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Chapter Four: My Pleasure
As that wonderful summer in France continued, I realised that there was one big problem with our arrangement. You’ve probably spotted it too, long before I did, but you have to remember that I was only just turned seventeen, and although I was burning with a very dirty and quickly developing sex drive, I really didn’t know that much, and I certainly hadn’t the experience to think things through to their logical conclusion. The only way I knew to go forward was to just suck it and see!
Daddy also was in the dark. He was having his first sex in sixteen years, since my mother walked out on him leaving him literally holding the baby – me! I think he was still having some slight “Puritan” problems with our dirty little games, but we were both having a great time, really, the best of times. There was however, one problem.
I was a virgin, and as I said earlier, we hadn’t had to discuss it; there was just no alternative to the unspoken knowledge that I was to stay a virgin. It was possible that at some unspoken time in the future we might screw our brains out together, but whatever happened in the future, neither of us wanted Daddy to be my first. That really just wouldn’t be right. Besides, we were having such a wonderfully dirty, inventive time, getting round the unspoken problem of “doing it”, thinking up and enacting our weird little scenes together, and finding out a huge amount about each other, our minds, our bodies and ourselves.
However, the problem was, as I’m sure you’ve already guessed, that while I could tease and tantalise my father in to ejaculating all over me to his complete satisfaction, by all kind of means which didn’t involve him penetrating me in any way, it was much more difficult the other way round. It’s not so easy as you might think to make a girl cum without penetrating her quite deeply, and that of course was out of the question if I was to remain a virgin!
So in the end I asked my Daddy straight out, what he thought we should do. I explained that I really did enjoy making him cum; it was just wonderful to see him in a frenzy of lust for me, and that whilst I wasn’t really complaining, but well, I suppose really I was complaining. Help!
He shifted in his seat and looked at me sideways, and said: “Well, Baby Girl. Think about it. You’ve had one orgasm, you liked it, and you want more. How did the first one happen? Why don’t you go that route for just now, then see what happens.”
So I sat in the sun, and remembered how he’d really punished my tits, and then I’d cum, sliding off his knees to lie on the grass at his feet as he’d wanked on me. Not being an idiot, I could see that there was potential for this to lead to all sorts of trouble, not to mention pain, for me. But if this was what it was going to take…. Besides, I’d definitely got the impression that my Daddy wanted to do this. Even now, years later, I will still do anything for him, the dirtier the better, but at that time it seemed to me that he had been a bit too studiedly casual when talking to me about this, trying just a little too hard to be uncaring in his attitude, especially as he’d been having to try to hide a hard-on just talking about it. The fact of his wanting to hide it suggested that this was a really important, personal thing for him, something that admitting to would increase his feeling of vulnerability.
In other words, my Daddy wanted to enjoy sadistic sex, with me on the masochistic, receiving end of things, and he wanted it so much he was ashamed of it! He even had a hard-on talking about it; and hell, I was wet just listening to him and thinking about what he was saying!
Being a logical and hitherto very well brought up seventeen-year-old girl, I came to two obvious conclusions. The first one was that my lovely, sweet Daddy was a secret sadist who wanted to hurt me, and that equally I was not ashamed to be a not so secret masochist. He wanted power over me; I really wanted to be completely in his power. He wanted me to be his toy; I wanted to be his toy, his plaything. He would show his love for me by hurting me; I would prove my love by letting him.
The second conclusion was that it was up to me to do something about it. He was still too embarrassed and ashamed to let me see into the dark heart of his depraved, cock-dripping lust for me, but this didn’t bother me at all. I was in thrall to the whole, lovely, sweet dirtiness of the idea of being whipped by him.
Decision made, it was straight ahead. I went online to some sado sites, and quickly found what I wanted to break us both in “gently”, got busy with the credit card and a couple of days later a package arrived for me.
We were once again sitting in the garden of the French summer cottage in the hot afternoon sun, enjoying the nice buzz of finishing a light lunch with a little Ricard and water. I know you’re supposed to start your meal with pastis, but we like it at the end, instead of port, which is too heavy, or brandy, which is too fierce, especially on a hot, sunny afternoon. As usual, Daddy was wearing shorts and I was wearing just my heels. In a lull in the conversation about my exams, university courses, etc., I gulped, and with a suddenly beating heart said:
“Daddy, I’ve bought you a present. Shall I get it?”
He puffed once on his Cohiba.
“Sure, Baby Girl. My birthday isn’t for months, but that’s really very sweet of you. Thanks. I would love to have your present.”
I giggled:
“Well it’s kinda for me too. I’ll show you,” and I went in to the house.
