Bully For Her
By Tanke Bransdottir
High school is a jungle, but sometimes the prey catches the predator!
He saw her in the hall… alone… and strode to her with menace.
She saw him coming toward her with that same look in his eyes and she dismissed the screaming impulse to run. She’d never get far in her three-inch heeled ankle boots. Besides, things were different now; she had accepted and embraced this. So, like the proverbial Deer-In-The-Headlights, she stood still and wide-eyed, awaiting her fate. It wasn’t long in coming.
With a grunt he grabbed the girl’s upper arm and dragged her into a nearby storage closet, throwing her against the wall before turning on the light and checking the hallway once again for possible witnesses. Satisfied, he closed the door and turned to his victim.
As he assessed the gothic beauty, the first word his fear- and anger-soaked brain conjured up was “cheat”. From her shapely, black fishnet thigh-high clad legs to her glossy jet black hair, she was a walking lie. An unholy falsehood, designed to cloud the minds of men and tempt them into sin… or at least, that’s what Pastor Brown said at Sunday service. And young James “Jimmy” Braddock was tormented enough to believe it… sort of. Oh, but she was so tempting, so seductive in her beauty and utter vulnerability… surely God would forgive him that he had stumbled into such a cunning trap?
“I mean, look at her!” he thought as he sought to justify his past actions and future intentions. She was Sin draped in Desire. Standing just five foot seven in bare feet, she was small next to his six foot 2 inch frame. Still, even in those heels, in Jimmy’s presence she always seemed smaller, more fragile. Not that her figure suggested frailty; over the past two years the chubby freshman had grown three inches and all the extra weight had redistributed itself in stunningly sensual symmetry, to reveal the shapely senior, Raven.
The black, knee-length knit peasant dress with full-length, open lace, bell sleeves, clung to her increasingly feminine hips, thighs, and tummy, and, oh… that ass!
If that wasn’t enough to make the angels weep, just above that chrome-accented, black leather waist-cincher, nestled and barely contained in the gathered bodice, were the sweetest B cup buds this side of Heaven.
Was it just physical, these violent passions she inspired? What drew him to her, like a moth to a flame? Was it… what? What about her made him lose all reason? Why did he so desperately want – no, need – to protect her… and destroy her… at the same time?
All those pentagrams she wears all the time – earrings, necklaces, belt buckles – could she be what some said she was; an honest-to-God witch?
Afraid to appear defiant by too much direct eye contact, Raven caught furtive glimpses of her tormentor while he stood there in silence an awkward moment or two, stewing in his primordial rage, she assumed. She stood meekly, hands clasped behind her back, trying not shake, trying not to smile, waiting on his pleasure. She knew protocol was the man makes the first move, but he wasn’t doing or saying anything. Soon the tension became so thick, she couldn’t stop herself from speaking.
“Hello, Jimmy. It’s…it’s so good to see you… again.”
He was on her in a flash, slamming her against the wall and holding her there with his forearm across her throat.
“Don’t ‘Hello, Jimmy’ me, you fucking faggot! Who did you tell?”
She was prepared for savagery and violence… but the fun kind; his question puzzled her.
“What?!”
Adding pressure to her throat, Jimmy growled, “Don’t lie to me, Raven! I could hurt you so bad…”
“Oh, I know, Jimmy. I know. You could do anything to me… anything at all… and I couldn’t stop you. You’re so much bigger than me… so incredibly strong,” at this, she lightly touched the taught bicep of the arm pinning her to the wall, “… and you have those beautiful broad shoulders…”
He released her throat and immediately used that arm to slam his fist into the wall next to her head.
“I’m not fucking around, freak!” Jimmy roared. Then, after a nervous glance toward the door, he continued in a more temperate tone, though just as urgent, “Who did you tell? About us. About Friday night?”
Raven gasped in genuine shock, wounded at the thought, “I would never… NEVER… share that! With anyone! What you do to me… anything you do to me… is nobody else’s business!”
He looked at her upturned face, so full of sincerity and hurt, and, God help him, he believed her. Why did she have to be so attractive, so perfect? Why did her dark hazel eyes, undiminished behind those over-sized lens frames, tug on his soul, even from across a room? He turned his back on his smoldering, somber-clad angel to sort out his conflicted impulses.
How she wanted to touch him, comfort him. She even reached out to do so, but at the last moment, pulled her hand back. That’s how this had all begun. Strange, she thought wistfully, that she would be so compelled to offer succor to the boy who mocked, insulted, and vilified her while he was among his peers… a boy who raped her… at least technically.
* * *
Jimmy wasn’t always the asshole yahoo he became. When Raven was a freshman, she had moved to town with her dad. She caught a lot of abuse because she was small, wimpy and a gothy egghead. Back then, Jimmy had spoken up for her, even saved her from the cruel intentions of his fellow jocks in the locker room. Of course, that was when she was still Ralph and unsuccessfully pretending to be a boy.
Ralph and Jimmy were never really “friends”, more like cordial acquaintances, at least publicly. Privately Ralph, idolized Jimmy – a hero he’d often daydream about, until, eventually the handsome jock with the dangerous smile effortlessly invaded his/her nighttime dreamscape – not just as hero, but as a lover.
Real life was a little different. As soon as Raven came out, in her sophomore year, Jimmy’s whole attitude changed. From the first day Raven came to class enfemme, her hero became her arch nemesis. Oh, she understood why; his earlier defense of the wimpy kid had painted Jimmy as “suspect” now that said kid was officially queer. So to redeem his straight, macho reputation, he needed to be harder on Raven than anyone else. Through tears, she told herself she understood.
So why, she would ask herself a thousand times a day, did he still haunt her dreams? And, oh, those dreams… Unlike so many trans girls her age, Raven never dreamed of being a princess; her fantasies leaned more toward Gorean pleasure slave to some brutal, well-hung leather-clad master. The irony was not lost on her that Jimmy’s new distain and disrespect for her only made him more sexually desirable.
So she was more than surprised when, in their senior year, Jimmy asked Raven if she would tutor him in Spanish, as she did several other kids. Failing that class would have dropped his GPA and benched him for the season. Being a star quarterback, he had dreams of a football scholarship, and he was ready to do anything to achieve that goal… apparently, even if it meant spending time with a “tranny freak” like her... on the down-low, of course.
What surprised her even more was how readily – giddily, she was forced to confess – she accepted his proposition. He didn’t even apologize for all the cruel comments and crueler jokes at her expense, all for the entertainment of his posse of dumb jocks. He seemed so confident she would agree – he must have known how she felt about him – damn him and his gorgeous dimples! She supposed that Jimmy thought that if he was paying her, she couldn’t complain how he treated her when his buddies were around… like she was some kind of whore.
And like a whore, Raven had to deal with the intrigue that went hand-in-hand with being somebody’s dirty secret. She never knew where Jimmy told his parents or his friends he was – or what he was doing – when he was with her, but for her part, she could only have her “client” over when her dad had to work late – which was often – or was out with friends. Her dad knew how Jimmy had hurt his little girl and would have beaten Jimmy with a baseball bat if he found “that boy” in his house.
