Daddy's Dishonest Little Girl (Wounded Daddies 1) - Page 9

CHAPTER FIVE

Gwen

I’ve never done anything like this and, as I wait on my knees, my words seem to hang in the air; I want to submit to your care and protection, Daddy.

They came right from that Little book. I never would have thought to such words, and saying it feels almost surreal. Oddly, it isn’t the ‘Daddy’ part that feels so strange. I don’t even think it’s the word submission that does it. What really feels like something magical and beyond the scope of this life is the ‘your care and protection’. I have never imagined letting anyone else be in charge of caring for or protecting me. I always think I have to do it myself, and the fact that I really suck at it just means I’ve been dealt a lousy hand in this life.

“Are you sure, Gwen?” he asks. His voice is gentle, but contains an element of firmness to it that thrills me.

“I’m sure, Daddy,” I say. “I’m your little girl.”

God, those words! Although they feel surreal, they send simultaneously shocking feelings through me, both emotional and physical. My mind responds and I am transported away into some kind of perfect state of awareness, filled with bliss. My completely exposed and naked nipples come alive. They almost hurt with how hard they become. As for lower down, I feel warmth and need between my legs unlike anything I have ever felt before. Paul reaches forward and his hand brushes over my cheek. It is just like the picture, and I let out a soft moan.

I intended to tell him that, before anything else, I want to show him how much I want to please him, but before I get the chance, he lifts me into the air. One moment I am kneeling and the next he is carrying me to the couch, like a baby. I am too surprised at the sudden change even to respond, other than with a sigh, I sound content although I am as nervous as can be.

He sets me down gently and I reach for him, but he takes hold of my thighs and pulls me forward, making my upper body careen back against the sofa cushions. On his knees now, he lifts my lower body and as I stare up at him, his mouth finds my most desperate, intimate parts. His tongue thrusts into me and it feels as if my whole world has disappeared, and has been replaced by beauty and glee.

His hands move from my thighs to my ass and I can feel his beard against either side of my thighs as his tongue slides in and out of me. Nobody has ever gone down on me, and in my wildest dreams I never imagined such an intense sensation even possible. He has only been between my legs for a very short time, but I already feel as though I will climax at any moment.

“Oh, Paul,” I whisper. I feel like screaming his name, but I can only get enough breath to breathe it softly out without any voice at all.

“Oh, Daddy.”

How easy it is to call him that! How odd it is to think of him as Paul and as Daddy at the same time, and as the man who will take care of me, guide me, and help me.

His tongue feels shockingly good, and he holds me up against his mouth as though I weigh nothing at all. I feel my body lose something I never really noticed that it had been holding in for so long. It is as though as he holds me up and his tongue sends me spiraling away into bliss. I feel the clenching and terrible tightness that have always lived with fading away bit by bit. I feel safe and free. I can’t ever recall feeling that way before. I moan loudly and try to say his name again, but my voice only has the ability to moan.

His hands on my ass tighten a little, and there’s something sexy even about that slight change. He’s steadying me for what comes next and that is amazing. He moves his mouth up and his lips close over my clit, his tongue moving and fluttering there, driving me to inexplicable pleasure. It’s beyond good. What he did in my pussy with that amazing tongue of his already felt better than anything I’d ever felt before. Now, as he slides over my clit, varying light swipes with more intense pressure, I am overcome. Even without an orgasm, this has already been the most incredible experience I’ve ever had.

But, of course, there will be an orgasm.

It’s clear Daddy (Dear God, I just think of him as Daddy now!) intends it, because he adjusts himself with every one of my reactions to focus on the movements and locations that get the best response. I’m helpless with him, and cannot stop his knowing me as much as he wants to know me. I can hide nothing from him and I’ve never been happier to be open, vulnerable, and exposed.

I’m wrong about his intentions, though. He is measuring my responses and acting accordingly, but he somehow manages to bring me right to the brink, and to keep me there. Again and again he dances right on the edge, but refuses to let me plunge into the climax. It’s beautifully maddening, and my plaintive moans let him know just how desperately I need him. I really have no leverage in this position at all, but still I lift myself against him as much as I can.

I am so close!

My moans are whines now, and I whimper incoherently as I try to encourage him. Why won’t he let me cum? Why? And then - from nowhere - it occurs to me that I ought to ask him. He told me I have to ask for what I need.

“Please, Paul. Please. I need to cum, Daddy! Please!”

Before I asked, he was playing a powerful melody with his mouth. Now, he arranges an overwhelming crescendo and my body clenches together that - for a moment - it feels as if I am broken, Then it releases in a flood of pleasure that makes the orgasms I’ve experienced in the past seem like tiny blips of joy compared to this absolute, impossible bliss. I cry out, mostly unintelligible screaming and moaning, but a single word comes through clearly amidst the chaos.

“Daddy! Daddy!”

He continues with his mouth for just a short while, and it feels as if I will be unable to handle it, but he stops just before that point and suddenly he is inside of me. I groan as he fills me and I have no idea how he even managed to get his pants down, to free his cock. The feel of him is overwhelming. It is the first time I have felt a man inside of me without feeling violated, and the difference between this and what I’ve done in the past is like the difference between night and day.

I lift myself up a little bit and throw my arms around him. Our mouths meet and he holds me, his arms strong around me, as he thrusts. I could not ever have conceived of this. I am comforted and yet simultaneously swept away. I am powerless and helpless and he is strong. His body against me claims me completely. I would give him anything he asked of me forever. However, even surrendering in such a way somehow makes his protection of me even more apparent. I am his, and he will protect me. I know this as clearly as I know anything I have ever known.

My orgasm is still raging minutes later, as he moves and I cling to him now, unable really to participate, so strong are the sensations that are claiming me. I clutch onto him and when he cries out and empties himself into me, I feel as though my climax has started all over again. I shatter beneath him and form again and this happens repeatedly. “Daddy,” I whisper softly.

He kisses my neck softly and says in a growly, but beautiful voice, “My pretty little girl.”

***

The sun seems particularly intent on highlighting every single square foot of the property, but that is a very good thing. The transformation Paul has managed with this house is amazing. It is the prize of the neighborhood now, from its impeccable landscaping to its stunning elevation. That’s what Paul calls how the house’s structure looks, or at least he did when he showed the blueprints to me, before the new brick siding and gables were added. He steps out of the front door with two cups of coffee and hands me one.

“Daddy,” I say. “You did such an amazing job with this place.” It will be sad to leave it, but no longer terrifying. I’ll be moving in with Paul. I’d worried about it for about a week and finally remembered to get past my doubts and ask. He told me we would be together for as long as I was willing.

Tags: Scott Wylder Wounded Daddies Erotic
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