C/W: nothing they really haven't done before, except brief belt spanking.
"Princess."
His coaxing was quiet. His hand was warm under the sheets, running gently down her side. "Hm?" she hummed.
The path his hand traced changed direction, slipping down to cover her stomach. He pressed himself just a little harder against her, and she could feel his hard length against the small of her back. "Do you remember what I promised you last night, sweetheart?"
"Daddy, please," she mumbled, still half asleep but knowing that she needed to give him some sort of encouragement.
His hand moved down, coaxing her leg into wrapping over his waist. "You're such a good little girl," he murmured warmly.
She shivered as she felt the head of his cock draw a slow circle around her clit. "Daddy," she breathed, eyes still closed.
He was gentle as he guided himself into her, the press of his hips slow.
"Oh, god," she breathed, finally opening her eyes as she shifted back toward him. It was a full sort of feeling, and the gentle stretch of her tired muscles sent a pleasant tingle straight to her scalp.
He hummed against her shoulder as he gently rocked against her. "Is this what you wanted, princess?" he murmured.
"Thank you," she mumbled breathily.
His hand slid up her stomach and he cupped her breast in his palm. "You're welcome," he answered gently, angling his hips and sliding just a little deeper.
"Right there," she breathed before she could stop herself, feeling him press against something that threatened to take her apart already.
"Right there?" he murmured, his voice teasing her in a warm way as he repeated the movement.
"Please," she moaned, grabbing onto his arm to anchor herself. "Please, Daddy. Please, right there."
His hum was warm, pressed against her shoulder. "Right there," he murmured, his voice low. "I do love it when you beg, princess."
"Please," she breathed, her nails digging against his arm.
The press of his lips to her shoulder, a gentle graze of his teeth. He squeezed her breast, his thumb brushing against her already hardened nipple.
Christine suspected that she could have easily lost herself in him; when she closed her eyes and his hand trailed between her legs, she wasn't entirely certain where she actually was at all. There was only his warmth, his hands, his breath and the steady presence of him moving deep inside of her. Caught somewhere between sleep and awake, she thought that she could have happily stayed there forever.
But she couldn't stay there forever, and that was evidenced by the tremble she already felt in her thighs and by the incredibly familiar warm build of pressure that teetered just on the edge of too much.
"Daddy, please," she breathed.
She was answered by the graze of his warm lips against her temple. His hand between her legs grew slightly more insistent. "Already, princess?" he asked, the words slightly breathless.
"Please," she repeated, her nails digging just a little harder against his arm.
"You are so easy for me," he murmured, the words somewhere near her ear. "You can cum, princess."
And so, when she felt that peak approaching for a second time, she didn't bother trying to back away from it. She threw herself over entirely.
His arm wrapped around her waist, tugging her closer, and he thrust just a little harder, pushing more of himself into her as her pulsing muscles begged for something to grip.
It tinted her orgasm slightly with pain, and when she arched her back against him she found that she had very little say in it. She had very little control of the strange guttural moan that left her.
His arm banded around her, holding her tight in place while he sought his own release far deeper than that spot she had begged him to caress. It wasn't so terribly long before he chased her over that peak, before she felt that strange stutter in the steady pace he had set and the telltale pulse of him, buried so deeply inside of her that she wasn't sure that they would ever be two separate people again.
There was stillness for a long moment before, finally, he pressed a gentle kiss to her temple. "Good morning, sweetheart," he murmured, and she couldn't tell if the gruffness in his voice was sleep or if it simply was.
She shivered, pulling his arm just a little tighter around her. "I love you," she whispered.
He was wrapped around her, draped half over her, their bodies still entangled as he pressed his lips gently against her terribly tangled curls.
Christine watched him from the doorway of her bedroom, cracking raw eggs into a bowl.
She frowned. "The stove still doesn't work yet, Daddy."
He glanced at her as he whisked the eggs with a fork. "I'm going to show you a magic trick, princess," he answered. "Come here and sit down."
She turned a kitchen chair, doing just that. He dropped two pieces of bread into the toaster and hit the lever.
He slid the bowl of eggs into the microwave and set the timer for a minute forty-five before he turned back to her. "You don't need a stove," he said, leaning against the counter as he waited. "I used to cook bacon on an iron."
Christine frowned. "That's gross."
He chuckled, pulling the toast out and dropping it onto one of the few clean plates that were left. "Why do you think we aren't having bacon, princess?"
"'Cause I don't have an iron," she yawned, rubbing at her tired eyes as she frowned. "Or bacon."
"Well, that would complicate it," he admitted, opening the microwave as it beeped. He set the bowl and the plate on the table behind her. "Give the eggs just a minute, sweetheart."
She frowned, looking at the spread in front of her. "Don't you want any?"
"I'm next," he reassured her. "It works as long as you don't try it with too many at once… it works for most things, honestly. Though I don't appreciate many microwave dishes. The eggs are okay."
"Microwave omelet," she mumbled, stabbing the suspiciously fluffy eggs with her fork.
"Maybe," he said, answering the question she didn't finish. "As long as any meat you put in there was cooked. It'd be more of a scramble, though."
"Yeah, that's what I meant," she mumbled, taking a bite.