That first night of tutoring, she didn’t know what to expect from Jimmy, so she greeted him with a mixture of terror and longing. Yet, the painfully polite, deferential, and slightly nervous boy that showed up on her doorstep was a refreshing surprise. Without his droogies to play to, Jimmy was a serious, intelligent young man, yet with surprising wit and a bizarre sense of humor that echoed Raven’s own. Over the weeks, they found they had more in common than anyone would have thought, least of all, them.
It started with a kiss she wasn’t ready for… even though she’d dreamed of it since nineth grade.
They had been studying together one or two nights a week for a few weeks with no mention of Jimmy’s villainous behavior towards Raven in public. Finally, one Friday, Raven was seated on her bed with Jimmy, when she found the courage to broach the subject.
He couldn’t look at her as he explained how much he hated how he treated her, how he hated himself, how it made him sick… but he couldn’t be publicly associated with a trans person – he just couldn’t! They lived in a rural Red State where every preacher and politician made their careers denouncing the godless gay agenda. His confession ended with him sobbing, still unable to look at the girl he had so wronged. Raven reacted without thought and hugged Jimmy from behind, close to tears herself.
Things got a bit muddled from then. Somehow, Jimmy’s lips met hers – gently, tenderly. When they broke, they stared at each other in astonishment. A moment later, he was on top of her, kissing her with a passion and ferocity unmatched by her most debased dreams of dominance and surrender. She was enraptured; she never believed it could be like this, not for a girl like her. His arms held her supple body against his as he plundered her mouth with his tongue, and she greedily accepted it.
The spell began to dissipate when her released her and began to unbutton her blouse. She was fairly sure that at this point she said something like, “No. Please. Wait a minute…”
What she did distinctly remember, was that he slapped her across the face. Hard. Suddenly she was in a new dream, one where the new slavegirl is stripped and taken by her master. Her submissive little heart soared. She was sure that if it was still physically possible, “Little Ralph” would have been fully erect.
She recalled her blouse being ripped open, buttons flying, her black lace bra being pulled down, her B cup breasts being slapped and squeezed. She remembered holding Jimmy’s head tight to her tit, running her fingers through his hair as he sucked and cruelly bit her super sensitive, engorged nipples.
Then she was on her knees, her hair in Jimmy’s fist, having her first blow job quickly turn into a face-fucking. She was surprised and proud how easily she was able accept her master’s cock down her throat without vomiting or pulling away. The evil young man did seem to enjoy choking her with his rod. At one point, she believed he might choke her to death with his meaty pole and she thought she’d be proud to have on her gravestone, “Choked on a cock”.
She also remembered regretting not tasting much of the semen as he shot most of his load directly down her throat.
When he pulled her off his deflating cock, Jimmy must have thought the games had ended for the night…until Raven fell hungrily upon his flaccid manhood with lips and tongue and in minutes had raised his rod to deadly rigidity, using every trick she’d gleaned from internet porn.
Sometime after that, she found herself hauled to her feet and draped over her assailant’s lap, her skirt above her waist, panties down around the top of her legs, receiving a bare bottom spanking, all the while marveling how it hurt less and aroused more than she’d ever imagined. No words were said, she merely mewled and whimpered with each blow, luxuriating in her sumptuous victimhood.
When the spanking stopped, he paused and caressed her burning backside, his raging member pressed against her bare belly. Grabbing a tube of hand lotion from the nightstand, Jimmy began to apply it, firmly but reverently, to her tortured tush. Raven was paralyzed by sensual bliss.
Part of her knew where this was going – where it had to go, given her total surrender – yet it raised no alarms when his ministrations culminated in his rubbing the lotion up and down her cleft, massaging her virgin rosebud. Raven was a bit concerned when he began to push lotion into her puckered anus with his thumb, but she was far more aroused. Arousal and apprehension both rose as that thumb followed the lotion into her rectum, past her increasingly drowsy sphincter.
As much as this felt like her wildest dream coming true, she knew she wasn’t ready to take his massive member, but the power of the dream was too strong. She would take him – all of him –no matter what it cost her. She would not ask for mercy, she would not beg him to stop.
Even so, when he had her on her knees on the bed, her bottom up, head down and he was pressing his lotion-coated cockhead against her dilated sphincter, she felt compelled to say, “I’ve never done this before, Jimmy. You’re my first…”
The boy gave an evil chuckle before playfully slapping her upturned rump, saying, “That’s alright; same here.”
And with that, he thrust the first two inches of his shaft into her tight tunnel, eliciting a screech which she muffled by eating her pillow. Inch by inch he entered her, her screams turning to sobs, then moans, and finally a gasp as he bottomed out in her perfect bum.
She barely had a moment to congratulate herself on taking all of Jimmy’s eight inches without complaint before her man began pumping her back chute in earnest. Over the next 45 minutes, the young stud showed the girl new levels of pleasure, pain, and submission. Toward the end, the couple had collapsed on the bed, Jimmy still servicing Raven’s ass as they spooned, his hands reaching around to maul her pert breasts, his fingers twisting and tweaking her prominent nipples.
Raven’s mind was swimming through a sea of sensory input so intense it blotted out conscious thought. She was ass… and hips… and tits… and she didn’t need to be anything more… ever.
Not long after Jimmy’s full length was first seated in her rectum, Raven came, and had been building toward another orgasm ever since. She was almost there when the fucking machine pillaging her colon stepped up his pace to manic, unsustainable levels.
In a flash of clarity, she realized that he about to cum. The thought that a man was about to spend his load deep inside her pushed her to the edge. She wanted so to cum with him but could not control herself and so began to climax before Jimmy. She needn’t have worried; as soon as the first orgasm-induced spasms began in her anal sheath, the boy buried his pole completely, emptying himself inside her.
As she came back to herself, Jimmy was holding her tightly from behind as he kissed and nuzzled her neck, his still fully erect member remained firmly implanted in her once-virgin rear. Raven gasped as he once again began to pump in and out, albeit, shallow and slow.
“You’re mine now,” he hissed in her ear, “You belong to me.”
“Oh, God, YES,” she moaned, “Yes, Jimmy, yes!”
“Who do you belong to – say the words!” Jimmy barked.
“I belong to you, Jimmy, I belong to you!”
“Are you my little bitch?”
“You know I am, Jimmy! I’m your bitch… your slutty little bitch!”
“And you’re never going to tell ANYbody about us… about this… ANY of this! Right?”
Turning her head to make eye contact, she said, “No, Jimmy… never! They would never understand; none of them… ever.”
The unlikely lovers lay in each other’s arms for another half hour, spent, and enjoying the afterglow of their violent passion.
* * *
“Did someone say something?” Raven asked, fearful for – and of – her quarterback, “Who? What did they say?”
