Chapter 8
TABITHA
Gathering every bit of courage I have, I part my lips. But the move only earns me a quiet laugh in response.
“I said open wide, babygirl.” He squeezes his cock, the movement drawing my attention to the bulbous head glistening with the beginnings of his release. “You’re going to have to do better than that to take me.”
A whimper lodges itself in my throat, but I refuse to let it loose. Swallowing it down, I force my jaw to open, and this time I’m rewarded with a soft hum of approval.
“Good girl. Watch your teeth.”
It never would have occurred to me to do anything to hurt him. But with that singular warning, he fills my mind with images of him screaming in pain as he grabs his bleeding dick. And as that same dick fills my mouth, the salty taste of him making me want to gag, I’m so, so tempted to bite down.
Do it. Prove you’re not just a helpless, spineless little girl. Be the princess slaying her own dragons!
I should. God knows I want to. And yet, something still holds me back. I try to convince myself it’s strategic, that I’m being smart by not risking his wrath.
But deep in my soul, I know the truth.
I’m just a coward.
Bitter tears fill my eyes, but I don’t have long to wallow in my self-pity before a sudden tugging sensation pulls me forward even further and all my energy is focused on getting enough air into my lungs as my throat contracts around the hard length of him.
I realize with growing horror that he’s using my pigtails to guide me, to bend me to his will.
“Fuck.” His low groan fills my ears as he holds me in place, forcing me to gag around him. “Your mouth feels almost as good as your tight little cunt, babygirl.”
Again that fuzzy warmth fills my chest, humiliating me even further. I should not feel proud of myself for giving him pleasure.
That’s exactly what I feel, though, and no amount of shame seems to quell the satisfaction every grunt, every groan, every murmured good girl gives me.
I don’t have much room to move with his tight grip on my braids holding me in place, but I manage to hollow my cheeks around him, and that move earns me a loud hiss of pained pleasure.
“Such a good fucking girl you are, taking Daddy’s cock down your throat like a goddamn pro. Do you want Daddy to fill your cute little tummy right up, baby? My needy little girl. So greedy for Daddy’s cum.”
His words spur me on, and I bob my head as much as his hold on me allows. My jaw is aching and my throat is burning, but he’s right. I am greedy for him. For all of him. And I’m not going to stop until he gives me exactly what I want.
And when he goes still beneath me, pain stabbing at my skull as his hold on my hair tightens, his low growl echoing around the pain, I’m again filled with that shameful pride. His release fills my mouth, hot and salty enough to make me gag all over again.
“Swallow,” he commands, his voice low and rough, like someone has taken sandpaper to his vocal chords. “If you spill a single drop, Daddy will fill your bottom up next.”
I have absolutely no desire to let that thing anywhere near my bottom hole, so I immediately swallow, ignoring the vague sense of nausea that roils in my stomach.
When I’ve finally taken all of him into my tummy, he releases his hold on my hair so I can sit back on my haunches.
He’s still wearing that smug smile from before, but it doesn’t stir anger inside me this time.
Instead it stirs more pride, more satisfaction of my own.
Because I did that to him. I made him swear and moan and lose control.
Me. Not Kerry.
Me.
“What a very good girl you are,” he murmurs, giving one of my braids a tug that is more playful than demanding now. “Come here, baby. Let Daddy hold you.”
It is, I suppose, another way to stake my claim, so I do as I’m told and climb up into his lap, snuggling against his chest as he wraps his arms around me.
“Normally I would reward my good girl with an orgasm of her own. But you were very naughty before takeoff, weren’t you, little one?”
Judging by the censure in his tone, I should feel ashamed of my disobedience. I had good reasons for my rebellion, though, so it’s difficult for me to muster up anything other than smug pride in my boldness.
I am at least smart enough not to tell him that to his face, however, so I sniffle quietly and nod, the very picture of a repentant Little girl. “Yes, Daddy. I’m sorry I didn’t listen.”
