𝜗ৎ The Perfect Doll 𝜗ৎ (age gap/very smut/daddy kink)
Today you and your girlfriends decided to go shopping. You visited numerous boutiques in search of sexy and seductive lingerie to please Ben. You settled on sheer Victoria's Secret lingerie that accentuated your luscious curves. Back home, while Ben was on assignment, you went to your room to change. The straps of your bra were decorated with bows, your panties were lacy and sheer, and your stockings and garters sat securely on your beautiful legs. You didn't even put on a robe as you walked to the kitchen for a glass of wine, but there was no time. Ben burst through the door, smelling of gunpowder, tobacco, and whiskey. His muscles were tense from some shitty assignment he'd just escaped, and his mood was awful. He was ready to open a bottle and pass out, but then he saw you. The sight of those lacy, sheer, damn thin stockings clinging to your curves made his throat go dry. His green eyes instantly darkened, tracking the light as it fell on the silk stockings stretched across your thighs. He didn't say a word at first; he simply stood there in his combat gear, breathing heavily, looking like a damn predator who'd just spotted something appetizing.
"What the hell is this?" he growled, though there was no real anger in his voice, only unbridled, uninhibited hunger. He dropped his shield to the floor with a heavy metallic *thud* that echoed throughout the kitchen. "Are you trying to give me a fucking heart attack, doll?"
He crossed the room in three strides, his boots slamming heavily on the floor. He didn't give you a chance to respond or take a sip of wine. His rough, calloused hands grabbed your hips, leaving bruises on the soft skin as he pressed you against his tactical suit. The contrast between your soft, exposed skin and his hard armor was simply incredible.
"You look damn delicious." He leaned down, his beard scraping against your neck as he inhaled your scent. "And you'll pay for teasing me."
You smiled playfully at him, resting your manicured fingers on his chest. "Not so fast, soldier, you need to earn permission." You jumped onto the table in front of him, settling your luscious ass onto it and grazing his bulging cock with your foot. When you challenged him, Ben let out a hoarse, guttural sound, somewhere between a laugh and a curse. "Permission?" he repeated, his voice dropping to a dangerous, raspy tone. "You think I care about permission when you're standing there looking like a fucking invitation?" His eyes flashed something sinister as he watched you leap onto the table, your sheer panties riding up impossibly high.
The brazen smirk on your face only enraged him further, in the best possible way. He didn't waste a second on words. He stepped between your thighs, his large hands gripping the edge of the table so tightly the wood creaked. He wasn't being gentle as he spread your legs; he wanted you open, vulnerable, and completely at his mercy.
"Deserve it?" he murmured, pressing his face against your skin. "I'll show you how much I deserve it."
The heat of his breath touched your sensitive skin before his tongue, sending a powerful shiver down your spine. Without hesitation, he buried his face in your vagina, his rough beard pressing against your inner thighs, and began caressing you with an aggressive, demanding passion. He wasn't tasting you like a delicate dessert; he was claiming you, as if every inch of you belonged to him. His hands moved from the table to your ass, squeezing the skin so hard that they left marks, pulling you closer to his mouth as he worked you with shameless intensity.
The very thought of Ben tongue-fucking you, still in his suit, aroused you. Your legs were draped over his shoulders, and your hand was clutching his hair. You moaned and whimpered. Ben greedily licked your folds, teasingly nipping at your vagina and licking again. The sound of your moans was like gasoline to him, adding fuel to an already raging fire. Ben loved that sound, that shrill, helpless moan that showed him exactly how much control he had over you. Hearing your sobs as your legs rested on his broad shoulders made his own cock throb painfully against his zipper. He didn't care if his suit got ruined, or if the sweat and dirt from his mission mixed with your expensive perfume.
"Yes, that's it, sweetheart." "Let me fucking hear you," he growled, pressing against your slick skin, his voice muffled but oozing with vulgar satisfaction.
He deliberately tormented you, teasingly flicking the tip of his tongue across your clit, then swiping it harshly across your folds. When he bit down lightly, grazing the sensitive flesh near your entrance, he felt you arch beneath him. The combination of the rough stubble of his beard and the deliberate pressure of his teeth made your toes curl. He wanted to drive you wild even before he touched you with his cock.
His hands moved from your buttocks to your hips, digging his fingers into your soft flesh to hold you steady while he worked. He licked you with greedy, rhythmic intensity, swallowing your every moan. "You're so fucking wet for me, dolly. Look at you. Just so wet."
