witchydprkid

“Daddy please!” You poked your boyfriend’s stomach for the thousandth time that evening. He had his nose stuck in mission reports and files and not paying attention to you.

He huffed, looking up from his files ready to give you a soft scolding but his hard set eyes softened when he saw the desperate look in yours. And instinctively his hand dropped the pen it was holding and moved to cup your face, running his thumbs over your cheeks and smiling at the way you giggled.

“C’mere.” His voice was soft as he picked you up off the floor because he could do that with his super strength.

You took your rightful seat on his lap, fisting his button up and bouncing a little to get your point across and he laughed at you, making another pout find its way to your face. “Please! I won’t bother you I promise!”

He hummed as if weighing the options in his mind, but there really was no other option huh? His girl, all needy and adorable asking for something only he could give her.

There was only one actual answer.

“Tell you what, you sit still on my cock until I’m done and I’ll fuck you into tomorrow morning? Deal?” He proposed, running his hand up and down your sides, massaging your skin. Smirking slightly at the way you whimpered and nodded your head, already moving your fingers to unbutton his pants but he was quick to stop you.

“Ah ah ah.” He tutted, grabbing your wrists in his and pulling them away from your body, “if you want it you gotta ask nicely sweetheart.”

His heart swooned at the huff that bubbled in your chest, his bratty girl. But he supposes that for your own good you decided to cross your arms over your chest and muster up the words that you knew would get you whatever you wanted.

“Please can I have your cock daddy?” Fluttering your lashes for extra measure and he cooed, nodding his head and pressing kisses to your cheeks. “Go on then sweetheart.”

You bit your lip to contain your excitement as you undid his belt and popped his button and fly open, mouth water at the black briefs that rested against his toned torso. You took too long admiring him perhaps because,

“come on sweetheart, I don’t got all day.” Chastising you enough to get you to snap out of your sinful thoughts. You pulled his already hardening cock out from their confines and he pulled away from his computer screen just to watch because feeling it was never enough justice for how good you made him feel.

You sighed shakily as you stabilized yourself on his broad shoulders, sinking down on his massive length as your walls struggled to accommodate him. “That’s it baby, all stuffed full of my cock like you wanted.” He wrapped a comforting arm around your waist, scooting his chair closer to the desk and you whimpered as the movement made his cock stir inside of you.

“Shh, let me do my work.” He didn’t spare you a glance, trying not to let his smugness show on his face as he practically saw you using every ounce of restraint in your body to not squirm around.

Your whimpers were muffled by the fabric of his dress shirt, your toes curling when his cock barely gyrated inside of you, but still enough to get you worked up.

And you stayed like that for god knows how long, it was pure torture really. Sitting still on your boyfriends dick while he ignored you. Occasionally he would tense up his thighs, causing his dick to twitch inside of you making you slap a palm over your face because there were still other people in the building even if Steve had his own office and you weren’t certain the walls were soundproof.

Steve pulled you out of your daydream by kissing up the bare expanse of your neck, sucking on your sweet spot and nipping at your pulse point just to hear your breath hitch and heart rate pick up.

“You were so good honey, think its time for me to fuck that tight cunt?” He teased you.

Then faster than you could respond he had you bent over his heavy desk, your nipples pressing against the cool glass and instantly hardening making you hiss. He draped his body over yours, pressing your body down with his weight when his low voice sounded in your ears,

“better get ready sweetheart, gonna give it to you good. Just how your pussy is crying for it.”

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“C’mon, drink up, little one. You don’t want Daddy to be upset, do you?” Chris coaxes, his dominant hand holding your sippy cup as he tilts it for you. You clutch your stuffed animal to your torso—a Le Mutt that Chris managed to snag from eBay. 

With quick gulps, you finish the cup filled with water. 

Chris stands up and looks down, smiling at you, “good girl.” The praise makes you feel all warm and mushy. You’d do anything he asks because of those two promised words. Good girl. You’re Daddy’s good girl. 