“Nobody said shit,” Jimmy confessed, adding, “But it’s just… just, in every class today… people keep… looking at me…”
He heard her giggle and spun on his heels and grabbing her by the shoulders, shoved Raven against the wall and put his rage-distorted face in hers, “What’s so funny, bitch!?”
Smiling up at her interrogator with an open, guileless smile, free of malice, she replied, “You are, silly boy! If everyone is looking, it’s because you’re the most handsome boy in the school… in the whole county, even.”
He wanted to punch her in her stupid face. No… he wanted to want to punch her… but looking at her upturned face – her flawless pale skin, her blood red lips, cute nose, and oh, those eyes… large, dark-rimmed, and soul-consuming – all he wanted to do was kiss her and hold her to him.
“Why did you have to be a boy?” he spat the indictment before turning his back and taking a step away.
“Not much of a boy… with and empty nutsack and a permanently limp noodle.” She replied, somewhat peevishly.
Jimmy turned with an uncertain expression, “What?”
Raven blinked in disbelief. “My balls. They’re gone. All the hormones and other drugs. The family jewels got funky, and they had to come out.”
“Sorry?” he offered hopefully, uncertain of the appropriate response.
“No biggy,” she lied, “Was always part of the plan. Just… well, a little sooner than planned.”
“Was that at the beginning of this semester? When you were out of school for a week?” Jimmy asked with genuine concern.
“Why, yes. It was.” She was surprised and pleased. “So you notice when I’m not around, eh?”
Smiling sheepishly, Jimmy blushed and was silent, avoiding her eyes.
“And yet, you didn’t notice my empty purse… while fucking me?” she said, both indignant and incredulous.
“I… I wasn’t looking… there. I didn’t want to look there,” he spit out, “I still don’t.”
That pulled her up short. She understood now. He had ravished the girl, Raven; he didn’t want to see reminders of Ralph. She really was a girl to Jimmy.
“Well… Good! Because… because I don’t want you to see it. I don’t want anyone to see it – ever! And this summer, after graduation, even I won’t have to look at it ever again.”
The brief look of confusion on Jimmy’s face prompted her explanation.
“Come June, I’ll be getting my bottom surgery. Bye, bye, Little Ralph; hello vagina!”
Raven took two fluid steps toward him until she stood mere inches from the boy. Her slim fingers, with their long, black enameled nails, gently lifted his chin so that he was gazing down at her upturned face.
“That means I’ll have my very own… pussy… cunt… quim…” she enunciated each sexy synonym for full erotic affect, “cock sleeve.”
She abruptly turned and slowly walked back to the wall, giving the awe-struck youth a prime view of her perfect posterior. Languidly leaning against the wall, she sighed heavily and said, “It’s really such a shame…”
“What’s a shame?” Jimmy said as he closed the distance between the two until he was pinning Raven against the wall with his body.
“It’s just such a shame… you won’t be there to break it in,” she offered, as she tenderly caressed his cheek, “Noooo… And it makes me so sad. I mean, you’ve already taken my other two cherries; it would be just so perfect if you were the one to take my third…”
She sniffed, shook her head, and looked away and stared into the distance as if watching the unfortunate future unfold, “No… by the time my new penis parlor is ready for visitors, you’ll be away at college, full scholarship… and hip-deep in cis, blond and bronze Barbies.”
Turning back, she locked eyes with Jimmy as she cautioned, “Oh, but you’ll have to play nice with them; no rough stuff or kinky shit! Just good old fashion missionary… with the lights off… and a condom… and only when she’s in the mood.”
Releasing another sigh, the girl again turned away, lamenting, “And me? I’ll be forced to find some other big, strong… dominant… man. Someone to keep me on my toes; who’ll put me through my paces…” her gaze meets his, “Someone who will put me in my proper place. Which… as you know… is on my knees… at his feet… his cock lodged in my throat…”
He stared at her for a moment, uncertain of what to make of her words. Then, an equally uncertain smile creased his lips.
“You’re… you’re fucking with me… right?” was all he could offer for reply.
“About those cis girls? ‘Fraid not… but the rest…?” She playfully slapped his chest with both hands, smiling. “I belong to you… all of me! Remember? So all my holes, they belong to you… even ones I don’t have yet. How could you think I could ever give any part of me to any other man after you claimed me?”
She kissed him fiercely, then stood there looking up at him, wide-eyed and vulnerable as a kitten, with the soul of a panther purring just below the surface.
Everything about this girl – how she looked, smelled, tasted, every word she said and how she said it – was insane and it was making Jimmy insane as well. What terrified him was the crazy things he wanted to say to her, do with her… do to her.
A moment later, he was plundering her receptive mouth with his tongue. When they came up for air, Jimmy let a nervous laugh escape and said, “Raven, you are one twisted puppy!”
“Oh, sweetie,” she said, stroking his cheek, “Crazy bitches are always more fun.”
He inwardly groaned; he knew she was right. He thought about all he would willingly sacrifice at that moment to enjoy more of her madness… and to be able to vent his own in her.
He slapped the wall and violently shook his head to dispel the trance she wove.
“Yeah… yeah, but,” he said as he grasped for words through the miasma of his hormone- and pheromone-addled brain, “Someone said something to somebody because… because I keep getting these, you know… looks…”
Raven took his face in both her hands and made him look at her, “If ANYone had said ANYthing to ANYbody, I guarantee you that it would be all over social media and you would definitely know.”
Her expression changed as a realization hit. “I know what this is! You want to know what this is? This is you feeling guilty that you acted on your feelings and took a little trans girl as your bitch. And a part of you is thinking everybody you look at must know your ‘sin’… Which is bullshit. You just acted according to your nature…”
Jimmy grabbed her wrists and pulled her hands off of his chest and held them away from him as if they each held a dagger. “So… what? You’re saying I’m queer!?”
“I’m saying you are a predator,” she said softly, “A strong, virile, dominant predator with no quarry fit to hone your claws on. You saw me, smelled prey and you pounced.
“Tell me; all the cis girls you’ve been with – have any of them ever given themselves to you as completely as I did? Did any of them ever welcome the Beast like I did?”
He released her wrists, let his hands fall uselessly at his side as his chin dropped to his chest. “No,” he all but whispered.
“You’re a man who needs a woman that can take the full brunt of your sexual fury,” she said soothingly, her hands once again spread against his expansive chest, “I’m afraid you won’t find one in this shithole town. You may find one when you go away next fall, but until then…”
She lifted his chin with the tip of her finger so that they were face to face, “…Until then, use me. I belong to you. Use me however you need to, in order to feel whole. Don’t worry; we’re not going steady. I don’t want to be your girlfriend – too much responsibility. Just think of me as a ‘fuck buddy’. Nobody has to know about us… but you HAVE to stop feeling bad about it! Your guilty conscious is going to fuck up a really good thing for both of us!”
