RemoteUser
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A slight crack rose up from the baseboard of the wall, branching off and outward like a barren autumn tree, spread upwards a good twelve inches, perhaps more. It split through the smooth white paint, marring its purity and standing out bold, black with a hint of the colour of the wood beneath. Spreading out from the baseboard was a plush, odd-red carpet, dull in appearance but surprisingly soft and resilient to its overuse.
To the left of this stood a dresser, an older style made from newer wood, polished and stained with scuffs in the lacquer showing signs of premature age. Most of the dresser was obscured from view by the side of the bed, its rumpled sheets hanging loosely, unfitted, a faint musty smell rising from them under the scent of a too-strong detergent. To the right, the carpet pooled out, a rusty calm sea, meeting the wall's white horizon.
This was all that she could see from her position on the floor, kneeling. Waiting.
The still quiet tension of the air was broken, cracked like the wall but deeper, with a voice that held a calm but firm timbre. "Now that you have had some time to collect your thoughts, we will begin. Daddy is going to help you with your concentration."
She heard from move from the bed but did not move her head. He had instructed her not to move or speak, and until he gave permission, she would do as he bade. It seemed prudent, given these newest words. He slipped to the carpet, whisper like, behind her. She felt the heat of his body; could smell him, a faint odour of cologne mixed with his own intoxicating scent. She felt a flush creep into her cheeks and felt a tremor run through her. If he noticed the movement, he said nothing.
One hand was pressed flat into her back. She trembled. The hand slipped up her back, creeping over her shoulder and sliding sideways until the fingers pressed neatly around her neck. Her back stiffened and she let out a small gasp. He knew what this did to her, how it asserted his control of her completely. She bit her lip to avoid talking, waiting for his next words.
They were not long in coming. "Do you have any questions, girl?"
"No, Daddy." Her own voice sounded small compared to his, weak, and she tilted slightly forward into the embrace of her neck. She felt a million questions in her mind; there were always thoughts racing around, uncontrolled, unrelenting, and few things took that away or muted them. He was one of those things. Her mind kept racing but the din was soft, as she strained, waiting for the commands she knew he would give.
A gasp barked from her lips unbidden as he pressed into her from behind, her back met by his chest, his hand pressing in tighter, gripping firmly but not cutting off her air - not yet. She knew it would come, and felt the heat between her legs rising. His other hand slipped around her side to grab roughly at her breast, his huge hand cupping her roughly, fingertips finding her nipple as it immediately hardened from his touch. She let out another broken gasp as his mouth found the back of her neck, teeth dragging teasingly along the skin. He mouth moved to her ear, hot breath filling her as the words slipped out and into her mind.
"Does this feel good, girl?"
She struggled to move her lips; the shock of his control had already taken over her. She managed to mumble, "Yes, Daddy."
"How good?" And his fingers pinched harder, the tip of his tongue flickering over the curve of the edge of her ear.
"Very good, Daddy." She was shaking. The sound of his voice and the touch of his hands, on her breast and throat, made her feel captured, pinned, small; and more, it made the heat burn between her legs, wetness forming, as she felt her own need rising to be taken and used by him.
His fingers slipped from her nipple with a snap, and she let out a small cry of pain that turned into more breathy gasps as his mouth found her neck once more. His hand then gripped the soft flesh of her breast hard, tips digging in until she could feel the red marks forming. He pressed into her lower back; she felt his hard bulge and his mouth as his other hand tightened slightly over her neck. There was nothing but his touch and her wetness as it grew, her needy body ready for him to take and use as he wished.
"Does it hurt?" his voice whispered in her ear, a hiss. She nodded dumbly, and then managed to make her mouth work as she shook.
"Yes, Daddy. It hurts. It hurts so good."
His hand pushed back on her throat then, forcing the back of her neck to his mouth, where his teeth caught the flesh and suckled. Her body shook from pleasure and fear and pain as his other hand clawed deeper into the flesh of her breast.
He released her neck from his mouth and she found herself leaning back into him, wanting more; but he would not continue. Instead, he murmured, "Do you want to wear the mark of Daddy's fingers on your breast, girl?"
"Please." The word came from her quietly, but she felt like a pleading, guttural slut. "Please, Daddy, yes, mark me. Make me yours."
His hand slipped from her breast, away from her body, and she whimpered, confused. What did she do wrong; why wasn't he bruising her, claiming her, as only her Daddy could do?
The hand gripping her neck suddenly pulled forward, jerking her along with it, and she felt to her hands and knees. His body slid forward with hers, and as her buttocks rose from the floor they met roughly with his hard bulge. She heard the zipper and felt her legs opening of their own accord, exposing herself to him, giving him full access to her. A moment later his shaft was rubbing against her wetness, teasing it. She pushed back against him, aware of how empty she was without him inside and craving him, needing him to thrust in hard, deep, roughly slamming into her as his hand gripped around her neck. She felt herself dripping and her mouth twisted as it managed to stammer, "Please! Yes, Daddy. Fuck me. Use me. Make me your little slut."
