Sloane
He rested his fingers along my jaw, eyes locked on mine, his touch enough to steal the breath right out of my lungs.
“I love you.”
The words landed in my chest like a blow. Not sweet or soft. Just that terrifying, earth-splitting honesty that felt bigger than any promise he’d ever made.
My throat went tight. I hadn’t expected him to say it. I certainly hadn’t expected to feel it swell reciprocally inside me so fast, so certain, but I did.
There was no point pretending otherwise.
“I love you, too,” I whispered.
His jaw flexed like he hadn’t expected to feel it either. Like my words cracked something in him that even he didn’t know how to brace for.
And then his voice dropped, deep and dark, thick with heat and intent. “I’m going to show you just how much when we get home tonight.”
A shiver rolled through me so hard I swore the air moved around us. He stepped back, just enough to open the door and call everyone back inside. The brothers returned first—Maxim, Ivan, Sergei, Aleksei. My father followed last, looking like he wanted to say something, but thought better of it.
No one asked what we’d talked about; they didn’t need to. It was written all over the way Nikolai’s hand was still on my lower back and the way I didn’t move an inch out of his orbit.
We sat back down at the table, and the room quickly slid back into motion. Ivan took the lead again, pulling up encrypted documents, voice resolute as he walked us through the early framework of the sting.
We talked logistics, how to bait Stillwell into showing his hand. The setup would involve a fake procurement deal traced through an offshore shell company that Ivan could spoof just well enough to pass inspection. A girl would be staged—of legal age, but young enough to look the part of a teenager. The meeting would be wired and recorded. Stillwell wouldn’t be able to run from it, not with the surveillance in place. Once the transaction was offered, once he said the wrong thing, we’d have what we needed to bury him.
The fallout would be immediate. The scandal alone would ruin him. The evidence would finish the job.
Charlie had contacts lined up: judges, journalists, political firepower. Ivan would track the digital trail. Mikhail would help coordinate the bait drop with some of his old connections in the transport network. Sergei would provide muscle, off the radar, in the shadows but ready. I’d use Ghost to blast him all over the dark web.
When the final pieces fell into place, the last detail was mapped out and the timeline solidified, Nikolai stood.
“One more thing.”
No one moved as Nikolai reached for my hand.
“We’re getting married tomorrow.”
It was that simple. No preamble, no ceremony, no explanation.
Aleksei blinked, then grinned like he wasn’t even surprised. Ivan muttered something under his breath in Russian. Maxim leaned back in his chair and nodded once, approving but enigmatic. Sergei didn’t react at all, but I felt the shift in his posture—tense and alert, but respectful.
And my father? He nodded, just once, the expression on his face a mixture of expectation and just a hint of regret.
Nikolai let the moment stretch just long enough, then spoke again. “Tomorrow afternoon,” he said. “You’ll be there.”
A chorus of quiet assent followed. Nods. The lifting of glasses. A few murmured toasts. It wasn’t a celebration so much as acknowledgment. Then Nikolai glanced at me.
“I’m going to take Sloane home with me now. We have a few things to take care of together, don’t we, my bride?” he said simply.
No one said anything, but I felt the blood rush to my face anyway.
My cheeks burned, my fingers curled against the edge of the table, and I looked down fast, so fast it almost felt like confession. The heat that bloomed across my skin had nothing to do with the room. My entire body pulsed, knowing exactly what he meant.
God, I hoped no one could tell. I didn’t lift my gaze. I didn’t dare.
Nikolai’s voice cut through the tension one last time, warm now, almost amused.
“I’ll look forward to seeing all of you at the ceremony.”
Just like that, the meeting was over. Nikolai turned to me, eyes soft in that way that always cut sharper than anything else. Then he extended his arm like I was some royal princess being escorted out of a gala and not a woman about to be belted by her future husband for her disobedience when she got home.
I hesitated for half a breath, then slipped my hand through the crook of his elbow. His muscles were tense beneath his shirt and when I glanced up at him, our eyes met, and we smiled at the same time.
It was that slow, knowing kind of smile, the kind that didn’t need words to say I see you.
He led me out of the room without another glance back. The brothers parted without questions. My father stayed behind, sipping the last of his drink with that familiar look of weariness, like he’d already made peace with this battle he could no longer control.
