I parked at the end of the street 20 minutes early so I wouldn’t be late, hands sweating on the wheel as I tried to breathe steady. What the fuck am I doing? Who even am I? I almost texted to back out, but I wanted whatever came next, more than I wanted anything rational. At exactly 8 pm, I pulled up in front of his place and got out of my car, clutching my bag to my chest like it held the rest of my life.

He opened the door - tall, insanely handsome, smiling warmly. My nipples were so hard I could’ve keyed a car with them. I stuck out my hand and introduced myself like an executive idiot, then dropped onto his couch before I passed out. I slipped my sandals off, straightened my dress and asked for a drink to calm my nerves.

He smiled, poured two gin & tonics, and sat across from me, listening to me rambling about nothing like a nervous wreck.

Finally, he cut in, sharp but calm. “You can ask me anything. If you want something in particular tonight say it, baby girl.”

I crossed my legs tight and shoved my palm hard against my lap. “I just…I really want you to make me cum,” I blurted. “If you can. No pressure. But if you can - if I can…” My voice shook.

He just grinned and asked, “What else, baby?”

So I spilled it all. I told him I wanted The Door - like in his story. I told him I wanted to be spanked. Hard.

Then I yanked my dildo out of my bag like a guilty teenager, waved it in his direction and stammered that maybe he could use it to fuck me?

“I know you don’t fuck your clients, but I thought, maybe - maybe you could use this, and just…?”  I swallowed hard. I bit the edge of my rocks glass after taking a big gulp.

But I wasn’t done. I whispered, clinically, hands and dildo pressed flat against my thighs, that I wanted to try anal penetration, and if it went okay…back there, maybe, with his finger…I wanted to feel full in both my holes at once.

That was the filthiest truth I’d ever spoken. I took another drink and set my glass down in the silence like it was a live grenade. But his eyes never flickered. Calm. Steady. 

Then a smirk, sweet and ruthless: “Okay, baby girl. We’ll see.”

He took a long swig of his drink before adding, “You’ll get what Daddy gives you”

He put our drinks down, took my hand and led me down the hall. His massage studio was filled with candlelight, warm oil, clean linen, chill music. He closed the door and immediately pressed me back against it, roughly.

“No more chatter. Time for Daddy to inspect you, baby girl,” he announced.

His strong hands slid down my bare arms. It was happening. My body froze. “Breathe,” he commanded in my ear. Then softer: “Remember our colors…red, yellow, green?”

“Yes, Daddy. I remember.”

He slipped my dress over my head and I felt years of being touch-starved float off with it. A blindfold slid over my eyes and my skin went haywire. Fingers teased me through my bra and panties, pinching, stroking. I was mortified by how soaked I was. He unclasped my bra and let it fall away.

“Pretty,” he whispered, as he dropped it.

Then he wedged his thigh between mine, pressing it hard against my crotch. He laced the fingers of both his big hands through mine. I leaked through my panties, feeling my wet lips squish and spread against his jeans and nearly came right there. This…this - this could be enough, I thought.

I sank down onto his thigh and reached for his hips, but he pulled my hands away with a chuckle. “No, no baby girl.”

He lifted my arms over my head and slipped my wrists into the soft cuffs fixed to the top of the door. Blindfolded. Tits out. Restrained, for the first time in my life. My whole body lit up as he shoved his strong thigh between mine again, grinding it, breathing hard against my neck. I rutted down on him like a fucking animal.

“No, baby,” he murmured firmly, biting my shoulder gently as he stepped back, denying me.

He peeled my panties down slowly, the wet fabric clinging to my pussy lips before peeling free. The low, satisfied growl he gave when I stepped out of them made my cunt clench.

Cool leather dragged up my arm. A crop? He traced the leather square over my skin, teasing, taunting, then struck. I shrieked in surprise. He groaned with approval. Light taps on my nipples turned sharper until they stung and throbbed. I made a sound I didn’t recognize.

