CHAPTER ELEVEN
Serafina
“Oh God, Daddy!” I cry as his cock slams into me hard. I grab hold of the comforter it gathers up in my hands. It’s thick and rich and a shade of light purple. I have no idea why the color seems more vibrant now than it might ordinarily seem. I hold them so tightly it’s a wonder my fingers don’t claw right through it as I’m bent over the bed and Peter slams into me. I’ve learned a lot of things about myself over the last year. I understand, for example, that sometimes I want a man to make love to me. I understand that sometimes I want a thorough fucking.
No, that’s bullshit. I don’t want a man. I want Peter! Sometimes I want Peter to make love to me and sometimes I want a thorough fucking from him.
What I can’t understand is how Peter can deliver a thorough fucking and yet it feels to me like he’s making love. I don’t understand how it can feel like making love even though my ass cheeks are so damned sore each time he slams in sends explosions of pain along with the pleasure.
That’s okay, though, because I’m perfectly fine with never solving the mystery. Every thrust slams my thighs against the side of the mattress and as his cock drives deeply into me, it sends pleasure so sharp I might confuse it for the pain if not for the fact that I love it so much.
In fact, if it wasn’t so intense at the moment, I might giggle thinking about how ludicrous I would have found it a year ago that any man would get to fuck me like this in the first place. Just thinking of sex as something to enjoy and something I hope the man enjoys instead of a tool in my arsenal for getting what I want… It’s all so damned different.
“Jesus!” I scream as a particularly hard thrust drives me right to the brink or orgasm. “Daddy!”
I guess it makes me a pretty damned typical high maintenance princess in that I like to harangue and control my men but I also almost desperately want my men to fuck me in a way that makes me feel almost powerless, to treat me like there’s not a damned princess-like thing about me once they get their cocks into me. Sure, it’s cliché. It’s true, though, and the fact that I’m absolutely helpless at the moment and Peter fucks me like an animal has me on the brink of an orgasm I know will be far more powerful than a run of the mill climax.
Of course, I don’t get to harangue and control Peter.
That somehow makes the sex even better. I’m helpless really to decide how the sex goes at the moment and I’m helpless to control him like I’ve controlled boyfriends in the past. He’s in charge all the time, and it might very well be the most liberating thing possible for me. “Daddy!” I scream. “God, Daddy, I’m cumming!”
The climax detonates over my body with a great deal of force, like explosive devices of different strengths are all over me. Even my fingers and toes experience firecrackers of pleasure. “Daddy! God! Daddy!”
He moves rapidly and forcefully and I stop crying out because my breath is gone completely. I can’t even think about anything other than the pleasure taking hold of me and holding me so tightly nothing else matters.
And then he switches it up, flipping me over and sliding us up the bed as he slips his cock back into me and kisses me. Suddenly, his weight is atop me and we’re in the missionary position and the effect is so damned powerful I feel almost paralyzed. I know I’m not paralyzed, though, because I throw my arms around him and hold me tightly to him as he thrusts into me.
“Daddy!” I cry, “Oh God, I love you!”
“I love you, too, little girl,” he growls against my mouth. It makes everything perfect, perfect! He’s my Daddy and I’m his little girl.
His forever little girl.