“Come here,” Daddy says when he gets home from work.
I walk toward him, and his hand claps onto my shoulder and he pushes me down onto my knees so forcefully that it makes me lose my balance a bit. Zing. I am instantly turned on just by that little bit of force, that one moment of being overpowered.
I obediently suck on his cock (lucky me), but that one zing is still making my heart race, and begets a wild wanting. I crave to be manhandled, forced. Taken. Ravished.
As if he can read my mind, Daddy drags me off to the bedroom and he does fuck me good and hard. Shoves his fingers hard into my ass. Ah perfect yes. But … it’s not enough to stop an insistent ‘need-more’ energy from building in me. The word ‘please’ keeps echoing in my head, but please what, I don’t know. Images of rough and rougher impact blaze vividly in my mind. Push me, throw me, smack me, pin me down, hurt me hard harder. This need for rougher is like a tight snapping whip inside me, and I am half pushing at him, grunting.
“You’re getting worked up” he says. “Let’s get some clothespins on your pussy, calm you down.”
He yanks me up by my wrist, drags me to the living room, shoves me toward the couch. Again, I lose my balance, and again it excites me to feel out of control. I am giddy as I lay back and open my legs. We’d discovered the pleasures of clothespins the week before, after seeing them bedecking pussy lips in dozens of photos on FetLife. The first time he clamped the wooden pins on my labia, my hips rose up from the shock of pain. But I found with a few deep breathes, I could stay with it. I liked that they prevented me from closing close my legs, and made me feel exposed and vulnerable. I liked that in less than 30 seconds, I could feel the blood rushing to my pussy even as endorphins from the pain rushed to my brain. The longer they stayed on, the more the pain transformed into an exquisite throbbing awareness — sharp and sweet and fiery hot. I went beyond liking it to loving it passionately, the instant arousal, the pain trance, the feeling of helpless submission …
Now, on the couch, Daddy clamps my lips, and the pain does calm me, at least at first. But the need-more feeling soon roars back. I all but beg for a fat plug in my pussy. Oh, I feet like the most depraved thing, but my need is overwhelming. Only when the plug is in me, and his fingers are back in my ass do I feel full enough. I finally become still and calm, floating on the sweet edge of pleasure/pain. I don’t want it to end … But then, oh god, he starts sucking on my clit with the clothespins still on.
Oh oh oh oh! Yes, Jesus fuck yes, an orchestra of sensation, a ring of hot intensity, oh my god! Scalding pain-pleasure strums through me, like guitar strings being plucked. I can actually feel the energy of it roll along my nerve paths, and it hits my brain with an almost literal impact, a wave pushing into my mind, a hot and satisfying wash of ohhhhh yeesssss …
When he takes the clothespins off, bright pulses of pain light me up again, and I rise up and straddle his lap with pussy on fire, grinding against his legs. I cling to him for a long, gasping moment. I hear myself say: “I want more, Daddy. I want rough, I want pain, I want to FEEL”
He laughs in surprise. “Really,” he says. “Like this rough?” Then he slaps my face.
What? Now I am the one laughing in surprise. Never would it have occurred to me to want my face slapped. But the shock of it satisfies me. “Yeah, rough like that.”
He makes a growling sound of satisfaction, then pushes me back down on the couch. And suddenly he is on top of me, and fucking me and slapping my face and the pure hot shock of each slap, the transgression of it, turns me on WILDLY. The harder the slaps, the greater the shock, and the more turned on I became. It is loud and raw and awesome and HOT.
Afterward, as we watch TV, I am finally, finally calm. My face tingles and aches, and I am stunned at myself, how I got off on being slapped and treated that roughly, got off on it so hard.
“You’re not the only one,” he says. “It’s the ultimate power trip.”
“But how it must have looked,” I say. I have seen girls getting slapped during sex on different web sites, and it looks so bad, so wrong.
“I’d go to jail,” he says with a laugh. We both marvel at how we can enjoy something so strictly forbidden. Never in a million years would we have suspected we had that kind of behavior in us.
In the morning, I look in the mirror, and I can see two faint lines on my cheek, tiny little broken blood vessels where he struck me a little too hard. It makes me feel loved, and how strange is that? To be able to cross that boundary, take a good hard slap from my Dom, there seems to be so much trust and intimacy built into that. And there is so much DADDY in it for me, too, because my actual stepfather was the only other man in my life to ever strike me. He did it back then “for my own good” and I would tremble at his power over me. And my Daddy now is doing it for my good, and oh he is the most powerful man to me. He is willing to break every rule to give me what I need. I feel in awe at such pure and daring love.
It is almost unbearable to have any boundaries of any sort between us anymore. I want them gone.
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