This is real Daddy shit.
Panic hits me and I push up to get off, but he presses me back down over his knees. “You know your safe word.”
My mouth opens, but it gets stuck there.
I still don’t want to say it. Not yet.
“I wasn’t gonna call him,” I pant against the couch.
Smack! Young-gi lays a firm spank on my ass and I squirm. “But you ran straight to him, didn’t you?”
Another spank, knocking the truth out of me.
“Yes!”
“Why?”
“Be-because I, because he, I–” I shake my head. “I don’t know.”
Spank!“Yes, you do. Don’t lie. You’ll hold soap in your mouth while I blister your ass, if that’s what you need.”
I groan, and it’s filthy. Heat flushes my cheeks and I hide my head again. Am I getting turned on by this? “He–I just wanted to go somewhere, be with someone–with somebody that wants me. I wasn’t gonna call him, I left him as soon as I saw him, it was a mistake–”
Three fast, solid spanks shut me up quick and I bite back a pained, horny moan. I don’t want to reveal how messed up I am about this; I want to hide it. So I swallow the sounds.
And I manage to keep them locked up…until I struggle just to feel him hold me down. He reacts to my fighting with a tighter hold, keeping me where he wants me, and that’s when the ‘fuck me’ noises rip out of my throat, loud and unmistakable.
Young-gi hesitates, letting us both fully process what I just did, then hums thoughtfully. His tone changes, gets less punishing and more sensual. “You’ve got a lie in your head, Tommy. You think he wants you more than I do? You’re wrong.”
Three more smacks, and I grunt and writhe and he yanks me tight against him so I can’t squirm away. “No one wants you more than I want you. I want you themost. I want to take care of you more than he does, I want to keep you more than he does, I want to correct you and praise you and watch you all the time, more than he does.”
“I–”Smack!He lays them on me, five this time, and I jerk and bite my lip and elbow him as best I can, fighting back but not too hard, not hard enough to hurt him or to really get away. Just hard enough to embarrass myself because I’m squirming on his lap and I feel so small and pathetic and it’s making me so fucking horny and confused and it feels so good.
I can stop this at any time with a single word, but that’s not what I want. I don’t want him to stop. I want him to–
“Prove it!” I snarl at him.
“You need proof?” Young-gi spanks me again, harder. “You want to feel it? Here it is, Tommy. I’m gonna prove it right now, right here, and the soreness you feel every time you sit down for the next two days is gonna help you remember. It’s going to help keep those lies out of your head. You want to hurt? ThenI’llbe the one to hurt you, Tommy. I’ll give you what you deserve; correction, pain, praise, reminders. You need that? Then it’s going to bemewho gives it to you.”
He lays into me then, painting my ass with heat and a stinging ache. I break into a sweat, sweltering in the jacket and the jeans I’m wearing, overheated and overwhelmed, thrashing against him just so he’ll hold me down and keep going.
“Fuck you!” I shout.
“We’ll go all day,” he growls back, his rhythm never faltering. “You want proof? How about I call him back, and make him listen to me correcting you? Make him hear that I’m the one who understands you, that I’m the one who gives you what you need, hm? Maybe he should know to stay the fuck away.”
And holy fuck, I like the sound of that. He wouldn’t do it without my consent, I know that about him, but the threat is humiliating enough to push me past the edge of my control, and I finally settle, gasping for breath, panting like I’m in heat. I just let him spank me while I lay there and take it.
Greedily, happily take it.Needit.
And I don’t expect it to hurt as much as it does, but even through my jeans, itaches. My moans are just as much from the sweet pain as they are from being turned on by this, and soon my ass is throbbing and on fire and I collapse more fully onto his knees and scream into the couch again, raw and loud until I run out of air.
I’m choking on this, on the sensations and the unbearable, brutal vulnerability of this. It’s corner-time but multiplied by a thousand. It’s so much, it’s all there is, it’s everything.
And after I run out of screams, he stops, and I pant hard and heavy against the couch.
He pulls the back of my shirt up, and the cool air against my hot skin soothes me, even though it’s not where I’m hurting the most. He softly rubs my spine and makes those little shushing sounds again.
I lay there, chest heaving for air, my throat burning and dry, my eyes wet; when did I start crying? He pets my back and listens to me struggle against my feelings, fighting with my lungs for oxygen, until I settle against him with a few pathetic, breathy whines.