My legs tried to snap shut, but his knee forced me open again. Then the leather landed lower, upward - hard, wet spanks against my pussy lips that made me jolt. I gripped the restraints. Each increasingly harder smack turned hot pain into desire. Over and over, hard and soft, tits and pussy, until I was shaking, grateful for the restraints keeping me from collapsing.

Holy fucking hell - I loved it.

I went quiet. My body floated in the relief of surrender, the sting of each slap melting into one rolling wave of sensation. I flinched when the shaft of the crop touched my mouth but I opened it - instinctive and obedient. He slid it between my teeth, and I bit down without thinking. I was smiling. Dazed.

He released one wrist. I didn’t have time to wonder why. His hands were on me again, strong, turning me, pressing me hard into the adjoining wall, one arm still bound, the other pinned high above my head. The cool paint hit my burning nipples like ice and I gasped.

He gently kicked my legs apart with his bare foot. I bit the crop harder, still clenched between my teeth, panting softly as he shifted behind me.

When the bulge of his restrained cock brushed my hip, I froze - startled by how fucking hard he was. A needy little moan spilled out around the crop still clenched between my teeth. My pussy flooded instantly, trembling for what I knew I couldn’t have.

He tugged the crop from my mouth slowly, its wet tip dragging across my bottom lip before he dropped it.

His big palm smoothed down my back and over my ass, squeezing, approving.

“Give me a color, baby,” he whispered against my shoulder.

“Green, Daddy,” I answered with a breathless, actual schoolgirl giggle.

“Good.”

The first bare-handed spank landed - flat, hard, shocking. My first spank. I shrieked. But before I could even process it, another cracked across the other cheek. Then another.

“Count for me, baby,” he said as he rubbed his strong hands together. “Count your spanks for Daddy.”

“Three!” I cried out, and the fourth landed before I could catch my breath.

He responded by asking for a color again. “Yes - I mean green,” I whimpered, proud.

Every few spanks he soothed me with his fingertips - just long enough for me to ache for the next one.

After twelve, he asked for a color again. The word yellow floated somewhere behind my teeth, but no - I wanted all of it.

My toes curled into the rug. I clawed at the wall. My pussy dripped down my thighs as I floated in the haze of pain-pleasure.

“Green, Daddy,” I whispered, squeezing my eyes shut tighter under the blindfold.

“Awww, good girl,” he growled.

When he finally paused after twenty spanks, his hand gentled, rubbing my scorched ass, admiring his work.

His other hand slid around my throat, firm and possessive, pulling me back against his chest. His breath was warm in my ear.

“Say thank you, Daddy.”

My voice cracked. “Thank you, Daddy.”

I remember how those words tasted like surrender itself.

Submission.

Every spank had taught me how to want whatever Daddy gave me. I had obeyed. I had surrendered. Like a good girl. And I already craved more.

His fingers slid between my thighs and swiped slowly across my soaked, sloppy cunt.

He pulled them away, and I caught the scent before anything else - raw, tangy, unmistakably mine.

Then his fingers were at my mouth, smearing my juices over my lips, one thick fingertip at a time.

“You’re dripping for me, baby girl.”

My lips parted, shaking. I sucked each finger clean.

“Thank you, Daddy,” I moaned instinctively, desperate. God, I loved this feeling, this release into him.

He slipped the blindfold off and uncuffed me gently, then guided me to the table. My skin was cold and raw and exposed. He laid me face down against the linen, and a heartbeat later, warm oil spilled across my shoulders. He began his work.

His palms pressed in deep, slow and patient, moving down the length of me like I was his to unravel. He slid lower, down my back, his thick fingers tracing the raised welts on my ass.
Pleasure and pain tangled, and I moaned, arching into his touch.

Then more oil poured from his cupped hand and trickled between my cheeks. His fingers followed, lazy and unhurried, parting me like he had all the time in the world.

I froze.

I’d just confessed that I’d never explored there. That it scared me. That it thrilled me. And now his slick fingertips were right there. Right on my asshole.

I couldn’t breathe. But I wanted it.

More than breath.

“Relax for me, baby girl,” he murmured, one hand firm on the small of my back. “Let me feel you open.”