The tavern door creaked open as Nikolai pushed it, the night spilling around us, cool, damp air brushing against my skin. It helped. Slightly.
It didn’t dull the pulse building between my thighs, though.
He walked me to the car like a perfect gentleman, opened the passenger door, and waited for me to slide in. His hand lingered at the small of my back just a second longer than it needed to. Just enough to make me bite my lip, nervousness billowing through me like a cloud.
When he rounded the car and slipped into the driver’s seat beside me, his hand landed on my thigh, warm and heavy and familiar. I turned toward him instinctively, breath hitching before I could hide it.
Then he leaned in—slow, smooth, and devious—and whispered against the shell of my ear.
“You know my belt’s going to sting, don’t you? Badly.”
The air left my lungs in a rush.
I clenched my thighs together, squirming slightly in the leather seat. My whole body went tight, pulse thudding behind my knees. My skin felt too warm, my core too hot, too needy. I wanted to be defiant. I wanted to be strong, to tell him off, but I thought better of it because all I could think about was the feel of thick leather lashing against my bare ass. The sound it would make. The way he’d watch every welt rise on my skin. The way I’d probably cry.
And still—I wanted it.
I nodded once, unable to speak. He smiled against my cheek.
“Good,” he said, his voice deepening. “Because I plan to make sure you feel every fucking stripe tomorrow when you walk down that aisle.”
I moaned, the sound barely audible, but he heard it, and his grip on my thigh tightened. I was trembling and my pussy was clenching before the car even pulled away from the curb.
The car ride back to the penthouse was silent again. Every second ticked like a countdown, every turn of the wheels drawing me closer to the moment he’d promised and the punishment I’d earned.
He didn’t speak. He didn’t touch me again. He just drove, eyes on the road, calm as ever, but I could feel the tension radiating off him, a buzzing, like a storm building under his skin.
And me?
I sat perfectly still, hands clenched in my lap, thighs pressed together so hard they ached. My breath was shallow, skin too warm under my clothes, heart pounding hard enough to make my ribs ache. I couldn’t stop thinking about his belt.
I couldn’t stop imagining the sound it would make when he pulled it free of his slacks, the slow drag of leather, the snap of it folding in his hands. I couldn’t stop imagining what I would sound like when it landed. Would I cry out? Would I be able to stay silent? What would I do?
He pulled into the garage, parked, got out, and came around to open my door without a word. Gentleman to the end. But his eyes… his eyes were dark and foreboding, and a tremor of nerves hurtled right through me like a lightning bolt.
He offered his hand, and I took it. We stepped into the private elevator, and the doors closed with a soft whisper behind us.
My pulse was loud in my ears. I could feel my body already bracing, my muscles tightening, breath catching, arousal winding low and hot in my belly. I didn’t look at him, because I was afraid if I did, I’d beg him for mercy, and I didn’t want to do that. I wanted to be strong. I wanted to show him I could take it and that I wasn’t afraid of what it might mean to be truly punished by my daddy.
The elevator reached the top floor. The doors opened to the dim, moody light of the penthouse.
He took my arm gently, strong fingers around my upper arm, not harsh, not pulling me, just guiding me. I followed him through the open space, past glass walls and polished black stone, through the softly lit silence that somehow made everything feel more intense.
He led me into the master bedroom, to the foot of the bed. Letting go of my arm, he stepped in front of me, turning slowly. His voice was deep, compelling, and irresistible.
“Strip.”
My mouth went dry.
I hesitated for only a second, then I reached for the hem of my shirt and pulled it over my head. My bra came next, and my boots. Then the leggings. And finally, the lace panties that had felt too delicate all day.
I stood there naked before him.
Exposed.
The cool air wrapped around my body, but the heat beneath my skin pulsed harder. I crossed my arms, only to drop them again, unsure if I was allowed to cover myself. Unsure if he’d correct me.
I was shy. Nervous. Aroused.
He stepped closer. His hands came up, slid around my waist, pulling me into his chest like I was the most precious thing he’d ever touched.
“I love you,” he murmured.
I shivered.
“I love you, too,” I whispered, small and breathless.
Then he turned me. Pressed down between my shoulder blades to bend me forward. My hands landed on the bed, and I slowly lowered myself down to my elbows. The silk sheets were cool against my palms, and I shook hard, my entire body alight with goosebumps.
