Page 48 of Watch Me, Daddy

The breeze picked up again, cooling the wetness between my legs. The blush painting my face grew that much hotter as a fresh wave of shameful arousal cascaded over me with a wicked intensity that left my head and my body reeling with desire.

His palm pressed against the lower curve of my ass, settling right over my pussy. The closeness of his fingers to the place I wanted him to touch the most drove me mad with passionate need, and I couldn’t help but rock my hips up in hopes that he would give me what I so desperately wanted.

Instead, he pulled his hand back and lightly smacked my right bottom cheek. It didn’t really sting, but the clapping sound was louder than I’d expected out here.

“Someone might hear!” I exclaimed nervously.

“Then they’ll hear a naughty girl getting exactly what she needs, won’t they?”

I covered my face with my hands, my blushing shame taking over my every waking thought. My nipples pebbled in the cross breeze, and I pressed my thighs closer together like I could hide everything in between my legs. As if he was reading my mind, he angled one of his thighs a bit higher, further elevating my bottom. Fully exposed, I couldn’t help but feel vulnerable and irrationally turned on.

His rough palm glided over my skin with a delicate yet purposeful touch. As his hand moved, my senses ignited, waiting for him to mark my flesh with his desire. His other hand wound around my waist, holding me firmly in place for what was to come.

The second spank was harder than the first. The sound of flesh smacking flesh reverberated through the tranquil air, its sharpness slicing through the calm with a reverberating echo. The noise seemed to linger, a fleeting moment suspended in time before fading into the serenity of the surrounding landscape, and I closed my eyes, my pussy pulsing in tune with the waves of the lake lapping against the shore.

The spanking began to pick up, both in pace and intensity. My bottom jostled with every stinging smack, but he wasn’t spanking me as hard as last night. Instead, he was spanking me just hard enough to sting, and it was driving me wild with arousal.

A relentless fire of desire surged within me, its magnitude growing with every firm smack. My pulse quickened and I felt my self-control slipping, like grains of sand sifting through my fingers, carried away by the fierce current of longing that threatened to consume me. The ache deepened, blurring the lines between reality and the intoxicating haze of passion.

I wanted more. I needed more.

The pace built steadily, but it still wasn’t enough to satisfy me. My thighs drifted apart, and I arched my back, lifting my hips to show him that I was willing to take more.

“Daddyyy,” I whined, struggling a bit against his hold. I wanted him to overpower me, to take everything he wanted from me and more. The hand gripping my waist tightened, and I reached my hand back, using my fingers to block my bottom from him with a giggle.

“I can see I’m going to have to be firmer with you than I thought,” he growled, his tone still light with playfulness.

His fingers curled around my wrist, easily pinning my hand behind my back as his hand rained down on my bare bottom. I pressed my thighs back together as I tried to grapple with the increase in intensity. My toes curled, and I kicked my legs a little, the burning sting washing over my naked flesh like wildfire.

The simmer settled straight in my core, making me needy and wanting. The building pressure deep in my belly throbbed with an insistent, passionate yearning that seemed to echo in every fiber of my being. Raw, primal energy crackled between us, setting my senses ablaze and stoking the flames of my desire even higher.

I wasn’t really thinking anymore. I was simply lost in the sensation of his hand peppering my bottom and the incessant pulse of desire in between my thighs. I couldn’t stand it. I needed more.

Without really thinking it through, I curled around his leg, bared my teeth, and bit him.

It wasn’t really hard enough to physically hurt him. Truthfully, I doubted that I could. He was so much bigger and stronger than me that I didn’t even think it was possible.

I didn’t bite him because I wanted the spanking to stop.

I was telling him that I wanted more. I wanted itharder.

“Did you just bite me, princess?” he said, his voice full of deceptively playful warning, and I bit my lip, suddenly nervous that I had quite literally bitten off more than I could chew.

“Maybe,” I sassed.

“I can see that I’m not getting through to you with just my hand, naughty girl. It’s time I took off my belt,” he continued firmly, and my breath caught in the back of my throat.

“You can’t mean to…” I began, suddenly nervous enough for a glimmer of self-preservation to finally kick in.

“It’s Daddy that decides how he deals with you, isn’t it, babygirl?”

I shivered with heat. Fear and desire waged an intense battle within me, like two opposing forces clashing in a raging storm. My heart raced with apprehension; my mind filled with the uncertainties of what was to come.

Could I take his belt? Would it hurt too much?

Would it hurt just enough?

I didn’t know what was wrong with me. I should be angry that he was spanking me, but I couldn’t bring myself to be. I was just as much a willing participant in this. My body was demanding it.

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