“Daddy, are we gonna stay home today?” you question, noticing that he’s been pacing around non-stop, yet you’re wearing your little girl panties. When Daddy takes you somewhere, he puts big girl panties on you. “No, little one. Why’d you ask? Hm?” Chris questions, a piece of his hair falling from the pile that rests on his head.

“Nothin’... Saw you doin’ a bunch of stuff, Daddy. Got curious,” you sheepishly explain, tilting forward and leaning on his legs. Rubbing your cheek on his pants, you mildly wince at the cramp in your stomach. 

Whatever—you’ve been sitting in the same odd position for far too long.

“Really? You spyin’ on me now? I’m just getting some stuff sorted. Do you wanna go out?” 

“Mmm… Yes? Please? Not too long, though. Or too far. Maybe just the park? And we can take Dodgy with us too! Wait, where’s Dodgy, Daddy?” you suddenly shriek, realising you haven’t heard from the dog at all. “Aw, baby. I took him to my mom’s! She missed him a whole lot—way more than you do when I’m gone filming!”

You pout despite the genuinity of Chris’s explanation. Dodger is your best friend—you love playing with him when Daddy is busy. “When’s he comin’ back?” you inquire, unknowingly digging your chin into the hard skin of his leg. “Hm… I think the day after tomorrow, little one. That’s Thursday! But don’t worry, it’s gonna go by so quick, it’ll be like he wasn’t even gone!” your Daddy exclaims.

“And plus,” he starts, “we’ll have so much fun together.”

Eventually, you eagerly nod your head and giggle. Chris lets out a chuckle at your sweet reaction, adoring how cute you are. 

Sometimes, he has the urge to just hurt you because you rot his teeth far too much. Worse than cotton candy or those blue raspberry jolly ranchers that get stuck in his molars. Strong hands are ready to squeeze you—your face, your torso, your throat, your ass.

“Like when we go on our walk! We goin’ to the park, right, Daddy?” 

You sit up on your knees, wincing as the liquid in your stomach sloshes. There’s a mild pressure there as well, but you ignore it. You just drank your water too soon. 

“Hm… We won’t go to the park, little one. We’ll walk down the road to the forest, okay?” he offers, knowing there’s no point in going to the park when Dodger isn’t here.

As Chris awaits your answers, he shakes one of his hands. A small fidget, and now he realises he’s a bit nervous. He shouldn’t be.

This isn’t like the first time he was caught by the paparazzi or when he had an emotionally trying scene to film. It’s not the first movie premiere honouring him, and it certainly isn’t his first photo shoot. 

Just a small nudge in the right direction for you. Chris knows you’ll say no, and he can’t take rejection lightly. 

“Oh, yes, please, Daddy! I love goin’ there. Not much people and we can draw on the ground,” you cheer, pushing your white stuffed animal closer to your face. “You wanna bring your chalk, baby? We can draw some animals! Remember we said we’d draw sheepies next time?” Chris recalls for you, unable to hide his smile. 

You let out a tiny, quiet squeal at the memory. “Mhm! Daddy, ‘m so excited! Wait, we go now or later?” you ask, bringing the stuffed animal down to your knees. “Do you wanna go right now?” he asks, still at full height. “...Yes, please, Daddy…”

The sheepishness of your attitude makes Chris as hard as a rock. Beneath his trousers and boxers, his cock leaks with want—with need. But you’re too oblivious to notice the bulge that begs to be taken care of. 

Fortunately, you don’t have any toys out of their designated boxes. You’ve simply been watching your Daddy and bouncing Le Mutt around with fantastical stories being acted out. Unlike your significant other, you’re no actress. 

“You don’t have to change your clothes, baby. Let me get our adventure bag ready, and then we’ll go,” he tells you, and when you say okay, Daddy, he leaves you in your playroom. The door shuts behind the older man, and there’s a thin-lipped smile on his face. 