"Is it okay, princess?"
She frowned at the bowl. "It just tastes like eggs."
"I'm afraid I'm not that good of a magician," he answered.
"No," she said with a weak laugh. "I mean it just tastes like eggs. It's good. Thank you, Daddy."
"I'm glad."
She stabbed another piece of the egg, twisting her fork in the bowl. "Are you really okay with all this?"
"With all what?" he asked, breaking an egg into another bowl.
"Being here," she answered, frowning at her eggs.
"Being here," he said thoughtfully, fork beating against the side of the bowl. "I'm always happy to be with you."
"I mean my stupid apartment," she clarified.
"My legal address for five years was a motel," he answered gently. "It wasn't that the gas was off, it was just that there was no stove. This is luxury by comparison, princess. I really don't mind."
"But you could be at home," she mumbled, finally taking a bite of the egg she was stabbing.
She heard the beep of the microwave as it whirred to life. "And what good is that when you're here?" he asked gently. "If I was at home I would only be waiting to call you anyway."
"But you would have heat," she pointed out. "And hot water."
"I would rather have you," he answered. "Finish your microwave eggs so that you can take your cold shower and I can get you to work, princess."
It was, quite possibly, the best work day that Christine had had in months.
It had nothing to do with work itself. It had to do with the fact that every time she looked at the clock, she actually had something to look forward to as the hours ticked by
She hadn't really had much to look forward to in a long time. Not until Erik just happened to walk into her life. And knowing that he was there, waiting for her, made her antsy.
Nothing much could have possibly ruined her mood. Her shower was cold, but she got to wake up with him. She didn't have to ride the bus, and she knew that he was there waiting for her. Christine practically floated through her day.
"I want to show you something, princess," he said as they entered her apartment.
She frowned. Something was different. She could see vacuum lines in the carpet and when she looked at the stove, the top of it was clear. "You did the dishes," she said.
"I had to fill the time with something and the gas came back on," he answered. "That isn't what I wanted to show you. Come here, princess."
She let him lead her across the apartment by her hand, and she frowned when he pointed to the heat register on the floor by the window.
"Do you notice anything different?"
She stared at it. "It's actually warm."
"It is," he said, kneeling down by it. "This little tab here opens and closes it," he said, demonstrating it. "The good news is that you don't need HVAC. Every register in this apartment was closed. It probably has been since you moved in."
"Oh," she whispered, crossing her arms tightly and feeling like an idiot. "I didn't know."
He stood, looking at her closely. "I know that you didn't, sweetheart," he said gently. "That's why I'm showing you. Now you just know to check that first if it's feeling chilly."
She didn't want to be upset. She really didn't, but she felt that familiar lump forming in her throat. "You cleaned my apartment," she said quietly.
"I didn't realize that would upset you," he said quietly. "I was trying to help, sweetheart."
She sniffed. "I know how to do dishes."
He frowned at her. "I know that you do."
"And if I knew you were coming I would have," she said, feeling warmth in her cheeks. "I would have done the dishes and vacuumed and I would have put all my laundry away and -"
"Please take a breath, sweetheart," he said softly.
She did, and his touch on her cheek was gentle
"Sometimes it's hard to know where to start," he said. "I know that you can vacuum, and do dishes. I know that you can figure out your bills. I didn't mean to upset you, princess. If I knew that it would, I wouldn't have done it. I just thought that it might be a little less overwhelming if you had someplace to start."
"I'm not upset," she admitted, wiping her eyes. "I'm embarrassed.
"It's nothing to be embarrassed about, either," he said softly.
"I can't do anything right," she mumbled, staring at his chin. "I can't even say thank you right."
"You can't do anything right because sometimes you leave a couple dirty dishes on the counter?" he asked, brushing his thumb against her tears. "Sweetheart, you're incredible. Look around. You experienced a tremendous loss and you didn't give up. You have an apartment. You work like a dog and you're putting yourself through school… so what if a couple of dishes don't get done sometimes? You expect way too much out of yourself. No one is perfect at being on their own at first. Most people don't do it all and school on top of it. It's no wonder you're so overwhelmed."
"Lots of people do it on their own," she huffed, crossing her arms tightly.
"Lots of people also leave dishes on the counter," he pointed out. "I'm pretty sure even I left some in the sink when I left."
She shifted awkwardly, glancing around her suddenly dust-free apartment.
She wasn't sure if it had actually ever been clean before. She did her best to maintain it, but something always got missed. Some weeks, she just didn't have it in her to vacuum.
"Well, thank you," she finally said, meeting his eyes. "It was really nice of you and I'm sorry I kind of freaked out I just…"
"It's okay," he said gently. "It really is."
She sniffed and wiped at her damp cheek with her palm. "Did you, uh," she paused, taking a breath in an attempt to steady her voice. "Did you say that the water is back?"
"It is," he answered, frowning as he considered her. "It all came back on a few hours ago."
She nodded, wiping at her nose with her wrist. "Do you mind if I take a quick shower?" she asked, the words finally evening out. "I think there's coffee grounds in my hair."
He was looking at her in an odd way, almost like he was searching her face for something, and she felt it like a hard pit in her stomach.