“Thank you for that very nice apology, baby.” The hand gripping my hip drifts down to my thigh, gently stroking the skin left bare by my dress. “If you’re a good girl the rest of the flight, Daddy will let you come when we get home.”
Those too-light touches are stirring something inside me, but a stubbornness I don’t recognize has lodged in my chest, refusing to let me ask for more. Some primal instinct tells me that’s what he wants, for me to beg and plead and debase myself for him more than I already have.
And that same instinct is telling me that my life, maybe even my very soul, hinges on me not giving him what he wants.
Even if every single part of me is crying out to do exactly that.
Colt
Holding my babygirl on my lap, teasing her sweet, soft skin with my fingers while my blood still courses with the pleasure I forced her to give me is, quite possibly, the closest to heaven a man like me will ever get.
Well. Other than actually being buried inside her tight little pussy. But that will have to wait until we get home. Unfortunately for me.
A soft whimper slips from my babygirl’s lips as she shifts on my lap, and I don’t bother holding back my smile.
She isn’t as immune to my charms as she would like to be, and that knowledge fills me with a smug satisfaction unlike anything I’ve ever felt.
No billion-dollar negotiation could live up to the sound of my Little girl trying to pretend she isn’t desperate for my touch.
Spurred on by those sweet little noises, I move my hand down to the back of her thigh, drawing another soft whimper from my babygirl.
“Are you all right, little firecracker?” I ask as I caress the soft skin behind her knee.
“Y-yes.” Her breath hitches on the word, and I catch a glimpse of how red her cheeks are before she buries her face in the side of my neck.
As I continue stroking, she moves again, grinding her diapered bottom against my thigh. I let her squirm for a bit, working her into more of a frenzy before I speak again.
“Tabby, do you need to use the potty?”
My question has her freezing in place, her entire body stiffening in my arms, and it’s all I can do not to burst into laughter.
“No!” The single syllable manages to be full of shocked horror, and I’m grateful her face is still pressed against my neck so she can’t see me fighting back a grin.
“Well, you’re being very squirmy for some reason,” I explain, keeping my voice firm yet concerned like any good Daddy. “Are you sure you don’t need to potty? Or is there some other reason you’ve become such a little wriggle-worm?”
I swear I can hear the gears in her brain whirring, trying to decide which is the less embarrassing confession. A full bladder or a needy little pussy?
“I… I guess maybe I do need to use the bathroom,” she whispers after a long, tense silence.
Despite having just emptied my balls down her throat, my cock stirs to life. “Then you should potty. Holding your pee is very dangerous for Little girls.”
Whining softly, she curls up in tight little ball on my lap. “Do you have to talk like that?”
“Like what?” I ask as if I don’t know exactly what she means.
She gives a quiet, but clearly annoyed huff. “Like you’re talking to a toddler.”
“Well, you are my baby, so yes. Yes, I do need to talk like that.”
Heaving another huff of annoyance, this one much louder and bolder than the last, she tries to slide off my lap. But I tighten my hold on her, trapping her in place. “Where do you think you’re going, little girl?”
“To the bathroom.” Her voice has turned sharp, almost waspish, and a swell of pride rises in my chest. “Like you told me to.”
“That’s not what I said at all.”
Jerking her head up, she glares daggers at me. “It’s not bad enough that you’ve kidnapped me, beaten me, and publicly humiliated me. Now you feel the need to add gaslighting me to the list?”
There’s my little firecracker, heating up, ready to explode.
But as much as I’m enjoying this glimpse of the girl I know lurks beneath that fragile, shy exterior, I have to maintain some sense of control over the situation so I raise a brow, pinning her with the most “Daddy” look I can manage under the circumstances.
“I am not gaslighting you, little girl. If you recall, I did not tell you to go to the bathroom. I simply said you should potty.”
Eyes narrowing, she lets out a noise I think might be a growl. “What’s the difference?”
Keeping my eyes locked on hers, I slide my hand up to her abdomen and press hard on her bladder. “Big girls use the bathroom. Little girls, like you, go potty in their diapers.”