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The smack of his palm on her arse was so sharp it echoed, followed by her primal cry, head turning toward him as he chuckled. “Quiet,” he demanded, forcing her to bite off with a whimper, draped on his lap, “unless it is to count. Had you not said enough earlier?” One. On her creamy skin, a red mark was already forming, speckled through with soft tawny freckles. Perhaps it had not been a very good idea to tease him so relentlessly before his entire family, leaning in and whispering what it was they could be doing at that moment instead of planning out Pall Mall, and how he'd promised her, first, with a Later, then, a warning, now, a punishment, finally stolen away in a tucked off room. Swallowing, she waited, on edge, before he reared back to deliver another as she muffled herself, hiding her face in her own skirt. Her face already pinked through, she felt small and tender, two three four– then how he trailed his rough fingertips between her thighs, teasing her to a puddle.
Penelope didn’t count, not aloud, couldn’t tolerate the indignity, cheeks a high red as he spanked her, harder each time. If the first had been rough, by the tenth it was near unbearable, leaving her little ‘ah’s to lengthen until she was mewling into the linens, knees shuffling apart as she arched into the impact. He could not even do her the courtesy of a rhythm, for sometimes he would ghost his nails in soothing reprieve after two, and then smack smack smack on and on until she nearly forgot herself. She supposed he had to make it a punishment in some capacity, considering she had all but requested aloud for him to do so.
Suddenly he stopped entirely, leaving her to squirm atop him, pleading with herself to still. God, did it smart, throbbing, dipping into pleasurepain that shocked in her bones at each clench. He’d left her breath ragged and hard, forcing her to deepen each one for a semblance of ease he refused to give her. “Hm? Nothing to say, now?” he asked, near amused, shaking his head, hand coming up her spine in a slow skitter. He hiked her dress higher, skimming where her stays exposed from her upturned skirt, to the pool of it, of her, past her bodice until he carded through her hair.
It was so sweet, so loving, she fell into the lull, eyes closed as the radiating pain shifted to an impossible desire that twisted her belly. She panted wordlessly as he wound and wound, sensual. So close to the scalp, his fist looped in a slow circle then tugged. Harsh. Wrenched her head back to expose her throat, swallow caught in the motion. “Naughty thing, I suppose I should not be surprised you cannot follow directions.”
Had she less reign, she’d snuffle, head tipped back, blinking wetly at him for mercy. Her arse and thighs pounded, how he’d swatted at the delicate insides, bringing every nerve to the surface. “Daddy-” she began, knowing what the title did to him, how she felt him twitch, hard and affected beneath her, belly rolling just at the word. She waited, thinking through what more there was to say. Daddy, more. Daddy, don’t stop. Daddy, take care of me. Daddy, I’m sorry. (I'm not sorry) I’m sorry, please?
“Hm? What are you asking Daddy?” he teased, words and whirls both, his other hand coming to her lips, puffed from his ministrations, and gently patting her before he rubbed with his entire palm, eyes hazy as she moaned. Colin clicked his tongue. “Now, now- did I not tell you? You are to be-” another tug at her hair, another indulgent rub, she cried out- “quiet. It's simple enough, hm? Or do I have to gag you?” She nearly clamped her legs together, trapping his hand, as he said it, stockings slipping down from their ribbons, barely feeling her thighs gliding together. Before she had the chance, he trailed up, her slick over his palm, and - crack - he forced her back down over his lap once more.
Penelope nearly swallowed her tongue as she choked, the wet making the impact so much more. Her oh trailed into a hum, eyes fluttering as he kept her head up with one fist in her curls, so deliberate. “Oh, no, you have to look, Love,” he demanded, and she did, eyes previously unseeing, noting now that he’d positioned them so she could watch her body writhing atop him in their mirror. Her tits spilled from her bodice, neck and chest littered with bites bruising a harlot’s purple, so much pleasure she’d taken at his teeth. Her face, flushed with tears already gathering in her eyes to add to the display, her skirt and petticoats twisted at her waist, no protection.
And him, how stern he looked, staring her down in the reflection before he smirked, a dimple thumbed into his cheek when he spanked her once more. She watched, watched the ripple of her arsecheek as he did, as though she were out of her body, watched as he squeezed and played with her. “Good,” he praised, and she preened at it, the word as though a gunshot splitting her heart inside her, pooling so much slick she was sure she’d drip. She was good, oh, she was being so very good. She wanted to be so so good. So sweet and soft and good and pliant. When she was good, he gave her everything. Everything she'd ever wanted. “There she is. There is my good, obedient girl. So pretty and grateful, taking all I give her. Do you like it, Pet?”