Chris unscrews the cap of your bottle and presses the edge of it against the lever on the fridge. 

The pink plastic is filled with water at your preferred temperature in just a few seconds. He doesn't plan on giving it to you just yet—it’s only for added measure.

He pulls open the drawer and grabs the pastel backpack. Each leather section is a different colour, and the pattern is symmetrical. Blue, green, purple. You’re the one who chose it and winced at the three-digit price.

Chris told you that he has a special discount—another lie. They leave his mouth in a practically rehearsed manner. 

Carefully, he places both items on the marble countertop behind him and follows his footsteps back to your room. He pushes the door open with ease and finds that you’ve fixed up your appearance a little bit. It’s too bad it’ll all get ruined in just a few moments.

“Daddy? Can you help me put on my shoes, please?” you politely request, holding up a pair of sneakers with flowers embroidered on the sides. “Of course, little one. But you gotta do your checklist first, remember?” Chris tells you, gesturing to the small poster he helped you draw a while ago.

“Okay… Uhm… I got my shoes, I’m dressed for the weather, Daddy has the baggie, I have Daddy… And that’s it?” you check before gasping. “Oh! And I don’t have to pee, so I won’t have an accident!” 

Hook, line, sinker.

“You sure, princess? Did you already go to the bathroom? You know the rules,” your Daddy hums, referencing rule #5. Always tell Daddy you’re going to the bathroom. “Nuh-uh! Don’t break rules, Daddy. I just don’t have to pee,” you smile, ignoring the ache in your stomach. 

It may be uncomfortable, but in your eyes, going for your walk is more of a priority. “Baby, you’re supposed to go to the bathroom even if you don’t have the urge. When we get out there, we’re gonna have to cut our walk short because you’ll want to pee then,” he explains in faux exasperation. 

You pout at Chris’s tone. Being his good girl is your forte. Rarely are you ever a brat. The occasional whining laces with your words, but you apologise for it before he can start his countdown from 10 to 1. 

“No, Daddy! I promise. Can we go now, please?” you question, standing up and grabbing his sweater. You always keep a hand on him. “I’m sorry, baby, but we’re not going anywhere just yet. You’re using the bathroom before we leave. Don’t make me punish you,” Chris warns.

Head tilting back, you fight a wail that desperately wants to leave your mouth. “Please, Daddy! I promise, I don’t have to go at all!” you try to convince him, even though your full bladder begs to differ. Chris raises one of his eyebrows slightly, and his jaw clenches.

“One… Two…” he begins, resting his hands on his hips. “Go. Now,” he interrupts before continuing his counting. “Three, four, five…” You shake your head rapidly and squeeze your thighs, spewing gibberish pleas to your caregiver. “D– Daddy!” you whisper-cry, arms coming up to Chris’ shoulders.

Eventually, the pain becomes too much, and you start nodding to try and convey your surrender. “Well, you better pee now, princess. It’s gonna get warmer and warmer out there, and your walk won’t be as nice,” Chris warns. You turn on your heel and leave the room, skipping before limping to the nearest bathroom.

It’s next door and near your playroom—the one full of filthy and scandalous toys. In an overlap, it’s painted in the same colour scheme as your other playroom. Pink and white walls with a sort of sunset-feel to them. 

But as you reach for the doorknob, strong hands grab you and nudge you into the almost-fictional room. For fans and gossip mongers, it’s a rumour. For you and your Daddy, it’s very much real. 

You nearly fall to the ground with the strength you’re pushed with. A call for your Daddy comes from you on instinct, but the shushing he gives you isn’t from afar. No, Chris is right behind you—hot on your tail. 

“Careful, baby. You’re gonna hurt yourself,” your Daddy coos, grabbing you by the elbow and pulling you up. He makes you stand in front of him even though you desperately need to relieve yourself. “Daddy, please? Can I go to the bathroom? I– I’ll make it quick! And ‘m never gonna be a brat again. ‘M sorry—please?” you beg.

