Chapter 55
Sayla
The bowl of crisp apple slices and grapes sat on his desk. My morning of teasing had come to an abrupt end when Lydia arrived to leave my snack. It was time to pay the price.
The leather chair creaked as he stood and walked around the desk. He took my book from me and placed it beside the fruit bowl. After frolicking with the frogs we’d retreated to his office—him to work, me to read.
Daddy always liked to keep me beside him and I loved being there.
“I don’t want to ruin your pretty dress. Best that I take it off,” he mused.
That’s when I knew I was fucked.
Literally.
“Yes, Daddy,” I said demurely.
It didn’t work. His expression didn’t change.
He held his hand out and I reached for it, unfolding my legs and rising to stand. He pulled me in until I touched his chest and gathered my hair to one side to reach the zip.
He didn’t rush. The zip lowered in increments—the only sound in the office, apart from my pounding heart. Though I suspected only I could feel that, throbbing like a pulse behind my eyes.
His fingers came to my shoulders and dragged the straps down my arms. The dress slid down my body and pooled at my bare feet.
He leaned back to inspect my breasts.
“These will be lovely when they’re heavy and full of milk,” he murmured, as his finger traced my nipple. First one and then the other.
He wouldn’t care if my body changed. He was obsessed enough to relish every change our child brought. That sick obsession now lived in both of us.
“Kneel.”
I dropped to my knees—my dress and the rug giving me a soft landing. I faced those black trousers, clocked the bulge and almost reached for his zip but his hands beat me to it.
The rasp of the zip was fast. My chest began to heave and I licked my lips in preparation.
When he switched into Daddy Dom mode he became entirely unpredictable—and those were his best moments. It sparked a different kind of fight-or-flight in me. I was still his princess, but my function was to serve.
The tension heightened as he eased his heavy cock free. I waited for his instructions.
When he said nothing I glanced up.
“Keep those eyes on me and lick my cock. Prepare me for your throat.”
Oh, yeah. I was done for.
I stuck my tongue out and reached for him. Warm, hard, smooth. I began at the head—the same one that had somehow managed to fit in my arse the night before.
Ten pounds. The fucking audacity of the man.
His blue eyes warmed as I began to lick. His shirt was the same blue and it seemed to draw out the colour in them—brighter somehow, like the sky through the office windows.
“More,” he drawled. “Don’t be shy. Get messy.”
My pussy clenched at his words—but given my conduct, I had a feeling he’d make me wait for my release. Unless I put maximum effort into the present task.
I broke contact with his eyes to stare at his cock, prepared, aimed and spat. His cock twitched beneath my fingers. I did it again.
“Good girl, that’s it.”
I did it one last time then dragged my lips up and down his length. First one side then the other. Top and bottom. I even trailed my tongue down to his balls, leaned in and began to kiss them.
His sharp inhalation was the first sound of my victory. I opened wide and sucked one heavy ball into my mouth, his hands cradling my head as I teased him with my tongue. I spent time bathing both before working my way back up his length.
His cock stood to attention. When I glanced up Daddy’s eyes were tumultuous—jaw clenched so tight I could almost hear his molars grinding.
He didn’t ask.
I didn’t wait.
I gripped his hips and opened as wide as I could.
His fingers raked through my hair before they tightened. He spread his feet and bent his knees. When he pushed his cock into my waiting mouth he used his grip to pull me onto him.
There was no preamble.
The fat head hit the back of my throat.
He pulled me off and repeated the action, ignoring me when I gagged. By the third time I was prepared. My throat relaxed and my neck arched.
“Yes,” he hissed when he squeezed past my throat.
He was lodged in place. I rested my hands on my knees and waited.
“Every single hole,” he said as his hips shifted back.
I took a quick breath of air.
“Mine,” he snarled before his hips snapped forward.
There was no resistance.
He thrust deep, only to pull back and thrust deeper. Harder.
My eyes began to water as my throat convulsed around him.
He was fucking my throat at a rapid pace. Drool hung off my chin before landing on my breasts and the floor between us. He began to drag my head onto and off his cock—each time feeling his length batter my throat.
It was messy. It was violent. It was exquisite.
I blinked the tears away and glanced up.
Daddy had lost all control.
Lips parted. Eyes hooded.
Breath coming in sharp ragged pants.
But he didn’t slow. Didn’t stop.
And the wet slap of his balls against my chin felt like victory.
“My dirty girl,” he groaned, driving into me. “Gonna come.”
I closed my eyes, focusing on dragging my tongue around him.
“Fuck. Don’t swallow,” he rasped, yanking back and slamming forward until my face bounced off the soft fabric of his trousers. “Hold it in your mouth.”
He suddenly pulled out and with one hand began to work himself so viciously I thought he might pull it clean off. His other hand fisted my hair while I panted, mouth open and waiting.
The first shot splashed over my mouth, nose and forehead. He pushed back between my lips and I felt the heat of him hit my tongue. Some caught the back of my aching throat.
Our laboured breathing filled the office.
The drag of ceramic over wood.
He held my bowl of fruit in front of me.
“Spit.”
I stared at him in astonishment.
Victory was supposed to be mine.
Damn it.
I dipped my head and emptied into my mid-morning snack.
Note to self—don’t tease Daddy in the mornings.
He gets grumpy.