Page 25 of Papa's Captive
Rosie could scarce believeher papa was lathering up her kitty and preparing to shave it. Her heart pounded and her palms broke into a sweat as she placed them onto the towel. Having a sore bottom helped to remind her what happened if she failed to follow Papa’s orders.
Though he had not spanked her hard, she did not wish to make him truly angry and earn a more severe punishment. Particularly when she was still in the bathtub. A wet bottom stung more than a dry bottom, which she supposed Papa knew since he had persisted in making her behind wet again and again before he delivered each swat.
She trembled as he rubbed the cool lather on her privates and spread her cheeks wide apart, forcing her kitty to spread too. Whenever his fingers traveled close to her puckering hole, she could not help but tense in anticipation of another forceful intrusion in a place she had never dreamed Papa would want to touch. But touch her there he had. And he had promised to do it again. He had promised to train her bottom hole, which she could only guess was for the purpose of her taking his fingers more often. Oh dear. What if he wanted to insert more than one finger into her private hole at once? Would she be able to take it?
“Please hold very still for this, little one.”
All thoughts of bottom hole training fled as he gently scraped a razor over her folds. He finished more quickly than she had anticipated and helped her to her feet. The cool air of the room caused goosebumps to rise on her arms and legs, but Papa soon poured a jug of steaming water over her shoulders, rinsing the soapy water from her body and bringing her much desired warmth. Then he wrapped a huge fluffy towel around her and helped her from the tub.
“There you are, my sweet one. All clean.” He smiled and folded his arms around her, moving his hands up and down her sides to bring her extra warmth.
“Thank you, Papa. I do not think I have ever felt so clean.” She blushed in memory of how thoroughly he had bathed her. When he had promised thorough, he had certainly meant it. She had no idea he had planned to cleanse her privates so intrusively, let alone insert a finger into her bottom hole, or even shave her kitty completely bare. What other surprises did her papa have in store for her today?
“You are most welcome.” He guided her toward his massive bed and her pulse skittered as heated thrums returned to her inner core.
“Are we going to take a nap now, Papa?”
He turned her in his arms and peered down into her gaze for a long moment. “No, we are not.” Another pause as he stroked her cheek. “We are going to consummate our marriage now.”
“I am not certain I know what you mean, Papa, and I hope you will forgive my lack of knowledge. I-I believe I know we must kiss and get under the bedcovers together, but beyond that I am uncertain.” All the passages Daisy had read aloud from Miss Wickersham’s romance novels came back in a rush, but she did not comprehend what the flowery language of the novels meant. She had a feeling it was something she would only understand once she experienced it for herself, and she felt a rush of gratitude for Lord Caldwell, her husband and papa. He was older than her and far worldlier. Surely, he would know what to do.
“Relax, my sweet, and let me teach you all you need to know. You need not be scared. Papa’s here.” He leaned down to capture her lips in a tender kiss that made her toes curl. She moaned into his mouth and grabbed onto his muscular arms, marveling at his massive build.
She had known Papa was tall and broad, but she’d had no idea exactly how large and firm his muscles were until he had rolled up his sleeves before putting her in the bathtub. What would he look like without his shirt on? Or without his pants?
Desire built in pulsating waves and she soon detected the heat of her moisture rubbing between her thighs. For reasons she could not yet fathom, whenever Papa touched her or kissed her—or whenever she entertained naughty thoughts about him—she became positively drenched in her privates. The tips of her ninnies also felt tight as they rubbed against the soft material of the towel. Every part of her responded to Papa’s presence, every part of her calling out in some unique way, demanding more of him. More kisses. More soft touches, followed by firm caresses. More of him pressing his center to hers, grinding the hardness in his pants—his manhood—against her lower stomach.
He suddenly broke the kiss and swept her up in his arms. She squealed in surprise, and a moment later he had her laid out on the bed, the towel fallen open and her nakedness on display. She squirmed from the soreness of her bottom hitting the mattress, though in truth the slight sting only heightened her excitement.
Her bottom was sore because she’d been naughty and her papa had spanked her.
And she was wet, so very wet, because her papa kept touching her and kissing her.
He stood beside the bed and began removing his shirt. She watched with bated breath, wondering what his chest and upper arms would look like. Once he had his shirt completely off, she was not disappointed in the least. He had bulging biceps and his chest was well-defined with a scattering of dark hair.
Papa was a testament to raw, primal masculinity, and her fingertips itched with the urge to touch him. But he wasn’t standing close enough for her to reach him, so she settled on admiring his sculpture perfect body as he shed his shoes, stockings, and trousers.
Those thighs. Oh my. She drew in a breath and licked her lips. Papa had the sturdy, muscular thighs of a Greek god. When he turned to the side to toss his clothing on a chair, she caught a glimpse of his equally firm and very muscular arse and could not restrain a gasp.
Then she became aware of the large, firm appendage protruding from his front. His manhood, also known as his cock, she realized. It was far, far larger than she could have ever imagined.
She thought she might faint.