“Look at me, baby girl,” he said, his deep voice incredibly powerful.
I looked over my shoulder, my eyes locking with his.
He stood behind and to the side of me at the foot of the bed. Then, with devastating slowness, he reached down.
His fingers moved to the buckle of his belt. I heard the soft click of the metal releasing, the faint sound of leather sliding free of his pants. The sound was quiet, almost nothing in the vastness of the room, but it was deafening to me. It sliced straight through my chest, landed low in my belly, and spread heat like wildfire across my skin.
He pulled it through each loop with a steady, smooth drag—snick, snick, snick—the kind of sound that made my heart pound and my thighs tremble. He wasn’t looking away, not even for a second.
This wasn’t an afterthought; it was part of the whole experience he had planned for me. This was a man taking off his belt for one single reason—to whip my ass for disobeying him—and he wanted me to know it.
He folded the thick leather in half in his hand, tested the weight of it once against his palm, the way a man tests a weapon he knows all too well. Then he smiled. Not cruelly. Not mockingly either. With that smile, he conveyed that he knew exactly what he was going to do and that he was going to enjoy every moment of it.
The first strike didn’t come right away.
He stood behind me, belt in hand, and let the moment stretch so long it buzzed in my bones. I stayed obediently bent over the bed, bare, exposed, presenting myself to him for my punishment. My skin was hot despite the cool air licking across it. My heart thudded in my chest, my breath quick and shallow, and every inch of me was aware—of the space, of him, of the brutal inevitability of what was coming.
Then he pressed his hand to the small of my back, pushing down to make me arch my back and push my ass out for him. He nudged my feet wide apart, exposing my soaking wet pussy for him to view.
My skin prickled with anticipation. I swallowed hard, breath already shallow, nerves tangling together in my stomach.
The first strike came before I was ready for it.
A whoosh, then a sharp, stinging crack across the center of my ass made me jolt forward and gasp, more from surprise than pain. I bit my lip, heat blooming where the leather had kissed my skin. It hurt, but I could take it. That was my first thought.
I could take it.
The second one landed lower—across the underside of my cheeks—and this one sizzled like a fresh burn. The kind of pain that didn’t just sting, it lingered, sinking into my skin like fire simmering beneath the surface.
I hissed through my teeth.
“I hope you’re enjoying yourself, Daddy,” I muttered, my voice coming out far sassier than I really intended it to.
Wrong move.
The next lash came down harder, snapping across the same spot like a brand. I cried out this time, fingers clutching the bedding, my back arching.
“You openly defied me, baby girl,” he said, voice steadfast. “This is what it feels like, what it will always feel like, when you’re a bad girl and need to be punished by Daddy.”
Another strike, high, near the upper curve of my buttocks. Then another. Lower. The sound echoed like thunder in the quiet room.
By the fifth, my breath was ragged.
By the sixth, my thighs were shaking.
Holy fuck, did this hurt.
More than I thought it would.
I’d imagined this moment, fantasized about it. In my head, it had been fire and lust and control. Not this relentless burn. Not this agony that bloomed wider and deeper with every stroke.
He didn’t count and neither did I because I didn’t know how many were coming. That was the worst part, the uncertainty.
I squeezed my eyes shut as another lash hit the curve of my ass, then the top of my thigh. I whimpered. My knees buckled slightly.
I thought I could take it.
But now?
I didn’t want to admit it to myself, but I was beginning to think that I didn’t know if I could.
Another lash. Harder this time.
I yelped, voice breaking, fingers tangled in the sheets like they could anchor me. My eyes blurred. My ass was scalded. There was no teasing left in me. No sass. Only the sharp, sinking realization that this was way more than I bargained for.
I was slowly realizing that this was a real punishment, and I was only just starting to understand what that meant.
The next strike landed just above the last, and this time I cried out loud, sharp and ragged.
My voice broke, and my pride cracked with it. Tears burned at the edges of my eyes, and the sting on my ass was no longer some beautiful ache I could twist into arousal, it was pain. Real. Blistering. Unforgiving.
I tried to breathe through it and tell myself I could still control this. But when the belt came down again, harder yet—low, across both cheeks, right where it already throbbed—my breath hitched, and the sob caught in my throat.
I couldn’t take much more, but he wasn’t done.
