“Daddy’s little slut…” he says with a grin on his face.
He takes a grip of my hair and brings me to my knees.
“I want you to read me out loud the punishments I told you will receive if you don’t obey me.”
“Yes, sir”.
I take my phone and open the notes where I have daddy’s rules. I also have a list of rewards and one of the punishments.
If I would’ve been good and listened to daddy, he would’ve used a new toy on me, I would’ve got extra cuddles, fifty spanks with the riding crop, and blueberry pancakes for breakfast (in bed).
We picked together the rewards. Instead, he was the only one who decided the punishments, and I was not allowed to say a word against them.
I take a full breath and read the punishments with a trembling voice:
“No playtime, fifty whips, and no stopping when I will be asking.”
Daddy knows I hate the whips. I truly dislike them. I am afraid of them. That’s why this is a real punishment.
“Give me the whip.”
I don’t move.
“Daddy, please, use the belt instead! I beg you!”
He takes the whip from the drawer and tells me to stay at the wall with my hands up.
I obey him, and I feel enthusiasm and fear at the same time.
I close my eyes and wait for my punishment.
When I feel the first blow on my skin, I bite my lip to hold up a scream.
The next ones make my skin burn, and I start screaming in pain.
But the hand that holds the whips is the hand that will caress my body later in the night.
I receive the blows, and my juices pour. I wish I could turn and see daddy. I beg to let me see him. I beg him to undress. He hits me harder. He says I am not allowed to turn. If I do so, he will double the whips.
I wish I could touch my clit.
It feels strange, but I like it so much… the way pain combines with the pleasure and my body aching from the whip’s blows.
“Thirty-five.”
This time, daddy is counting the blows.
Usually, he lets me do that.
But now, I can’t do anything. Just be there in the moment and feel each hit. I know there is no need for begging; he won’t listen. Daddy loves to hear me scream. My body burns, and he sets me on fire, as he usually does with my favorite toys.
I hear him counting:
“Forty-nine.”
I can no longer stand the pain, and I fall on my knees.
“Turn around.”
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Source: reddit.com/r/eroticliterature/comments/lcqhv6/daddys_little_slut_erotic_short_story_part_ii