Daddy and I have been writing each other all day about my desire for him to force me to submit, how I crave rougher, and I am full of bravado as 5 o’clock nears. But once I hear the garage door open and the rumble of his car in the garage, I am suddenly scared, nervous. And when he walks in with those smoldering eyes that tells me he has been working up a head of sexual steam all day, I think I actually gulp.
“Come here,” he says.
I walk toward him, and his hand claps onto my shoulder and he pushes me hard 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.
After I suck his cock, he pulls me to my feet, and I move a little wobbly into the kitchen to make dinner. As I cook, he begins unwinding the rope in the living room, looking over to me with a small smile that looks positively ruthless to me, and gives me a little shiver of fear, and a big wave of anticipation.
Our attempts at small talk are interspersed with small bursts of stray laughter from me.
“Is someone nervous?” he asks.
“Someone is very nervous,” I answer.
“You should be,” he says.
After we eat, he begins binding my breasts in a harness.
It is such a singular thing, to stand mostly naked, while he puts all that focus on me, and winds the rope around me in this slow hypnotic rhythm. It settles me completely into my body and my sexual self, while at the same time making it explicit that my body is his.
“Now,” he says. “Your spanking.”
He pulls me to the couch and pulls me over his lap, none too gently. My squeezed tight breasts are pressed painfully into the couch, and while I am trying to get comfortable he smacks my ass hard, very hard. Way harder than usual. I don’t know why it shocks me, how much it hurts. This is what I wanted, right?
It seems not at all what I want when the blows land. I am flinching, and moaning, trying to scramble away. But he shoves my head down onto the couch, holds me still, spanks me brutally until I am in tears. I think, how stupid am I, to invite such a abuse. I don’t like this! But only moments after the last spank, my body calms, and I am swept by the sweetest surrendered feeling to his power over me.
With my ass still burning hot, he tells me to lie still on his lap and relax. I am only too happy to obey, still face down on the couch. He reaches for the lube and starts stroking my bottom hole. This is when he most truly becomes Daddy to me, when he penetrates me there, gently probing, opening me to his fingers while I lie helpless across his lap. My mind is so convinced only a Daddy could be allowed to do that, or would want to do that, would be so careful gentle and yet so insistent. It is hard to lie still for it, accept the intensity of his fingers pounding into my ass, the too-much-ness of it. I want to squirm because it feels like an invasion, a wrongness, and it hurts.
But oh my god the pleasure that comes as I allow that pain, and submit to that piercing pressure. I have a mental image of those expanding circles that artists draw in the ocean to show the traveling of a sonar waves. I feel round shafts of the most deeply satisfying pleasure pulsing through me.
But ass penetration is not just physical pleasure, it rivets my mind as well as my body, my mind literally cannot move any more than my body can, and my mind craves more even when my body is saying enough, I can’t take more. Then he slides another finger in, and I feel myself keep opening, allowing, almost swooning, fuck yes. And I know, I KNOW this is what Daddy love feels like, to be so essentially and personally taken and invaded and penetrated to the core.
So he has prepared me, and stretched me, and even though I feel so incredibly open, he tells me I am tight, and he is going to put a plug in. I lie still and breathless as he pushes the fat, clear silicone plug into my throbbing behind. It feels more hard and painful and cold than his fingers, but satisfying still, to be on the edge of what I can stand, to feel myself stretched and full. And his fingers go in my pussy, oh I am full everywhere, I feel ecstasy building, I am dissolving …
And then a dark pain, deep in my ass, BAD pain, his fingers pounding into my pussy are pushing the plug too far in, I turn my head in alarm, start yelling, “Ow, ow, ow!” my hand shoving at him to stop. The TV is on, he cannot hear me at first. It is getting worse, I am in a panic, kicking my feet, yelling louder, when he finally stops. “It hurts! You’re hurting me!”
He quickly discovers that the plug has ENTIRELY disappeared inside me, round handle and all have gone too far up my ass. From ecstasy to horror in ten seconds. True horror. I am scared so scared, I fear I have to go to the emergency room to get it taken out, I will become a joke, the humiliation will be unbearable.
But Daddy keeps his head, and calmly works his finger in after it and plucks it out. He seems to take it in stride.
I do not take it in stride, I am so upset by this turn, mortified by it. My butthole hurts bad, I have no clue if it is seriously damaged (it isn’t), and I am pretty well hysterical, half laughing half crying. But he is saying shhhhh, pulling me onto his lap, comforting me.
But I am done, and I am sure that my solicitous husband will stop now, release me from sexual obligation for the evening, allow me to recover my composure. But this is not my husband, this is my Daddy, and what Daddy wants, Daddy takes. And when I say I am done with anal training, I give up, he will not hear of it.
“We are not giving up, baby girl,” he says. Already he is pushing me back over his lap and sliding his fingers back into my pussy. I have the uncanny feeling that it doesn’t matter what I feel, literally does not matter, my body does not belong to me, and he is going to finish what he started. And yes I am still excited after all, and his fingers keep sliding in and out of me, stirring me, and the orgasm comes fast, and then another … And then he tells me to turn over onto my back and he fucks me until his own orgasm makes him groan loud. He will later tell me that it was the fuck of his life.
Afterward he cleans between my legs with the towel, that tender Daddy task that makes me so feel like a girl being taken care of, makes me know I can trust him. He lies over me, sucks on my pushed out titties, then, his face charged and wild like I have never seen, he grabs the front of the breast harness, and lifts the top of my body, shaking me with growls of ownership. I feel like a rag doll, helpless in the grip of his powerful hand, his powerful possessive love. Being shaken like that pushes me further in a submissive trance, I feel my head fall back in the stunned peace of subspace.
Finally, Daddy pulls me to my feet so he can unwrap the ropes. It is a long luxurious process, he cradles me close, and the feel of rope sliding across my body as well as his tender hands keeps me in that space for a long, suspended while …
I was not wrong about more force bringing me more satisfaction, more surrender. I could have never imagined being so close to someone, so handled inside and out. I feel consumed by him, swallowed up into him. I had thought I was throwing myself into the D/s dynamic, did not realize how completely I would be throwing myself into him.
Who is he, this dominant Daddy of mine? I have only barely met him. He does not even know this unfolding version of himself. I am unfamiliar with myself too, we are changing each other, becoming new people with each other. I feel so raw as he unwraps me, so at the mercy of the unknown him and the ever changing us. And so fucking in awe of how he loves me.
Isn’t it my job as a human being to be responsible for my own body, my own choices?” The price of shirking that responsibility to become submissive suddenly seems very high. I am dragging my feet as I head back up the concrete steps to my front door.
To resist would only cause more pain, so there is nothing I can do but submit completely, go still and relax and accept him into me. His cock holds me impaled, motionless, gasping, full.
My body obeys, but now mind is starting to say, too much, too much. After another orgasm, (or two?… yes two, his tongue in my ear) I feel myself starting to squirm away, nerves raw, too much.
I have consented to it, craved it, wanted it. Oh I very much wanted to “fall apart and re-form” myself around him. But now it is freaking me out. Any last vestige of a role play game is completely gone. And I feel unexpectedly bereft because I have lost my husband, lost Michael.