“I think I’ve been too indulgent with your orgasms, girl.” His early morning growl brought me close to tears. Only one orgasm after more than an hour of teasing and six hours of sleep. But he was not wrong…
The night before, standing at the foot of my bed, he kissed my neck and gently tweaked my nipples. I moaned into his mouth, and then mentioned something about needing my shirt before we went to bed. Big mistake.
He played with my body, bringing me close to the brink with his fingertips. Wrapping my arms around his neck, I pulled him closer. I wanted more.
I felt the warmth of his breath as he leaned close to my ear and whispered, “Go get your damn shirt if it’s so important to you.” I could hear the disgust in his tone. I whined and whimpered, grabbing his hardening cock, stroking him. I wanted to distract him from the annoyance he felt. I wanted to be his little girl to indulge. He allowed the treatment for a moment, and then I heard, “No, you want your shirt so fucking bad, go get it.”
Whimpering, I begged him not to make me. “Please, Daddy, please no. I want to make you happy.”
In a gruff tone, he ordered me to the bed. On my back, in the center of the bed, I breathed hard as he began a slow, languid exploration of my softest, most tender spots. He played my nipples like a harp. He stroked my inner arms and behind my knees. I keened and mewled. In recent days, I’d struggled with teasing touches, sharp pain, and explosive orgasms. This night, I wanted to ride the waves of pleasure – and possible pain. I wanted to feel, even as he tortured me.
He touched me everywhere but where I needed him most. I pushed my pelvis into the air, spreading my legs wide, as if to say, “I’m right here. Don’t you see me?” Finally, I felt his fingers graze my outer labia, a light kiss, the merest hint of touch. I whimpered; my body trembled. I felt the moisture pooling deep within my body. Desperate for his touch, I writhed next to him.
Several minutes passed as I forgot to breath, and my body trembled uncontrollably. His touch became more insistent, pressing into my slit without penetrating. I cried out, rubbing my body against his hand, begging for release. Beads of sweat formed at my temples. My body shook uncontrollably.
He yanked off his pants, throwing them to the floor. “Straddle me, girl.”
I rushed to obey his command, desperate to feel him inside of me. Lifting my body over him, I sheathed his cock like a sword. With no hesitation, he lifted me off of his shaft.
“Oh no. Don’t even think of letting that happen again. You will not get my cock right now.”
I realized that I could tease myself with the head of his cock. I rocked back and forth, begging, “Please, please, please, please.” Over and over again, a litany of “please” poured from my mouth. Please let me fuck you; please let me cum – I don’t know what I begged for, but I begged nonetheless.
Showing no mercy to my over-sensitized body, he grabbed both breasts, crushing them in his hands. His teeth sank in deep, alternated by his tongue which soothed the bite marks. Bracing myself against the wall behind his head, my head fell back as I shrieked and begged, no longer able to speak coherently. I rubbed against his cock faster and faster, praying for relief or mercy.
“Do not even think of fucking cumming right now.” His voice gave me pause even as my body reacted with desire.
He pulled me close so that his lips were close to my ear. “Now, I want you to do what I ask without question right now. Do you hear me?”
I nodded and whimpered. In this moment, I wasn’t Daddy’s indulged babygirl. I was a bad girl, and I knew it.
“Get up, and go get that fucking shirt that was so fucking important to you. Now!” His voice was a whisper, but the affect was no different than a roar. I crumpled into his chest, sobbing. I hid my face in shame as I slowly crawled off of him and out of the bed, my eyes downcast. I shuffled to the dresser, crying the tears of a reprimanded child. As fast as I could, I found a shirt and threw it over my head, no longer caring to be clothed, desperate to be naked and curled in his arms, the favored babygirl again.
I came back to bed and curled up next to Daddy. I buried my head in his chest and keened with sorrow. Devoid of tears, I began to drift, feeling sorry for myself and sorrier for my strange behavior throughout the week.
I blinked in confusion. Was Daddy doing what I thought he was? I refused to turn my head to confirm what my ears already knew. I wasn’t allowed to touch him; I wasn’t allowed to bring him pleasure. Tears began to form again. Hope prevailed as I convinced myself that maybe he would cum in my mouth. His fingers moved through my hair, soothing strokes in sharp contrast to the utilitarian movement of his other hand on his cock.
I imagined the softness of his skin against my hand or mouth. I knew the sensitive spots that would make his breath catch in his throat. And I was denied that pleasure.
The sound echoed in my brain. His touch was confident and easy. He knew what to do to bring himself to the brink. I sensed this was less for him and more for my benefit, a punishment of sorts.
He paused for a moment. I brought my head up and looked into his eyes. “I’m sorry, Daddy.” The whisper was barely audible.
“What are you sorry for, babygirl?”
I looked away, collecting my thoughts. My eyes met his. “I’m sorry for trying to be in charge and being impatient.” My voice trembled. I felt small and insignificant.
“Thank you, babygirl.” Daddy pulled me close, wrapping his arms around me, holding me tight. “I love you, babygirl.”
“I love you, too, Daddy.” My body relaxed a little. I knew I was forgiven. I also knew nothing was forgotten.
Moments later, he manuevered my body onto my side and pushed his cock into my dripping cunt. I still had not climaxed. Tonight, I would not be granted that privilege. Understanding filled my body, and I gave myself over to simply being of use to him. His thrusting caused wet, squelching sounds to fill the room. His hand alternated between my throat and my hair as his other hand gripped my hip in a crushing grasp; bruises would surely follow.
His grunts and groans became more primal. I knew he was close to the edge. At last, he pressed my hips into the bed with both hands; his cocked moved in and out of my body like a piston. With one deep, feral cry, he filled my body with his seed. Shaking and shuddering, he slowly withdrew. I felt his cum dripping down my thighs – a reminder that this night was for him alone.
Pulling me into his arms, he held me close. I closed my eyes, thankful that I could no longer feel aggravation emanating from him. I had a desperate need to please. I would make no demands or teasing innuendos. I heard soft snores that only stopped when I shifted, disturbing his impending descent into sleep.
“Daddy,” I whispered, fearful of disturbing him. “Would you like me to turn off the light?”
Jumping up, I moved to the other side of the bed, adjusted the covers for him, and turned out the light. Climbing back into bed, I pulled the covers over him and snuggled against him. Allowing myself to relax, I tried to ignore the throb between my thighs.
In case you wondered, the next morning, as the sun rose, I felt his fingers on my pussy, pressing deep. I feared the denial, but I begged to cum. Permission granted, I exploded against his hand, ejaculate squirting onto the bed beneath me. I mumbled a “thank you, Daddy” and drifted off to sleep again.