for the both of us, and I convulse at the thought of him lingering in the false pretense of his silent fury.

Daddy is savage; he’s vicious in the way he controls and violent in the way he demands. He is a poison that slips into my veins one drop at a time to take over the independence that I crave on days where he threatens to send my soul to oblivion.

It’s a fear that I’ll never be able to live without him.

He knows it, and he exploits it like the bad man that he is.

My tears swim in my eyes, falling and tumbling with each whip of his palm on my scalding flesh. It hurts so well, and he is not in the mood to test my limits. Daddy has taken the liberty to throw away any consideration he has on my fragile body when he takes me to a new level of pain that breaches the comfort level that we had set.

It’s new, it’s scary, and the pain lances through my spine. It’s crippling with the merciless smacks that echo in the room. Daddy catches my abused cheek with one seizing grip that has visible pain screeching across my voice.

He forces me to feel it. I feel this new sensation with the harmonized flare of my pussy throbbing for his hand.

“I have been lenient on you, too patient with this, and I will not let you get away with this again.” Daddy drops a hand between my butt, reaching to the slick hole and shoving two fingers inside.

The burn stings with the discomfort lodging as a wail chokes me. He drags the heat of one finger over the sensitive nub with the intention to make me hurt, two fingers pulling apart my twitching walls and one finger harshly pressing down on my clit.

The shift of my shoulders ache, the tears in my eyes run messily down my face, but it’s easy to ignore when he takes every single one of those competing sensations away. Sweat rolls down the side of my forehead; it’s clear that I’m enjoying this far too much to be considered as a punishment.

Which is why he’s taking me off his lap and tossing me on the bed. My panty traps my flailing legs, and it gets ripped off roughly by another set of hands that aren’t Daddy’s.

I know the difference now, though it’s difficult to distinguish them when all I feel is power and ferocious ribbons of heat that crack the forming lines of my concentration.

I’m mildly aware that I’m parallel to the bed, and a shadow is looming above me with a face that disappeared in front of the ceiling light.

Lips and teeth clash, nips on my bottom lip steal my breath, and the roaming hands search for the inconvenience of my shirt to tear it away from my head. In all that time, I get a good look at Mr. Stephan, and the white slash of his smirk strikes numbing distress in my heart.

Naked and vulnerable, I’m unable to call for Daddy when Mr. Stephan descends his lips over my nipple and tweaks the other with needless pain. My useless hands stay firmly on the bed, and there is an unusual throbbing in my pussy. I’m never this way around other men, and Daddy is the first and only one who has gotten me insanely aroused.

Mr. Stephan isn’t interested in my nipples anymore after they have been pinched and puffed up, red and perky right up to the ceiling with him heading down towards my quivering belly. I reach down to his hair and the moment I touch; his head snaps up and hisses my name on his lip with a curse.

“Do not touch me.”

I nod and try to stay motionless on the bed, my hands holding the sheets in anxiety as his tongue trails down to the jutting hipbone. My hair sticks to my forehead, and the rest is tangled under my weight. Some tug more than others from the way Daddy had thrown me.

“You’re not supposed to be enjoying this, little princess,” Mr. Stephan rasps darkly, fanning his hot breath directly at my slick folds.

“It can’t go on like this,” he muses to himself, and I’m partly wondering what he means, “You need a new form of punishment if you think you’re going to get off this easily.”

I close my eyes reflectively for the pleasure that skitters across my pussy and the piercing brightness from the ceiling.

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