Page 36 of Daddy's Naughty Dog Trainer

Sean runs his hand over my now-heated skin, massaging the ache he created. "Do you understand why you’re being punished, princess?"

"Yes, Sir," I whisper, pressing my forehead into the bed, my entire body thrumming.

"And are you going to ignore me again? Run away from a conversation?"

"No, Sir."

"That’s my good girl."

His fingers trail lower, sliding between my thighs, finding me soaked and trembling. He chuckles, dark and satisfied. "So wet from your punishment, princess. Do you think you deserve a reward?"

"Please," I whimper, pressing back against him, needing more.

His fingers stroke slow, teasing circles exactly where I need them. "Then beg for it, sweetheart."

And I do.

I don’t hesitate. "Please, Daddy. I need you."

“Need me to what?”

“Need you to fuck me.”

Sean hums in approval, his fingers still stroking me, teasing, keeping me on edge. I’m soaked, aching, my body trembling under his touch. He parts me with his fingers, slipping through the wetness, pressing just enough to make me whimper.

"You're dripping, princess," he murmurs, his tone thick with satisfaction. "Did my spanking turn you on this much?"

"Yes, Daddy," I admit, my face burning even as my hips roll into his touch, desperate for more.

"Such a good girl, taking your punishment so well." His voice is dark velvet, sliding over me like a caress.

He lifts me effortlessly, turning me onto my back, his body covering mine, pressing me into the mattress. His weight, his heat, it makes me dizzy, makes me crave everything he’s about to give me. His mouth claims mine in a deep, demanding kiss, his tongue teasing, conquering, as he reaches between us to free himself.

I feel the thick, hard length of him against my inner thigh, and I whimper, my legs spreading instinctively, inviting him in.

"Look at me," he commands, his voice rough.

I open my eyes, locking onto his, and in that moment, I see everything, possession, control, need.

"Tell me who you belong to," he growls, rubbing the head of his cock through my slick folds, making me shudder.

"You," I breathe, my nails digging into his back.

His groan is pure satisfaction. And then, in one slow, devastating thrust, he pounds into me.

I cry out, my body stretching around him, taking every thick inch as he fills me completely. He stays there for a moment, buried deep, his forehead pressed to mine, his breath ragged.

"You feel so fucking good," he growls, his hips flexing, drawing back before thrusting into me again.

The pleasure is instant, white-hot and overwhelming, my body tightening around him, desperate to hold him inside me. He sets a slow, punishing rhythm, each thrust deep, deliberate, making me feel every inch of him. My nails rake down his back, my legs wrapping around his waist, pulling him closer, silently begging for more.

"You want it harder, princess?" he murmurs against my ear, his teeth nipping at my earlobe.

"Yes," I gasp. "Please, Sir, I need?—"

He cuts me off with a sharp thrust, hitting a spot so deep, so perfect, that I cry out. He grips my thighs, spreading me wider, his pace turning rougher, each stroke pushing me closer to the edge.

My body tenses, pleasure coiling tight, my orgasm hovering just out of reach.

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