7. Chapter Seven
Chapter Seven
D on’t touch, don’t touch ! Kelly told herself, over and over as he took her by the hand and led her to the sofa. Dropping his playbag on one end of the couch and taking up his position in the middle, he sat, immediately gesturing for her to go over his waiting lap. The smell of peppermint stung her nose and eyes, making it easier for the tears to gather and fall. And oh, the burn!
Kelly whimpered as she gingerly lowered herself across Cole's lap, careful not to put pressure on her casts. The throb between her legs made her squirm and gasp as her sensitive flesh made contact with his jeans.
"That's my good girl," Cole praised, resting his hand on her upturned bottom. "Now, let's talk about why we're here."
"B-because I was impatient and mad," Kelly sniffled, wiggling her hips. “And naughty.”
"No, babygirl. We're here because you're hurting and you need a little help right now, but you’ve never had to ask for help before and it scares you, and that makes you want to do things just to prove you can, but you can’t, and that makes the hurt worse, which means you need more help, which makes you more scared. Babygirl, you need to stop running in circles. You need Daddy to take care of you. Isn't that right?"
Fresh tears spilled down Kelly's cheeks at his gentle words. "Y-yes, Daddy."
"Good girl for being honest," Cole said, beginning to rub soothing circles on her back. “I know you want a spanking, but we both know why that can’t happen just yet, don’t we?”
Groaning, she buried her face in the sofa cushion between her casted arms. She hated scoldings, Daddy Cole’s especially. She hated the way it made her feel. She knew what she’d done wrong, just like she knew that all the soft-spoken, sensible reasons in the world could have stopped her from cutting the casts off this morning. She was done being dependent upon him because she couldn’t even make herself a cup of coffee, much less to zip up her own damn pants! This wasn’t fair!
But of course, life wasn’t fair. She’d learned that lesson before she was five.
“Don’t we?” Daddy said again, his voice turning stern at having to repeat himself when she was already lying across his lap.
“Yes, Daddy,” she muttered into the couch. “I’m sorry.”
His tone only grew sterner. “If you aren’t now, you will be in just a minute.”
Her toes curled up tight. So did her stomach, her muscles locking as she heard the opening snap of a bottle lid from his bag. The sudden smell of peppermint oil made her whimper. Her bottom waggled, the dreaded anticipation of that first touch turning to a squeal of shock as he drizzled the peppermint oil directly onto Kelly’s upturned bottom.
She gasped, squirming desperately as the coolness quickly turned to intense heat.
“Spread your legs wide,” he said as he massaged it into her skin, spreading the fiery sensation all over her cheeks, down into the crack of her buttocks and into the crease where her bottom met her thighs.
"Oh! Daddy, it burns!" Kelly cried, her toenails scraping the floor as her toes flexed and curled.
"That's the point," Cole said calmly, continuing to rub the oil in. "Now close your legs. This is to help you remember that Daddy is in charge of taking care of you right now. You don't get to decide when you're 'fine' or when you can do things on your own. That's Daddy's job."
She whimpered as Cole shifted one leg out from under her, clamping her thighs in the tight vise of his own, preventing her from opening them up so the cool air could kiss between and ease the fury of the heat now consuming her sex. It was mounting hotter. She had hell between her thighs, and it wasn’t dissipating.
“Please, Daddy!” She began to cry. “Please, it burns so much!”
“My baby has the prettiest pleas when she’s getting her naughty bottom punished.”
Reaching under her, he honed in on her inflamed clit. The heat of his own fingers ignited her flesh anew as he pinched, flicked, stroked through the folds of her burning pussy, sending her spiraling into rapture. It was a never-ending circle of torment, an inferno of pleasure and pain that couldn’t possibly get any worse… until he rummaged through his bag again, pulling out the dreaded punishment plug.
“Oh, no,” she whimpered, her bottom automatically tucking in.
“Say it,” he said, popping open a bottle of lube to slather down the three-bulb length.
“My Daddy loves me.” She knew what was coming, and every muscle locked up when he parted her bottom cheeks to spread extra lube all over the surface of her naughty hole. “Please, Daddy! Not there!”
But there was exactly where his finger penetrated her, spreading lubricant around the puckered rim of her burning anus and up as deep as a knuckle, taking the burning oil inside her now as well.
“No!” she squealed, trying to snap her legs shut, but his hand between her thighs refused to allow it.
“Spread them,” Daddy ordered.
The single finger in her bottom hole withdrew, becoming three in an instant. He pushed and she cried out, snapping her legs as wide apart as the couch and nearby coffee table would allow.
“Good girl,” he praised, three fingers becoming one once more.
Kelly panted in relief, her eyes drifting closed as the sharp piercing pain instantly reduced to an urgent wanton throb.
"Now, I want you to focus on the sensations, babygirl. Let yourself feel everything—the burning, the fullness in your bottom, my hand… Don't fight it. Just let go and let Daddy take care of you."
Kelly whimpered and nodded, trying to relax but the burning wouldn’t let her. She had long ago passed the point of being able to hold still.
Her bottom ground to the pulsing hurt, the fiery pleasure scalding its way through her clit and deep inside her ass, even before he brought the nose of the plug bumping up against her back passage.
Whimpers turned to howls as he pushed the first bulb inside her. His fingers were on her clit as he slowly stretched her open. Her bottom humped, a lewd lap dance she couldn’t stop even as he firmly pushed the second bulb of the plug into her bottom, immediately followed by the third on a thrust so brutal that she actually screamed.