I groaned into the table, face buried in the linen, hips lifting in spite of myself. Every swirl of his fingertip was coaxing me open, dragging me toward the sweet, terrifying brink of surrender. I wanted to give him everything.

“Daddy…” I whimpered.

He pushed just enough - not inside yet, just pressure - my groan shattered into a high, cracked whine, my cunt clenching so hard I thought I might cum right then. I lowered my hips, grinding my clit against the table to survive it.

“Daddy…” I whimpered under my breath again, part begging him, part warning him.

“Not yet, baby,” he said, knowingly, his voice rough and steady with command. “You’re not allowed to cum yet.”

His slick fingers slid lower, grazing the edges of my dripping pussy before dragging my wetness back up to smear over my asshole. The filth of it made me cry out loud.

“Daddy!”

He circled me slow, patient, until my breath was ragged and my thighs were shaking against the table. Then the pressure changed.

His fingertip pressed harder until it slipped past the tight ring of muscle and was inside my ass.

My whole body jolted, hips lifting, a strangled sound spilling out of me.

“Oh my god - ”

“Shhh.” One hand stayed steady on my back, the other gently breaching me.

“Just my fingertip, baby girl. You’re doing perfect. Taking me so well.”

I gasped, trembling. Shame and thrill twisted inside me until I didn’t know if I wanted to cry or cum.

My cunt gushed helplessly, soaking the linen, clenching like it wanted his fingers everywhere at once. But I didn’t cum.

He pulled out slow and circled again.  Then dipped his fingertip back in, letting me feel the stretch and release, the sting and the surrender.

He made small circles inside my ass and I felt a thousand nerve endings light up. I clenched his finger helplessly, begging without words, my moans high and broken.

Then he stopped.

He slid his finger free and stroked my ass before placing a gentle kiss - then a bite - on each cheek. Both his hands slid up my back until his mouth was at my neck again. He growled low, lips hot in a kiss against my ear.

“Good girl. That’s mine now.”

I was clinging to the edge of fantasy and ecstasy, nearly cumming from his words. I ground my aching clit against the table, my whole body tight and raw and shaking, panting into the sheet.

He massaged down my back until my breathing steadied again. More oil over my ass, my thighs, my calves.

He moved to the end of the table. He lifted one leg and worked my foot in his hands, kneading deep into the arch, rubbing each toe. Every nerve shot straight to my cunt. Then, my god, his mouth.

Hot, wet lips closed over my toes, sucking them one by one. I whimpered into the sheet and felt my pussy juices pool at my clit. I lifted my head and watched a string of drool snap from my lip. I couldn’t move. I was frozen in ecstasy.

I pushed up onto my forearms and turned my head to watch him. His eyes locked with mine while he sucked each toe into his mouth, tongue circling, cheeks hollowing like he was tasting something he’d waited years for. My whole body seized.

My orgasm threatened again – fuck. I wasn’t going to be able to stop it. My belly tightened, my nipples burned and my clit screamed for release.

“Daddy, please…” I clawed at the linen.

He let my toes slip from his mouth with a wet pop and a wicked smile.

“Not yet, baby girl. You’ll cum when I say.”

My pussy was fluttering so quickly I thought I might gush without a single touch. God - what if I do? What if I cum before he touches my pussy for the first time? I lifted my hips to escape the friction that was about ruin me.

He set my foot down, kissed my ankle, and moved up the table. His fingers dragged over my skin, calm and in complete control.

“Turn over for me.”

I rolled onto my back, heat radiating from my welted ass as the linen scratched beneath me.  He stood silently above me, dripping hot oil straight onto my chest. It streamed over my tits, ran down my belly and pooled at my hips.

His palms followed, wide, firm strokes, circling my nipples until they were hard little points. I arched into his touch, desperate.

Then lower. Oil-slick fingers grazing the insides of my thighs. Teasing, but avoiding where I needed him. Cruel. My cunt was soaked and empty and twitching for him. I arched, trying to capture his touch, trying to guide him in, shameless and open.

His hand hovered over my swollen lips, teasing until I whined under my breath, writhing on the table. Finally, he pressed the back of two firm fingers against my slit, sliding slow strokes that made my hips buck and he pulled away, leaving me soaked and shaking.

