Page 46 of Daddy Knows Best

"So wet," he observed, clinical tone at odds with the rough edge in his voice. "Making such a mess already."

The vibrator found my nipple again, on higher speed this time. I pulled against the tie binding my wrists, not to escape but to feel the restraint. To know I'd given up control. That all I had to do was feel and want and trust him to provide.

"Ready for more?" He moved between my legs, and I felt the heat of him even through his clothes. "Show me where you need it."

I spread my thighs wider, shameless in the dark. "Please. Please touch my pussy. I need—"

The vibrator pressed against my clit through soaked cotton, and my words dissolved into moans. He held it there, steady pressure while I bucked against it, chasing the orgasm that had been building since he'd walked through my door.

"That's it," he encouraged. "Take what you need. So perfect, so—"

Close. I was so close. My bound hands clutched at air, every muscle pulling tight, right on the edge—

He lifted the vibrator away.

"No!" The denial ripped from my throat. "No, please, I was right there!"

"I know." He soothed me with long strokes down my thighs, avoiding where I throbbed. "That's the point. Building you higher. Trust me?"

"I trust you," I panted. "But I might die."

"You won't die. You'll fly."

He built me up again—vibrator on my clit, against my entrance, never quite inside. The darkness made everything more intense, each touch a surprise. When I got close, he knew—could read it in my breathing, my tension, the way I chanted his name.

And he stopped. Again.

"Please," I sobbed, past pride. "Please, Daddy. I need to come. I'll do anything."

"Anything?" The vibrator traced my inner thigh, so close to where I needed it. "What happened to my patient girl?"

"She's dying. Deceased. Murdered by evil Daddy who won't—oh fuck—"

He'd pressed the vibrator directly on my clit, high speed, while his other hand delivered three quick strikes to my already glowing ass. The combination of pain and pleasure scrambled my brain, sent me rocketing toward climax.

This time, I knew he'd stop. Could feel him reading my body, waiting for that perfect moment. So when he lifted the vibrator, I was ready.

"Daddy, more," I gasped. "Please. More. Need more."

The new safeword. Request for escalation. Permission to take me higher, harder, past what he'd normally allow.

His intake of breath was sharp. "You sure?"

"Daddy. More." Clearer this time. "Please. I can take it. Want to take it. For you."

"Fuck," he muttered. "You perfect, perfect girl."

The vibrator returned, but now accompanied by his fingers. Two slipped inside me while the vibrator worked my clit, andthe fullness made me keen. The cane was forgotten—all his focus on driving me higher than before. His fingers curved just right, finding that spot that made me see stars even in darkness.

"Don't come," he ordered. "Not yet. Show me how good you can be."

I bit my lip hard enough to taste copper, fighting my body's desperation. Everything pulled tight—thighs, stomach, bound wrists straining against silk. I was balanced on a knife's edge, one breath from falling.

"Please," I whispered. "Please, Daddy. Can I—can I please—"

"Look at you." His voice had gone wondering. "So beautiful like this. So mine." His fingers pressed deeper, the vibrator relentless. "Come for me, baby. Now. Let go now."

The permission shattered me. I came with a scream that probably scared Sir Reginald, my whole body convulsing around his fingers. The orgasm rolled through me in waves, each one bigger than the last, until I was sobbing from the intensity.

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