“I… ah…”
“Stop thinking about how we’re doing something others wouldn’t approve of, and instead about how you’re doing something… enjoying something… that they could never appreciate or understand… and getting away with it! Smile! You’re the proud owner of the hottest piece of ass this pathetic school has to offer – if I do say so myself – and no one is the wiser!”
He kissed her hungrily. Then, a fistful of her hair clenched in his hand, he snarled into her ear, “You really do belong to me, don’t you?!
“Fuck, yes!”
“Your mouth belongs to me.”
“God, yes!”
“Your ass belongs to me.”
“Yes, YES!”
“And when you get it, your cunt belongs to me! All your holes! They’re all mine! Understand?”
“Oh, yes, sir! I belong to you!” she gasped breathlessly.
He turned her body so that she was facing the wall, had her lean against the wall with her hands while backing away from the wall. As a result, she stood like a suspect about to be handcuffed by a cop; head down, ass out, perilously positioned and at Jimmy’s complete mercy.
He caressed her curvaceous rump through her dress, as he assessed his new possession. As he did so, she spoke dreamily.
“I could still feel you, you know. As late as Sunday, I could still feel you. I was so sore and aching. Everywhere. You were so beautifully brutal. Every time I would stand, bend, walk or talk, I was reminded of how you took me… of how it felt to be totally at your mercy, to be completely owned. I cried when I noticed the last of the pain and soreness had gone away.”
“You really are a submissive little pain slut, aren’t you?” he said as he lifted her dress to her waist and was pleasantly surprised to find his bitch wearing a strange, high-waisted, firm-support control brief – in black, of course – with a wide gap running the length of her butt crack, exposing her glistening puckered orifice.
“Oh, you have no idea.” She replied, suppressing a giggle, then, wiggling her displayed derriere, she said, “I’m ready for you. Douched and lubed… just in case.”
He growled his approval as ran his hands over the provocative foundation garment, drinking in the delicious feel of Raven’s heavenly nether curves, bound in nylon and spandex.
He was about to release his turgid trouser snake when the girl suddenly stood up straight and turned to face Jimmy. Her hands spread wide on his chest, exploring the firmness of his well-developed pectorals beneath the skin-tight polo shirt, she looked up at him with those pouting puppy dog eyes that had always worked so well on her dad.
“Before you cripple me with your big fat cock,” she said, “could your bitch ask you a teeny tiny favor?”
“Of course – anything!” he replied without a second’s hesitation… which surprised him.
“When you’re with your buddies – oh, hell, anytime – could you please quit the homophobic remarks? Nobody – in their right mind or otherwise – thinks you’re gay. But if you seem too obsessed with a particular trans girl… well, they might get the wrong idea… you know what I mean?
“I’m perfectly happy with you calling me a bitch, slut, whore, cocksucker – which now, thanks to you, I really am. I wouldn’t even mind you calling me a cunt… in fact I would be honored to be called a cunt. But things like ‘faggot’, ‘freak’, and ‘tranny’… they have to go.”
Jimmy looked away and down – embarrassment? Recollection?
Her slim hand gently turned his face back to hers, “What? What is it Jimmy?”
He cleared his throat and tried to maintain eye contact as he told her, “Coach gave us the same speech, at our first practice this August. Said the Big Schools don’t sign players who don’t ‘respect diversity’. Of course, he was telling us this because someone above his pay grade had a talk with him. We knew this because he added that we ‘can believe what we want to believe’, just watch our mouths and our actions.”
“Huh!”
“He’d always turned a blind eye and a deaf ear to all the shit guys said and done in the locker room and on the team bus. I think he’s probably a worse homophobe than I ever pretended to be.”
His tear-glazed eyes sought hers as he took her face in his hands and whispered, “I am so sorry, Raven! I’m sorry I hurt you. I was afraid; afraid of what others might think… afraid of what I was thinking and feeling… afraid of what I felt about you…”
She mirrored him by cupping his face in her hands, “It’s okay, Jimmy, really! Now you just have to hurt me in a really good way and make it all better. Okay?”
Moments later, before tears fell, they kissed with a desperation neither had ever known.
* * *
Fifteen Years Latter: The High School Reunion
“…And that’s how our secret little romance began; with a tentative, stolen kiss in a supply closet. We were so scared and inexperienced – well, at least, I was. But he was so gentle with me, respected my boundaries, handled me as if I were as fragile as glass. I mean…”
Jimmy walked up behind his wife as she held court with all the nerds and geeks that constituted her clique back in the day. “Here’s your G&T, dear,” he said as he handed her the small clear cup with the clear fluid and a lime slice.
He quietly sighed and smiled again at how he got so lucky to have this exquisite creature for his own. Her trim, fiercely feminine figure was draped in a form-hugging, black, sequined, sleeveless, calf-length gown with one bare shoulder and a side split up to her thigh. Her sable tresses were pulled back from her face but tumbled down her back and onto her pale, pale shoulders. Other than her wedding and engagement rings and a pair of small silver dangling bat earrings, her only other piece of jewelry was a large-link platinum-plated chain about her neck, held fast by a small padlock in the shape of a heart. Her full C cup breasts were evident from the cleavage on view through a strategic keyhole in the bodice.
“Oh, thank you, love!” she beamed, taking her drink, and pulling him down to where she could kiss his cheek. She wrapped herself possessively around his arm before continuing her tale.
“Jimmy – typical man – wanted to tell everybody about us; wanted to display his latest ‘conquest’ – which oddly enough, only made me love him more. But I was so afraid to tell anyone, afraid of what it might mean, what could happen to us. You have to remember; this was back during the ‘teens – you know; Trump, neo Nazis, religious extremists everywhere. LGBT folks and their partners were being harassed, beaten… even killed…with virtual impunity.”
“Well, I guess all that down-low shit went out the window come Homecoming!” said Ricky (formerly Rhoshonda), which set the little crowd laughing. “Girl! When your man took you out on the dancefloor, ya’ll were holding each other so tight we all though ya’ll were gonna start humping each other right there!”
“That’s right,” chimed in former A/V nerd, Danny, who now owned a successful software company traded on the NASDAQ, “Yeah, Jimmy, you remember Mr. Fisk came over and had to
separate you two like dogs in heat… then he had to come back later and tell you get your hands off Raven’s butt!”
Another round of laughter, which Jimmy joined in. As the titters and chuckles dies away, the DJ spun a slow, familiar ballad, and Jimmy announced, “Friends, they’re playing our song, so please excuse us while I take my wife out on the dancefloor where I can grope her properly!”
Laughter, hoots and even some scattered applause greeted the king and queen as they made their way to the center of the gymnasium. They danced in a close, yet relaxed embrace, Jimmy’s hands around Raven’s waist, her head lightly resting on his shoulder.
After a few moments of silent bliss, Jimmy smiled as he whispered, “Well… aren’t you a dirty lying bitch.”
Raven giggled as she replied, “Why, yes I am.”
“Of course, you know you’ll have to be punished,” he said matter-of-factly.
“Of course,” she agreed soberly, “But, in my own defense… they couldn’t handle the truth.”
