Page 42 of Submitting to Daddy
He tugs at the makeshift leash around my neck, tightening it. I stumble forward, my bare feet dragging across the floor as I struggle to keep up with him. My hands tremble at my sides as we reach the edge of the bed. I look back at him, my eyes silently pleading for my life. “You don’t have to do this,” I whisper.
“You determine what happens here,” he says coldly. “You’re going to tell me everything. Get on the bed.”
I hesitate. And he snaps the belt again, pulling it even tighter. I choke and climb onto the mattress, sinking on my back against the pillows, my eyes never leaving his.
“Hands above your head.”
I do as he says, lifting them slowly to grip the bars of my headboard. He reaches into his pocket and pulls out a thick zip tie. The plastic bites into my wrists as he cinches it tight, binding me to the wrought iron. He sets the gun beside my head, like a warning, and threads the loose end of the belt around the bars above me. The noose around my throat restricting me to only taking shallow, measured breaths.
I’m helpless.
And he knows it.
He climbs onto the bed and straddles my waist, caging me in with his body. His eyes scan every inch of my face for the truth. Pressing the muzzle of the gun to my temple, he demands, “Talk.”
And I do. I spill everything. My recruitment. The assignment. How I was placed on this case months ago with the intent of blending at the club. That he wasn’t part of the plan. Getting close to him wasn’t what the FBI planted me for. How I fell for him. And never stopped falling.
“I couldn’t betray you. Even when I thought I might have to, I couldn’t do it.” I breathlessly fight for every word, my voice hoarse and desperate. “I burned my world down for you. I torched my career. My team. I walked away from the life I worked so fucking hard for, because none of it mattered anymore. Nothing matters. Except you. I love you. My heart doesn’t care that we practically just met. I love you so fucking much it hurts.”
He stares down at me, expression unreadable. For a long moment, all I can hear is my breathing and the quiet creak of the belt buckle with every shallow rise and fall of my chest.
“I’ll take every secret to the grave,” I whisper, tears streaming down my face. “Whether that’s tonight or a lifetime from now. But Cillian… I never lied to you when it mattered.”
His jaw tightens. I can see the war raging behind his eyes, battling heartbreak, fury, and betrayal.
He’s just as wrecked as I am.
He drags his gun down the side of my face and presses it firmly under my chin as he leans in close. His lips hover by my ear. “I should fucking kill you.”
His words turn my blood to ice, and I close my eyes, thinking, this is it.This is how I die.Cillian slides off the bed slowly, repeating under his breath, “I should kill you… but I fucking believe you.”
Before I can speak, he leans down and presses a gentle kiss to my forehead. It’s tender and tragic, like he’s mourning us. My heart breaks and tears flow hard, my sobs uncontrollable as he disappears into the darkness of my apartment. My breath catches, and my eyes widen when he returns a moment later with his knife.
“Cillian…” My voice cracks. I tug helplessly at the zip ties binding my hands, my wrists aching from the tight, harsh restraints. His gaze roams down the length of my body—something dark flickering behind his eyes. He watches my shirt twisting and riding up my body as I struggle, revealing that I’m bare underneath it.
He places his knife on the nightstand and lets out a heavy exhale. “I believe you, Madison. And I love you.” His eyes meet mine, staring through me as his voice lowers. “But my love doesn’t erase the consequences.”
“Please. Don’t do this,” I beg, watching it fall on deaf ears.
He opens the nightstand drawer and rummages inside it. My pulse spikes when he pulls out a small bottle of lube I forgot was even in there. Setting it beside the knife, he asks, “What kind of Daddy would I be if I let your betrayal go unpunished? What kind of message would that send you? There must be a price, a punishment worthy of your disobedience.”
He removes his shirt, tossing it to the floor and unfastens his pants. Without breaking eye contact, he pushes them down his legs and pulls them over his feet. His cock is already hardening—thick, veiny, and flushed. He drips a generous amount of lube onto his length. Standing over me, he strokes himself, spreading the slickness from base to tip. “I should take you raw for what you did, but I’m not a monster,” he shares. “I don’t want you screaming in pain. I want you begging for my forgiveness.”
He climbs onto the bed and settles between my legs. He pours more lube onto his fingers and presses them to the ring of muscle. He circles my tight hole with his slick fingers—rubbing slow and rough—watching me tense beneath him. My whole body trembles, but only partly from fear. The rest is need, anticipation, and desperation. “Cillian…”
“Daddy,” he sternly corrects, pushing his hips forward, leaving the tip of his cock resting against my lubed-up asshole. “And Daddy always knows exactly what you need, doesn’t he?”
I nod in agreement, muttering, “I’m sorry…”
He presses forward, and the stretch is immediately overwhelming. “Don’t fight me, firecracker. Relax and let me in,” he growls. “You know you need this.” He rubs his lube-coated finger over my clit to distract me from the pressure and pushes harder—insistently nudging his way into me.
“It’s too much,” I gasp when his thick head fully breaches the tight ring and pushes inside. “It’s not gonna fit?—”
“Yes. It will,” he grits, his face contorted in pain, like he’s struggling not to roughly drive the rest of himself into my ass. “You’re going to take every inch of Daddy’s cock in this tight little hole. And when I’m buried inside you, you can tell me what a bad girl you were and how desperately you want to be loyal to the Kings.”
He rocks into me slowly, working his way deeper, inch by inch, the burn of being stretched causing my eyes to water. But he doesn’t rush. Doesn’treallyhurt me.
“After you beg for forgiveness, you can beg me to fill your ass with my cum. Beg me to claim this perfect little hole as mine, too.” He stills with his hips pressed to my thighs, and I realize I’ve taken all of him.
