I dried my hair until it fell into soft tendrils, uncertain how to dress. I had to show Bill that I was sorry, had to show him that I was ready to take what Daddy wanted to give. Wearing just a towel, I wandered into my closet and looked around. The weather had gotten much nicer during my recuperation; I could probably do the switch from winter drudgery to my spring wardrobe. Then my eyes fell upon the little plaid schoolgirl kilt I had worn with the sweet cardigan and little white blouse the night we went into the hot tub. This would do�very well.
I slipped on a light pink pair of cotton panties and a pair of white thigh-highs, then the plaid skirt. It felt good to be dressing in something that wasn�t a pair of sweat pants or leggings or anything from my stable of pajamas. I caught my reflection in the mirror on the closet door.
It was like I was a little girl from the waist down but on top, my bare breasts with erect nipples showed exactly what kind of adult play I was looking for. I studied my reflection and then twisted my hair up into pig tails. Yes, very appropriate. I thumbed through my t-shirts until I found a baby pink one that had shrunk in the wash. I normally slept in it, and I remember thinking one night that with the lycra in it, it had just enough support to get away without a bra. If I were brave enough to attempt a slutty look that was. But right now, I decided I had just the audience for it.
With a sudden bit of inspiration, I rifled through the back of my closet until I found my Halloween costume from two years ago, when a bunch of my friends and I dressed up like show girls from the movie Moulin Rouge. I snipped two pieces of pink marabou off the feather boa and then twisted it around each pigtail. I peeked at the mirror again and immediately blushed. I looked like a backup singer in a Britney Spears video. Yes, this would do just fine. We could talk a bit. I would apologize. I would thank him profusely for the chicken soup and all of the lovely flowers and catered food. I would bat my eyes and look sweet and he would immediately forgive me for running off the last time we had sex.
Back into the bathroom, I applied just a little blush to the apples of my cheeks and then dusted my eyelids with some pale pink eye shadow and just a hint of mascara. Looking back at me in the mirror was the spitting image of the girl next door. The slutty girl next door. I threw on my leather jacket to hide my perky nipples and then ran out the door to buy a cherry Charm pop to suck on instead of lipstick.
Driving down the winding river drive toward Daddy�s cabin, I realized that I didn�t have a game plan. I didn�t even know what time he was going to be home or if he�d come right home from the airport. It had been almost a month since we last spoke, but I was pretty sure that I trusted my image of him picking me up from bed and carrying me into the bathroom to a tub filled with warm water to know that he would be glad to see me. I decided that it was a nice enough day and I would either sit out on his deck or perhaps strip and jump into the hot tub and wait for him to return, but when I pulled up his winding driveway, I saw his big black truck sticking out from behind his cabin. A jump in the pit of my stomach told me that perhaps I shouldn�t have come waltzing in looking like a tramp after not talking to him for several weeks. We hadn�t left things in the best way after the �training�. Would he think less of me if the first thing he saw was my unharnessed breasts under a teeny tiny t-shirt? But it was too late to second guess anything. I parked my Jeep and jumped out before I could reconsider and think about how my impulses usually got me into trouble, giggling when I realized that the song I had stuck in my head was �Baby did a bad, bad thing�.
I bounded up his walk, up the fieldstone steps until I was standing on his front porch, watching my hand knock on the door. I could hear my heart pounding in my ears, but he did not come to the door. Where was he? I knocked again, much louder and was just about to ring the doorbell when I realized that I could hear the steady staccato of an axe swinging into logs. Ah ha. He�s out back.
Humming a bit, I walked around the side of his house, unwrapping my cherry Blow pop and twirled it against my tongue. God, this was so corny, I thought to myself, and yet, why am I strangely excited by it all. Indeed, my breasts, bouncing with every step, were rubbing against the fabric of my t-shirt, creating a delicious tease. Or appetizer for what might come later? I blushed at my own wantonness. Then I rounded the corner and saw that yes, my deduction had been correct.
He was hard at work, splitting logs. A chainsaw leaned up against a nearby tree, along with one of his discarded flannel shirts. Apparently he had been at it for awhile, as a slight steam rose in the cool spring air from his body, making him seem more like a demigod than a man. Even now, almost a month after seeing him, I could feel my body respond to the sight of his body, muscled by physical labor, solid and strong. Judging from the neatly stacked pile of freshly split logs, he had been home for awhile.
I walked up behind him quietly, thinking of something clever to say when I got close enough, but without turning around to look at me, he tilted his head and said �Well, hello Princess.�
�How did you know?� I stopped, exasperated.
�Can smell your perfume and I heard you drive up. You�re the only person I know with a Jeep.� He split another log without turning around.
�You can tell that from the sound?�
�Yes. Yours has a little ting too it� like it wants to go faster, be driven hard into the wilderness, but it just can�t quite get there itself.�
He turned then. I was about to make a snarky comment about how I suppose that I was the Jeep but instead I delighted as his eyebrows perked while he took in my outfit. He shifted his weight and his gaze dropped down over my body, down to my skirt, my thighs and then back up, taking a noticeable pause at my breasts, where my nipples responded immediately as though he had actually touched them. I smirked a little.