Ben pulled back just enough to meet your gaze, but he didn't stop his assault. His fingers dug into the edge of the lacy, sheer fabric, pulling it aside with no deftness until he was able to shove two thick fingers deep inside you in one swift motion. "Fuck, you're so tight," he hissed, watching your expression contort as your hips involuntarily arched into his hand.
He didn't take his eyes off you for a second, wanting to see every flicker of pleasure and humiliation on your face. "Look at you. The fucking mess on my kitchen table." His free hand came up to grab your chin, forcing you to look him in the eye as his fingers worked inside you with a torturous rhythm. "All wrapped up in this gorgeous lace, getting fucked senseless by some old bastard like me." "You look like a fucking slut in that shit, Y/n. Sweet little slut."
The vulgarity of his words was deliberate, meant to strip you of all innocence as he stretched you. He watched as you bit your lip hard, your breath hitching, desperately gasping for air, trying to suppress the moans escaping you. "Don't fucking bite that lip, baby. I want to hear every fucking sound you make."
His fingers curled inside you, finding your sensitive spot and pressing down with relentless force. "You like this, don't you? Being treated like shit while you're in your Sunday best? Tell me how fucking good it feels when I torture you like this."
When the words finally escaped your lips, "Yes, Daddy," Ben felt something primal break within him. His pupils dilated until his green eyes were almost completely black, gaping with pure, unadulterated lust. Hearing you surrender, begging him, your body trembling under his touch was better than any damn drug.
"Just what I fucking thought," he growled, his voice dropping to a dangerous, guttural rasp.
His fingers didn't slow; instead, they became even more insistent, stretching you wider, pounding into you with ever-increasing force. The way your plump lips trembled, parted in desperate need, made him want to devour you whole. He loved how vulnerable you looked, sitting on that table, completely distraught by his touch, clinging to his shoulders as if he were the only thing keeping you from falling apart.
"That's right. You're mine, you hear?" He leaned closer, pressing his forehead against yours, his breath hot and scented with whiskey. "You're my pretty little fucking slut, and you'll take everything I give you."
His hand moved from your chin to the back of your head, his fingers tangling in your hair as he gently tilted your head back, exposing the vulnerable line of your neck. "I'll fuck you so hard you won't even remember your own fucking name."
The restraint he'd been holding on to snapped. With one hand he was still working on your pussy, and with the other he began to desperately grope around his waist, trying to free the thick, throbbing cock that was screaming to be inside you.
Ben didn't waste a second speaking. The hunger in his eyes gave way to wild fury as he ripped his pants open, freeing his thick, throbbing cock. In one smooth, powerful movement, propelled by superhuman strength, he grabbed you by the waist and pulled you off the table. You barely had time to gasp before he spun you around and forced you onto your stomach.
The cool surface of the table pressed against your bare skin, but the heat from his body was unbearable. Before you could recover, the sharp, searing crunch of his palm across your buttocks echoed throughout the room. The slap was hard, deliberately leaving your skin tingling and flushed. "Stay still, princess," he growled, immediately moving his hand to the back of your head. He pressed just enough to pin you to the table, his fingers tangling in your hair to keep your face pressed against the wood.
"You wanted this, didn't you? You wanted to play dirty." His voice was a dirty purr right in your ear. "Well, now you'll take it like a good girl."
He positioned himself behind you, the tip of his cock finding your entrance. He had no intention of entering slowly; Ben doesn't do anything halfway. "Open up for me, sweetheart. Let me see how you can take it." With a grunt and effort, he moved forward, impaling you with one merciless thrust that filled you completely, stretching you to the limit.
You moaned and whimpered louder, one hand trying to grab his sleeve. "Too fast... please, be gentle." When you begged for gentleness, Ben didn't relent, but simply laughed. "Gentler?" he repeated, the word laced with a contemptuous snort. "You didn't come here asking for gentleness, doll. You came here begging Daddy to fuck you." He showed no intention of slowing down; in fact, the sound of your pleas only increased his desire to thrust harder. The smug, arrogant smirk on his face was unmistakable as he watched your body struggle to accommodate his size.
The way you reached for his sleeve, desperate for some kind of support as your world spun, only strengthened his determination to dominate you. He reached forward, his large hand encircling the back of your neck. With a sharp tug, he pulled your upper body back until your back arched against his chest, making you feel every inch of his tight, tactical suit against your spine as he continued to thrust into you from behind.