“Does it sting, baby girl?” he asked, his voice terrifyingly sedate. “Is Daddy’s belt reminding you who you belong to?”
My face flushed, shame and arousal tangling in my chest like vines.
“Yes, Daddy,” I whispered, voice shaking. “It hurts.”
“Good,” he said. “It’s supposed to hurt.”
Another lash. This one angled, across both cheeks at once. I cried out again, my control broken, and the tears fell, hot and fast.
“You disobeyed me,” he said, stepping closer, his hand pressing between my shoulder blades to keep me down. “You looked me in the eyes and lied to Daddy.”
“I’m sorry,” I choked out. “I’m—I’m sorry. I didn’t mean to—”
He cut me off with another strike, then leaned over my back, his breath warm against my ear.
“No,” he growled. “You don’t get to cry your way out of this. Your punishment is just beginning.”
I whimpered, hands fisting on the bed. I was trembling and openly sobbing now, my ass on fire, every inch of me exposed and broken by him.
The next strike came fast. It tore across my skin like a blaze to kindling, licking up along the tender curve of my ass, already welted and stinging. I screamed into the sheets, the sound swallowed by the silk and the weight of it all—his presence behind me, the sting in every nerve, the way my body trembled from the inside out.
My breath came in broken gasps.
I couldn’t keep track of how many times the belt had lashed against my bare ass. I’d lost count. Maybe a dozen. Maybe twice that. I didn’t know. I didn’t care because it wasn’t about the number anymore. It was about what he was doing to me. What I was becoming beneath him.
Another strike—hard and sharp, across the tops of my thighs.
I sobbed this time. A real sob. Loud and messy and helpless, the kind that cracked open something deeper inside me. I tried to lift myself off the bed, tried to shift away from the next blow, but his hand pressed between my shoulders again and pinned me there.
“You’re going to take what Daddy gives you, bad girl,” he growled.
I sobbed harder, tears spilling across my cheeks, hot and wet and humiliating. My body was shaking, wrung out and throbbing, my thighs damp with arousal and shame and need I didn’t know how to hold anymore.
“I’m sorry,” I cried again, my voice hoarse. “Daddy, please—please, I’m sorry—”
“Are you?” His voice was still low, still terrifyingly calm. “Or are you just sorry you’re being punished?”
Another lash. This one softer, but no less painful on my punished ass. My hips jerked. My throat seized.
“I wanted to be good,” I whimpered. “I tried—”
“No,” he cut in sternly. “You didn’t. You wanted to be clever. You wanted to defy me. And now look at you. Ass bare and welted from Daddy’s belt.”
His hand slid into my hair, tangled there, pulled just enough to tilt my head back so he could look at my face. I blinked up at him through tears, chest heaving, mouth open.
“Daddy likes it when you cry, bad girl. It makes his cock very hard,” he murmured and then his tongue darted out and tasted my tears.
I could barely breathe.
Every inch of me was pulsing. My ass was blazing. My legs were trembling so badly I didn’t know how I was still standing, but I didn’t ask him to stop. I didn’t beg for it to be over. Deep down, beneath all of it—beneath the cries and the pain and the trembling—I wanted this.
I needed to be punished.
And he knew it.
There was a long pause, another strike, and then another and then another and then—I broke.
I sagged over the bed, sobbing, every inch of my body trembling and raw. My fingers grasped at the sheets like I needed them to protect me, to remember where I was, who I was. The fire across my ass throbbed with each breath, the pain sinking deep into my bones, into my skin, into me.
His hand came down, not in punishment this time, but in comfort. Warm and steady, stroking gently over my spine. His palm dragged softly up the arch of my back, then down again, over and over, until my sobs started to quiet, each breath more of a shiver than a cry.
He leaned over me, close enough that I felt his breath against the shell of my ear.
“You took that so well,” he murmured. “Daddy’s proud of you.”
I whimpered.
He gathered me up slowly, gently, lifting me from the bed like I weighed nothing. My thighs trembled and I hissed as he eased me into his lap, his arms wrapping around me tightly, protective, an anchor for me to cling to.
“I’ve got you,” he whispered. “Daddy’s got you now.”
I buried my face against his shoulder, tears still leaking from my eyes, but they were different now, I realized, full of sorrow for my disobedience. My body started to soften in his hold, the ache in my ass grounding me, warming me.
The longer I stayed in his lap, the more I realized what was building again inside me.