�Ah, my little slut is feeling better I see.� He dropped his axe to the ground.
�Yes, I am, much better! Thank you by the way for�� Immediately he was in front of me, taking me up in his arms for a kiss that made my clit tingle and my stomach do flip-flops. I dropped my sucker on the ground and felt as though I was going to lose control completely. His calloused hands kneaded my breasts through the thin fabric of my tiny t-shirt and I found myself arching my back, pushing them into his wanting hands. His mouth owned mine, threatened to consume me, biting at my lips, licking the corners.
�Mmm� you taste just like candy.� He growled, his eyes predatory and dark. He bent down and caught his arm under my legs, scooping me up like a child. Before I could even catch my breath, he deposited me onto a tall wide tree stump. The bark cut into the backs of my bare upper thighs and I made a high pitched squeak. He paid no attention to my complaints and flipped the front of my skirt up, exposing my light pink panties.
�What�s this?� He took a step back and then fixed me with his stern eye. Immediately I remembered exactly the level of trepidation I had felt the first time he spanked me and in fact, every time he�d spanked or punished me since.
�You know the rules, baby girl.� He shook his head slowly and reached into his back pocket, pulling out a tool of some kind. He flipped it open and it turned into a pliers but then he extracted a knife blade from the handle. I took in a deep breath, closing my legs automatically, pulling my skirt back down.
�Now now, you don�t want me to cut the skirt too, do you?� With one hand, he caught both of my wrists and pulled them up above my head. My eyes grew wide and I watched him flip my skirt back up, then forced one of his legs between my tightly pressed knees and pried them open.
�Shhhhh�.� His face was inches from mine, his hot breath defined in the crisp spring air. �Now don�t move, Princess. I wouldn�t want to accidentally mar some of your pretty flesh. No, there wouldn�t be any fun in that at all.� He deftly slipped the knife between my panties and my skin, sharp side out, but the cold metal against my very vulnerable skin made me gasp! And then there was nothing between my soft bare sex and the cold air. With another slice through the waistband and my former panties fell into a little mound beneath me. He threw the knife into the soft earth, where it stuck out at an angle, glinting menacingly in the sunlight.
He still held my hands up above my head. I twisted a bit, struggling to pull them down, but he just tightened his grip and whispered in slow, even calm tones in my ear. �Babygirl, you don�t come here to Daddy looking that way, dressed up like a little slut--just the way I like it--and expect me to not take advantage of what you�ve so nicely put on display?�
He lifted my shirt, leaving my breasts perfectly angled for his pleasure. He teased one nipple with his tongue, tweaking the left one between his thumb. He then bit down, sucking hard on my little rosettes until I heard a little mewl and realized it had come from my own mouth.
It was all the acquiescence he needed. His hand dove between my quivering thighs and went straight for my exposed bare pussy and gave it a light slap. He lifted his head until his gaze was even with mine, his ebony eyes piercing into mine, making me feel as though he knew what I was thinking, knew how the spot between my legs was hot but not from his hand. I was afraid of what was about to happen and at the same time I knew that it had to happen and that, most importantly, something inside me wanted everything he did and more.
�Whose pussy is that?� He rasped.
�Yours.� My throat was thick with want.
�Mine? Whose?�
�Yours, Daddy.�
�You�re strong, but I�m stronger.� He pulled my arms down, holding them with one hand in an iron grasp behind my back. With his free hand, he caressed the soft lips of my pussy and then pushed one finger inside, grazing my clit almost haphazardly once, twice, three four too many times, making my eyes flutter.
I refused to look away from his stare.
�You�re stubborn, but I�ll break you every time.�
He then played in earnest with my clitoris, touching it in that way that only he could, leaving me panting in his arms, my own having gone limp in his restraint. My head thrashed against his shoulder as the crescendo built up in my pelvis, stretching up and wanting to be filled by him, wanting to be claimed by him again and again.
�I own you, little girl. You may not realize it yet, but you are mine. Mine to take. Mine to have.�
I whimpered and bit my lip against the building waves of pleasure that were threatening to take over, threatening to make me lose control.
�You�re going to come for me now, little girl. You�re going to come for me hard. Would you like to know why? Because I want you to.� I barely heard what he was saying for as soon as I heard his command, I exploded into his hand, riding and rocking against it with a fierce intensity. Then he pulled his hand away, before my orgasm had sated my hunger. I tilted my pelvis toward him, wanting more.
�Greedy little thing.� He clucked and let go of one hand and pulled me up by the other, taking a moment to pinch my nipple. He then flipped me over, keeping my left hand trapped at the small of my back and my face pressed up against the pile of wood, the bark rubbing coarse against my bare nipples.
Then the sound of a zipper.