"It was the only blade," she said, frowning. "I'm not going to cut."
"I'm sorry," he said, the words almost a sigh. "I don't-"
"I know," she said, cutting him off quickly. "You're trying and it…" she paused and, not quite sure how to put her thoughts into words, she stepped forward instead, wrapping her arms around him and burying her face against his warm chest.
He returned her embrace easily, one arm wrapping around her shoulders and one palm firm against the back of her head. "I just don't want to make it worse," he admitted softly.
"No one knows what to do with it," she mumbled, turning her head to press her cheek against his chest. "I don't know what to do with it. You make it better, Daddy. Not worse. I promise."
His thumb stroked gently against her cheek, a soothing touch. "Take your shower, princess," he said after a long moment.
Christine had only just gotten the conditioner rinsed from the deathly snarl of her curls when she heard the front door bang against the wall. Normally it would have been followed by yelling, mostly Meg asking her where the fuck she was, but instead all that followed was quiet.
Shit, she thought
Meg.
She didn't really mean to not tell her that Erik was there. It was only that it had slipped her mind entirely. It wasn't planned, and she was simply so excited to have him there that everything else had truthfully vanished from her mind.
Christine ran a hand quickly through her hair under the hot stream of water before she reluctantly turned it off, squeezing her hair gently to ring as much excess water as she could out before she stepped out and onto the cracked tile.
She wasn't sure why she bothered. Her hair would be a snarled mess again before the day was over.
By the time she managed to dry herself off enough to throw on her clothing and stumble out of the bathroom, she was sure enough time had passed to make the room at least awkward, if not a full out battle ground.
But all seemed strangely calm as she finally made it into the main room.
"You forgot to put a sock on the door," Meg quipped as she pressed start on the microwave.
Erik sat at the table, and he didn't even bother to hide the way the corner of his mouth lifted in a half-smile at her jab. "I believe your friend is feeling a little put out," Erik offered. "I have already explained to her that you didn't know that I was coming, and couldn't possibly have known to warn her."
"And I already explained to your daddy that that's creepy as fuck."
Christine felt her cheeks warm, and she squeezed at the towel wrapped around her head nervously. "Don't call him that," she said, the words coming out with just a little more force than she intended.
Meg frowned, but she didn't comment on it as she pulled the microwave open a few seconds too early, pulling out the bag of popcorn.
The strangely knowing look that she saw in Erik's eyes didn't really help to calm her nerves. Instead, she halfway wished that she was invisible. "I need to change my locks," Christine said, attempting to cover the strange awkwardness she felt with a touch of humour.
"Or just pick up a phone," Meg grumbled, grabbing a handful of the steaming popcorn. "'Hey Meg, I'm busy. Don't come over.'"
Christine smiled sheepishly. "Hey Meg, I'm busy. Don't come over."
"I hardly think that's fair," Erik interjected. "If she warned you, you would have missed your opportunity at the Spanish Inquisition."
Christine watched, in horror, as Meg threw a piece of popcorn squarely at his forehead.
To her relief, he only chuckled, plucking the offending piece from his lap and placing it on the table.
"All I'm saying is that if you hurt her, I won't hesitate to rip your-
"Meg!" Christine cried.
Erik held one hand up. "The message is received. I can assure you that I have no intention."
"I almost did anyway," Meg huffed, leaning against the countertop as she stared at Christine with half a smile. "She was a fucking wreck when you sent her home."
When his eyes found hers, she could only see concern in them. "You were?"
"I was not," Christine huffed. "I was just…
"A wreck," Meg said again, making an attempt to hide her smug grin by popping a few pieces of the popcorn into her mouth.
Christine squeezed the towel again, and it took a moment for her to even recognize that she was using it to fidget. "I think you should go," Christine huffed.
"Don't beat yourself up too bad," Meg said to Erik. "It's like pulling teeth with her sometimes."
The heat of Christine's glare must have been enough for once, because it was met with a grin from Meg.
"Fine," her friend said. "But I'm taking the popcorn with me."
As Meg finally vacated her apartment, she quickly slid the chain lock in place. "I'm sorry," she said softly, turning back to face him. "I hope she didn't…"
"Scare me off?" he asked gently. "Hardly. She worries about you, sweetheart. I find it relieving to know that I'm not alone in that."
She squeezed her towel again as he stood, and she practically held her breath as he approached her.
His thumb hooked gently under her chin, and he tilted her head back so that he could study her face carefully. "Don't lie to me, Christine," he said softly, the words sounding more like a plea than a demand. "You were a wreck?"
And as she stared up at him and the concern in his eyes, she found it hard to find any desire to be dishonest with him. "I was," she admitted weakly.
He frowned as he looked at her. "Why didn't you say anything?
"What was I supposed to say?" she asked quietly. "That I think I'm losing my mind? That the second you kissed me goodbye and walked away from me in that airport my heart dropped into my stomach and never came up again? That I couldn't breathe for three days?"
"Yes, sweetheart," he said softly, his thumb brushing gently against her jaw. "You should have said exactly that."
"And what good does that do, except make you worry when you're states away and can't do anything about it?"
