Secret Daddy(42)

“On your front,” I said, watching as she rolled over, her pert little ass just asking to be spanked bright red. Once she was laid on her chest, I knelt by the side of the bed, reaching underneath the corner for the first length of silk. “Arm out,” I said, waiting while she moved her hand towards me. Wrapping the fabric scarf around her wrist, I tied it loosely, better not do it too tight the first time.

I moved around the bed, tying each limb in turn until she was bound in place ready for me. I undressed quickly, my cock pointing towards her, so hard it was painful. Kissing my way from her ankles to her ass, I listened to her breathing, monitoring closely how she reacted to everything I did. She was already moaning and it made it all the more difficult not to thrust straight into her. It was nearly time for that, but first she had to be punished for her lateness.

Crushing her underneath my body, I thrust my cock between her legs, finding her clit, basking in the heat of it as I began to kiss the back of her neck. It took all my self control to resist sliding into her wetness but somehow I managed it, kissing my way back down to her ass, spreading her buttocks, my tongue gliding down the sweet valley that led to her puckered little hole, the sight of it making my cock twitch with desire. I dipped my tongue into her ass just once before climbing back up off the bed and crossing to my chest of drawers.

“Are you ready for your punishment?” I asked, reaching into the drawer, bringing out the crop, swishing it through the air in readiness.

“Be gentle with me,” she replied, shuffling in place, her pussy soaking wet in anticipation of me fucking her. She would have to wait for that. Punishment came first. Soon she’d learn that this was part of being my little girl. She had to submit to my punishment when she misbehaved.

“It’s too late for gentle,” I said, bringing the crop down on her buttocks with a resounding smack, the sharp sound echoing around the room as she let out a scream of shock.

“Stop!” she cried as I brought the crop down through the air a second time. I just managed to move it so it missed her ass, the tip instead hitting the bed with a pathetic muffled thud. “Let me go,” she begged. “Let me go right now.”

I looked down at her. She was completely in my power. I could ignore her plaintive demands, continue to whip her ass until it was burning hot and bright red, then I could fuck her and she would be able to do nothing about it. I glanced between her legs and my cock throbbed in readiness as she tugged at the bonds holding her in place, trying ineffectually to free herself. I looked at the crop and then back at her. And then I made my decision.





ONE





EVANGELINE





“Please do this for me, I’ll be your slave for life, please, please, please.”

“All right,” I replied, looking down at the stricken form of my housemate, Clare, laid out on the sofa. “You’ve only got a cold, I feel I should point out.”

“It’s the worst cold in the history of the world,” she said, sneezing loudly as an exclamation mark to finish her sentence.

She nodded towards the coffee table and I sighed, picking up the parcel she was supposed to deliver. “You’ll be my slave for life?”

“Well, for a week at least. Remember it’s got to be there by six.”

The couriers Clare worked for were all right but they were pretty strict about time off. If she’d arranged to deliver something and then didn’t, the delay meant she lost a week’s pay. If I didn’t do this for her, she’d have worked all week for free for the sake of a single remaining parcel that had arrived late on our doorstep. She carried things the last few miles for the personal service some customers demanded.

I looked at the address on the front of the box. Dominic Hawke, Skyview Apartment, Riverside Building. Right in the middle of the city. “You’ll have to get them to buzz you in,” Clare said, noticing my look. “It’s one of those sealed in for rich snobs places, don’t like us riffraff just wandering in there with our working class values.”

“Since when were you working class?” I asked, raising my eyebrows. “Your father’s a lecturer and your mother is an interior designer.”

“I’m more working class than the people in Riverside. You should see them, all tuxedos and top hats, and that’s just the kids.”

I sighed. “Drink your hot lemon thing and get some rest while I go do your shift in the coalmine.”

“All right, don’t tease me when I’m not well enough to fight back.”

“Why not? I can’t get away with it the rest of the time.”

I headed towards the hallway to collect my bike. She was pretty sick and I wasn’t really up to much.