“Daddy - please!” I whined much louder than I meant to.

His hand shot to my throat, pinning me softly but firmly. My breath caught. His eyes darkened, and his voice dropped. “You don’t cum until I say, baby girl. Do you understand?”

“Yes, Daddy,” I gasped, entirely obedient, compliant, trembling. So fucking ready.

He rubbed and raked my pussy with wicked precision, edging me closer and closer, Every time I climbed too high, he stopped and pulled away. Again and again. My cunt was a fucking mess. I was thrashing silently, and my moans gave way to soft, frustrated cries.

Tears streamed down over my ears and slid into my hair. I shook and covered my face with both hands.

I needed. I ached. I couldn’t even beg right.

“Please, I need…I can’t…Daddy…” I begged, shattered in honest whispers from being held on the edge too long, too hard.

From being his.

And only then - when I was raw and wide-eyed, soaked, welted, and wrecked - did he finally give it to me.

Two fingers, slick and strong, plunged into my desperate cunt. He twisted once, curled them deep, and growled from his chest: “Cum for me, baby girl. Now. Now.”

My body broke apart on command. I howled as I came, crying and convulsing under his hand, my thighs locking around his wrist, my pussy walls gripping his fingers mercilessly, hot gush poured over his palm, streaming over his fingers and dripping down my ass.

I cried out again, louder this time, because I couldn't stop it - my orgasm kept tearing through me, like it had waited sixteen years to explode.

Daddy did it - he made me cum. Not with my toy. Not in shame, not in secret, not in silence. With him. With his fingers, his voice, his dominance. He rewired me night after night until my mind obeyed his every word.

And tonight, he learned my body, he dommed my body. Tonight, Daddy made his baby girl cum.

And before that climax had even finished… he was at my clit.

My back arched. “Oh, fuck.”

He rubbed slow, cruel circles that made me jolt, thrumming that over-sensitized bundle and refusing to let up. My pussy clenched on nothing, my whole body shaking. I couldn’t believe it; I was still cumming, still twitching, still open and aching and ready. My whole body was still shuddering, raw nerves lit up, and he was building me up again. Could I really cum a second time?

Then his fingers were inside me again. Two. Thrusting. Curling into the spot, that place he found that made my vision go white. His palm ground down over my mound, pressure steady, brutal and perfect.

The other hand gripped my tits, pinching my nipples hard enough to make me yelp, and I bucked up off the table with no control left.

“Oh my GOD!” I shrieked. This. Was. Happening.

His face was low and hovered just above my cunt, his breath warm and steady. He breathed me in.

“Good girl,” he said, low and reverent. “Cum again.”

And I did.

A second orgasm slammed into me. My cunt clamped down hard around his fingers, thighs shuddering, vision blurring. I gasped and blinked, trying to catch my breath, but he didn’t rush me. His hands moved slow and reverent over my thighs, soft strokes that let me float in my ecstasy, let me feel it all.I stared at him with reverence, wide-eyed and shaking my head in disbelief.

“Daddy...” I whispered, barely audible. He smiled softly back at me.

I wiped my eyes, then draped my forearms across my face. I needed to seal this in, lock it in my memory. I didn’t want to cry again - and suddenly he was right back at it.

I felt his mouth on my nipples, teeth grazing, while his fingers worked me open again. Curl. Twist. Stroke. His thumb torturing my clit in slow circles until I was thrashing and crying softly into my hands again.

“Don’t hold back, baby girl. Give it to me.”

A third orgasm cracked me open. It rose up hard and violent, deeper than before, as if he reached into my ribs and ripped it out of me.

And still, he didn’t stop.

There were more. So many more.

Each one came in waves. Shaking me. Breaking me. Rebuilding me under his hands.

Little breaks, gentle strokes, then more pressure, more teasing, more thrusting slow and fast, more of his voice wrecking me, telling me to give in to him.

My body obeyed. My brain shut down. All I could hear was the wet sloshing of my cunt and the rasp of my own voice. I’d forgotten every word except “Daddy...”