His smile was halfway sad. "I could have told you that you weren't losing your mind at all," he murmured, bending slightly to press a gentle kiss to her forehead. "I could have told you that you were experiencing sub-drop. That it was perfectly normal, natural. That what you needed was chocolate and ice cream. I might not have been able to touch you, princess, but I could easily have taken care of you regardless."
"Is it going to happen every time?
His thumb tilted her chin up, and this time his gentle kiss was against her lips. "I can't promise it will never happen again," he answered honestly. "But I can promise that we will find what you need, and that you will never be alone in it again."
"I just wanted to sleep," she admitted, pressing her forehead against the crook of his neck. "All the time.
His hand pulled the towel, gently, from her hair. "But you couldn't, because you are one of the busiest people I have ever known," he sighed. "I'm so sorry, princess. I can't imagine how frightening that must have felt."
"I've felt it before," she admitted, pulling back slightly so that she could look up at him again. "Just never… like that."
"I have never wished that I could read minds more than I have since I've met you," he said gently
She realized that he was teasing her, but there was truth behind the gentle joke. Christine pulled nervously at one of the buttons on his dress shirt, staring up at him unflinchingly. "Can you read my mind right now, Daddy?
"I wish that I could," he answered. "Will you tell me, princess?"
"I am thinking that I think an awful lot," she said, feeling her brow furrow as she twisted the button nervously between her thumb and forefinger. "And that the only time that I don't is when you're touching me. And I'm thinking that the more that you let me think, the more I will worry about you leaving, and worry about when I will see you again, and worry about -"
His hand was like a vice against the back of her neck, and his kiss was nearly bruising. When she released the button of his shirt, she grasped two handfuls of the fabric instead, pulling him hard against her as he pressed her back against the door. "I can't have that," he murmured, his voice low and breath warm against her cheek. "What do you need, princess?"
She stared up at him and his darkened eyes, feeling a strange thrill go up her back as his warm hand found her waist and pressed her back against the unforgiving door of her apartment. "I want you to hurt me, Daddy," she said softly. "Any way that you want.
"Oh, sweetheart," he breathed, the words almost dark against her cheek. "The things I'd like to do to you… I can hurt you, but I promise that you aren't ready for all of that."
There was part of her that thought that the thrill his words sent through her should have been fear, or maybe disgust, but a bigger part of her recognized that it simply wasn't, and what was the use in fighting herself on what he was so willing to give her? The pink in her cheeks had nothing to do with embarrassment, and the slickness that she felt between her thighs belied any shame she could have pretended to feel.
He took a step away from her, and the look in his eyes sent butterflies fluttering in her stomach. "When I return, I expect to find you nude," he murmured.
"Where are you going?"
This time, his kiss was a bit more gentle. "Do you trust me?
She answered with a slight nod.
"Do you belong to me?"
"Yes," she breathed.
"Then do as I say, princess. And don't move from that spot."
She felt her small smile. "Or what?
His laugh, this time, was surprisingly soft. "Normally I would threaten a spanking, but experience tells me that you enjoy that a bit too much," he murmured, his eyes passing over her body once. "If you move from that spot, I will leave you in frustrated tears. If you do not, you will be rewarded. How is that, princess?"
She nodded, and he took one step backwards, eyes still focused entirely on her. "Strip," he said.
Christine reached for the hem of her shirt, pulling it over her head as he gazed at her and, seemingly satisfied that she would follow his instruction, he turned to walk toward her bedroom.
The window across the living room was uncovered, and she stared at it as she kicked her pants off. She was on the second floor in this building, not the fifty-somthingth, and she stared at the empty apartment across the way as she fought the bent clasp of her terrible bra.
I want everyone to see that you are mine.
There was a strange thrill that went through her, recalling the way that he had murmured those words to her. It wasn't like anyone was really looking anyway, right? Just as she pushed her underwear down her hips, he emerged from her bedroom with a length of rope hanging from his hands.
Oh, she thought. Oh.
He frowned, moving toward her slowly. "You moved," he said, his words low
"I did?" she asked, honestly confused.
"You did," he answered, eyes seeming to measure the space between her heels and the door.
Christine glanced back at the door, and realized that he wasn't actually wrong. She had, in fact, taken a few unintentional steps forward. "I didn't mean to, Daddy."
"You didn't mean to?"
"No," she said, firm in her answer.
He hummed, the sound deep and in the back of his throat. With one finger, he drew a circle in the air. "Turn, princess. Hands behind your back."
She obeyed easily, and he took both of her wrists into one hand, tugging them back. When he released them, she left them just where he pulled them to. This time, the rope looped just over her elbows. She felt a strange thrill with it, and she pressed her thighs together
"I would caution you against being too over-eager, princess," he murmured, and she felt the first cinch of the rope. He pressed forward, and his breath was just behind her ear. "You've yet to ask forgiveness for moving.
"I'm sorry, Daddy," she breathed.
He gave a sharp tug to her wet hair, and she practically held her breath. His lips pressed, tenderly, against her temple. "You can do better than that. Beg."
"Please, Daddy," she said, a strange desperation edging into her voice almost against her will. "I'm sorry. Please. I didn't mean to. I need - ah!"