That slow, familiar feeling.
That deep, liquid heat in my core.
My ass still stung, and yet… my clit was throbbing. My body was waking up again, but this time in a gentler way, more open. I could feel the slickness between my thighs, feel the way my hips shifted subtly, chasing the friction of his thigh beneath my burning skin.
He noticed.
Of course he did.
“I’m sorry I disobeyed you, Daddy,” I murmured.
He tilted my chin up with one hand, looked me right in the eyes.
“I know you are, baby girl. But your punishment isn’t quite over. Not yet,” he warned, and I stiffened in his arms.
“What do you mean?”
“Daddy is going to finish your punishment with his cock, bad girl. Now bend over the bed and spread yourself wide open for me. Daddy wants to see that pretty virgin asshole before he fucks it.”
I froze.
He couldn’t mean that. Sure, he’d punished it with a plug before and threatened to fuck me there, but he wouldn’t actually follow through, right? Yet there was something darkly thrilling about the thought of him enjoying my asshole before he even fucked my pussy.
I shook my head, and he grasped my chin a bit tighter, holding my gaze with his dark orbs and I swallowed hard, nervous that this was really about to happen, that there was nothing I could do to stop it, and that a deep part of me actually was curious what it might feel like.
Would it hurt? Could it feel good? Would I come with his cock deep in my tight little hole?
Nikolai smiled and lifted me off his lap.
“Now, turn around and bend over. Put your shoulders on the bed. You are going to stay there with your hands holding your ass cheeks open for me, and not move a muscle while Daddy finishes your punishment. Do you understand me, baby girl?”
I nodded.
His fingers tightened on my jaw, just enough to make me wince, but it was enough to remind me who was in control.
“Answer me, bad girl.”
“Yes, Daddy,” I whispered. “I understand.”
He leaned in and kissed my forehead. Then he smiled again and released his grip on my jaw. He gave my ass a little swat, which stung a little bit more than I wanted to admit, and turned me around.
I whimpered as he bent me over the bed and kicked my feet as wide as they would go. A frisson of shame rattled through me at just how exposed my dripping wet pussy was right now. I keened when he grasped my bare bottom cheeks and spread me wide apart.
“Daddy,” I moaned. “Please—”
“Shhh,” he soothed, his warm hand stroking my lower back. “Don’t worry, bad girl, I’m going to punish your virgin asshole just like I did your naughty little bottom.”
He held my backside open, and I could feel the weight of his stare. Unable to help myself, I squirmed a little, knowing exactly where he was staring.
“So pretty,” he growled. “I can’t wait to fill this tight little hole. Reach back now and hold yourself open for me.”
Humiliation shot through my body like lightning, but I obeyed his order. I took hold of my burning hot, thoroughly punished cheeks and spread them wide.
Then I heard the snap of a bottle opening and felt cool liquid dribble down the cleft of my ass. I mewled and then hissed when he pressed his thumb against my tight ring, the feeling one I had thought never to experience in my life.
“Shhh,” he crooned, his thumb swirling gently, spreading the lube over my sensitive entrance. The rough pad of his finger slid over my tight hole, and I couldn’t help but try to pull away. His other hand gripped my hip, jerking me back so I couldn’t escape him.
A fresh wave of shame washed over me.
Nikolai stroked his thumb over my hole, spreading the slick fluid. My legs shook and I was panting. He pressed again, testing, and this time I couldn’t stop the tiny cry that escaped my throat.
“Daddddyyyy,” I whined, breathless and a little bit scared.
“Just relax,” he murmured, voice soothing, warm. “Let Daddy open you up.”
He stroked his thumb over my sensitive rim of muscle, his other hand keeping my body in place.
I whimpered, but kept my position for him.
The pain was already fading, but the humiliation was growing with every passing second. I held myself spread open, exposed to his eyes and his hands, just like he’d told me to, and I shivered, trying to keep both my sanity and my dignity in check and pretty sure I’d already lost at least one of those.
I should hate this, but something was keeping me still. Something was keeping me here with him.
At first, I thought it might be the belt, but almost immediately I pushed the thought away. That wasn’t right. It wasn’t the punishment that was making me stay.
It was him. All him. I was submitting to him.
Nikolai was touching me, looking at me, punishing me, watching me fall apart under his hand, and even though I should have been embarrassed and humiliated, I wasn’t. Not really.
