38. Dirty Daddy
DIRTY DADDY
CHELSEA
M y heart beat quickened hearing the smoky deep tone. Even though he had cockwarmed me with his dick pulsing inside me, I knew that whatever he had planned was going to be scary. And fun.
I craved it.
“So what?” I asked, clenching my walls around him and whimpering at the feeling of being full to the hilt. Why did he have to be so handsome and big and perfect in every way?
His hands tightened around my waist, his hot breath fanning over the shell of my ear, making me shiver. “So what, huh?” His tone was dark and full of sinful promises. I got wetter, hearing the low baritone of his voice. “You want your dirty daddy to fuck you up, hm, Princess?”
I bit my bottom lip and nodded.
“I know, dirty girl,” he growled, pulling me off of his hard length and making me whimper at the loss of his warmth. “Do you remember I promised to punish you yesterday?”
I frowned when he kept me on the desk, my skirt falling over my thigh. I was touching myself during the shower when he found me and told me I was going to pay for it. Not because I touched myself—but because I didn’t invite him to watch me play with his pussy .
“I-I remember, Daddy,” I said, eyeing the throbbing veins of his cock and licking my lips. His tip was already leaking with pre-cum, and I wanted him in my mouth.
But he covered his cock with his boxers. Boooooo!
“You remember your safe-word?” He asked, standing up and towering over me. I loved how muscular and tall he was, especially when he used his frame to make me feel small during our playtime.
I nodded. “Green, yellow and bunny.”
“Good girl.” His eyes softened for a moment, his lips brushing over my forehead. “Use them if you need to.”
I took a deep breath when he asked me to close my eyes and waited patiently. The anticipation made my skin hum with pleasure, my body warm and ready for whatever he had in-stored for me.
I jumped when something warm and leather-like touched my neck, a sound of the clasp making me clench. It was my collar.
“Strip,” he ordered, taking a step back and sitting down in his chair. “Remove everything.”
I touched the collar and dug myself deeper into the grave by asking, “Even the collar, Daddy?”
He bit his cheek from smiling and answered, “I dare you to remove it, Princess.”
Nope . I wasn’t falling for his sweet words. He’d spank me with a ruler if I dared to remove the collar during the playtime. Besides, I didn’t want to remove it. I enjoyed the way it made me feel. Safe and cared for. And all his.
Instead of answering him, I tugged off my blouse and bra, shivering as cold air pebbled my nipples. His obsidian eyes remained on my face when I stepped out of the pooled skirt. Even my heels were off, my bare feet pressing on the soft rug.
“Hand me a pen and come closer,” he said, his words making me want to obey and disobey him. He always let me decide if I wanted to brat or not.
But I was already so horny, I didn’t want to prolong the rough fucking he had promised.
So, like his good girl, I picked up a pen from the desk and handed it to him. His silk pants brushed over my bare legs as he pulled me closer, asking me to stay still.
My breath hitched in my throat when he wrote on my naked skin. I secretly loved it whenever he labeled me. Sometimes Daddy’s Princess, Naughty Brat, or Daddy’s Pet.
But he wrote something else.
I swallowed, looking down at my hips, his hand moving gracefully, his penmanship clean. “There,” he said, pulling back and tilting his head. “Daddy’s Pussy, with a little arrow to remind you who it belongs to.”
My lips parted at the words scrawled below my belly button, an arrow pointing down to my sex. He was so filthy. My dirty Daddy .
“Let me write something on your pretty tits too,” he said, scribbling on my sensitive skin. “Can’t have them miss out on the fun, can we?”
I bit my lip, taking deep breaths to stay still. I felt so turned on that I wanted to ride him. My pussy kept getting wetter, and I was sure he knew. Tease . He could probably smell how turned on I was just by him writing words on me. Owning me. I felt embarrassed.
“You look wonderful, Princess,” Sean said, his eyes raking over the words. He handed me the pen and pulled me towards my desk. I frowned when he sat me down on the chair and opened a notebook with a plain page.
“Now, for the punishment,” he started, his bulge right beside my face when he pointed to the page. “You’re going to write ‘My orgasms belong to my Daddy’ twenty times.”
“What?” I asked, surprised by how snappy my voice was. I wasn’t expecting him to say that. Who the hell writes lines for punishment ?—
“Princess,” he tsked, shaking his head. “Not every punishment needs to be sexual. Be a good girl and start writing.”
Narrowing my eyes at him, I looked between the blank page and his face. “You’re serous? You can’t be,” I scoffed, dropping the pen on my desk.
“ Hmm , let’s increase it to twenty-five lines,” he said, checking time on his expensive watch. “You better get done in fifteen minutes with neat handwriting.”
I could practically hear the ‘or else’, but kept my mouth shut. Knowing him, he would make me write lines a hundred times, kiss me and then drive us home.
Pursing my lips, I asked, “Is this… can I safe-word out of this punishment, Daddy?”
He frowned, his brows furrowing as he leaned down to my face level, and asked, “Is it uncomfortable?”
I shook my head.
“Is it hurting you anywhere, Princess?”
Swallowing, I shook my head. “No, Daddy.”
His eyes darkened. Leaning closer, he whispered in my ear, “Then start fucking writing, Princess. Or I can make you crawl on rice instead, hm ?”
“I’m writing,” I squealed, grabbing the pen and scribbling the sentence he told me to. God, he was scary.
It was terrifying how he could be clingy, silly and scary in a span of minutes.
“Good girl,” he patted my head and walked back to his desk.
After writing three lines, I realized why he had undressed me, collared me, labeled me and then made me write lines. Because I kept getting wetter with each line I scrawled on the paper.
He was making sure I knew who I belonged to. Who this pussy belonged to. And after that punishment, I knew there was no chance I was going to ever question it.
After ten lines, I looked up and found him working. My face fell. That jerk .
Clearing my throat, I made my voice extra sweeter and asked, “Daddy, I wrote ten lines. Can I?—”
“Do I need to teach you how to count, sweet girl?” Sean asked, his voice soft and gentle.
That was a face of a devil.
I shook my head.
“Thought so.” He smiled and said without looking in my direction, “My princess is smart.”
Smart, my ass .
I glared at him. At his stupid, handsome face. I was going to make him?—
“Stop glaring at me, darling,” he said. I blinked when he gave me a look and said, “Remember the contract you signed, Princess. You have ten minutes left. Better hurry.”
I took a deep breath and started writing again.
I had signed the contract on my first day of working there.
I was his responsibility, and he would take care of all my debt, even the loan shark debt of my dad, and in return, I have to spend time with him.
I knew he didn’t want any sexual favors—case in point by getting me naked and making me write lines even though he was as hard as a rock—but I wanted sexual favors in return.
I was greedy for him. It felt too easy to rely on him for my financial burden. I wanted him to rely on me too.
Even if it meant playing his naughty brat.