Page 43 of Submitting to Daddy
“Please, Daddy,” I plead, struggling to adjust to him filling my ass. “I’m sorry…sosorry.”
“That’s better,” he growls, taking me slowly. “Keep going.”
“Please… forgive me… punish me…”Fuck! He hurts so good.“Teach me… I’m yours, Daddy… I’ll be good for you…”
“That’s my good girl,” he praises softly. Reaching between us, he rubs his thumb against my clit—stroking it in slow, devastating circles. He slips two fingers into my soaked pussy, and I moan at the sudden sensation of being filled in both holes. His fingers curl inside me, and his thumb rubs my clit with perfect pressure. My hips buck wildly beneath him, driving his cock into my ass.
My body tightens, and when my release rips through me, it leaves me gasping, vulnerable, and filled to the brink with the man I betrayed, but never stopped loving. Slowly pushing himself all the way inside me again, he leans forward and presses his lips to mine. “Daddy forgives you.”
Pulling his fingers from my pussy, he reaches for the knife on the nightstand. He wraps his arousal-coated fingers around it, and my breath catches. “But the Kings… They aren’t as merciful,” he shares darkly. “They take their forgiveness in blood.”
Reaching over me, he unties the belt from the headboard and removes the tight noose from around my neck. “Do you want to earn their forgiveness too?”
I hesitantly nod. “Yes, Daddy.”
“Open,” he demands. I part my lips, and he places the leather between my teeth. “Bite down.”
He slices through the thin fabric of my T-shirt, spreading it wide and baring my breasts. Stilled and buried to the hilt in my ass, he positions the blade above my right breast, pressing the tip against my flesh. The sting is sharp and immediate as he breaks the skin. He presses the tip deeper, carving a small, deliberate shape.
Biting down on the belt, I cry out in pain, my eyes flooding with tears and warm blood trickling across my chest. I don’t stop him. I lay as still as I can,offeringmyself to him with tears pouring from my eyes. Willfully taking my punishment. My penance.
The knife burns, tearing through my flesh as he steadily carves the single word into my skin:KING.
He cuts the zip tie from my wrists and tosses the knife to the floor. I groan as blood rushes back into my hands. Dipping low, Cillian licks the blood from my chest. His tongue is hot and possessive. “Now and forever, you’re one of us.” He tenderly kisses each of the letters, my blood staining his lips. “A King.”
The belt falls from my mouth, and I suck in a sob. “Forever.”
Taking its place, his bloody lips crash into mine. He kisses me hard, his metallic-tasting tongue plundering my mouth. Claiming my ass with the same needy desperation, he fucks me slow until my thighs are shaking and his hot release is dripping between my ass cheeks.
Madison’s tiny apartment smells like sex and blood. Her breath is soft and uneven beneath me as I pull from her body, every muscle in my frame tight with exhaustion from the restraint needed to take her ass without hurting her. We’re both a mess. My hands and her chest are stained red, but all I can see is the raw wound I carved into her flesh, the mark I gave her. The branding sheaskedfor. The word gleams across her skin.
KING.
My empire. My family. My name.
She let me brand her like property. Proof of her devotion—to me and my family—permanently etched into her previously unmarred skin.
But now… now she needs care.
“I’ll be right back,” I promise, climbing off the bed. As I cross the small space to the bathroom, I leave her spent, shaking, and exposed.
The bathroom light is blinding after the dark. I squint through the brightness as I tear open the medicine cabinet. Bottles of feminine face products, her birth control, and cotton pads clatter into the sink as I rifle through it. I open and close every cabinet until I find what I’m looking for: a tiny first-aid kit tucked beneath the sink.
I return to the bed with my hands full; the first-aid kit, a warm bowl of water, and two clean washcloths. She stares weakly, looking up at me with glassy, hooded eyes. “What are you doing? she asks, her voice hoarse and so fragile that I feel it in my chest.
“I might be rough with you, firecracker,” I confess quietly, kneeling beside her on the bed and dipping the cloth into warm water on the nightstand, “and demanding with my punishments when you deserve them.” I glance up at her. Her lips tremble, but she doesn’t say a word. “But no matter how hard I am on you… I love you. And I want to care for you. Nurture you.”
I clean her thighs and her stomach. I take my time—reverent, not rushed—like I’m bathing her in my love with every soft stroke of the cloth. She winces slightly when I press the damp rag between her ass cheeks, where my cum lingers in sticky white streaks. .
“I know,” I murmur. “I know it’s sore, baby.”
When she’s clean, I set the cloth aside and open the first-aid kit. I uncap the peroxide and pour it into my palms first,rubbing my hands together until they sting with the antiseptic. I’ve done this dozens of times before. For Enzo. For Nikolai. Even for some of our men, when a job went sideways. I’ve stitched up bullet and knife wounds. But this is different… This is my Madison.
“This is going to hurt,” I warn.
She nods without hesitation. I hold her gaze as I tilt the bottle and let it spill over her wounded chest. She sucks in a sharp breath, and her body arches off the bed, her jaw clenched tight.
“Shhh,” I soothe, leaning down to blow softly across the burn. “Daddy’s got you. And you’re doing so good for me.”