“Perhaps…” he replied, seemingly considering the proposition.
“I told you when you first claimed me… these mundane muggles? They will never understand. None of them. They’ll never understand…us; who we are, how we love each other… how we make love to each other. They’d recoil in horror if they saw the savagery of our passions first hand.”
“Maybe so…” he said as he dipped his partner, continuing once his wife was upright again, “But, since I was planning to discipline you anyway once I got you back to our room, let’s just say it was for fibbing.”
“So be it,” she said as she began to laugh that throaty, sensual laugh that never failed to warm his heart and remind him what a lucky guy he really was.
He held her close as they continued slowly twirling about the dancefloor, nibbling her earlobe as he quietly growled, “I’m going to fuck your ass so hard and so deep, my cock will be coming out of your mouth.”
He heard her groan and felt her shiver at his words. Raven then put her lips to his ear and breathed, “You evil, heartless bastard; to so cruelly tease a poor, helpless, lovesick girl like me. You know damned well it’s been ages since you gave me a proper butt fucking!”
“Oh,” Jimmy said in mock surprise, “So I should give your poor punished pussy a rest?”
“Fuck no!” she shot back, “Don’t you even think about it! No…but… being here… this place… these people… it has me feeling… nostalgic…”
“Do you remember where that supply closet is…?”
As soon as he spoke, it triggered another round of melodic laughter from Raven, which ended in a sigh as she looked at her mate with misty eyes. Her lips trembled with the effort of stifling tears of joy.
“My predator,” she said, her voice breaking with emotion.
“My prey,” he replied, fighting the same emotional battle.
They clutched each other in a tight embrace as their lips and tongues noisily fought to become one. They were deaf to the cheers, laughter and applause that broke out all around them.
Daddy’s Little Girl
By Tanke Bransdottir
Little girls who don’t take care of their Daddy’s presents, get punished.
“But I don’t want to!”
Daddy sighed heavily as he watched his little girl stomp her high-heeled foot and put on her pouty face. His intellect saw a beautiful, elegantly dressed 22-year-old woman – though she could easily pass for years younger – with flawless pale skin and midnight-black hair tumbling in soft waves to her slim shoulders. Yet, in his heart, she would always be his little girl.
“Sweetie,” he said, trying reason, “Daddy spent a lot of money to buy it for you, now you have to take care of it, maintain it. Remember how all through high school you cried that you were the only girl who didn’t have one? I know you remember when I told you if you were good, kept your grades up, and graduated, I’d buy you one. But it seems you forgot how you swore – by everything sacred –you would cherish it and do everything to take care of it and keep it healthy and clean. Yet here you are, throwing a tantrum to avoid a simple little task.”
Changing tactics, she put on her sad puppy dog eyes as she slinked toward the large imposing figure of her daddy, “It makes me feel… yucky… dirty.” She laid her head and chest against his massive chest as she cooed, “You’ve done it ever since I got it. You never seemed to mind before… and you’ve done it sooo well… couldn’t you pleeeease do it again?”
He sighed again; he seemed to be doing that a lot lately. He wrapped his lovely little girl in his arms as he said in exasperation, “What am I going to do with you?”
Suppressing a giggle, she replied, “Just love me!”
“You know I do,” he said, kissing the top of her head. Then, steeling himself, he broke the embrace, held her at arm’s length by her shoulders and put on his most serious Daddy face as he locked eyes with her.
“Now kitten, I know you think sometimes I’m just a big softy because I love you so much. It makes it so easy at times for you to wrap me around your little finger to get what you want. I don’t mind; if I could, I’d give you everything.
“But you also know that when I do put my foot down, I can be quite stern… and while you know it doesn’t happen very often, I’m about to be cross with you. Very cross. You know I don’t mind doing this for you – as you’ve guessed, I rather enjoy it. But within a few weeks, you will finally – FINALLY – be heading away to college. Daddy simply won’t be there to do it for you; you will just have to do it yourself… everyday… religiously! And to ensure you do it properly, you might as well start doing it for yourself now so Daddy can watch you and make sure you do it correctly.”
All other tactics having failed, she reverted to her spoiled brat mode, crossing her arms, and declaring in a surly huff, “I’m a grown woman… and, and, and… I won’t do it! You can’t make me!”
She instantly saw what a mistake her rash, impulsive statement was, as she watched the immediate change of expression on Daddy’s face.
“Can’t I?” he growled. In two strides he was on her, grabbing a handful of that luxurious hair in his fist as he continued on, driving her back against the wall.
She squealed, “I’m sorry, Daddy! I’m sorry, I’m sorry…” until he banged her head against the wall – not hard, but enough to silence her.
“Too late!” he said menacingly, “It seem a certain little girl needs a reminder about who I am and who… and what… she is!”
It took him just a moment or two to tear her haute couture dress from her shapely frame with his powerful hands. He took a moment to admire her state of undress.
Along with her graduation present, his pet was now allowed to wear fashions suitable to her new status as a full-fledged adult. He encouraged her to dress in the style of all the other women of her age and social set, if slightly more conservative, i.e., no pants, no hemlines above the knee.
However, he had very strict guidelines as to her lingerie. Pantihose were forbidden except under the most unusual of circumstances. Garterbelts and retro-style girdles and firm control panties with hose were the rule. Another apparent rule was that all items of her intimate apparel were white, ivory or nude in color. When she had asked why, Daddy would only say it was part of the “look” he was going for and would say no more. His little girl knew better than to question father further.
And now he drank in The Look he had so lovingly created. From her petite feet, shod in black three-inch Cuban-heeled pumps with ankle-straps, his eyes followed the length of her shapely leg, up its cinnamon-colored, fully fashioned stocking-clad length, to the ivory colored garter strap, that disappeared under kitten’s snug, French-cut, ivory panties. He noted with pleasure the outlines of the stout garterbelt, of a matching hue, beneath those clinging knickers. With satisfaction, he noted that the very respectable hips and derriere straining her panties’ seams, were all natural.
Heading north, he took in the way his pet filled out the C-cups of the ivory half-cup demi bra, the final piece of her matched lingerie ensemble. He smiled with pride recalling that her cleavage, like her other feminine curves, were produced by nature… with a little help.
The crowning glory of The Look was not his girl’s cascade of wavy, sable hair – though that was nearly indispensable. No, the final piece of his master work was the look of mock contrition and fear, hiding a voluptuous longing for submission. Even with her face cast downward in humility, he swore he could see her struggle to suppress a smirk.
She was generally a well-behaved girl; joyfully submissive, eager to please, eager to obey. Yet, at the oddest points, she would be petulant and bratty, and would need punishment and discipline to correct her ways. For a while, he was puzzled by her seeming rebellion – for he was very certain he had broken her good and proper right at the start.
Soon however…he came to understand; she enjoyed forced submission.
She was his creation and, molded over years by his strict and sensual hand, she had learned to revel in the more bestial demonstrations of his total dominion over her. These were meted out to correct poor behavior or improve performance.