Her words were cut off by the unexpected collision of his hand against her ass, and she found herself pressing back against his touch. His hand groped, squeezed, and soothed away the pins and needles of his harsh slap. "I'm not certain that you are ready to truly know my cruelty," he murmured, giving another gentle squeeze. "I did set you up for failure, after all. I do so love to hear you beg, princess. Do you forgive me?"
"Please, Daddy," she breathed. "Please. Please. Please."
"Look at you," he murmured, pressing a kiss to the sensitive spot behind her ear. "I've hardly touched you at all and you're already coming apart like the delicious little slut that you are for me."
He pulled back again, making a second loop with the rope halfway down her forearms, forcing them together. If she was honest, she already felt like she was on fire before he even made it to her wrists.
"There's a theory that the body can be trained something like Pavlov's dog," he murmured as he tied off the loop around her wrists. "Just a single word or sound would be enough to take you apart." His hand tangled in her hair, and he gave it a hard tug. "I'm not certain that I believe it's possible, but I find myself tempted to find out. Is that too tight, princess?"
She pulled against the bindings, first gently and then a bit harder. The rope dug, just the slightest bit, against her upper arm. "It's fine, Daddy," she decided.
He grasped the rope between her elbows and tugged hard, pulling her back against his warm chest. "I hate that word," he murmured, his free hand wrapping around her waist. "Is it too tight?"
"No," she answered breathlessly.
He gave it another sharp tug, and she made a sound of surprise as it dug into her soft flesh. "Is it too loose?"
Christine swallowed, relaxing slightly against his chest. "No, Daddy," she answered. "It's perfect."
"Perfect is a much better word," he said gently. "Tell me what you need, princess."
She pillowed her head back against his chest, tilting so that she could look up at him. She felt like she was on fire, like if she didn't look up at him the way that she was she would stop breathing entirely. "A kiss, please," she whispered.
Without comment, he bent, meeting her halfway. His kiss was warm and gentle, a stark contrast to the rough way he tugged at her binding. "I want to hurt you, princess," he said, the words soft but full of promise. "I want to leave you bruised, and filled, and a sobbing mess for me. I want to take you apart."
She shivered, and his thumb dug gently beneath her jaw, holding her head back against his chest.
"One day, I will stop asking," he murmured. "I will simply take. And you will trust that I will take care of you. One day, but not today. Color, princess."
Her fingers stretched, uselessly, toward him. She managed to catch the smallest amount of fabric between them, and she held it tightly. "Green, Daddy," she said, the words fully confident for the first time that she could remember.
His kiss was gentle, again, against her temple, and then his fingers dug just a bit harder against the soft spot just beneath her jaw. He led her, slowly, across the room just like that; fingers digging harshly against her skin, hand holding the rope that bound her tight. It was a strange sort of dance, being pushed forward and drawn back all at the same time.
Despite the slight tremble she already felt in her legs, she wouldn't fall. She knew that she wouldn't, because he wouldn't let her.
He never would.
She didn't linger on the thought too long as he turned her, pushing her toward the cushions of her couch.
"On your knees, princess. Just like that," he murmured, using his own knee to push hers up on the edge of the couch. "Both of them."
There was a strange sort of shuffle, and his hand left the rope to press gently between her shoulder blades, pushing her chest-first against the back of the couch.
"Such a good girl," he said, the words warm. "Is that okay?"
"I need you to touch me, Daddy," she breathed in confession, pushing her hips back toward him. "Please."
His warm hand began just above her knee, the press of it firm as it trailed over her thigh, traveling up until he could squeeze her butt. She could hear the click of a belt buckle behind her, and she shivered in anticipation as he took a step back.
When she attempted to turn her head to look, his hand tangled in her still-damp hair, forcing her head forward.
"The point of this is letting go and turning that off, princess," he said, giving another gentle tug to her hair. "If I have to, I will go find something to blindfold you with."
"No," she said softly.
"Mm," he hummed thoughtfully. "You'll be good?"
"I'll be good for you, Daddy," she whispered.
"Just for me?"
She nodded, and was rewarded by a gentle smack against her ass, and the soothing dig of his fingers.
"You always are, princess." There was a warm appreciation in his words, and she felt the gentle drag of something thin and leather against her already slightly-smarting skin. "Have you ever been properly spanked, sweetheart?"
"Is that…" she trailed off, the word dying in her throat.
"My belt," he said, dragging in up just a bit higher and trailing in over her lower back. "You are always allowed to tell me no, princess."
"I haven't ever…" she paused, taking a slow breath as he trailed the belt slowly up the inside of her thigh. "Done that."
"I know," he answered, his voice strangely low. "Sometimes I think of all you've been starved for, and I feel bad. And then I remember all of the firsts that I am so honored to be for you and it no longer seems so regretful… tell me no, princess."
The belt dragged along the crease of her thighs, and she felt her toes curl on their own. "I want you to hurt me," she confessed to the thin cushion of the couch. It was so much easier to say like this, when she couldn't see his face. When it was them, and only them.
"What do you say?
"Please," she whispered, trying to ignore the sudden heat in her cheeks.
The first strike he gave her was nearly gentle, aimed carefully on the toughest bit of skin, but she still heard the sound that she made as she jerked.
It was gentle, it was careful and controlled, but it stung.
