Chapter 29 Butterflies #2
“You don’t know how to obey, Angel.” He looked me over slowly, leisurely playing with a lock of my hair.
“You need to be disciplined.” Suddenly, his voice was cold and commanding, all of that softness he’d just shown gone without a trace.
“And Daddy will teach you a lesson. Daddy will teach you…how to be his good girl.” His thumb landed on my bottom lip, his gaze glued to it.
“I’m going to tell you what I want…and you’re going to use that pretty mouth of yours to take my cock down your throat. Understand?"
Eagerly, I nodded, never wanting to disagree.
"Good girl." His words of praise were a perfect antidote to the anticipation shaking my insides. His hands slid beneath my shirt, and he pulled it off so efficiently, never lingering. No kiss, no pause, nothing tender, but it revved up my insides even more.
Mechanically, he began undressing me, working quickly to unbutton my jeans and then tug them off my legs. Then, he unclasped my bra and pulled it off along with my panties, discarding it all on the floor.
The disinterest stirred my imagination, and I breathed hard, doing my absolute best to fill my lungs with air. There I was, standing naked on the bed, waiting for him to take in the sight of me. In a second, he commanded, "Bring me the belt."
I moved without hesitation—jumping down from the bed, picking it up, and presenting it to him with both hands, like an offering. He stood still, arms crossed, brows slightly furrowed, like he was grading me on my obedience.
The belt slid between his fingers, and I watched as he worked his dark magic, turning it into a loop. With an expectant glare, he waited for me to put my hands through it. And I did, melting in the sensation of the leather tightening around my wrists.
Roman was gentle, and the bind didn’t feel too harsh, but then he yanked it, pulling me closer to him. I gasped, my stomach flipping with wild excitement.
"Turn around.” His voice was ice. “I want to see you on your knees." I obeyed instantly, my knees hitting the floor, barely able to breathe. Roman bent down, making sure that I could look into his eyes and see every tiny shift and change in his emotions.
His gaze was unforgiving and detached, almost cruel, but I couldn’t look away. His fingers traced up my neck, slow and delicate, letting me close my eyes and soak in the moment. But then his hand grabbed my jaw, digging his fingers into my cheeks and snapping my gaze to him.
Naked, restrained, and aching for whatever was to come next, I finally belonged.
"Crawl back.” He spoke loudly, not looking away from me for even a second as I fulfilled his wish. My feet hit the wall, and he nodded. "Good. Sit on your heels." I followed the command without question, my back pressing into the cold wall.
Roman slowly stepped closer...and closer until his crotch was right in my face and the wall right behind me. I realized I was essentially trapped. I watched him pull down his boxer briefs, and his erect cock ended up right in front of my lips.
Fuck, I loved it. I was in love with his dick. It was thick and long, and the veins were prominent. It hit the spot inside me just right; it slid down my throat and filled me up perfectly. And it was uncircumcised, that little detail somehow making it more desirable.
Without thinking, I leaned forward to get a taste, but his hand caught the back of my head, stopping me and tangling his fingers in my hair.
"So eager,” he drawled, his eyes filled with cold amusement. “Such a desperate and obedient slut." My pussy ached from his dirty words, begging to be fucked. He gripped his cock, but before I could even fully open my mouth, he forced it in, the intrusion incredibly overwhelming.
But Roman didn’t care—he gave it to me when it was too much…just how I asked.
Roman fucked my mouth without mercy, rough and relentless, just like I’d seen him do to that other girl—but with me it was so much more brutal.
"That’s it, baby.” He breathed, pulling on my hair. “Take Daddy's cock down your throat. Just like that, Angel. You're doing so good." His gentle praise was in stark contrast to his rough thrusts down my throat.
I gagged. I choked. I whimpered and tried to push him back in my restraints, but he never stopped.
“Eyes on me.” He yanked back on my hair, reminding me to give him my full attention. I tried to pull back, but there was nowhere to go—his hand held onto the back of my head, and the wall pressed against my back.