“Daddy,” she replied, slurring it in her mouth, saying it alone wringing pleasure through her that hardened her tits and left wet lines running in the crease of her hips. Blinking wide, she saw how the typically innocent motion turned obscene, felt his hardness beneath her bare legs. Her mind felt far away, but then it always did when he emptied her of everything, leaving her only wanting to be filled with him. “Yes, Daddy. Yes. I like it. I- oh, I love it.”
His mmm rumbled through her, left her shaking. “What do you love?” he asked, now sweet once more, allowing her leverage on her knees, watching as she spread them and panted. He kissed her shoulder, lathered his fingers on her cunt in smooth strokes, from her delicate nub back to her entrance, catching slightly, to her furled pucker, circling. She trembled as the leaves in a breeze, shook apart. Belly tight, tighter, tighter– he withdrew, began anew, resumed the same.
“Daddy, please,” she pleaded, instead of answering, meeting each of his motions with a roll of her body. “There, Daddy- Daddy, take me -”
Another yank, and then– she shuddered as her eyes rolled back, his palm colliding with her pussy, leaving her unmoored and wobbling. Fuck, how it hurt for that short moment, just before it ebbed away and she was left mewling. Her clit was oversensitive, having caught the blow just barely, and suddenly she wanted for more. Wanted for it again. She raised her arse up as though an animal, wanting to drop her head but forced into a deep arch that left her soft stomach swaying, her breasts rubbed tender from the lace overlay of her dress on her nipples.
Colin nosed up the side of her face, so sweet, nipping at her earlobe before he breathed hot. “You make demands now, do you? Presumptuous pretty thing.”
Finally, she closed her eyes, unable to continue looking at how she displayed herself to him. “No, Daddy, I am sorry.”
“Are you?” he asked, lightly tapping at her pussy once more, feeling her twitch. “It feels you are very much not sorry. It feels as though you very much want me to spank your lovely little cunt until you dribble wet all over my hand and my lap and this very bed. Oh, you don’t have to pretend, Love, it is alright. If being my soft little plaything is what you wish,” he began, now circling her clit once more, over, over, hypnotic, her pussy clenching in need, throbs that he swooped in time to, “I shall make you so. I shall make you sorry. Do you truly wish to be sorry?”
Penelope sobbed, shuffling so he would grant mercy, so horribly empty. Under her, he was all but leaking in his breaches, she caught a glance of the darkened spot, the line of him thick and enticing, nearly leaving her watering in her want. Just that morning, she took him in her mouth as she did each day, long having learning to welcome him into her throat as he’d pet it and praise how she could take him to the base. So lovely, you should see, Pen, darling- oh, fuck, how deep you have me, his hand wrapping about her throat, firm.
He could never make her truly sorry, not with this. She enjoyed it too much, but she turned to look at him, look at his eyes, glinting green and mischievous, deep and dark and everything. “Yes,” she slipped out. “Yes, Daddy, make me sorry.”
He held the eye contact with her, lidded glance magnetic, spiraling and spiraling around her as she gasped. Finally, he left featherlight strokes at her entrance. One movement of her hips and he’d be inside her, just the one, it was so close-
Obedient, she kept herself from shifting, lips trembling. “Beg me,” he said, demanded, and the humiliation of doing so rolled over her in waves of hot embarrassment that shifted to a desperation that near swallowed her whole.
“Daddy,” she whimpered, attempting to implore him, without.
“Beg. Me” He continued, now licking a smooth line down the side of her throat, leaving a bite at the reach of her collarbones, only to trail back up the other side. “I wish to hear you. Hear how much you need to be mine. Hear how you will die if I do not fill you-” he sunk in, just barely, just enough to tease her sensitivity, and then finally released his hold on her hair, shifting his grasp to play over her chest, her belly, enjoying the tender heaviness of her stomach before he took her breast and kneaded roughly. “Beg me to tup you, beg me to fuck you, my good girl, beg me. ”
“Please ,” she relented, feeling him stretch her, how he pinched her nipple to pebbled peaks, “please, Daddy. Please, I need you. I need you to fill me. I need you to tear my dress and pull my hair and throw me on this bed and have me, please.”