After what felt like hours, he slowed and then stopped. He slid one hand behind my neck and held a glass of water to my lips. I drank. Gratefully. Obedient. Still shaking. He set it down, kissed my temple, smoothed my hair. His smile was soft now, almost proud, and then he moved across the room.

I couldn’t move, or speak. I could barely breathe. I was entirely blissed-out, all my prayers had been answered, my dreams weren’t dreams anymore. It was mind-bending. I was sated, and I wasn’t broken. I’d certainly exceeded my two hours, and my session was over. I let myself start to drift off…

I shrieked - shocked and wide awake - when I felt the blunt, lubed head of a cock press against the entrance to my soaked pussy.

My cock.

My silicone dildo. Pushed into place by his hand.

“You brought this for me to use on you, didn’t you, baby?”

His voice was a low, warm growl against my inner thigh, lips brushing kisses over my skin as he spoke.

“Yes, Daddy…” I exhaled obediently, eyes fluttering open, blinking back into his reality.

He dragged it across my slick folds and over my painfully sensitive clit. He twisted it cruelly, groaned like it was his own thick cock, then slapped it – hard -against my gaping, needy cunt, again and again, until I whimpered from the tease.

“Please, Daddy…” I whispered for what had to be the hundredth time.

Finally – finally - he slid it inside me.

One slow, merciless push, stuffing me full.

My mouth fell open. My whole body froze as he dragged it back out, just as slowly, my pussy walls clinging to it like they never wanted to let go.

Then he fucked me. Hard. Deep. Controlled. He twisted the curve so it hit that spot just right, pausing and pulsing it only when he bottomed out and the head bumped against my cervix.

My back arched off the table. His palm brushed hard against my clit with every thrust, wrecking me. I wailed in pleasure.

And then I felt it. His other hand, slick with my cum, sliding lower. Searching. Ohhhh god.  There. His fingers brushed over the tight, wrinkled ring of my asshole - gentle, patient, deliberate.

I sucked in a breath, frozen. He looked up at me, met my eyes, and told me without a word, to trust him.

So I did. I let myself go, I gave in to it all. He worked the dildo in and out of my soaked cunt, each thrust loud and obscene, wet squelches echoing under me while his fingertip circled my asshole in slow, deliberate spirals.

 He didn’t rush, didn’t force. Just traced the edges, pressed lightly, pulled away, teased again – over and over - until I was panting, hips rocking, my tight little hole twitching helplessly for him.

“Yes…yes, Daddy!” I finally gasped, my legs flying open wider, knees bent, feet pressed tightly together like I needed leverage to withstand the pleasure.

He fucked me perfectly with that cock in deep, dragging strokes that made my pussy pulse and clench. His finger teased my asshole without mercy. His palm ground down on my clit. It was too much. It was everything, and another orgasm ripped through me.

I didn’t ask if I could cum because I couldn’t hold back - my cunt clenched violently around the silicone cock, milking it, begging for more. He kept pumping it in and out, fucking me through the climax, stroking me, whispering praise in a voice that claimed my soul.

When my last shudder slowed into fluttering aftershocks, he gave the cock one more deliberate thrust – out completely then back in – so fucking deep inside me, like he was driving a stake.

His hands traveled over me in slow, intentional strokes - up my slick tits, along my neck and jaw, and back down my trembling belly - like he was choosing how he wanted me next. Savoring the decision.

When he reached my thighs, his fingers tightened around them, holding me open, holding me still.

That grip told me everything. He wasn’t finished with me yet.

One hand lodged the cock deeper into my cunt. The other pinched my clit just hard enough to make me flinch.

“Good girl,” he moaned in that gravel-slick tone that makes my insides melt.

Then his thumb pressed against my cum-soaked asshole, firm. Not pushing in. Just holding. Just claiming.

I gasped.

He paused, pressed his thumb harder, kissed my thigh with a smirk, then reached for something from the towel beside him.

“I told you this sweet hole was mine, baby girl,” he growled. “Now let’s see how nice it opens for Daddy.”