Page 8 of Trained By Her Daddy

“Would you rather have a plug nestled in between these delicate cheeks? Because as I’ve told you, I own a full set, and they’re the prettiest shade of pink, which would currently match your naughty behind.”

I lowered my head, raised my hips back up and swallowed a deep groan.

“Ahh, that’s my good girl.”

As he repeatedly poked my nerve-filled hole with the sturdy instrument, I sucked in a dramatic breath and grabbed the comforter to bury my reddened face. “I can’t believe you’re doing this,” I said, my words muffled by the quilted fabric.

He smacked the lower half of my bottom several times with one hand and held the thermometer still with the other. “Though the daddies you’ve written about were pushovers where their sassy, disobedient little girls were concerned, I am quite the opposite. Are we clear on that?”

I turned and met his unwavering gaze. “Yes, sir.”

“Good. Now touch your wet pussy lips.”

“Dear God. You’re asking me to play with myself?”

“That was not a suggestion, it was an order, and you will do as I ask, or you’ll suffer the consequences.”

As I ran a finger along my slippery slit, John continued teasing my anus with the tip of the thermometer, gently entering and exiting my crimped entrance. And though I had several retorts floating in my head, when your bare ass is tilted upward and someone is poking a thermometer in and out of your bottom hole, you tend to shut the fuck up.

“Mmm-hmmm. Your pussy is pretty slick, eh?”

A hot streak shot up my neck as I nodded.

“Good girl,” he said, pulling my cheek to the side before fully inserting the bulbous end of the instrument. “Now let’s keep this inside you for a bit, and I’ll take it out when it beeps.”

My flushed face fell in disbelief. “You aren’t done yet?”

“Patience, my dear. Patience,” he tenderly whispered. “Daddy’s almost done.”

Closing my eyes, all I could do was will this anal activity to be over. “I-I’m trying to be good. I really am.”

“I know you are, princess,” he noted, twirling the thermometer one more time before it beeped.

“All done?”

“Yep,” he said, removing the rigid instrument before patting my behind. “You can lie quietly on your tummy, while I wipe the thermometer off and check your temperature.”

Lowering myself to the mattress, all I could think of was hiding my saturated pussy, which had been on display for too long. Way too long.

“I’m thinking your temperature might be running a bit high. That will happen when you’re aroused.”

“Good to know,” I muttered facetiously into the quilted duvet. “So, can I get dressed now?”

“You may get your jammies on and go straight to bed.”

“But it’s only nine-thirty, and Dateline is on in a half hour…”

“I guess you’ll have to catch reruns of the show when it’s airing at an earlier time, because I have a strict rule that lights are out when the clock strikes ten,” he stated in a casual tone.

Watching the door close, I raised one sculpted eyebrow. If I turned the light off and kept the television sound purring at a low volume—there was a good chance he wouldn’t know I was still awake. Falling asleep never came easy to me, and over the years I had practiced two methods that ensured a good night’s sleep.

Television or a heavy dose of self-pleasure.

Having done plenty of research on the life of a submissive, I knew masturbation was not acceptable unless the dominant gave permission—or wanted to participate by the thrill of watching. And although he didn’t mention pleasuring myself was against his house rules…

I figured it probably was.

Volleying the two ideas back and forth in my mind, it seemed watching television might be the safer of two evils—even though he’d just stated my bedtime in his house will be at ten o’clock.

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