He didn’t make me feel weak. He didn’t make me feel worthless or unwanted. He didn’t make me question myself, or the decisions I’d made. He made me feel strong. Beautiful. Desired. He stripped away everything I didn’t need and showed me what I truly was.
He pushed a single finger against my asshole, and I stilled, my mouth going dry.
This was really happening.
My pussy clenched down hard.
He rubbed a circle around the rim, not pushing, not pulling, just massaging, and I slowly started to relax. Then he pushed that thick digit into my asshole roughly and a cry flew from my lips before I could stop it.
Pain hurtled around my virgin hole and then skirted up and down my spine in sizzling, agonizing waves. It didn’t hurt; it fucking burned.
Lava coursed through my veins as he ruthlessly pumped his finger in and out of me, forcing my asshole open despite the fact that my body was fighting him every step of the way. My body clenched around him and another lightning bolt of pain zapped through me.
“You’re so fucking tight, bad girl. I can’t wait to feel you wrapped around my cock.”
He pulled out his finger, and a rush of air left my lips. I slumped over the bed, exhausted, panting, and so fucking turned on, but before I could take another breath, he shoved two thick fingers back inside me and a scream tore out of my lungs. He pumped his fingers in and out, spreading and stretching my tight channel, and my knees almost buckled from the agony of it.
But then, something began to happen.
Somehow, it started to feel good.
“Daddy, please—oh, God—”
My words caught in my throat.
“You’re enjoying this, aren’t you? You like it when Daddy punishes this tight little hole. It turns you on so much that I can see it dripping down your pretty thighs,” he growled.
The worst part was he was right.
He kept pumping, scissoring his fingers and opening me up. The burn was still there, but the pain was dulling, replaced with a sensation I couldn’t begin to describe: a deep, forbidden ache, a longing I didn’t know how to put into words.
My body didn’t need words, though. It wanted more of whatever he was offering. More than anything though, I wanted his cock.
Needed it.
He withdrew his fingers and I almost whined, a desperate empty feeling taking over instantly. I wanted him inside me. My pussy clenched around nothing but emptiness and I bit my lip, trying to keep as quiet as I could. I made myself pull my cheeks open wider for him, arched my back more.
I didn’t want him to know how much I wanted his fingers back inside my asshole, but I couldn’t help myself.
Then his hand came down on the back of my neck and held me there, pinned against the bed as the wide, blunt head of his cock pressed against my ass.
I whimpered desperately, but Nikolai only chuckled.
“Such a bad girl, moaning like a needy little slut. You want Daddy’s cock. You want me to fill this virgin hole, don’t you, bad girl?”
I moaned, and his hand pressed down harder.
“Tell Daddy what you want,” he demanded, his voice a rumbling growl, a warning and a promise all at once.
“I want it, Daddy,” I whispered, barely able to hear my own voice.
“Louder,” he ordered, and his cock nudged harder against me.
“I want your cock in my ass, Daddy,” I said, louder this time, my voice breaking a little as the words tumbled off my lips.
“That’s my good girl,” he murmured, and the head of his cock breached my entrance.
My body locked up tight, fighting against him. He was so big that I worried he might break me in two as he stretched me wider than I could have ever imagined. My poor little hole struggled to take his thick girth, and I couldn’t help but moan and yell and scream as he forced one inch after the next inside of me.
It burned.
It ached.
It was an enormous shaft of fire burning my tender bottom from the inside, to match the outside.
It was fucking excruciating.
But it also felt incredible.
With every inch that sank deeper, I felt myself falling further into the darkest part of me, the one that liked being his bad girl, that liked it when he punished me, that made me want to defy him again and again just so I could earn all of this.
I felt myself stretching wider and wider, and then I felt a pop. He thrust the last few inches inside of me and my breath stuck in the back of my throat.
Holy shit. His cock was inside my ass.
“Look at how well Daddy’s cock is filling this naughty little hole. You look so beautiful like this, holding yourself open for me, taking every inch of my cock in this sweet ass.”
I whimpered, and a flush crept across my face. Embarrassed and more turned on than I had ever been in my life, I hid my face in the bed and tried not to think about how I was about to get the first bottom fucking of my life.
But I wanted it.
I wanted him.
