She was brought out of her thoughts when the cane whipped down and lanced pain across her posterior. She screamed in agony and squirmed in place, her hips writhing as a second blow struck a moment later.
"That hurts so much," she said, the movement of her body making the plug grind against her insides, reminding her of its presence despite the stinging pain taking all of her attention.
"I know," he replied, striking her again. "You must learn to behave if you don't want me to use it again."
He landed a final blow with the cane before setting it aside, moving to sit on the bed next to her, rubbing her buttocks with his palms, soothing the burning sting that penetrated deep inside her.
"You are learning," he said softly. "But it will be some time before I can call you a grown up."
"I don't want to grow up," she replied, sucking on her dummy again. It was true, she didn't. She had only just begun to become his little girl. She had a new Papa, so different to her father, so much stronger. He would never give in to her tantrums, he would not be swayed by her tears. He set her boundaries she hadn't even realised she needed, he controlled her, he guided her, all from nothing but his compassion for her.
"I must have you," he muttered, undressing quickly as she glanced sideways at him. As he stripped, she marvelled once again at the size of his cock, the way it jutted towards her as he climbed onto the bed and lay over her, pushing himself between her legs, his lips brushing over the back of her neck.
"You're so wet," he whispered into her ear as he thrust slowly into her, the weight of his body pushing the plug deeper into her at the same moment. "I will never get used to it."
"I'm still getting used to the size of you," she replied, groaning as he thrust all the way inside her. "I can hardly take it."
"You take it all," he said, pulling back and then thrusting again, grinding against her as she gripped him in place, never wanting him to leave her.
The motion of his body against hers made her want to turn over and wrap herself around him but the bonds held her too tightly in place. She tugged at her restraints as his movements inside her grew faster, heat building up in her body as he began to pant into her ear. "Oh fuck," he muttered, "that's so good."
"Fuck me, Papa," she replied, the dummy falling from her mouth. "I want to feel it inside me. Come in me, fuck me, harder, oh, fuck."
Her body began to tense up as he slammed into her, each thrust pushing the plug deeper. She felt him twitch in her and knew he was close. Pushing her hips back against him, she gave him room to go deeper still, completely filling her as her clit throbbed with desire. The motion of him alone was enough to bring her to the brink and when his lips brushed her neck again, he buried himself in her and she came, an orgasm that took over her entire body, causing it to shake uncontrollably on the bed, her mouth open but no words coming out.
He thrust again and it was enough to make her climax stronger still. "Oh, fuck," he muttered, slamming into her a final time, his cock twitching, hot cum spurting from him and filling her up as he collapsed against her, breathing heavily, his body falling still, his cock still buried inside her.
"Did I do well, Papa?" she asked. "Letting you come inside me? Am I a good girl?"
"You are," he replied, kissing her ear as he slid slowly from her. "You are a good little girl."
BONUS STORY TWO
LAURA
Chapter 1
"Father, I need a new horse."
Laura was sitting alone in her bedroom, looking at herself in the dressing table mirror. Too angry a tone of voice, she thought, too strident. He would only grumble and shake his head. It was important to get the tone and facial expression just right. Even her father might blanche at the idea of two new horses in as many weeks.
"Father, I need a new horse." That was better. Eyes wider, more innocent. Lip downturned, full of sorrow and regret that she was having to ask so soon after the last one had arrived. Perhaps making her lip tremble might clinch it.
"Father, I need a new horse." Perfect. Time to try it out for real.
Ever since she was old enough to talk, Laura had been used to getting her own way. One of her earliest memories was seeing the guilt in his eyes when she had unwrapped her Christmas presents and promptly began screaming so loudly it made her eyes water.
"Where's my pony?" she'd demanded between screams. "Where's my pony?"
"Your mother thinks you're a little too young," Lord Wallace Rothsfield replied, tugging at his shirt collar as if it had grown suddenly tighter.
"Do not act as if this were my decision," Lady Rothsfield replied before turning to Laura. "Your father thinks four year olds should not ride ponies. It could be dangerous."
"Where's my pony? I told Father Christmas to bring me a pony. You promised me he would. Where's my pony?" She stamped her feet and sobbed her heart out, tugging at her hair until it came out in clumps.
They gave in of course, providing their daughter with a beautiful chestnut brown pony by the name of Winifred. She rode it twice.
From that experience young Laura learned two things. One, if you shouted and screamed for long enough, you would get whatever you wanted. Two, her parents would do anything to please her. She used that knowledge to her advantage throughout her childhood, ensuring that whatever desire or whim struck her, it would be met by her doting parents no matter what the cost.
Things continued in this fashion until she turned sixteen. Shortly after her birthday, her mother fell ill. Lady Rothsfield spent the last of her days in her sickbed listening to Laura complain about how unfair life was to her. "You're only sick. I am traumatised. I shall soon have no mother and then where will I be?"
After Lady Rothsfield's death, any reins holding her father in check vanished and it seemed to Laura as if he overcame his grief by lavishing increasingly elaborate and expensive gifts on her, his only child. It was not enough though and soon Laura began to demand her inheritance, a sum of money left specifically by her mother for her only, to be granted once certain conditions were met.
"It will come to you if you marry before your twenty-first birthday," Laura's father said after a tediously long meeting with the family solicitor finally concluded with the pair of them remaining in the study and the solicitor hastily beating a retreat.
"I was in the meeting, father," she replied, scowling at the back of the solicitor as the butler escorted him to the door. "I still don't see why I can't have my money now."
"It doesn't work like that darling girl. He did explain it to us."
"But she was your wife. Doesn't that make it your money? You could just give it to me."
"I wish I could," he said, his face pleading with her not to start screaming. "I truly do but unfortunately the will was explicit on that point."
"But why does she want me married off?"
"I think your mother worried that … " he paused, as if trying to find the right words, "that you might not find a husband who appreciates your unique qualities."
"You hate me don't you?"
"No of course not. I love you Laura."
"Then why are you doing this to me?"
"It is not I my sweet, it is the wish of your mother that you marry. I do not care if you remain a spinster all your life."
"Of course you do not care." Her voice rose and the foot stamping began. "I want my money!"
"You must marry first."
"Never! I shall never marry."
In the end her father was the one to marry, or to remarry in sin as Laura put it. It was the eve of Laura's eighteenth birthday. A ball was held in the largest room of the house, the cream of local society in attendance. He brought over a woman to where Laura was sitting looking bored. "Darling," he began. "I would like to meet Maria Sanderson."
Laura shrugged. "I care not for your friends, father. I am more concerned with my distinct lack of dancing partners."
"I have wonderful news," her father continued. "We are going to be married."
Laura's face turned purple. "Mother not yet cold and you set up happy families with some trollop?" She got to her feet and stamped her foot. "I hate her and I hate you!" She ran from the room, not stopping until she reached her bedroom where she slammed herself into a chair. Looking into her dressing table mirror she added, "I hate them both!"
Despite her best efforts the wedding did take place. They did not seem to care for the whispers and gossip regarding remarriage. She felt the shame even if they did not. She refused to attend, remaining in her room and sobbing into her pillow, resolutely furious despite the new horse her father had just bought her in an effort to mend the divide between them. The day after the wedding she heard the two of them downstairs and decided it was time to move the attention from that slut back to herself where it belonged.