Page 27 of Papa's Captive
“My darling girl, this might hurt a bit, but only for a moment. I promise to make it as pleasurable for you as I possibly can.”
Her next words infused him with love.
“I trust you, Papa.”
* * *
The pressureof Papa’s big cock filling her sent a delicious thrill through Rosie. He wasn’t all the way inside her yet, either, from what she could tell. Tingling quakes of heat affected her center, her kitty throbbing and clenching around his hugeness as he pushed deeper inside her. He tightened his grip on her hips and she marveled at his fierce masculinity as he hovered over her, careful not to crush her with his weight. She couldn’t stop gazing upon him with admiration. Not just for how exceedingly handsome she found him, but for his understanding, his gentle patience, and his huge heart.
And he was hers. All hers.
Likewise, she belonged to him.
His grip on her hips tightened and he surged forward, plunging his cock all the way inside her in one rapid movement. She felt a slight twinge of pain and winced, though it soon faded and was replaced by the most exquisite sensation she’d ever felt.
She liked being filled up like this by Papa.
“Are we consummated...now?”
His dark eyes slid to hers and he nodded. “Yes, my love, though I am not quite finished with you. Not even close.”
“Oh?” She shifted her hips upward and sighed.
She soon discovered what he meant by ‘not quite finished’ when he withdrew from her almost the entire way, only to drive straight back into her kitty. Oh my. She could scarce breathe she enjoyed it so much. She clutched onto Papa’s waist as he did it again and again, plunging into her with mounting speed. The mattress bounced beneath them and the headboard slammed against the wall. A heavy fleshy part of him beneath his cock slammed into her bottom with each hard drive, and he grunted and groaned with his exertions.
“You’reminenow, Rosie,” he said between thrusts. “Allmine.”
Her heart contracted with emotion and warmth flowed through her. The sound of flesh slapping flesh filled the room as his pace increased. It was then that she realized the purpose of the wetness between her thighs. Her kitty got wet to make it easier for Papa’s cock to go inside her. A flush stole through her as understanding dawned. Had she known what it meant when her privates became achy and wet, she would not have felt quite so ashamed over her body’s reactions to his nearness, or simply from entertaining thoughts of him.
Her vision blurred as the sensations in her kitty deepened. Though he wasn’t stroking or licking her nubbin, the same waves of pleasure that had preceded hercoming—that is what Papa had called it—surged through her and made her entire body tingle with euphoria.
Papa’s face twisted into a look of immense gratification and he pumped into her harder and faster. Just as his cock stiffened further and seemed to be pulsing hotter inside her, she came apart at the seams and rocked her center against him as she came for him. They cried out in shared pleasure and collapsed in a pile of limbs, though he remained mindful of not putting his entire weight upon her, shifting himself to the side as he gathered her close and stroked her hair. As he moved her onto her side, he slowly withdrew his cock from her kitty.
“What we just did…” He paused to take in a few deep breaths before continuing. “...is called making love.”
Making love. She had never heard the phrase before but she thought it perfectly described the experience they had just shared. A thought popped into her head and she peered at her papa, trying to summon the courage to ask the question. “Um, Papa?”
“Yes, my dear?”
“Will we ever make love again?”
He stared deep into her eyes and gave her a saucy smile. “Oh yes, we will. Again and again andagain. Until your little kitty is so sore from use that you cannot walk straight.” He waggled his eyebrows at her and hugged her closer.
“Papa! You say such shocking things sometimes.” She snuggled into his embrace and sighed, feeling more content than she could ever recall.
“Rosie,” Papa said, propping himself on one elbow to stare down at her, “something important has just occurred to me. No one has ever told you how babies are made, have they?”
She drew an embarrassing blank. As a married lady of twenty-one years, she ought to know something as important as how babies were made. But she didn’t. She only knew that husbands and wives had babies after they got married. Except to complicate her understanding of that, she’d recently heard gossip—again, from Lily—about another woman from the village who’d had a baby out of wedlock. When she’d asked Lily what ‘out of wedlock’ meant, the younger girl had lifted her chin and in a know-it-all fashion said, “Why, it means she is not married to the father of her baby. Everyone knows that.”
Everyone but Rosie, apparently.
She gazed at Papa, praying for sudden knowledge to fall out of the sky and knock her on the head. But she could make no more sense of why married couples had babies but sometimes unwed couples did and why this last situation was frowned upon. Did it have something to do with a woman’s virtue? She thought about how Garland had constantly followed them around the gardens, insisting Rosie not be alone with Papa—back when he was still Lord Caldwell to her—because her virtue needed to remainintact. Oh dear. She still couldn’t make sense of it all. Panic raced through her. Would Papa think her stupid for not understanding?
“Rosie?” He brushed her hair behind her ears, his fingers lingering on her face just long enough to leave a trail of tingles in the wake of his touch. “It is all right if you do not know where babies come from. I will be happy to explain it to you.” Patience and love threaded his words, chasing away her worries that he might think her stupid for her lack of knowledge.
“I must confess that I am not entirely certain how babies are made,” she finally admitted.
He sat up against the pillows, bringing her with him, and settled her once again onto his chest. He delved his fingers into her hair, gently stroking and bringing another rush of prickly sensation to the top of her head. She shut her eyes and reveled in the moment. Papa could make her feel good with the simplest of touches.