“Have you– how?” he asked, wicked as he pushed deeper deeper deeper, pressing forward into her soft spot and didn’t ease, leaving her limbs to tremble. “Brutal, on your knees and elbows? Your arse is so pink and pretty, Pen,” he purred, “it would look so lovely in my hands. Would feel each time my hips met them. So sensitive.” He pulled out with a wet squelch that left her panting, trailing his touch between her cheeks and brushing the hot round of her arse, punctuating the point, smearing proof of her desire all over her. When he returned to where she needed him most, she sunk down, near mindless.
“I- yes,” she clenched around him, wanting to rub off on his palm as he took his time with her, wanting wanting wanting. “Yes, make me sorry. I want to be sorry, show me how, correct me- please.” He could go so deep when she was propped up that way for him, feeling him further, further still, in her guts up to her chest, filling her to the heart. “Fill me, make me take it, make me take you, Daddy, please. Fuck me.”
Lips wobbling, he finally broke, taking fistfuls of the fabric at her hips and yanking, the curve of her stomach spilling even more from her half-stays as the chemise beneath twisted, much to his obvious delight. She felt small and breakable and so so very good, undressed as though a discarded doll. It was so different from when he was caring, when he would collect her in his arms and press in, loving strokes as she basked and mewled. The contrast, how she knew the exact feeling of his fingers inside her petting sweetly, leaving her to gush, and how now he tugged her so harshly. “Show me,” he said, wrecked as she collected herself from the crumple he’d made of her on the bed, “show me how you need me, Pet. Sweet little bunny, spread yourself for Daddy.”
Her eyes widened, blue near transparent, at the zing up her spine, as though she’d touched metal with ungloved hands, the spark of it. She inhaled sharply, having always been so very shy in so many things. He knew, he had always known, had always pushed her to be braver, more vocal, more open.
Could he have known he would open her in this way, as well?
Could he have known she would like it?
Slowly, she put on the performance, knowing she could not remove her dress but allowing it to collect high, regardless, her cheek coming to the cushions. “Yes,” he said, unlacing his breaches and finally finding relief. He didn’t remove them entirely, even when she turned her head so she could watch, as well, but slid them down far enough to expose himself, stroking over his thickness, hand still sticky with her. He was heavy, curved to nestle perfectly on her tongue in a cradle, to tap at the tenderness inside her. Soon. Oh, please, soon. “Like that,” he said, when she waved her hips, “perfect, I love seeing you bounce, so lush and thick,” he groaned, “Even your stockings are soaked. Do you feel it, Sweetness, how wet you are for me?”
“Yes,” she said, the breeze cold on her, leaving her goosefleshed, eyes trained on him as he squeezed at the root, heel of his palm digging into where his cock met his body. She could see how he was taking in the ruddy curls of her cleft, near the same color as her spanked raw thighs, her cheeks, her body a collection of rose and dew. So affected she saw how he throbbed, saw how he twitched, so hard that when he did, it left glisten on his belly. For her. All for her. She needed it. Now. Now. “Yes, Daddy, For you. You make me this way.”
“ I make you wanton? Make you desperate and slick? Spread yourself, let me see. Let me see, Love,” and she did, hands coming back, even with a flinch, to open herself. Her breasts were up near her chin, and each inhale rubbed her raw, shoulders settling on the mattress as she took hold of her body, the heat radiating off her arse from her punishment. Yet, as soon as she pulled herself apart, she knew she was addicted to it, that prickle of pain sinking within her. And when she looked back at him- he was a mess, hair disheveled, eyes wild. There was such a darkness to him that she felt suddenly he called her his Bunny knowing he was the Wolf. Knowing how badly he wanted, how only she could make him want this way: the possessive streak was as though a skid, a fall from the precipice, dangling, and she careened into the maw of this new pleasure. No, there were no indulgent fingers to stroke her nub until she was so close, so very close to release she could not stand it, but presenting to him, for him, it was near as good.
“Like this?” she managed, curling her back and raising her backside, presented for him. And he was dripping before her at it, she could near taste it. If he just shuffled closer, he could stuff her mouth, slide in that satisfying length and allow her to pleasure him until he finished, left to tremble for his mercy. Would he swat at her arse each time she attempted her own release, inform her she had to wait? Oh, she needed him to possess her, needed him to own her entirely. “Does this please you?”
