Page 102 of Wings
"Please," I gasped, not sure what I was begging for.
"Not yet." He pulled back, leaving me empty and wanting. "Need to get you ready."
The click of the lube bottle made my stomach flutter. Cool gel touched my skin, making me jump then relax as he warmed it with careful fingers. He talked me through every movement, every sensation.
"Just gonna circle here," he murmured, suiting action to words. "Let you get used to being touched."
It felt strange. Vulnerable. But his other hand stayed on my lower back, thumb stroking soothing circles. Grounding me. Reminding me I was his, was safe, was allowed to want this.
"Breathing, baby girl."
Right. I forced air into my lungs, let my body soften. His finger pressed gentle, just the tip, barely anything but somehow everything.
"All good?"
"So good." My voice sounded wrecked already.
He worked me open patient as a surgeon, adding more lube, more pressure, backing off when I tensed. His free hand neverstopped touching—my back, my hip, reaching under to stroke my clit when sensation got overwhelming.
"You're doing so good," he praised. "Taking it so well. My perfect girl."
By the time he reached for the plug, I was a mess of need and nerves. He showed it to me first, let me see how much smaller it was than his fingers had felt. The purple silicone gleamed with lube, innocent looking for something that felt so momentous.
"Ready?"
I nodded, not trusting my voice.
The first press of it made me tense automatically. He waited, rubbing my back, murmuring praise and filth in equal measure. "That's it, let it in. You were made for this, baby girl. Made to take what Daddy gives you."
The stretch burned but didn't hurt. Strange pressure that made me hyperaware of every nerve ending, every breath. Then it slipped past the widest point and my body accepted it, pulled it in like it belonged there.
"Fuck." The word punched out of him. "Look at you. So pretty with your princess plug."
Princess plug. Of course he'd call it that. I should have rolled my eyes but could only moan as he traced where silicone met skin.
"Think you can take more?"
More? I was already overwhelmed, already floating in that space where shame couldn't touch me. But then I felt him behind me, cock hard against my thigh, and understood.
"Please," I whispered. "Need you."
He pushed into my pussy slow, and Jesus Christ. Full didn't begin to describe it. The plug made everything tighter, made me feel him in new ways. Made me feel everything. He had to work for it, rocking gentle until my body accepted this too.
"You like it?"
“So so so much,” I barely go the words out.
He laughed, breathless. "Thank fuck."
Then he moved, and I lost all words.
Each thrust shifted the plug, created pressure and pleasure that built on itself like feedback. His hands gripped my hips hard enough to bruise, holding me steady while he took me apart. I couldn't think, couldn't breathe, could only feel.
"Touch yourself," he commanded.
My hand flew to my clit, circling desperate. The combined sensation—him inside me, the plug, my own touch—spiraled me higher than I'd known was possible. My thighs shook. My breath came in sobs. Everything wound tighter and tighter until—
"Come for me, baby girl. Show Daddy how good it feels."