His hand found hers, and he made no comment when she wrapped her fingers around it tightly. "I never want to give you more than you can take, but I need you to be honest with me, princess."
"Green, Daddy," she answered, squeezing his hand tightly.
"If I had thought about it, I would have brought something much better than a belt for you," he murmured, distracting her as the next sharp blow landed.
She squeezed his hand again, feeling her muscles flex reflexively. Christine let out a shaky breath, closing her eyes as the stinging feeling crescendoed and faded away.
The next was just a little harder, and she couldn't hold back the jumble of nonsense words that slipped past her lips in her surprise.
"Too much?" he asked gently.
She shook her head, and the next blow was just as hard on the opposite side.
"God, you're gorgeous, princess," he breathed as her back arched. His thumb wrapped over her fingers, and this time it was him that squeezed her hand. "Even more so because you can't even see it, can you?"
The next blow was a little more gentle, but it landed against the tender skin on the back of her leg and she let out the breath that she had been holding in a gasp, feeling tears well in her eyes from the impossible sting of it.
The clatter of the belt falling to the floor sounded distant through the blood suddenly rushing through her eardrums, and he dropped her hands, finding her throat and pulling her back by it.
She thought that she might die from the sudden rush of heat that went down her spine, but his touch was painless. He brushed his lips against her cheek, disrupting the tracks her tears had begun to form. "You are so perfect I can hardly stand it sometimes," he said, his voice low and gruff. "Such a good girl for me, princess. Such a good girl."
She strained her bound arms, reaching back as far as she could to find his stomach behind her, and then she shifted, breathless, finding the thick outline of him with her sweating palms.
He groaned, pressing his hips forward into her touch as his thumb and forefinger pressed precisely against her throat, leaving her suddenly dizzy. They were only there for a few seconds, but she wasn't sure she had ever experienced a head rush quite like it. "Beg," he grunted, the word gruff and short.
"Please," she breathed as his hand shifted its grip on her throat. "Please, Daddy. Please… fuck me. Please. Please."
He rolled his hips against her hands again, his breath warm against her temple. "Do you want me, princess?"
She swallowed hard, letting out a slow breath. "I need you, Daddy."
"You need me?" he repeated gruffly.
"I think…" she paused, shivering as he gave a gentle pinch to her still-stinging skin. "I think I might die if you don't… take me, Daddy."
His hand was moving, slipping around her hip. "And what if I said no?" he murmured against her ear, the words low and measured. "What if, instead, I made you get on your knees and worship me with your mouth? Would you wait?"
She took a slow breath, closing her eyes as she leaned her head back against his shoulder. "Yes," she said softly.
"Mmm," he hummed gently. "What if I refused to touch you at all?"
"I'm yours, Daddy," she whispered.
She felt him move, the dip in the couch cushion of one knee beside hers, and then the other as well. "To do anything I desire with, aren't you?" he asked, the words low. "That's what you need, isn't it, princess? You need me to make a decision for you. You need me to show you how very much I mean it when I say that you're mine."
"Yes," she breathed.
The touch that he finally granted her was so light that it was almost infuriating, the ghost of a movement just where she needed it most and her breath hitched. "You're mine, Christine," he said, the words strangely serious against her temple. "Body, mind and soul. Once you can admit it to yourself, you'll wonder how you ever saw it any other way."
She shivered, nearly crying as his hand moved away from her legs. There was shifting behind her and then, so suddenly that it left her dizzy, he was buried inside of her to the hilt.
He groaned as she cried out, her thighs trembling, caught between the pain and desperate relief she felt. He didn't give her more than a moment to even comprehend what was happening before he pulled out almost all the way, slamming back inside of her relentlessly. She was powerless to do much of anything; her arms and hands were useless to her, and he practically pinned her to the couch with his heavy body. So she did the only thing she could do; she wrapped the tops of her feet over his calves and made a weak attempt to pull him closer.
"You feel so good," he groaned, his arm banding around her waist again as he gave another brutal thrust. "You look so perfect, just like this. Breathe, princess."
So she did. He let her take one breath, two, before his hand closed so tightly around her throat that she thought it might actually bruise.
His gentle kiss against her overheated cheek was a stark contrast to everything else going on in the moment, but she thought it might be exactly what she needed. She relaxed against him, her lips parting in a silent moan as he thrust against that perfect spot that he had found only that morning.
"I hope no one else ever gets to see you this way," he grunted gruffly, his hot, panting breath overwhelming against her already damp temple. "Like a slack-jawed, stupid pleasure whore. This is just for me, isn't it princess?"
When he released her throat, the only thing she could manage to do was fill her burning lungs with a gasping breath. The unmasked side of his face nuzzled against her temple as she did.
Everything slowed for a moment as she made a useless attempt at catching her breath; while he didn't stop entirely, his thrusts were just a little slower, a little more shallow as she gasped and panted with her head pulled back against his shoulder, his hand only applying enough pressure on her throat to keep her there.
"Color," he breathed against her skin.
"Green," she replied, hardly recognizing her own voice. It was dark, husky, full of need that she wasn't even sure she actively realized.
"So beautiful, princess," he murmured. "If I could play with you like this forever, I think that I would. Take another breath.