“Yes,” he groaned, slowly circling himself, twisting his fist over the reddened head, collecting the pre at the tip and coming forward to rest a knee on the bed. As though knowing what she had been thinking of, those fingers came to her lips, thumbing her open until he rubbed on her tongue. Bittersweet salt flooded her senses, sharped her desperation as though a knife. “Taste how it pleases me. How you please me. Fuck, Bunny, you please me so much.”
She wrapped her tongue around his digits, sweeping for each droplet, humming in appreciation, even as he made her gag. “Daddy,” she mumbled brokenly, sucking on his fingers, a comfort that speared and enveloped, both, “take me, take your Bunny, show me, please.”
When he finally came behind her, his fingers hooked against her cheek, enjoying her. For a moment, it was all suspended, and then she felt him slip through her folds, leaving her to cry out at the sensation. Over and over and over again, a new torture as her hands kept her open, as the pads of his fingers found the curl of her tongue, sliding languidly, listening to her choke occasionally, both in pleasure and discomfort as he fingerfucked her mouth.
“You are desperate for it, aren’t you?” he said, now slipping his cock between her lips in a hypnotic roll of his hips, teasing her as her cunt and mouth both drooled slick over him. The ease, oh, it was impossible, how perfectly she was meant to take this.
“Yes,” she moaned, shifting with him, meeting him, his cockhead kissing her clit with each rock. “Yes.” Even muffled, it was utterly obscene, how loud she asked for it. No wonder he had informed her to be quiet, earlier. It was as though her voice would bounce off the walls, alert everyone and everything in the vicinity. She nearly debated begging him to gag her, but she did not care if they heard, Hell, she near wanted them to, that sound she made when he had himself in hand and with one smooth motion fucked into her to the hilt- it was keening, it was so much.
Her ah! was buried as she suckled his fingers, eyes fluttering closed in the relief. Hearing him growl behind her, she felt the coil in her belly tighten and tighten, so soon, so close, oh, he would swallow her whole, would consume her. She wanted to consume him. “Fuck,” he cursed, and she loved most when he did, how it was pure fire licking down her spine, “yes, so good. So slick, so tight – you were made for me.” There was no ease, no buildup, no, she felt him shift, find leverage, and then curled over her back and wrapped himself about her, one hand at her mouth, leaving her spit over her lips and his palm, down her chin and dripping onto her chest same as she dripped around his cock, the other claiming her neck, nestling perfectly. He squeezed and as though on command, she squirted at it, aiding the rhythm he started that threatened to destroy her. “You were made to take me, made to be fucked by me,” he continued, and she sucked harder at his fingers, feeling the rough of his breaches on her sore skin and leaning into his hand at her throat, cutting off her air. He left her dizzy, breathless, desperate– more more more. He tore his fingers from her mouth, leaving her to gasp, rubbing over her lips. “All of you was made for me, God, take it, take it all. Take me, take me darling, take me.”
She cried into the sheets when he made her watch as he licked his own fingers before he kissed her, cupping her face in the mess and then bringing them to her slit. He rubbed, hard, relentless, as she moaned brokenly, little
‘yes’s
and
‘I’m yours, take what is yours’
and
‘Do not stop, please, please ’
and
‘Daddy, Daddy-”
and and warmth blooming in her belly and
‘more’
and tighter tighter tighter, that knot to snap, she was coiling, coiling, and the way he fit inside her, so deep, finding a bend in her body that rolled her eyes back, and
‘There, there’
and the stretch, God, the stretch, she would feel it for days, and
‘I love you, I love you, I love you’
– until all the heat inside her condensed, smaller and smaller, breaking open in a gush. She trembled through it, tears hot on her lashes, body boneless as he gasped, praising her, her tight cunt and how good she was to him and how he adored her. Adored her full to bursting, adored her and would never allow her to forget, adored her and came for her and came and came and came, even more heat to bloom in her belly as she milked him. Next she stood, she'd drip him all under her dress, all his cum making even more of a mess of her.
She cooed, all the tension inside her gone, now, as he melted heartfluttering kisses over her face. “Oh,” he sighed, making his way to her shoulder where her bodice sleeves had ripped at the seams to allow him access to her breasts earlier, “oh, you are– amazing. Marvelous.” Penelope giggled, feeling him soften, always so sweet when he was done.
“And you are marvelous,” she returned, wanting him inside her forever, enjoying the pulses after. They had time, still. Certainly had given enough warning for no other to disturb them for a good while, yet. Giddy, she returned his light kisses, a peck, first, then another, until he had her face in his hands and she was sighing into him once more.