“This, just like your tits and pussy, is mine. Come here.”
I walk past her to the armchair in the corner near the window. She follows me, slightly trepidatious since she sees her hairbrush in my hand. I have something in the other one that she can’t see; it’s just clear my hand’s wrapped around an object.
“Straddle me.”
She follows my directions and eases herself onto my lap. She takes too long.
“Unless I tell you to do something slowly, I expect you to obey immediately.”
“Yes, Daddy.”
Does she sound as breathless and horny to herself as she does to me?
What I have in my hand is small enough that I can completely hide it in my curled fingers. She has no idea what’s coming. My thumb rubs her clit with just enough pressure to leave her frustrated. I know she wants to squirm, but she knows I won’t allow it. Being at my mercy, wondering what I’ll do next, consumes all her attention. I don’t want her think about anything else because that’s what she needs right now.
She’s not wondering about her family.
She’s not feeling guilty for how things ended with Bastian.
She’s not scared about being in a new city where she only knows my family and me.
She’s not worried about where she’ll work.
She’s not terrified more people will come after her or her dad.
She can just focus on the here and now.
She knows I’m giving her that.
I understand without her asking. I know she feels out of control, so I’m showing her that I have it, and I’ll use my control to take care of her.
Can anyone who doesn’t long for this push-pull, give and take, dominance and submission fully understand this? Do most people consider this nuts?
I haven’t considered it much, to be honest, because I’ve been into BDSM since I was in college. But what I’m sharing with Liesel is far beyond just the acts. It feeds my emotional and physical needs on such an elemental level—a level I didn’t know exists. Now I desperately need this with her, and I think I alwayswill. This isn’t just about the crisis we’re still in the midst of. This is far deeper within me.
I open my hand, and she spies one of her smallest hair ties. She explained while we were unpacking her toiletries that it’s a tiny rubber band from a package she used the last time she grew out bangs because they would annoy her.
I rub her clit harder and faster until she can’t keep from shifting, her sore ass pressing against my steely thighs. I tilt her hips forward and wrap the rubber band around her clit.
“You will tell me the moment this goes from uncomfortable and unfamiliar to concerning or painful. Whether you use the safe word or not. Do you understand me, Liesel?”
“Yes, Jorge. I promise.”
The seriousness in my voice makes her respond in kind. I’m certain the sensation is odd. A more intense version of what she’s felt when I’ve pinched her clit in the past. From her expression, there’s a throb that makes her want more, not less.
“Lie over my lap,chica.”
My tone isn’t gentle per se. It’s just not as demanding. I help position her.
“Yes, Daddy.”
“What’s your safe word?”
“Sauerkraut.”
“Good girl. Hold onto my ankle or put your hands on the floor if you’re tempted to reach back.”
“I know.”