So she did, and as his hand pressed against her throat again, it was like there had been no interruption at all.
If it was anyone else, anyone else at all, she thought that she might find herself frightened by the rough way that he slammed against her, by the almost too-tight grip of his hand around her throat. But she found no fear at all with him; the ache deep inside of her was almost pleasant, and the dull throb she felt each time he thrust in that perfect way that pressed against the already-forming bruise on the back of her thigh grounded her to the moment. The prickle she felt in the tips of her fingers only seemed to heighten everything.
It was the quietest she thought her mind had ever been, and perhaps she was a slack-jawed, stupid pleasure whore, as he had so eloquently put it, but she couldn't find a single ounce of regret or embarrassment for it.
When he let her go this time, it wasn't to catch her breath. His hand slid around her neck, pressing her face-first against the back of the couch as his arm around her waist pulled up, allowing him to force himself even deeper inside of her.
"Daddy!" she cried, using her feet against his calves to push herself up to meet him.
His thumb shifted, pressing against the soft spot just behind her ear. "Can you breathe?"
His words were gruff, breathless, and she shivered as she pressed up again. "Yes," she answered, the word half a pant and half a sob. "Green," she added before he could ask. "Green, Daddy. Please."
He pressed against her back, his hand dipping between her legs as he sought her clit. She jolted when his finger pressed against it, and he paused. "Too much?"
She nodded, much as she could beneath the press of his palm against her head. "Please, Daddy," she gasped anyway. "More."
She thought that in any other moment, the sound he made would have been a hum. But it was gruff and guttural instead as he resumed the overwhelming press again.
There was tension in his muscles, and she pressed her palms against his lower stomach, feeling the ripple and pull of them as he trapped her hands between their bodies, his weight just a little too heavy against her back.
He moved, just a little too deep inside of her as he stroked her with one carefully practised finger. Without much thought, she squeezed her muscles around him, not really sure herself if she meant to pull away from the nearly-painful movement of his finger or if she meant to beg him to slow the overwhelming assault he made on her as he forced himself so deeply inside of her that she felt a painful sort of pinch.
She received neither. Instead, she felt the ripple of his muscles against her palm and the feeling of him jerking strangely inside of her as he groaned, balancing just a bit more of his weight on her as he pressed another kiss to her too-hot cheek.
"Daddy," she whispered, not sure if she could make much more sound than that.
He slowed himself, just the slightest bit, and the gentled movement of his finger mixed with the slow breath she felt against her ear sent a shiver up her spine. "I want you to let go, princess," he murmured, his words just as quiet. "Close your eyes."
So she did. She closed her eyes, she took a slow, deep breath and it was only then that she even noticed the tremble in her thighs. It was only then that she noticed the comfort of his weight.
It was only then that she relaxed completely, trusting him to keep her from falling.
Trusting him to catch her when she did, regardless.
When she felt herself approach her peak, she made no attempt to back away from it. The sound she made was breathless, raw, and he answered it with a groan meant only for her, pressed solidly against her sweat-damp throat.
It was, perhaps, the first time that they had ever finished together, and as she felt the jump of muscles beneath her palms, she realized that it had been entirely on purpose.
Christine blinked, confused by the tears in her eyes as she took a gasping breath. Everything ached, her lungs included, but it would be a lie to say that she felt any regret for it.
One hand against the back of the couch, he finally lifted his crushing weight from her to sit back on his heels. When he shifted inside of her, she took a slow breath. She was over-sensitive, and even the slight movement was enough to remind her of the ache deep in her core.
He made no move to pull away. Instead, his deft fingers made quick work of the knots in the rope. When her hands were freed, she pressed them against the couch, noting the protest of her muscles and the weak tremble in her fingers.
Christine wasn't sure if she had ever possessed such a high awareness of every nerve in her body, and she wasn't entirely certain whether she liked it or hated it.
His thumb brushed, gently, against her cheek to wipe away her confused tears. His touch was warm, soothing, and she released a shaky breath.
"Do you know how very much I love you?" he asked, the words incredibly soft.
She wanted to answer him, she really did, but she wasn't sure that she possessed control of any of the muscles in her body anymore. She felt out of sorts, like she was drifting slowly away without his heavy presence to tether her there.
He grasped her waist gently with one hand. "I won't pretend it will feel good, but I have to move, sweetheart."
She gave a slight nod, and let out a discontented sound as he did exactly as he said. There was a horrible ache left behind as he shifted, collapsing beside her on the couch.
"You should move too, princess," he said gently, his hand running up the back of her leg. "You're bleeding a bit, and I know that isn't comfortable."
Christine could think of several places she might be bleeding from, but she didn't really care to find out which it might be. She was trembling, and she was pretty sure if she straightened her legs out, it was going to hurt. "I can't," she admitted, her voice rough and raw to her own ears.
He reached under her, his palm gentle against her far shoulder as he pushed up carefully. "You can, sweetheart. I'll help you."
Slowly, she shifted her shaky hand to his arm, letting him support her weight as he patiently helped her shift, pulling her knee to rest on the other side of him.
She couldn't feel her knees anymore, and she thought it might be a small blessing.
