Page 40 of Daddy's Little Convict
He increased the pressure, pulling the thick part all the way out before pumping it back in again.
The pinch was steady, but it wasn't half as intense as the pleasure. It washed her, laved her, battered away at her insides in a pulsing dance the fullness of being fucked like this only amplified.
"No." His hand settled on her back. "Don't arch up. Push your bottom out. Take it for Daddy."
"It… uh, hurts a little," she gasped.
"I know. Take it anyway. Daddy will make it worth it."
She fisted her hands in the bedding, gritting her teeth against a hurt that should have been intense and yet wasn't. Wetness dripped onto her thighs, trickling down the inside of her trembling legs as her pussy twitched and fluttered, jealously throbbing for its turn under his pseudo thrusts.
"Imagine Daddy doing this with my cock when you've been naughty and your bottom is all hot and ouchie, and decorated by the welts of my belt."
No one should like the way that sounded, and yet, she couldn’t stop moaning and writhing. The tension in her belly was building. The flutters and spasms came tighter and tighter together until her thighs were shaking nonstop and euphoria was right there. Tickling at her womb, swelling in her neglected clit.
"Don't come," he ordered abruptly, thrusting the plug into her one more time, then letting it go. He swatted each side of her bottom, driving her to hike her ass that much higher. Already the sharpness of his strokes was fading, swallowed up by the building pleasure.
She cried out her loss as the roiling orgasm retreated when he climbed back off the bed. His belt clinked, and somewhere in her mind she heard again the way he'd said,Decorated by the welts of my belt.
She bowed her back, arching her bottom higher, so roused she couldn’t stop from begging, "Daddy, are you spanking me?"
She honestly didn't know what to pray for. How could she want him to do that to her?
How could she not?
But no, his pants hit the floor, followed by his undershirt.
"What do you want, baby?" he asked, climbing up on the bed behind her, the jut of his fully erect cock leading the way.
To her it looked huge, like all the rest of him. She'd never wanted anything more. But to have to say it out loud…
She mewed, hoping he'd just do it, but he didn't touch her and God she needed him to. She needed his touch to ease the wanton throbbing.
What did she need most of all?
"Daddy's cock," she declared, loud and clear even with her face buried in the blankets. It was just so embarrassing. "I need Daddy's cock."
"Don’t worry baby," he rumbled with a laugh. "Daddy's going to take good care of all your needs."
He cupped her ass, spreading her cheeks as his thumbs splayed open the folds of her sex. She felt the bump and nudge of his cock as he moved in to straddle her legs, fitting the impossible head of him right where she ached to feel him most.
When he pushed, he did it slowly, the slickness of her guiding the way as he stretched her open and filled her up.
"God," she gasped, groaning louder the deeper he went. It wasn’t her first time, that she'd thrown away in an awkward fumbling on prom night in the backseat of her then-boyfriend's car. But in many ways, it was the first time.
Her first with a man and it was phenomenal, the difference between boys and men.
Her first in a bed, in handcuffs… her first with Daddy. Her first real orgasm too, and he'd only just started to move when it happened, tearing through her on waves so gloriously overwhelming that she couldn’t stop.
He wasn't stopping either. He rode her like he was her God and she his creation. How else could he know exactly where to touch to make her body come so richly alive? How else could he know that her nipples ached to be pinched and plucked, caressedand loved? How could he know how and where and when to slip his fingers between her legs and shock her lazy clit into rousing again? That when she cried her steady stream of nonsensical nos into the mattress that she actually meant yes, with all her heart?
He reached down, wrapping his hand securely around her throat. He pulled her back onto her knees, her back against his chest, one hand on the pulse of her neck while the other rubbed endless demanding stimulation into her clit. The shaking returned twice as bad as before. The tension began to wind, and his hips spanked her bottom with the vigor of his pumping. Each thrust bumped the plug until it felt as if she were being fucked by him in both places at once.
He let go of her neck, moving his hand to her mouth. She didn't fight the two fingers he forced into her mouth. She'd have sucked them if she could. She'd kissed a penis once, but never worked up the courage to put it in her mouth. She couldn’t help but pretend she was doing that for him now. It was instinctive—she licked and sucked and bobbed on his fingers as if they were his cock. Her pussy spasmed as he nipped at the lobe of her ear and in that honeyed tone of his said, "Come for Daddy, babygirl. Let me feel you coming on my cock."
He repeated his command three times. On the fourth, she erupted with obedience, and in the middle of her pussy’s milking throes, she felt him come too. Of all the things he'd so far done for her, this was the one she liked the most.
Like. It was such an ineffectual word to define what had just happened.