His princess always strove for perfection and took pride in pleasing her Daddy. Which left her with a dilemma; how can she partake in the extreme rites of submission…
…If she doesn’t rebel?
The little minx had his hands tied; he couldn’t let such insubordination stand uncorrected, but it somehow reduced his enthusiasm for the exercise – granted, by only a small degree – knowing that punishment was exactly what she had planned.
“Anyway,” he thought to himself, “on with the show.”
“Stay!” he commanded his nearly naked and fidgeting charge, as he dragged a straight back chair from her dressing table to the center of her bedroom. Carefully draping his jacket over the back of the chair, he methodically removed his tie and folded it before placing it in his jacket pocket. In the same unhurried pace, he proceeded to remove his cufflinks and roll his shirt sleeves up, revealing mighty forearms, furred in the same shade of obsidian as the mane on the tremulous girl, shivering in her scandalous skivvies, just a few feet away.
When his pantomime of preparation was complete, he ceremoniously seated himself and faced forward, leaning forward, arms outstretched and braced on knees. This placed the penitent princess to his right, staring at her Daddy’s profile with mounting anxiety. After a suitable period of discomforting silence and stillness, Daddy turned toward his little hugabug, and locked eyes with her.
She stared into her Master’s ice-blue eyes with her own emerald ones… and was lost… as she always was. She thought of herself as prey, caught in the predator’s spotlight; can’t fight, no flight. All that remains… is surrender.
The man’s rugged features cracked a shadow of a smile as his girl’s captivating eyes fluttered their long lashes closed, and her face tilted down in graceful defeat. As she did so, most of her trembling subsided.
Facing forward again as he leaned back in the chair, Daddy slapped his right thigh and, without looking at her, he barked, “Come. Now.”
The shakes resurfaced as she took careful steps toward her doom at the hands of her Daddy, her master… her god. From painful experience, she came to rest with both her legs touching his right leg, standing at rigid – if somewhat unsteady – attention, facing off into the unfocused distance.
“Drop ‘em.”
The terse command made the girl visibly flinch, but she recovered quickly and, without breaking her stand, she reached back, grabbed the waistband of her panties, and slowly lowered them until they rested below the swell of her delectable derriere.
“Bend.”
With practiced ease, she made a slow, controlled bend from the waist, until her back was parallel to the floor, her arms straight, her hands on Daddy’s left thigh for support.
Satisfied at last that her form was acceptable, he ordered, “Down.”
First, in one smooth motion, she bent further at the waist, even as she bent arms until she was resting on her forearms on his lap. In a separate move, she pushed her forearms out in front of her, letting gravity lower her slowly, ending up with her hips resting dead center of her Daddy’s lap, her bare beautiful buns facing up.
What followed were several minutes of the large man adjusting his legs, adjusting his grip on the girl’s midsection, followed by a leisurely inspection – visual and manual – of his kitten’s bottom and environs. He could guess at how much restraint she must be exerting to stay still and not curse him aloud for the cruelty of his tenderness before the pain. But she endured. It’s what she did. As he had taught her, that was one of her strengths; a skill possessed by few.
“Twenty,” he declared, “It should be forty, but I have things to do.”
The first blow came immediately. Her shriek was more of surprise than pain.
“Count!”
Smack!
“One, sir. Thank you, sir.”
Smack!
“Two, sir. Thank you, sir.”
He was not using his full force. He would build to that.
Smack!
“Th,three, sir. Th,thank you, sir.”
Nor was he spacing out his blows with intervals of tender caresses. She was a big girl now; she got a big girl’s punishment.
Smack!
“F,f,four, sir! Th,thank you SIR!”
The cane next time, he idly thought. He noted that he needed to advance her bondage and discipline training. She might be less frivolous with her disobedience after a good flogging session on the Saint Andrews cross.
Smack!
“Fffff-aaah…Five, sir! Yes, sir! Thank you, sir!”
***
“Twenty, twenty, twenty! Sir! Thank you! Sir!”
Inspecting his little girl’s blazing bum, he was certain that once the red faded, there would be a few bruises. He always regretted anything that marred his princess’ beauty… but damnit, dealing with all this recent misbehavior was tiresome. Despite his previous resolve to be totally clinical in this correction, he could not help but let his hand wander over the bright crimson landscape of her flawless behind, beautifully framed by her garterbelt and its straps. He may have to take time later and massage lotion into her wounded butt.
In response, his precious girl sighed heavily, and even though she knew not to speak unless called on to do so, she nevertheless blurted out, “I’m so sorry, Daddy.”
Smack!
“Shut up!” He then sighed and said flatly, “And no… you’re not sorry… and that’s the problem.”
He gently stroked her plump and glowing bottom for a few more moments before reluctantly sitting upright in the chair and issuing his next command.
“Kneel.”
She slid limply off his lap into a pile of boneless, breathless, sweating flesh to his right.
“Here,” he directed, pointing at the space directly in front of his chair. With some effort, his pet crawled unsteadily to the designated spot, and once there, knelt, spread her knees wide, sat back on her heels and interlocked her fingers, placing her hands behind her head. Her back straight, her elbows thrown wide, and her head erect, she dropped her gaze submissively and awaited his next command.
“I must tell you, kitten,” he began, calmly, “I fully expected and was prepared to deal with rebelliousness when you were younger. I was pleasantly surprised by what a good little girl you were and how well you behaved. But here you are – as you say, ‘a grown woman,’ – and you give me more trouble now than you ever did! Especially since you’ve gotten your graduation present, you’ve been acting out more and more. What is it? Now you’re refusing to do basic daily maintenance on that very expensive and precious gift…as you swore you would do a thousand times? I don’t get it. What do you have to say for yourself?”
She began quietly sobbing, and he was silent while she gathered her words. At last she squeaked out a few words.
“You don’t love me anymore,” she whined pitifully.
“What?” He hoped he had heard her wrong.
“You don’t love me anymore,” she spat with more venom, “You never want to spend time with me!”
He wanted to laugh, but then saw how deeply she felt it to be true. He was truly confused.
“Princess,” he said softly, “I spend more time with you now than ever before.”
“No you don’t!” she shouted bitterly, “you spend time with… ‘it’!”
Even if he could have thought of a response, she didn’t allow him time to say it.
“I see you four times a day and all you want to talk about is ‘it’. And once you’ve taken care of ‘it’, you’re gone… and I’m alone. You love ‘it’ more than you love me! You say it’s mine, but I think you got it just for yourself. It’s your new toy. And now you want me to take care of it for you… so you’re not forced to spend so much time with me!”
Her anger spent, she began to weep in anguish. The discipline of her position forgotten, she covered her tear-stained face with both her hands as her body shook with pitiable sobs.
While her logic was faulty and he bristled at the accusation, from her point of view, he could easily see where she could feel that way… which she obviously did; she felt it deeply. Although she had a woman’s body, so much of her is still an insecure little girl. He knew he would need to reassure her of his love and desire for her.