"You can if you need it, sweetheart," he said softly. "This is for you, now."
It was only a moment later that she realized she had been twisting the button of his shirt between her trembling fingers. Biting the inside of her lip, she took his permission, coaxing the buttons open and sliding her hands under the soft material, running her palms over his solid chest before she wrapped her arms tightly around his neck, finally letting herself collapse against him.
Safe. That was the only word that really came to her as she pressed her cheek to his solid chest. She had never felt so safe in all her life.
"Will you tell me what you're thinking about?" he asked carefully.
Her laugh was weak. "Absolutely nothing, Daddy."
His hand rested gently against her bare back. "Good," he teased softly. "Then it worked."
His warm hand against the back of her neck was soothing. He held her carefully, like he was afraid to break her, and if she wasn't still so on fire, she might have laughed about the contrast he was capable of.
But it felt good, and she felt no urge to laugh as she melted against him, pressing her cheek even harder to his warm, solid chest.
"I'm sorry," he said softly, wrapping an arm loosely around her back.
Christine frowned at that. "Why?" she asked, having to put real effort into forming the word.
"I feel I may have misled you," he said, the words gentle. "I have asked you, time and time again, to tell me what you need, what you want, and I think… I've simply expected you to understand. That isn't fair."
She wanted to look at him, but something about his tone told her that if she did, he might stop entirely. Instead, she squeezed him just a little tighter, pressing her ear against his chest.
"I do not do things for you because I think you are incapable," he said softly, his thumb brushing so gently against the back of her neck that she hardly felt it at all. "I do things for you because that is how I love. It's how it's always been for me. It… bothers me immensely that you won't allow me to fix your bill situation, because that is all I know how to do. To fix, to give. I give, generously, to those I care about and when it slows…"
He paused, and she nuzzled carefully against him.
"I don't think I've ever had a partner that actually just wanted me," he admitted, the words quiet and contemplative. "It isn't… as sad as I think that sounded. I've always known it, and I was fine with it. I gave them what they needed, and they gave me what I needed. But you have come into my life, Christine, and turned everything upside down on me. It isn't fair for me to pretend that I know exactly what I'm doing, because the truth is, I don't."
"It's okay," she said softly. "I don't mind."
His hand moved, smoothing her still-damp hair absent-mindedly. "I am bound to upset you," he said slowly. "And you are allowed to be upset. But I want you to know that… I love you. I love you more than I think I've ever loved anyone and I am… desperate for this to work. Even if it means I have to re-learn everything I've known. Even if it means the terms have to shift. I hate that you are so afraid that I will walk away, because I'm just as afraid that you will. I think it's unfair of me to play vague, because I think it may help you to hear it."
She swallowed, shifting slightly in his lap on her aching knees. "Did someone really hurt you?" she asked softly.
He chuckled, the sound almost sad. "Not in any ways I didn't expect," he said cautiously. "I think that you could."
She finally lifted herself up to look at him, and his eyes matched his tone completely. She frowned, and he cupped her cheeks gently between his hands, tilting her chin up like he needed to study her. "I don't want to," she whispered.
"Can I tell you a secret?" he asked softly
She closed her eyes. Maybe she couldn't make it last forever, but being in his arms was the safest she had ever felt, and she was determined to enjoy it as thoroughly as she could. She nodded.
His thumbs brushed carefully against her cheeks. "It's entirely by chance that we talked at all," he said, the words low. "I actually logged onto that godforsaken website that day with the intention of deleting my profile."
"Are you gonna tell me I'm a rebound?" she mumbled, still having trouble getting her tongue to cooperate with her. She felt half-drunk, and the way he was touching her did nothing to help it
His chuckle rumbled deep in his chest. "Not at all, sweetheart. I've been alone for a good while, actually. I… haven't had the best track record, to be perfectly honest. I just. Thought that perhaps it was time to move on. And then I saw you. Do you know what I thought?"
"What?" she asked softly, opening her eyes to take in his half-sad smile.
"I thought, this girl is beautiful," he murmured. "She is either very lost or a catfish."
"I didn't even want to make the account," she mumbled, frowning. "Meg made me."
His hands moved, slipping into her hair, and he tilted his forehead gently against hers. "I only dared to send you a message because the distance was… safe. I imagine you only replied for the same reason."
She couldn't help her slight smile. "I kinda thought you were a catfish, too," she confessed.
"For fair enough reasons," he said slowly. "I never actually intended for this to go anywhere."
She frowned at that. "What happened?"
"You bewitched me like some evil siren," he joked gently, smoothing her hair with his free hand. "I think it was the first time I heard your voice that I knew how wrong I was. I have always… needed something. Someone that needed me."
She shifted, snuggling against his chest as she frowned. "I do need you, Daddy," she admitted quietly. It was something that she had admitted to herself, despite her instinct to bury it deep and hide it away, but she wasn't sure if she had ever actually admitted it to him. Not like that, at least, in those quiet moments after they found their satisfaction with one another.
His hand covered the back of her head as she clung to him, his touch warm and soothing. "I want to take you shopping tomorrow, princess," he said softly. "Will you let me?"
Swallowing down her instinctive protests, she simply nodded. He rewarded her with a gentle kiss buried in her hair.