I returned a few minutes later. I was still wearing my heels, of course, and I was careful to walk back across the garden rather slowly and very sexily, one foot in front of the other, like models on a cat-walk. I’d done my eyes up and put on a little lip-gloss, so that I looked sexy and a bit tarty for well a brought up seventeen year old. Buckled very tightly round my waist I was also wearing the thick leather belt that I had ordered, and having checked myself in the mirror before stepping out into the afternoon sun, I must say that I liked how it made me look. It gave me an even smaller waist, and emphasised the smooth swell of my hips. Somehow it also made my legs seem longer. They seemed to go on forever, stretching up from the ankle straps of my heels to the neat, dark triangle of my pubic hair. (I’m a “real” brunette!) Admiring myself in the mirror before I’d left the house, I’d turned myself on; I was sure that I would have the same effect on my Daddy.
I walked over to him, rolling my hips and smiling, and then stopped in front of where he sat with my legs apart. I flipped my fingers once through my hair, and then, feeling a bit like Boadicea, undid the circular buckle. I had deliberately buckled the belt on way too tight; I felt my stomach relax as the leather slipped from my body. Even although I’d only worn it for a few moments, it had left deep red marks on me, two parallel lines round my waist where the edges of the hard new leather had pressed me hard, and, right on my navel, above the soft swell of my abdomen and lower stomach, a big red circle where I’d tightened the large buckle. Still slightly in Boadicea mode I formally knelt on one knee, bowed my head, and with both hands placed the beautiful, shiny new leather belt in his hands.
“Here’s your present, Daddy,” I giggled nervously:
“Or rather, half of your present. Here’s the other half,”
And suddenly very nervous, I stood up again, turned round, and bent forward at the waist, keeping my legs very straight, and once again spread them wide. I arched my back and supported myself with my hands on my knees. I’d practised this pose in the mirror and knew that he was looking at the lovely, smooth globes of my bum cheeks, with my slightly parted cunt pouching between them. By now I was as nervous as hell. What was I getting myself into? However, in for a penny…, I turned my toes inwards, which looks (and is) and awkward angle for them to be at for any length of time, but in this pose it separates my bum cheeks just enough to give a view of the rosebud of my arsehole.
There we were, my Daddy sitting holding a brand new leather belt, me displaying myself, naked except for my heels, bent over with my legs apart and thrusting my bare bum, excited cunt and arsehole almost in his face. Heart pounding, I repeated myself:
“I’m the other half, Daddy! Belt me! Oh please, Daddy. Quick. I’m scared. Belt me across the arse a dozen times, quick, before I change my mind!”
He sat there for a moment. The tension was unbearable. I just shut my eyes and waited. Whatever was going to happen, I was determined to get through this without flinching.
I heard my Daddy scrape his chair back as he stood up, the soft pad of his bare feet as he moved in to position, and the whistle through the air and the sudden crack as three feet of brand new, hard, shiny leather smacked across my bare arse with a force that made me stagger slightly. I was just hearing the whistle of the second stroke as the pain of the first one kicked in. It’s true; the first stroke takes a moment after it has landed to take effect, but the second blow to the same place on my bare, unprotected arse hurt immediately and I started to cry. My tears filled my eyes and I sobbed deeply.
The third stroke hit me, hurting me even more than the others had, and I cried out loud. The pain in my bum cheeks filled my mind and my senses, and commonsense was telling me to beg my Daddy to stop, but the warm, sexy glow in my cunt was telling me to push my arse towards him. My body took over, and I found that I was writhing in pain but at the same time arching my back and spreading my legs even more. I wanted to become an even more wanton target for my Daddy and his hard leather belt.
And he hit me across the arse again, and again, and again. My bum was a glowing mass of pain; my arse cheeks were two severely punished globes of soft, abused flesh. I was weeping and sobbing, choking and coughing, gasping for breath and as red in the face as my poor, abused, belted arse. My tears blocked my nose and streamed down my face. I was simultaneously struggling to breath and howling with pain. My shoulders heaved and my tits swayed on my chest as I screamed with the pain of each stroke as the remorseless onslaught against my sweet body continued.
And I was in heaven! My cunt was soaking. Even in the world of my pain I could feel my hot cunt fluids trickle down the inside of my wide-open thighs. I spread my legs even more, proudly showing off my dripping, virgin cunt to my Daddy, as he continued to hit me with the belt I’d given him for just this purpose. I thrust my arse backwards, actually bending my knees to push it even more obviously towards him, making myself even more of a wanton target for my sadistic attacker.
As the terrible punishment continued, I felt the longed for pressure begin to build, low in my stomach at first, then quickly spreading across my abdomen, down to my cunt and up to my nipples. I wanted the pain everywhere. I was a masochist. I wanted my whole body to be a mass of belt strokes and pain. Individual strokes of the belt became indistinguishable; with my eyes shut I was starting to see nothing but a red haze. The pleasure and the pressure grew. The sweet, dirty pressure to orgasm, to cum right there and then as my Daddy beat my bare arse with the leather belt was overwhelming. I was about to cum!