And cried. Oh, how she cried, her body aflame, her pussy trembling from the mix of agony and ecstasy. The thrill of a potential climax danced in her core, but she knew better than to concentrate on it. Good little girls did not come without Daddy’s permission, and never when they were being punished.
“Please!” she begged, but the burning was relentless. It spread everywhere—from her clit to her ass and beyond. Pain and pleasure intertwined, becoming nearly indistinguishable from one another.
No matter her words, movements or sobs, the bonfire lapping at her most intimate places intensified, the throbbing persisted, and it didn’t stop. It kept coming, fierce and swift, unyielding until she couldn’t even cry out “I’m sorry” anymore.
It burned until it broke her, leaving her to lie over his knees, weeping and blazing. Her bottom seared hotter than any spanking could have left it. The cushion beneath her cheek was soaked with her tears, and his arm was leaning into her back, pinning her firmly down as he took hold of the base of the butt plug and fucked her with it.
What started as slow thrusts, quickly built in savagery until she was being fucked as hard as he ever had and the friction… oh, the friction was kicking off the burn all over again.
Almost against her will, her hips began to rock, meeting his motion, thrust for thrust. Wanton lust licked seductively between her clenching thighs, falling into sync with his motions. She rubbed herself against him, only vaguely aware that what she was rubbing against was the bulge of his cock, jutting against the confines of his jeans to prod her hip.
She moaned. “Daddy, my naughty parts are achy.”
He let go of the plug and smacked her bottom.
“Up,” he ordered.
She stumbled to obey, her legs shaky, and her whole body so unsteady that he had to help her. Standing, he led her around to the back of the couch and bent her over it. He spanked her pussy, five relatively stern swats that heightened her needy ache until she was scrambling to get her head down, her arms flat on the cushions, and her legs spread as wide as they would go.
His belt buckle clinked and his zipper whisked down the metal teeth of his fly. In one hard shove, he was in her, stretching and filling her now scalded pussy, his girth competing with the butt plug for what limited space there was inside her. She bit her cast, muffling her sigh as her toes curled and her pussy walls hugged him. He didn’t just rock her couch, he rocked the whole damn world as his hips pounded into her.
He grabbed her ass with both hands, fingertips digging into every tender spot he’d made as he rode her deep and hard. Her toes cracked, she came so hard. Her fingers clenched, too, and that hurt like hell, but the rolling waves of pleasure just kept coming until with three furious pumps, he came too.
She gasped, moaning and laughing as the spasms rocked her, gradually easing away even as his last few lingering thrusts gentled.
“Ow,” she groaned, languid and content.
“For more reasons than one,” he agreed, giving her ass a slap as he pulled out. He grabbed his cock. “Jesus… why did I use the peppermint oil?”
She giggled. “I can feel my bottom throbbing… all the way into my fingers.”
“Breakfast first,” he said, “then I’ll give you your pill. You need to take it with food anyway.”
Her legs were so unsteady, he had to help her off the couch and into the kitchen. She flopped down in the chair he took her to. That hurt as well, but she was too relaxed and happy to care.
“My Daddy loves me,” she sighed, wiggling to make the hurt flare hotter.
“Too bad he let your pancakes get cold.” Turning the stove back on, he checked the bottom of the flapjack still in the pan. Getting a plate from the cupboard, he dished it up, smothered it in syrup, then set it on the table in front of her. “Let me get the next one started, then I’ll grab a pill and cut this up for you.”
She glared at her casts, but there was no real anger behind it, only a mild irritation at her inability to either pick up a fork or tear the soft pancake apart with her fingers.
“The next six weeks are going to be a major pain, aren’t they?”
She heard the sizzle of the next pancake cooking before Cole came walking back. He fed her the next painkiller, but instead of cutting up her food as he’d promised, he walked back out of the kitchen, returning less than a minute later with a blue marker from her coloring pack. Pulling up a chair beside her, he held out his hand.
“Arm.”
She gave him her right one this time and watched as he wrote “ It won’t last forever” between the mesh of the cast. He decorated it with stars, coloring them in and adding twinkle lines. She smiled in spite of herself when he turned the apostrophe into a heart.
“Thanks. You’re right.”
“Of course, I am.” Feeding her a bite of pancake, he headed back to the stove. “Daddy is always right.”
And he loved her. She loved him, too, but she hugged her casts over her stomach, content to keep that a secret until the time felt better to reveal it. She chewed her breakfast instead and studied the two happy sayings on her casts.
“It won’t last forever,” she mused, swallowing. How very true. Straightening in her seat, she brightened as a thought occurred. “Plus, if I get really sick of them, I know I can always cut them off.”
Dropping the plastic spatula in the pan, he grabbed a wooden one out of the crock by the stove and marched back to her.
“I’m kidding!” she yelled, laughing, but he still yanked her out of her chair and over the table, very nearly bending her right over on top of her pancakes. “Daddy, I’m kidding!”
Her laughter turned to squeals and her squeals to yelps because, apparently, when it came to cutting off casts, Daddies didn’t have a sense of humor, but that was okay.
He still didn’t spank her, either, and that was okay too. Sort of. Kind of. Or at least she understood the idea of it, if not the actually practice.
But still, when it came to Daddy Cole, if she’d learned one thing in all the time he’d been here—in all the time she’d known him—he didn’t take the easy way out with her. Her health and her safety came first. It would take time for her to learn to trust just how much she could lean on him before he gave up on her.
But hey, if he never walked away–and if there was one thing she could trust about her Daddy, he never lied–then she had the rest of her life to get used to it.
The End