“Here,” he said, pulling a handkerchief out of his pocket and offering it to her saying, “It breaks Daddy’s heart to hear my little girl say she thinks he doesn’t love her. That’s just not true. That said, I can see how you might feel that way.
“I could tell you that although I love our time together, it takes me away from many important matters; business that allows me to provide for my little girl in the style that she deserves. I could also say that because of that, sometimes my mind may wander back to that business when we’re together.
“But no more excuses; my little girl is sad and hurt and I intend to do something about that. But first…” he said, then added more sternly, “you still have something to answer for, Missy!”
A wave of instinctual fear passed through the kneeling – and now trembling – girl as she watched her Daddy stand up and unbuckle his belt. Was he going to beat her with it? He hadn’t done that in years! What offense of hers was so heinous that it justified such brutality?
When he unzipped his fly and pushed his pants and undershorts down, allowing them to fall to his ankles, relief washed over her features as she gazed longingly at his massive, rampant manhood, bouncing inches from her face.
“Do you see what you’ve done?” he asked, “You’ve made Daddy all hard. What do you have to say for yourself?”
“I’m so sorry I made your big… fat… cock… so hard… and sore,” she said, lust dripping from every syllable, “Is there anything… anything at all… I could do to make it feel better?”
“I believe so…but, right now,” he said as he began to unbutton his shirt, “you can take my shoes and socks off.”
When she had done as commanded, he stepped out of his pants and underwear, kicking them to the side. Only then did she dare look up, and as she did, she suppressed a gasp; she thought him a magnificent specimen, yet it always took her breath away every time she first viewed his perfection in person.
At six feet, three inches, broad of shoulders and chest and tightly muscled from head to foot, she often thought he would make a perfect artist’s model for a superhero, though, as he had a dark pelt of fur on arms, chest and legs, maybe more Wolverine than Superman. He kept his black hair short – just long enough for it to lie flat against his skull… mostly. A touch of grey hair graced his temples as well as being sprinkled lightly throughout his dense chest hair. His hard features, marked with a few minor scars, were yet handsome, if decidedly intimidating.
The rest of his body sported scars as well – some immediately noticeable, others obscure by the thick carpeting of hair on his torso. In times past, as he laid with her in the afterglow of either punishment or reward (so difficult to know the difference), he would allow his little girl to trace the outlines of this residue of trauma with her delicate fingers and permit her to ask their origin. He would then regale her with tales of high adventure and reckless youth.
At first, she thought he was inventing stories to entertain his little princess, but something in the manner in which he relayed these exploits, quickly made her change her mind. Besides; for better or ill, he had never lied to her. Sometimes, she prayed he would… but no, she had learned to trust his word implicitly.
“Bare your breasts, pumpkin,” he directed, “show Daddy your perfect nipples.”
Her training ensured that she understood this code phrase to mean that without removing any clothes, she was to promptly expose her pert little mounds to his inspection. Had he wanted her to remove her bra, he would have said so plainly. He had once shared a well-known secret with her; that partial nudity is more erotic than complete nudity. This thought ran through her mind as she made a show of slowly pushing down the shoulder straps of her bra, then peeling the half cups down, releasing her perky bosoms… all while maintaining eye contact and a lascivious grin.
‘Perfect’ was the correct word for the teats that surmounted his charge’s well-formed mounds. Her silver-dollar sized areola were dark rose-colored, puffy little domes supporting fat, turgid, burgundy nubs that rose three quarters of an inch from their base.
He reached out and took hold of a breast with each hand, gently twisting, tweaking, and stroking her hyper sensitive nipples. She quickly threw her head back and closing her eyes, began to moan and gasp. The sensations he engendered soon became so intense they threatened to overwhelm her. It was as if she were drowning in pleasure and feared she might die. Her instincts told her to pull away – make it stop! Yet her training told she would endure.
He saw his pet’s clenched fists, tight-shut eyes and the tremors taking hold of her body and knew she was reaching her limits. A minute later, he released her beautiful buds, but not before making a note to have her nipples pierced and ringed for her college graduation.
Coming down from that high, she eventually opened her eyes and focused her attention on the central truth of her existence, bobbing there inches from her plump, sensual lips; her Daddy’s cock.
At nine or ten inched long when erect (she’d never measured it, though often she was tempted), and easily seven inches around at the base, she thought his instrument huge. She understood, intellectually, that there were larger tools out there – she’d seen some in the pornography Daddy shared with her – but knowing how much effort it took to take Daddy’s full length and girth, how much he stretched her out, she fervently hoped never to meet a larger implement in real life.
But she sincerely loved her Daddy, loved his attentions, loved being the sheath for his magnificent blade. If she was honest with herself, she even loved the initial pain of his entry, knowing the intensity of the pleasure that always followed.
“Wet it down good, kitten. Daddy doesn’t want to hurt his precious girl.”
She took his member in both her hands and lovingly, reverently began sucking and licking the head as he placed a gentle, guiding hand at the base of her skull. Early on, she had tearfully accepted that she would never be able to take much more than half his length in her mouth and throat, and so she had focused on developing other oral techniques with lips, tongue, and cheeks in order to properly worship her master’s cock.
And worship it was for her. Using her lips to glide up and down the sensitive underside of his shaft, then repeating the process on the top side, she deliberately deposited excessive amounts of drool, liberally lubricating his pole both for her hand as she stroked his base… and future actions.
The taste, smell, and feel of him, the heat and pulsing of his flesh, was intoxicating for her. In that eternal moment, nothing existed for her but that tower of man-meat and demonstrating her deep understanding and appreciation for it. A distant part of her knew she should slow down, that this was but prelude to the main act, but, lost in the moment, all her efforts turned more and more toward feeling him explode in her mouth and swallowing his hot salty essence.
Suddenly she felt a slight tug on her hair.
“Woah, precious,” Daddy said as he eased his little cocksucker’s mouth off his glistening rod, “it takes Daddy a little longer to reboot these days… once you’ve rung his bell. Still,” he added, caressing her cheek as she gazed up at him with love, lust and devotion, “I’m so proud and happy to see that you continue to give nothing but your best to the task.”
He held out his hands and she placed hers in his as he assisted her to her feet. Once she was standing, he gestured for her to step back so he could take in all of her. He noted that her panties had fallen to her ankles, exposing her scruffy pubic hair still struggling to grow back. He sent himself a mental memo that he had to decide soon if she should trim it, shave it, wax it, or have all the hair permanently removed, but he couldn’t concern himself with that now.
“Kick those knickers to the side,” he said with a hint of impatience. She immediately complied, returning then to her place of inspection, though she could barely stand still, so excited was she.
Her master fought his impulses and took a leisurely minute to admire his pet’s overall perfection. With a gesture from Daddy, the girl stood straight and tall, fingers interlaced behind her head, elbows spread wide, breasts thrust forward, feet shoulder width apart, eyes straight ahead, fixed on some point in the unfocused distance.