"Fuck, you're so tight," he groaned, baring his teeth in a feral grin. "I almost want to slow down, but you're just so damn good like this."
He increased his pace, each thrust accompanied by a wet, slapping sound as his hips slammed against your ass. He didn't spare your lace lingerie or your soft skin; he fucked you with the same relentless ferocity he used on the battlefield. His grip on your neck was tight, controlling your every movement, ensuring that each time he entered you fully, you felt the full crushing force of his impact.
“Ben..please..”
Ben's patience had completely evaporated. The moment you tried to beg for mercy, something in his twisted, hypermasculine psyche decided you needed to know who was boss. With a growl full of power, he forced your body back down onto the hard surface of the table. He didn't just lay you down; he slammed you onto the table, his massive forearm pinning the back of your head, pinning you to the wood.
"Shut the fuck up with your whining," he growled, though his voice was thick with arousal. "You wanted the real Ben, didn't you? Well, here I am, fucking here."
The feel of his tactical glove digging into your skin was both terrifying and exhilarating: the cold, synthetic material of his gear contrasted sharply with the heat of your own body. He squeezed your neck just enough to take your breath away, making it clear that your safety was entirely at his whim. You heard your own moans and cries echoing through the quiet kitchen, the sounds of surrender that seemed to feed his ego more than anything else.
"Crying makes you pathetic, baby. But damn, it makes you so damn attractive." His free hand moved to your thigh, bruising the skin as he prepared to enter you again. He wasn't interested in your tears; he was interested in your reactions. "Now stop fucking whining and take it in stride. Show me what you've got."
Ben pulled out with a wet, sucking sound that left you feeling empty and aching, your legs shaking like jelly. Before you could even process the loss of his warmth, his huge arms wrapped around your waist. With frightening ease, he lifted you and slung you over his shoulder, as if you weighed nothing. You hung there for a second before he fell onto the couch, trapping you firmly in his lap.
He leaned back, surveying what he'd made of you. Your hair was stuck to your damp face, mascara smeared under your eyes, and your lips were swollen from his teeth. "Damn, princess," he growled, a dark, satisfied smirk spreading across his beard. "Look at you. You look like you just walked off the set of a porn movie. Unkempt, ruined, and completely, fucking wrecked."
His hands weren't gentle as he reached for your beautiful lace bra, yanked it off, and tossed it carelessly to the floor. "Trash," he muttered. His fingers moved to your garters, fiddling with the clasps as he slid the stockings down your thighs, his gaze tracking every inch of your exposed skin.
Suddenly, he grabbed your face, lifted your head, and pressed his lips to yours in a kiss drenched in whiskey and dominance. When he pulled away, his green eyes blazed with a command you couldn't resist.
"Enough of these games," he growled, squeezing your hips to position you over his hardening cock. "Come on, go ahead. Ride me like you want it, baby. Show me what that pretty ass of yours can do."
The moment you thrust his cock back into you, Ben let out a strangled groan. The feeling of you sliding against him, clinging to him like a lifeline, sent a wave of heat straight to his brain. He looked at you with half-lidded eyes, biting his lower lip, watching you fall apart on top of him.
You looked completely exhausted, your face buried in his shoulder, your body shaking with those exhausted, pathetic sobs. When you whispered that you couldn't take it anymore, that you had no strength left, Ben didn't immediately relent. His first instinct was to snort, but seeing how exhausted you were, how you were physically shaking under the weight of what he'd done, something flickered beneath his arrogant exterior.
"Fuck me," he muttered, harsher than usual. "You're pathetic, y/n. Utterly broken." But even as he said it, he didn't push you away with his hands. Instead, one massive hand came up and grabbed the back of your head, pressing your face into the crook of his neck, while the other wrapped around your waist, supporting your dead weight.
He had no intention of stopping, but he stopped his upward thrusts, allowing your hips to press against him. "If you can't ride, then just fucking stay here. Lean on me, you little disaster." He let out a long, ragged breath, his own breathing becoming ragged. "Just hold on. I'm not done with you yet."