Chris’s eyes rake up and down your body, lingering at your exposed legs. Your knees touch as you try to fight back the urge to go right there and then. The pinched look on your face is adorable, and so is the pout you’re sporting. You’re oblivious to your expression while your caregiver soaks it all in.

Your lips part in a bid to beg once more, but the older man is quicker than you. “Shh…” Chris shushes, dragging out his soothing sound and tightening his grip on you. 

Letting out a sob, you can’t hold it anymore. Tears leak down your cheeks as the dam inside you breaks. Your panties and skirt are ruined, soaked in your piss—and it’s all your fault. If you had listened to Chris at first, this never would’ve happened. You should’ve trusted your Daddy. 

“Oh, poor baby…” he coos, still not letting go. In fact, he pulls you closer, wrapping an arm around your delicate frame as you make a mess. The drips patter on the floors, and you’re covered in your liability. That ache in your abdomen dissipates when your streams come to a slow stop. “Shh… You’re okay, now, princess.”

Sobs wrack your chest as you push your face into Chris’s warmth. “Look at what happens when you don’t listen to Daddy, baby. You made a mess everywhere! And now we can’t go on our walk,” he gently scolds you, pulling you away although your clutch his shirt within your hands. 

You nod and look down, still sniffling and wallowing in both regret and shame. With Chris, there was no need for embarrassment. But now, you’re riddled with humiliation and have half a mind to get on your soiled knees and start grovelling. 

“‘M sorry, Daddy… I’m so sorry!” you exclaim through your weeping. “It’s okay, princess,” he reassures, further pushing his stiff member into your stomach. 

You notice Chris’s largeness, sparking curiosity inside your fuzzy mind, but you choose to ignore it. 

“But you know you have to be punished, princess. Remember rule #3? Whenever you make a mess, you need to take your punishment,” Chris tells you, nudging you in the right direction. 

You’ve left things in shambles and ruins so much that your Daddy had to create an absolute rule to get you to stop. “Mhm… I’ll take my punishment, Daddy… You’re not mad?” 

Hope riddles your words, and you crane your neck to look up at the older man. “I’m not mad. I’m just disappointed, baby. But it’s okay. Your punishment will fix it all up,” Chris hums, leaning down to rub his nose against yours.

The soothing action makes you smile, though it’s wobbly from your sadness. “Uh-huh, uh-huh! Will take punishment like a good girl, Daddy! Pinky promise,” you tell him, going to extend your tiny finger out before Chris manhandles you with the same roughness from before.

Suddenly, you’re bent over the bench he reserves for his more impact play-related repercussions. Spankings are painful, but you’d rather take those than your caregiver’s wrath. You await your hits patiently, holding onto the edge of the seat. 

What comes isn’t a swat from a belt or a slap from Chris’s hands. No, instead, his voice is low, and the abruptness of it makes you flinch. “Fuck, you made me so damn hard, baby. I oughta treat you like a whore for that. It was so damn sexy,” he mumbles, and you’re now more lost than ever.

You desperately want to ask the older man what his words mean, but you’re worried you’ll upset him more. The mere thought makes your heart ache immensely. 

Rough hands flip your wet skirt up, and they squeeze the plump flesh of your ass. Chris gropes you roughly, his harsh touches making your cunt clench in anticipation. Fingers hook into the waistband of your underwear, and he pulls them down. 

Cool air hits your folds, leaving you even more vulnerable than you already are. Your eyes flutter shut as you wait for the first spank, but it never comes. Rustling is heard behind you, and you want to look at Chris badly.

Your caregiver fumbles with the buttons and zipper on his pants. His cock begs to be released and shoved inside your tight, warm, wet channel. The memories of you wetting yourself in front of him replay in his mind over and over—making his member twitch under the confines.