And then it stopped. I screamed: “Don’t stop!”
“That’s twelve, Baby Girl.”
I sobbed: “But I’m almost there Daddy. Keep doing it, please. I beg you, hit me a few more times.”
“But Baby, I can’t hit you any more. Your bum’s red raw and it’s going to bleed if I keep hitting you. We’ll have to stop.”
Gradually regaining my senses, I was starting to think again. Although I obviously couldn’t see my own arse, the shocking pain in it told me that he was probably right. But I needed to cum. Oh fuck, how I needed to cum, and I was determined that my Daddy and his belt was going to get me there.
So I stood up, turned round and sat down on the edge of the table. My God, it hurt when I put my weight on my poor abused bum cheeks, but it excited me even more. I felt a little extra gush of the fluids trickling steadily from my cunt as I lay down, flat on my back, my feet and legs dangling to the ground. In this position my stomach was stretched, smooth, flat and tight. It was the perfect target. I spread my legs once again; I can’t help it, it comes automatically to me. I propped myself up on my elbows and said:
“Hit me across the stomach. Hit me low down, below the mark left by the buckle. Where you press on me to make me piss.”
“How many, Baby Girl?”
“You’ll know when I’ve had enough,” and I lay down with my arms stretched out on either side of me, closed my eyes once again, tensed my stomach muscles, and waited, heart pounding.
The first stroke of the belt smacked down hard on to my abdomen, hurting me right across my stomach, just above my pubic hair. The tip of the belt cracked viciously into the soft skin in my hip. I gasped as the blow winded me. It was right on the mark, leaving a red stripe across my body. Without waiting, my Daddy hit me with the belt again, right in the same place, the pain sinking deeper into my tensed stomach muscles. The pressure to cum was building in me again; I was right back to where I had been moments ago, but this time the growing pleasure was so strong, so intense, that I was completely silent except for my gasping breath.
Once again, my tears of pain trickled from the corners of my eyes, and I could feel and smell my animal sex fluids as they gushed from my cunt, but I was no longer screaming with each stroke of the belt. My Daddy kept hitting me; my smooth, strong stomach was taking the same punishment as my arse had, but I was in a state of sexual torment and ecstasy that transcended mere pain. The strokes of the hard leather belt landing across my pelvis and on the soft skin of my abdomen were taking me to where I wanted to be.
I announced my mounting ecstasy with a scream and my Daddy kept hitting me. My legs went rigid, lifting my hips, pushing them up towards the tormenting belt that smacked pain down on to my young, slim, completely vulnerable body. My Daddy kept hitting me and my whole body shook, trembling with tension, pain, and delirious pleasure as my cum, my wonderful, deep, shuddering cum, orgasmed through me, parting my legs and causing my cunt lips to spasm open in a welcoming gape. I thrust my hips upwards and forwards, spreading my legs, seeking the hard, intruding object which my animal instinct told me should be there, deep inside me, deep inside my cunt, bruising my cunt lips, bruising my cunt walls, roughly bruising and tearing my virginity to shreds of love, pain, and our dirty lust; but there was no hard object in side of me, just the wonder of our love and my pain as my Daddy kept hitting me.
He knew when to stop. It was when I collapsed back on to the table, my legs hanging limp in the air, then, with my whole body wracked with deep sobs and with tears streaming from my eyes I rolled on to my side, clutching my stomach and weeping in pain. I was spent.
My Daddy knelt beside me, cradling me in his arms. He was crying too.
“Did I hurt you, Baby Girl?”
I just looked at him. Then I said:
“Yes, you did, Daddy. Thank you. That was what I needed.”
I thought for a moment, then I asked: “Did you enjoy it?”
He closed his eyes for a moment then nodded.
“I loved it Baby.”
“So did I, Daddy. Thank you.”
I rolled, carefully, on to my back and stretched my arms out to him. He leant over me and we kissed, deeply, holding each other tight like young lovers discovering each other’s bodies for the first time, which I suppose we were, in a particularly kinky way.
We stopped for breath and I flopped back on to the table, and spread my arms and legs wide, so he could see the deep, red marks he’d made on me, my stripes. Then I propped myself up in my elbows and admired them for a moment, and I said:
“Help me down.”
I wobbled slightly on my heels, but otherwise I was okay, and as I turned slowly in front of him to let him see my stomach and my bum, I have to admit that from what I could see of my bum it was one hell of a mess. But I admired myself, still weirdly excited. Then I knew what was still required. I leant over and slipped my hand in to my Daddy’s shorts.
“You’re still stiff Daddy. Here I am, still alive. I’m okay. Now wank on me.
And I lay down on my back on the grass and he did, his fist like a piston until he sprayed his thick seed over the deep red marks on my stomach and abdomen. Thank you, Daddy.
And you, dear reader, will you wank for me too?
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