Nikolai rocked his hips, the movement lighting a fire under my skin, searing through every inch of me and sending a terrifying volley of aching sensation through me. It hurt. It felt good. It was so confusing.
A good girl wasn’t supposed to get fucked like this. A good girl shouldn’t like it either.
But I wasn’t a good girl.
I was a bad girl who needed to be punished not only with Daddy’s belt, but with Daddy’s cock.
“I can’t wait to fuck this virgin asshole,” he growled, and his grasp on the back of my neck tightened, his other hand squeezing my hip as he pulled out until the tip of his cock was just barely inside me.
I braced myself for him to plunge back inside me. Instead, he waited, holding himself there, making me wait, making me suffer for my disobedience.
“Please,” I begged. “Daddy, please—don’t tease me—”
“Oh, but I think you deserve to be teased, bad girl,” he replied. “I think you deserve to be teased and toyed with. I think you deserve to be made to suffer for being such a bad little girl.”
Then he pushed back inside me, the burn returned, and this time, I did cry out, the sound swallowed by the sheets as he pulled out again and drove back into me, hard enough to force me onto the tips of my toes.
I keened, a high, broken sound, and the tears that had stopped earlier spilled free again, hot and wet, streaming down my cheeks and onto the sheets.
It hurt.
It felt incredible.
And all I could do was take what he gave me.
He pumped in and out of me, rough and ruthless, each stroke like a firebrand inside me, his fingers digging into the back of my neck, the other hand gripping my hip so tightly I could already feel the bruises rising beneath his touch.
Every inch of me burned, my skin, my muscles, my nerve endings. Everything was on fire and the only thing I could do was hold onto my ass cheeks and moan, the sounds muffled, strangled, broken.
The bed shook beneath us, and the sound of skin against skin echoed around us like a symphony. He grunted with every stroke, and the sound made my pussy clench even more, made me want him even more.
His pace quickened. His breath was ragged. My pulse was roaring in my ears. Then he released his hand on my hip, circling it around my body so that his finger settled directly on my clit.
A gasp flew out of my lips and his chuckle was dark and dirty as he started to stroke that sensitive nub.
“Do you like it when Daddy’s cock is buried deep inside your ass, bad girl?”
I moaned.
“Answer me,” he growled, his finger rubbing slow, firm circles around my clit.
“Yes,” I managed. “Yes, Daddy.”
“Do you want Daddy to come inside this naughty little asshole? Do you want to feel my seed spilling out of your pretty little hole?”
“Daddy, please,” I tried, not wanting to admit such a filthy thought had me on the edge of orgasm. I tried not to imagine the sight of my poor punished ass leaking with his cum, but it was impossible.
He rubbed my clit faster, fucked me harder, and the image bloomed in my mind, so vivid, so real, so hot.
Oh, my God… I was going to come.
Like this, with his fingers on my clit and his cock driving deep into my freshly belted bottom.
And just like that, the pressure exploded.
It was unlike any orgasm I’d ever had. Like the pleasure was coming from the deepest part of me, like he’d unlocked some secret inside my body that left me feeling wild and free and reckless.
All of a sudden, I was flying.
Falling.
Soaring.
It was everything and it was too much, and I was gasping and whimpering and crying. Then he thrust deep, his cock bottoming out and stretching my ass so full that I saw stars.
When my climax began to fade, I sagged against the bed, overwhelmed, oversensitive, and so sore. He slowed for a second and for a fleeting moment, I thought my punishment was over, that maybe he was close, but then he started fucking me all over again like a ruthless beast claiming his mate.
A wave of panic surged through me at the realization that this was far from over.
He pumped his hips, slamming into me again and again. My body was racked with sensation, and the only thing I could do was lie there, bent over the bed, and take every brutal stroke, the sound of his cock burying deep inside me echoing through the room.
“Come for Daddy, bad girl,” he demanded.
He pinched my overly sensitive clit and thrust into me hard enough to force the air out of my lungs. My knees buckled and a scream flew out of my mouth, my vision blurred, and the pressure burst all over again.
A moan slipped off my tongue, and he thrust deep, so deep that the world spun and shattered around me.
“It hurts, Daddy,” I whined. ”Please—it’s too much—”
“I know, baby girl, but you’re taking it so well. I am looking right at how your naughty little asshole is stretched around my cock. It feels so good inside this tight little hole. Daddy can’t wait to come inside it, but you’re going to come several more times before he does.”