Her perfectly sculpted, nylon-encased legs were a sublime vindication of his program of medication plus proper weight training, as were her slim but firm arms, and her washboard abs.
He took a moment to appreciate how her broad and sturdy garterbelt flatteringly framed her scruffy genitals in front and her heart-shaped buttocks in the back. He had her turn around so he could better examine her glorious glutes. They were still mostly red, and he could spot the places that would likely turn dark soon, but none of that diminished his delight at the sight of her paragon of posteriors.
He came up behind her, his hands cupping her breasts, pressing her back against his naked chest, his hips grinding the underside of his throbbing cock against her lower back. She gasped, then sighed, “Oh, Daddy!”
If he forced himself, he could drag this out for at least another hour, but he saw no need to torture himself and his little girl any further.
He growled in her ear, “On the bed. On your knees. Head down. Ass up. Offer yourself to me, baby girl… offer yourself…”
His words made her fight back a sob… this time, of joy. It was almost comical how quickly she scrambled into position at the foot of the bed, her ripe rump upthrust, wiggling in invitation.
“Take me, Daddy,” she moaned in desperation, “Take me, Daddy… make me your little girl… make me your little bitch… your slutty, slutty little bitch!”
No further entreaty was necessary. He stepped up and spread her ass cheeks even further and spat on her puckered little rosebud, then began to massage it with his thumb, coaxing it to open.
“We may have to start using the plugs again; you’ve gotten so tight.”
“Yes, Daddy! Whatever you say; I want to be good for you!”
A moment later, his thumb was fully implanted and began circling, stretching, demanding her sphincter remember its training and open, which it did before long. More spit, and the head of his truncheon was inside, reacquainting itself with her tunnel of dark desires. She tried to take more of him, but he firmly gripped her hips, controlling the pace of penetration. Slowly he fed her his tumescent tool, ignoring his girl’s impatient sobs, so eager was she for him to bottom out in her bottom. Nevertheless, because they had not shared this sacrament for so long, he entered her at a very deliberate pace, partly to avoid injuring his precious one… and partly to fully enjoy the reconquest of her rectum.
A little more spit, then a little more, and at last, he was balls deep in his beloved baby girl, and they both reveled in the bliss of knowing – beyond thought – that they were exactly where they should be; in perfect, wordless communion.
He began with slow, shallow thrusts; little more than a subtle rocking back and forth while firmly embedded. As he carefully increased the pace and depth, he began the familiar catechism.
“Who do you belong to, kitten?”
“You, Daddy, I belong to you!”
“Are you Daddy’s little girl?”
“Oh, yes, Daddy! Forever!”
“Do you like being Daddy’s little girl?”
“I love being Daddy’s little girl! I love you!”
“But when I told you I was going to make you my little girl, you said you didn’t want that.”
“I was a stupid, stupid little girl. Thank you, Daddy, for making me your girl!”
“Remember how you cried when I took your balls?”
“So stupid! How could I know…how could I have known how beautiful it would be? Please forgive my stupidity.”
“But then I would take you, so gently, and while I was inside you, I’d tenderly rub your empty sack until your pathetic little peepee dribbled some fluid… and you were so happy I took those nasty balls.”
“Yes, yes, Daddy! Thank you for taking my balls.”
“You like it that I made you a pretty little sissy girl, instead of a nasty, hairy, dirty little boy, don’t you?”
“Oh, Daddy, it would be horrible to be a boy. Thank you for making me your sissy girl.”
“I gave you a whole new identity, shaved years off your age, let you do high school over again.”
“I got to be a cheerleader… thanks to you, Daddy! I love you sooo much!”
“And with the hormones, the weights and your femininity training, you blossomed into the most perfect girl… the most perfect daughter… a man could ask for!”
“Because of you, Daddy! All because of you! I did it all for you!”
“And you remember how I promised that if you were a good little girl, I’d buy you the best, most beautiful vagina in the world, didn’t I?”
“Yes, Daddy. You’re so wonderful!”
“I can be,” he chuckled, “And didn’t I come through? Isn’t that the greatest vagina ever?”
“Oh it is, Daddy. Thank you!”
“But now,” he said harshly before slapping her rear, “I have to take time out of my busy day…”
Smack! Another attention-getting slap to the other cheek.
“…to dilate your new vagina for you! Didn’t…”
Smack!
“…You promise…
Smack!
“…You would…”
Smack!
“…take care of it?”
“Yes, Daddy! I’m sorry, Daddy! But it’s the only time I get to see you anymore! And, and… I love when you take control of me, of my body. I mean, it’s humiliating and uncomfortable, but when I’m all exposed… and you put your hands on me… it makes it bearable.”
“Oh, sweety,” he said, slowing the pace and gently caressing the new red handprints on her ass, “I have an idea; from now until you leave for school, you dilate yourself three times a day and I’ll do the fourth. I’ll watch you for a few days until I’m certain you’re doing it correctly, but after that I’ll trust you to do it right own your own.”
“But Daddy…” she whined.
“… And that way, when it’s my turn, because I was able to get shit done, I won’t be distracted and can focus on enjoying time with my little girl…” With that, he increased the pace and depth of his strokes.
“Oh! Oh, Daddy! Oh yes, yes, Daddy!”
“You like that?”
“Yes, Daddy! Fuck me deeper, Daddy”
He playfully slapped her upturned bottom and said, “I meant the idea, silly, not my cock! We know you like the cock!”
“Yes, Daddy… I love your cock! But why can’t you just dilate me with your… big… fat… cock? Wouldn’t that be better?” she giggled seductively.
“Oh, I will. Someday!” he said as his lunges and withdrawals became more extreme, “But exactly because my cock is so big…” he quickly thrust himself in to his root and back out until only the head kept the passage open, “…and fat…” again; all the way in and almost all the way out, “is the reason you need to prepare the way… by dilating religiously everyday… so that when I do ‘make you a woman’… I won’t destroy your womanhood.”
“Oh, God, Daddy!”
“Just like when we slowly stretched your little asshole with larger and larger butt plugs, so you could take all of me without any damage… Do you remember? Do you understand now?”
“Yes! Yessss! Yes, yes, YES!”
“Are you going to be a good girl and do what you’re told?”
“God! Yes! Anything! I’ll fuck my pretty little cunt with dildoes for you! I’ll suck your amazing cock in public, if you want. For you, Daddy! All for you, Daddy! I’ll be the best little girl in the whole world…but please….” She was now weeping in frustration, “Please, please, please… Fuck me! Fuck your little bitch! Claim me! Claim me like you used to… claim me with your cum! Let me be your little bitch again! Please make me your bitch!”
That was all it took; he slammed his full length into her as he flooded her rectum with his scalding seed, which in turn triggered the girl’s orgasm.
He rode out his climax buried in his little girl, telling her again and again, with tears in his eyes, “Daddy is so proud of his little girl… So proud…”