Rather than stinging, you feel the leaky, mushroom tip of your Daddy’s cock. It presses against your fuckhole, and the realisation has you clenching on instinct. “Look at that tiny pussy, baby. Daddy’s cock always abuses this little hole, hm? Poor thing…” 

You whimper at his words, the filth never failing to leave you weak. Chris rubs his engorged cock between your folds that are soaked with different fluids. The pre-cum that rolls in beads mixes with your mess, and he hisses from the friction. 

Each time the older man’s member rubs on your clit, you bite back a whine. You’re not sure what your penalty is, but you take whatever Chris gives you. “I wish I could stretch this cunt out, princess, but Daddy needs to punish you, so you’re just gonna handle it like a big girl, okay?” he tells you.

But he doesn’t wait for your response. He simply lines up with your entrance and pushes in roughly, bottoming out in one strugglesome stroke. “Shit, you’re so tight, baby. Even after I’ve pounded this fuckhole, you still feel like a fucking vice,” Chris groans, his balls touching your wet clit. 

His cock is so deep inside you that it’s overwhelming. Your varying emotions burn into each other and leave you a blur. A few seconds pass, and while you still haven't adjusted fully, the stretch isn’t as bad as it was at first. 

Short breaths leave your mouth as you soothe yourself. “You better take this dick like a good girl, princess. Or else Daddy’s gonna have to punish you even more,” Chris husks, his voice full of darkness and capability. 

“‘M gonna take your cock like a good girl, Daddy! I promise!” you whisper-shout cheerfully. He hums in delight, looking at your face in the mirror's reflection. It’s squished as you’ve pressed your head against your folded arms, keeping yourself low as you’re ashamed. “Good girl.”

Chris can read you like a picture book—the easiest task he’ll ever be handed.

Eventually, he pulls his hips back until just his mushroom head remains inside your cunt. He already shines with your wetness. Then, he sheathes himself once again and begins to fuck you. His pace is moderate, but his thrusts are rough.

It’s almost as if your cervix bruises with each push and pull. Occasionally, your Daddy’s cock kisses your sweet spot and leaves you shuddering with pleasure. You gnaw on the skin of your arm as you try your best to not whine. 

The sound of skin slapping against skin fills the room, your wet squelches and pathetic moans following. “Such a dirty little whore, hm? Making a mess everywhere, and you still want Daddy to fuck you,” Chris spits, and you hum as best as possible. 

You angle your eyes to the mirror, and watch as your fully-clothed boyfriend fucks into you. The hair piled on his head falls just a bit as he looks down, watching your cunt stretching around his thick cock. 

Suddenly, one of the hands that grip your waist tightly comes up to your head, grabbing the back of your skull. Chris leans forward, his chest pressed against your back as his head slots between the crook of your neck. He looks at the mirror and locks gazes with you, his thrust halting as his hand approaches your face.

Thick fingers rest against your cheek, and you give your Daddy a shy smile. He returns it before pulling his palm away. You barely have time to let out a sound of confusion when he lands a smack on your skin. Chris does so continuously, slapping you until your skin stings and numbs. 

At the same time, the older man grinds his cock inside you. The friction is delicious and contrasts the pain that blooms in your face. He groans right in your ear, and you let out whimpers that sound like sobs mixed with moans. 

His balls rub against your clit as his cock tortures both your spongey spot inside you and your cervix. Your skin feels raw once Chris is done abusing it, waiting for the next blow even though it doesn’t come. His touch is like a phantom—you still feel it. 

“Messy little girl… It’s a good thing you have Daddy here to clean up after you,” he coos, kissing your other cheek before he resumes his thrusting. “T– Thank you, Daddy,” you obediently tell Chris, the coarse hairs of his beard scraping your right cheek. It almost balances the pain in your visage.

“You made me do this, baby. This is all your fault. See what happens when you don’t do what Daddy says? You become a disgusting little thing,” Chris grunts, his words mean but true. His thrusts move with such ease—your arousal is more than obvious now. “But it’s okay. Daddy loves nasty little girls like you.”