Raw panic shot straight down to my clit.
His fingers worked me roughly, and I didn’t know how many more orgasms I could take.
“You can do it,” he growled. “Because Daddy demands it. He demands that his dirty little bad girl come on his cock again and again and again, and when she finally does, then Daddy will give her his cum.”
Another stroke, another thrust, and then his hand moved up from my hip to grab the back of my neck and push me against the bed. His fingers on my clit never wavered.
And then I was coming again.
Stars stuttered behind my eyelids and my inner walls fluttered around nothing. My asshole clutched his cock like a fucking vise, like I couldn’t get enough of it. I bit my lip, trying to keep my screams of climax from echoing throughout the room, but I was fighting a losing battle.
One orgasm bled into two. Two became three and then I lost count.
All I knew was his cock and his hands and his voice, and the pleasure that ripped through me over and over again. I’d let go of my ass, hoping he wouldn’t punish me for it, just to try to hold myself up from collapsing completely.
I was floating, and then I was falling.
It was too much.
No.
It was just enough.
He thrust again, his strokes becoming erratic, the grip on the back of my neck tighter, fiercer.
“That’s it, baby girl,” he urged. “Let Daddy fuck you until you’re so sore and sensitive that you feel him with every step you take down the aisle tomorrow. Let Daddy fill you up and make you his.”
He pounded into me.
I screamed and my eyes watered as another climax tore through me. He fucked me faster. Harder. One tear escaped, followed by another and another until I was sobbing through my release as he fucked my ass and worked my clit.
The world tilted.
The orgasm hit like a freight train, and I didn’t know if I would survive the impact.
His strokes turned feral.
Brutal.
“Daddy,” I begged. “Please. Please—”
“Beg me harder,” he demanded. “Beg for Daddy’s cum.”
“Please, Daddy,” I screamed, desperate for him to come, “please come inside me. Please fill up my ass and make it yours.”
“That’s it,” he groaned. “Such a good girl.”
He drove his cock into me one last time, then the roar ripped out of his chest and he emptied his seed into my ass.
Filling me completely.
The pressure was so intense that I cried out, the sound muffled, strangled, broken, and all I could do was hold onto the bed, and let him ride me through his orgasm as I rode out mine.
I collapsed forward, limp and exhausted and completely spent.
He let go of my neck and stroked the curve of my ass gently, his fingers ghosting across the welts left by his belt, and the gesture sent a shiver down my spine.
“That’s it, baby girl,” he murmured, his voice thick and deep. “Such a good girl. You took that so well.”
I closed my eyes and sighed.
I could feel the tension starting to seep from my muscles. Feel the exhaustion and the ache and the satisfaction and the soreness all at once. I took a deep breath and winced. My body was throbbing, and every inch of me was a mess.
Gently, he pulled free of my sore hole, and I gasped, the feeling of his seed dripping from me instant. It was shameful and wrong, but my clit throbbed in response anyway.
His arms circled my waist, and then he was lifting me, turning me, gathering me against his chest as he stepped back toward the bed.
My fingers curled into the soft material of his dress shirt.
“Thank you for punishing me, Daddy,” I whispered, not sure where the words came from, but knowing they were true.
He kissed the top of my head, and we sank down onto the bed, tangled in each other’s arms.
“You are mine, baby girl,” he crooned. “Your heart. Your mind. Your soul. Every inch of you. Tomorrow, when you say ‘I do’ and become Mrs. Morozov, you will truly belong to me, to the man who will keep you safe, who will cherish you, and care for you, and give you the life you deserve.”
His palm landed on my bare ass, squeezing one cheek hard, so hard I flinched.
“And the man who will always punish you when you need it.”
I pressed a kiss against his chest, smiling softly, and he leaned in and kissed my forehead.
“My good girl,” he said.
As he pulled me closer, my sore ass nestled against his hips, I thought about the next day, when I would wear a wedding gown and walk down the aisle. I would say my vows, and I would become his wife. He would be my husband.
The next time I disobeyed him, I’d do it knowing exactly what it meant, knowing exactly how he’d punish me for it. For now, though, I was his good girl and for the rest of the night, and all of tomorrow, I would be his bride.
I smiled to myself.
I couldn’t wait.
