Page 52 of Daddy Next Door

I found myself arching back slightly, seeking more pressure.

"Ah-ah," he chided gently. "Stay in position. This is my show."

I forced myself to relax back into the designated pose, though every nerve ending seemed to reach toward his touch.

The crop continued its exploration, sliding down the back of my thigh, then up the inside, approaching but never quite reaching my center. My breath came faster as Ethan worked methodically, introducing my body to the texture and feel of the implement that would soon deliver both pain and pleasure.

"The anticipation is part of the punishment," Ethan murmured, as if reading my thoughts. "Not knowing when or where the next touch will land."

As if to demonstrate, he suddenly flicked the crop against the side of my thigh—not hard, barely more than a tap, but unexpected enough to make me gasp.

"Just a taste," he said, his voice deepening with desire.

The crop returned to its gentle exploration, now focusing on the exposed curve of my ass. Ethan traced the line where the thong disappeared between my cheeks, then followed it down to where I was open and vulnerable.

"You're dripping," he observed, the crop collecting my wetness as he slid it through my folds. "So eager for your punishment."

The leather tip circled my entrance, gathering more of my arousal before moving forward to tease my clit. The contact was so light, so maddening in its gentleness, that I had to bite my lip to keep from begging for more.

"Does that feel good, little one?" Ethan asked, continuing the whisper-soft touches against my most sensitive spot.

"Yes, Daddy," I managed, my voice strained with need.

"Good. Because soon, this same crop will be teaching you a different kind of lesson." He withdrew the teasing implement, and I felt a moment of loss before his warm hand replaced it, cupping my sex possessively. "But don't worry—I'll make sure you enjoy every second of your punishment."

His fingers slipped easily through my wetness, circling my entrance but not pushing inside. It was another form of teasing—showing me what I wanted but holding it just out of reach.

"Please," I whispered, unable to stop myself.

"Please what?" His fingers stilled.

"Please... touch me more."

Ethan chuckled, the sound warm and rich. "Oh, I'm going to touch you, alright. But not the way you're thinking."

He withdrew his hand entirely, and I heard him move into position behind me. The crop returned, this time dragging slowly over the fullest part of my ass.

"Ten strikes," he announced. "You'll count each one and thank me for it. If you miss a count or forget to thank me, we start over. Understand?"

"Yes, Daddy," I replied, my voice steadier than I expected.

"Perfect." He stepped back slightly, and I could feel the shift in the air as he positioned himself. "Are you ready for your first stroke?"

My heart pounded against the padded bench. The nipple clamps sent continuous waves of sensation through my chest. My pussy throbbed with anticipation. I was terrified and exhilarated all at once.

"Yes, Daddy. I'm ready."

I felt rather than saw him raise the crop. There was a moment of perfect stillness, a breath where time seemed suspended.

Then the whistle of the crop cutting through air, followed by a sharp CRACK as leather met flesh.

The pain bloomed across my right ass cheek—a stinging heat that radiated outward from the point of impact. I gasped, my entire body tensing, then melting as the initial sting transformed into something deeper, warmer, almost pleasurable.

"One," I counted, remembering my instructions. "Thank you, Daddy."

"Good girl," Ethan praised, his voice husky with desire. "Nine more to go."

The second strike landed on my left cheek, harder than the first. Pain flared across my skin like lightning searching for ground. I arched involuntarily, a moan escaping my lips before I remembered my duty. "Two, thank you, Daddy." My voice shook, not from fear but from the strange alchemy happening in my body—pain transforming into a pleasure so intense it bordered on unbearable.

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