Page 53 of Daddy Next Door

"Good girl," Ethan murmured, his free hand soothing over the spot he'd just struck. The contrast between the sharp sting of the crop and his gentle touch created a feedback loop of sensation that made me dizzy with desire.

The third stroke came faster, landing across both cheeks at their fullest point. I cried out, the sound echoing off the nursery walls. "Three, thank you, Daddy!"

"You're taking this so well," Ethan praised, his voice thick with arousal. "Your ass is starting to turn the most beautiful shade of pink."

I felt proud, somehow, of wearing his marks. Each stripe of pain was a badge of honor, proof of my submission and his dominance.

The fourth strike was lower, catching the sensitive spot where ass met thigh. The pain was sharper here, more immediate. I gasped, fingers digging into the padded bench. "Four, thank you, Daddy."

"Halfway there," Ethan said, dragging the crop teasingly across the newly sensitive flesh. "How are you feeling, little one?"

"Good," I managed, surprised to find it was true. "So good, Daddy."

He chuckled, the sound dark and promising. "I can see how good you feel. Your pussy is practically dripping for me."

As if to prove his point, he slid the crop between my legs again, gathering wetness before bringing it back up to trace the lines he'd already left on my ass. The combination of my own arousal and the leather against freshly spanked skin made me whimper.

The fifth strike came without warning, a diagonal slash across my right cheek. "Five! Thank you, Daddy!" The words tumbled out, almost a reflex now.

Something was happening to my body. Each impact sent shockwaves not just across my skin but deep inside me, as if invisible threads connected my ass to my core. The constant pressure of the nipple clamps added another layer of sensation, a baseline of sweet agony that enhanced everything else.

"You're starting to move your hips," Ethan observed, his voice both amused and approving. "Are you trying to rub yourself against the bench, little one?"

I hadn't realized I was doing it—a subtle rocking motion, seeking friction against my swollen clit. "I'm sorry, Daddy."

"Don't be." The crop traced a lazy circle on each reddened cheek. "I love watching you get turned on by your punishment. It shows me how good a girl you really are."

His words sent a flush of pleasure through me that had nothing to do with physical sensation. I wanted to be good for him, to please him, to show him I could take whatever he gave me.

The sixth stroke landed with precision on my left cheek again, overlapping with the second strike. The intensified pain made me cry out louder than before. "Six! Thank you, Daddy!"

My body felt electric, every nerve ending alive and singing. The distinction between pain and pleasure had blurred completely, becoming simply sensation—overwhelming, all-consuming sensation.

Seven and eight came in quick succession, one on each cheek, hardly giving me time to catch my breath between counting.

By now, my entire body was trembling. Sweat beaded on my forehead and between my breasts. The chain connecting the nipple clamps swung gently with each impact, creating small tugs that sent spikes of pleasure-pain straight to my core.

"Just two more," Ethan said, his hand smoothing over my heated flesh. "You're doing so beautifully, Lily. I'm so proud of you."

His praise washed over me like warm water. I felt myself opening further, surrendering more completely with each word.

The ninth stroke was the hardest yet, landing precisely where my thighs met my ass —that tender, sensitive area that sent shockwaves straight to my center. "Nine! Thank you, Daddy!" I was panting now, teetering on some precipice I hadn't anticipated.

"Last one," Ethan announced, his voice rough with desire. "This one's going to count. I want you to really feel it, little one."

I braced myself, though I had no idea where he would strike. The anticipation was almost unbearable, every second stretching into eternity as I waited.

When it came, the tenth stroke landed directly between my legs, the leather tip of the crop striking my exposed pussy with perfect precision. The impact was softer than the others but infinitely more intense, landing directly on my swollen clit.

"Ten! Thank you, Daddy!" I screamed, and then something extraordinary happened.

The combination of sensations—the persistent throb of the nipple clamps, the accumulated heat in my punished flesh, and that final precise strike to my most sensitive spot—sent me hurtling over an edge I hadn't seen coming. Waves of pleasure crashed through me, radiating outward from my core in pulses so intense they bordered on pain.

"Oh my god," I gasped, my body convulsing against the bench. "Daddy, I'm—I'm coming!"

The orgasm took me by surprise, overwhelming in its intensity. My inner walls clenched rhythmically around nothing, desperate to be filled. My clit throbbed in time with my heartbeat, every pulse sending fresh tremors through my body.

"That's it," Ethan encouraged, his hand pressing firmly against my lower back to ground me as I rode the waves. "Let go completely. Show me how much you love your punishment."

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