My moans interrupted by his thrusts; I couldn’t breathe, couldn’t think. I submitted myself to him fully, entering into a state of nirvana. All of me was alive, floating in pleasure, my orgasm a few thrusts away from crashing over me.
"Did you have enough?" He suddenly pulled out roughly, letting me hungrily gasp for air. "Or do you want more?"
I coughed and spluttered, my hands bound in front of me, only offering mild support. "Enough, Daddy! I can't...I can't anymore!" I lied, hoping that he would continue.
And he fucking did!
He grabbed a fistful of my hair and yanked my head back, my jaw dropping open in the process, just in time for him to shove his dick back inside.
So fucking deep. So fucking perfect.
Again and again, he fucked my throat—used me just how I’d imagined. I whined pitifully, feeling hot tears slide down my cheeks.
Oh my God. This was what I wanted.
Finally, he pulled out, leaving me breathless and shaking. I fell forward onto my hands, panting, half-sobbing, and trying to hold off my orgasm.
“Get on the bed.” He gave me so little time to recover! I couldn’t lift myself up, all of me mellow and spent, trembling on my knees.
So he took control. He grabbed my waist and pulled me up, walking me back toward the bed like I was a doll in his hands. He pushed me on—gently this time, waiting for me to fill my lungs with air.
“On your hands and knees,” he ordered once more, never shedding that dominant tone. My breath came in broken, shallow bursts, and I moved slowly, doing just as he said.
But then the bed shifted behind me, and I looked back to see Roman on his knees and towering over me, eyes devouring every inch of my body.
This felt so vulnerable. His hand slid up my spine, languid, tender, and he brushed my hair to one side.
My mind became fuzzy when his fingers traced down my body, over the curve of my breast, continuing downward to my abdomen.
Yes, fuck, his fingers ran the length of my soaked pussy, begging, begging, to be fucked.
With a feather touch, he circled my clit and dipped a finger inside me. “Please…” I choked out. “Please fuck me, Daddy.”
But instead, he leaned into my ear, his next words forceful and absolute. “Fuck no. Not until your delicious, teasing ass is red from my hands.” Ugh, fuck!
His fingers slipped out of me, and he dragged them up, over my asshole, landing his palm on my lower back. “How many times do you deserve to be spanked, Angel? Hm?”
“Oh my Goh-od.” Delirious, that was all I could manage to moan.
He resumed the position on his knees, and I dared glance over my shoulder, but he jerked my hair back, my jaw dropping from every one of his actions. Eyes closed, hands bound, back arched—I was his to use. He gave me exactly what I asked for.
Anticipation pulsed inside me from the unknown, but then it came—his palm landed on my right asscheek, the sound sharp and loud in the room.
It stung all over, and the pain seeped into my skin, altering my mind.
Oh my God.
Why, why did this feel so fucking good?!
“Count for me, baby,” he instructed, but I lost the gift of speech, frantically trying to fill my lungs with enough air to work through the pleasure spreading through me. “Count for me!”
And then I almost passed out. He thrust inside me, no warning, just a brutal, perfect push of his cock, slamming into me so hard I yelped. But he pulled out just as fast, ripping the sensation away. I pushed my ass back instinctively, asking for more, “Again, again, please!”
Instead, his palm landed harder, this time on the other asscheek. The force knocked me onto my elbows, and the truth hit me just as hard as his palm.
I fucking loved this.
“T-two!” I choked out with the last of my strength.
His hands slid up, gently rubbing my lower back. “Good girl. Count again.” He praised me.
“Three…”
He continued, the slaps coming down harder as I counted through gritted teeth, through pain and pleasure that swirled inside me, demanding more. Making me crave more.
"Twenty," I whispered, the sound almost nonexistent. My forehead rested on my forearms, and tears spilled from my eyes—just like I wanted.
I stayed there, face down, ass up, fully trusting and enjoying the process. Roman’s hand never let go of my hair, and he pulled it back with each slap, delivering a dose of affliction everywhere.
And I took it all. Trusted him. Drowned in his voice. His body. Our sin.