He presses chaste kisses to the side of your face, tongue trailing along where your tears streaked. Your caregiver laps up the remaining saltiness on your skin. “You’re just leaking everywhere, aren't you, princess? From those little doe eyes to that tight cunt of yours,” Chris moans, picking up the pace and roughness of his thrusts again.

You cry out as a different pressure builds inside you. It’s not as painful as the previous one but just as demanding. Flames lick at your insides as you cry out, a signal for your Daddy. 

“Awe, is my little girl gonna come already? Hm? Gonna make another mess?” the older man taunts, nipping at your ear. “Uh-huh, uh-huh,” you moan, your thighs squeezing together, and your breathing quickens.

“I think you’ve done enough begging for the day, baby. Go ahead, cream Daddy’s cock and then I’ll forgive you,” Chris tells you, and the bargain is more than enough for your core to clench around his cock. You squeeze him tightly, crying out, Daddy. “Yeah, that’s right. I’m your Daddy, and you better listen to me all the time.”

You nod your head as your slick coats his red member. Creaminess spills out of your sweet cunt, and Chris groans at the sight. The tightness around his cock is addictive, the very thing he has to fantasise about when he’s away from home. 

“Shit, look at all that cream, baby. Such a good little slut for me—squeezing my cock with that dirty fuckhole a’ yours,” he seethes, an arm wrapping around your shoulders and pressing you close to his chest. “Mmm… Th– Thank you, Daddy!” you squeal, each punch of Chris’s hips pushing a moan out of your throat.

He groans against your skin, taking in the scent of you that is simply unforgettable. While the older man is musk and cologne, you’re sweet lotion and sweat—tears and fear, too. 

You can barely breathe steadily with the way your boyfriend is fucking you. He abuses your sopping hole and leaves no room for you to catch a break. Your cream soaks his cock and drips down his heavy, swollen balls. The sacks slap against your clit and send jolts of pleasure up your spine. 

“Stupid slut, pissing everywhere like you’re a little baby. But you are, aren’t you? A stupid little baby who can’t live without her Daddy,” Chris groans, remembering the fear in your eyes and the mildly tinted stream that flowed down your legs and onto the floor. “See what happens when you don’t listen to your Daddy? You become a mess that even you can’t clean up.”

Nodding your eyes, his words sink in like sharp blades on soft skin—skin stained with pee because you just had to be a dumb baby. 

Another orgasm shines past the horizon, slowly peeking and ready to blend with the intensity of the night that once was. “Ah—Daddy– Gonna come again. Can I come, please? Please? ‘S so good…” you plead, words dragging into a pathetic moan. “Already, baby? Oh, you’re such a dirty girl. Good thing Daddy knows how whores should get treated. Go ahead, come on my cock since you just can’t help it.”

On his order, the elastic inside you snaps quickly, and you flood Chris’s cock with your slick once more. The room smells of filthy things—sex, sweat, spit, and urine. 

“Good girl,” Chris grunts in your ear as you squeeze him tightly. “Such a good fucking girl.”

You babble like the baby you are, making your caregiver laugh. His chuckle is a low baritone that makes you even wetter. Squelching sounds join your moans and a ring of creaminess forms at the base of his cock. It stains Chris’s flushed skin and the trimmed hairs there. 

“T– Thank you, Daddy. Thank you s– so much…” you pant, riding your high as your boyfriend fucks you through the euphoria. His thrusts haven’t relented and keep that same rough, punishing pace. Repeatedly, he attacks either your sweet spot or your cervix, causing you to wince and whine. “You’re welcome, princess.”

Helpless, you try to slump down. Your body gives out, and you give all your weight to Chris. He holds you up with his incredible strength before tutting. “Uh-uh, already fucked out, baby? How pathetic. It’s okay. Daddy’s got you. Just give up,” he snarls, and you nod your head. He’s rendered you wordless—stupid, really. 