Ben left you no choice. Even when you clung to him like a drowning person, your body was exhausted and trembling, he continued the rhythm. He didn't ask for anything else; He just took what he wanted, using your exhausted body as a vessel for his own liberation. His thighs moved up with constant, crushing power, driving his cock deep into you, and you could only cling to his neck with all your might. “That’s it, princess,” he growled in your ear, his voice vibrating in your chest. "Just fucking take it." Each push caused a new wave of trembling in your limbs. You were just a doll in his hands, driven by his power and his insatiable need. The wet, rhythmic sounds of the collision of your bodies filled the room, interrupted only by your intermittent, involuntary groans and hysterical breathing. He was not gentle, but in the way he hugged you, there was something almost possessive, as if he claimed his rights to you, even when he brought you to the limit. His grip on your waist intensified until your fingers dug into your hips while holding you up while he was picking up the pace. "Damn, you're so perfect," he hissed through clenched teeth, throwing his head back on the couch as his own enjoyment approached the climax. "So damn tight, even when you cry like a damn baby." He was close to orgasm, the tension in his muscles contracted like a spring. “Hold on tight, baby. Here it is."
The moment your orgasm ripped through you, sending a wave of helpless tremors through your entire body, Ben followed immediately. He let out a roar, more like the snarl of a wounded animal than a man, his entire body tensing as he came inside you with such force that your vision blurred. But after that, there was no tenderness, no caresses, no soft words in his actions.
As soon as his orgasm subsided, his dominance returned with a vengeance. With a rough, careless push, he threw you off his lap. You collapsed at his feet, your knees buckling as your exhausted body hit the wooden floor. Your hair was tangled, your makeup smeared, and your limbs trembling, looking as broken as you felt.
Ben didn't even have time to catch his breath before he began fussing with himself again. His cock was still slick with your secretions, standing angrily and demanding in the dim light. He loomed over you from the couch, his shadow swallowing you whole as he stared at your tear-stained face with his cold, hungry green eyes.
"Don't think it's over just because you ran away, doll," he growled, his voice dripping with vulgar satisfaction. He grabbed your hair, forcing your head back so that you were forced to look at him from your knees, defenseless and exhausted.
"Get up," he ordered, thrusting his hips forward sharply. "Take Daddy's cock into your little mouth. Now."
Desperate to please him and unable to resist the command, you crawled forward on all fours, trembling. Hot, shameless tears continued to stream down your cheeks as you opened your mouth to accept him. As you brushed your lips over his thick, throbbing cock, Ben made a sound, half moan, half growl, his fingers gripping your hair painfully, guiding your movements.
He didn't give you time to adjust. "That's it, fucking swallow it," he hissed, thrusting his hips forward. He thrust into your mouth with one brutal, deep thrust that caught the back of your throat, causing your eyes to fill with tears and your body to shudder. The force of the thrust made you gasp around him, but before you could process the sensation, his body tensed sharply.
"Fuck, that's it!" he roared. His hips jerked repeatedly as he came, sending waves of hot cum deep into your throat. He held your head mercilessly, forcing you to drink every drop, ensuring you didn't miss a single bite.
When he finally began to fall back against the couch cushions, panting like a predator after a kill, the harshness in his voice softened for a split second, turning into something almost tender, in a perverse way. One large, rough hand dropped to caress your cheek, smearing tears and saliva across your skin.
"Good girl," he growled, running his thumb over your swollen bottom lip, watching you swallow. "There's my pretty doll. Look at you, taking it all like a true champion."
The adrenaline and terror finally began to wear off as the aftermath set in, leaving you lifeless and exhausted. However, Ben didn't leave you on the floor. With a rough groan, he leaned over and picked you up, settling your trembling body onto his lap. He held you like his favorite doll, one arm possessively wrapped around your waist as you pressed yourself against his broad, sweat-damp chest.
The room was now silent, broken only by his heavy, contented breathing and the occasional sound of your own breathing as you tried to calm down. He leaned his head back against the back of the couch, staring at the ceiling with a lazy, arrogant smirk on his face. His fingers slid lazily, almost absentmindedly, down your thigh, leaving barely noticeable red marks where his grip had been too tight.
"Fuck, you're chaos, y/n," he muttered, his voice trembling behind you. The vulgarity was still there, but the unbridled aggression had given way to a smug, contented purr. "But you're my chaos."
He shifted slightly, adjusting your position so you were pressed against him, his nose brushing your temple. "I'll buy you so much fucking lingerie," he growled, a chuckle rumbling in his chest. "All that pretty lace stuff. Just so I can watch you walk around in it in front of me every damn day. Make sure you remember who you belong to every time you see your reflection."