His weight bore down on her back and she took it, as his free hand slipped back around to her breast. The fingers found the exact spots they had bruised before and squeezed in harder as he rocked his hips, rubbing her more fiercely, the tip stabbing into her clit. She was breathing heavy, and then gasping as his hand closed tighter around her neck.
"I could slip inside you." The words fell into her ear and she moaned.
"Please, yes. Please..."
"But then - " his words cut her off and her mouth snapped shut audibly. "But then you would be marked by my cum when I filled you." He squeezed her breast again for emphasis. "You can only wear one mark this time, girl. Pick one."
"I..." She shook her head. She couldn't think. His cock was hot against her, probably glistening from the amount of juices she felt were pouring from her. His fingers stabbed hard into the skin of her breast. The pain was good because it pleased him, but she was needy, empty...
"My cunt," she managed to reply. "It's so empty Daddy. Please, fill it. Claim it. Spill your cum inside your little slut girl." Her slit pressed down against him. "Take me, please, take me, Daddy..."
His hand slipped from her breast and clamped around her neck. She felt her throat closing as she gasped for air, as his hips continued to thrust and rub along the outside of her soaked slit. She pushed back harder, trying to angle herself to take him inside; but he managed to keep his thick shaft against her, teasing her, poking into her clit.
She was growing needier, but he would not enter. "Daddy?" she asked in a soft voice. "Won't you fuck me, please? Won't you force your cock into your girl's tight little cunt; hurt me, use me? I'll be a good girl. I'll do whatever my Daddy wants."
His only response was to tighten his hands, at first; then the head slipped inside her, and the guttural moan pent up inside her tumbled out, turning into a gasp as it forced through her closing windpipe. He arced his hips and half the length stabbed inside her; her fingers curled as she pushed back, trying to take the full length of him inside her, needing to please him, needing to be used.
"Fuck!" she spat out through her twitching lips as he rammed into her, suddenly invading her, overwhelming her. She let out a choking gasp and grunted, "Yes, fuck your little whore, Daddy.." Her words were cut off by the grip of his fingers; her whole body tensed as she shook, struggled weakly, letting him do as he wished. She felt each thrust as a numbing shock of pleasure, felt her lungs struggle and her juices drip down her legs, wet noises coming from her as he took her roughly, over and over again.
He suddenly let go of her. Spots flashed before her eyes and she was dizzy as he flipped her over to her back, forcing her legs out wide, pressing hard into her once and holding himself inside as his hands held her neck firmly once more. He leaned over, staring down into her eyes.
"If you want to be filled," he said slowly, each word measured, "you will say, 'I love you'. Each time you say it I will pull out and thrust back inside you, hard. The more you say it, the more I will thrust; and if you do it enough to pleasure me you will be filled."
She could hardly think. She tried to open her mouth and took several small gasps of air. Finally she whispered the words.
"I love you."
He pulled out of her, rubbing against her clit, and as she twitched he forced himself back in her completely with a brutal stroke of his hips. She shook and tried to say it again.
"I..." Her voice was weak from the choking and the feelings coursing through her.
"I love you."
Out he slipped once more, teasing her clit and then filling her hard again. She saw the pleasure in his eyes and she took a deep breath, bracing herself.
"I love you, Daddy."
Out he slipped, and in he came again. This time she wasn't shock as much by the forceful thrust; she felt him filling her and moaned.
"Ah, yes, Daddy, please...I love you so much..."
Again he entered her, and she whimpered the words again. Soon the air was filled with sweat and the stink of her own juices, mingled with her cries of love and the wet noises of his penetration. The words came faster, he forced himself harder into her, and then the fingers tightened once more. She knew he was close.
"Yes, Daddy, cum inside your little slut! Fuck, I love you, I love you, I love you..."
His hips bucked as he thrust rhythmically into her. She wasn't close enough; she didn't care. She needed to please him, needed his hot liquid to sink inside her. She rocked against him, reciting her litany and taking more and more of him, begging him to cum, to make her a whore, to use her as a dumping hole for his cum.
His mouth crushed down against hers and she wrapped her arms and legs around him, shaking as she felt him twitch inside her, filling her, making her the whore she knew she was; his whore, used for his pleasure.
Spent, his weight settled down on her, and she sighed, feeling safe filled with him, covered by him. He stroked her hair, murmured soft, sweet words, and she felt safe, loved.
Happy.
She also knew that he would take her again later, in a way far less gentle. He would spit on her, slap her, crush her throat, and the feelings of being reduced to nothing would explode inside her, releasing her. She would cum harder than he would.
But for now, being trapped in his arms was all she wanted. This was a moment to share with her lover, her partner, her Daddy. The other moments would all play out when they did. She was wrapped up in feelings of satisfaction and accomplishment, having given him what he desired, and she wanted to enjoy each breath with him.
Until he took it away, once more.
_____________________________
There is nothing worse than being right. Instead of being right, then, try to be open. It is more difficult, and more rewarding.
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