“You feel good and stupid, hm? Letting Daddy’s fat cock fill you up inside of some thoughts. Dumb, cock-hungry whore,” he groans, chest and muscles all flexing as you clench down. 

Wet walls squeeze Chris so tightly—almost as if you’re just to fight him, trying to push his cock out of your cunt. But don’t you know? You were made to take his dick—moulded like his custom-made fleshlight. 

The dresser’s mirror bounces against the wall each time Chris thrusts forward, pounding your little cunt. Your lips itch for something, either a passionate kiss or your pacifier. But you’re being punished right now, and the last thing you want to do is upset your Daddy. 

His roughness is practically terrifying. It’s like the one who has sworn to protect you is bullying you and your poor little pussy. You lie there helpless, taking Chris’s cock because it’s what he wants you to do. 

Loud grunts, groans, and moans are in your ear, the volume hurting you so badly. But the sounds themselves are gorgeous. 

Your Daddy’s impressive shaft pulls high-pitched sounds and your wetness out of you. He drips in your cream, soaking the area surrounding the connection. “So wet for Daddy even though he’s just so mean to you, huh? I think you’re enjoying this a little too much, baby,” Chris notes.

You’re too far gone to understand what he’s saying. It’s kind of like when he’s in his meetings, and he uses those big words that you never hear of until then. You get hung up on his pronunciation, replaying it over and over until it sounds like absolute nonsense. 

A third climax claws its way through your body, leaving pleasurable wounds in its wake. “O– Oh my! D– Daddy, can I come again?” you politely request, hoping he’s let you. This one is so intense that you’re sure you’ll make another mess that, fortunately, won’t be as humiliating as your earlier one. “Again? You’re joking, right?”

The harshness of his tone makes you whimper, but you still nod your head. “No, no, you don’t get to come, baby. What a fucking slut,” Chris spits, and just as you’re about to squirt all over his member, he pulls out.

You’re left sobbing and gaping, fuckhole stretched wide open and repeatedly clenching around nothing. The sudden emptiness is almost unbearable. Your clit throbs, and you try to rub your thighs to alleviate the ache, but Chris doesn’t let you. 

Your pussy is coated in shininess. The sparkle and gleam of your juices make the older man want to fuck his fist so badly, but he can’t. 

“P– Please, Daddy!”

He stands back, his hold leaving and causing you to fall forward. Your chest heaves, and your heart clamours. Chris holds his cock in his dominant hand and pulls your skirt up even more. 

“Shhh, shhh. Stay there—just like that,” he shushes. Suddenly, warm liquid coats your skin. It sprays on your back, your ass, your thighs, and drips down to the hardwood floors. You let out a sound of confusion that echoes like a sob. 

Turning your head, you look back in horror and watch as your Daddy pisses on you. He’s called you his plaything, his doll, his fleshlight—what’s next? His personal urinal?

“Aww… How sweet. You and your pussy are crying, little one,” Chris coos. “Shh… No, no, it’s okay. It’s just your punishment, baby! I had to do it. You’re taking it so well. See? Daddy made a mess, too!” 

His consolation works—the older man knows that. He watches as the tiny, pink, useless gears in your head turn before you nod your head and smile at him. Chris can feel himself getting harder in his hand.

Eventually, the stream stops, and he uses your wetness as lube. He jerks himself off in expert, quick strokes. He steps closer and aims for your cunt this time, watching as it adjusts to not having himself inside. 

“W– Wait, D– Daddy! P– Please—Inside? Want you to fill me up with your cum, Daddy! Please! I won’t be a brat ever again! A– And I’ll clean up the messes, too!” you bargain, but Chris simply ignores you.

With a deep groan, he hits his climax. Ropes of cum land on your swollen folds wasted on marking you when you could’ve been filled up with his spunk. Instead of a cumdump, you’re now his little cumrag. 

“Poor thing… You’re so messy. I guess Daddy’s gonna have to teach you how to clean up after yourself. I think you’d look cute in a maid’s outfit, baby. What do you think?”