Chapter 11

The next Saturday afternoon Harvey called to tell me he thought we should talk and I should dress comfortably for a conversation. So I was waiting for him in the dungeon wearing a jean skirt and a tank top, but knowing his preferences I was also wearing my stiletto mules. When he arrived we embraced, exchanging a hug and a kiss, and then sat on the couch.

“How are you feeling?”

“That sub-swap scene was pretty rough, but I’m pretty well recovered now and I learned some things from it.”

“I know it was rough, but you did come out on top. What do you think you learned?”

“Well, for one thing, I learned I can take a lot more pain than I thought I could.”

“He smiled. “Yes, you somewhat surprised me in that way also. What else did you learn?”

“I learned that I really want to please you, to do whatever you want.”

He hesitated, then asked, “To please me specifically, or any dom you might be in a relationship with?”

That was a good question, and I paused to consider what I’d really meant. “I guess the answer is both. I would always want to please my dom, but you’ve brought out something really... special in me, and just being with you motivates me to please you however you want. You’ve let yourself be everything I wanted you to be, and that in turn makes me respond to you the way I do.”

“I’m flattered, but however is a big word.”

“I know, but I want you to keep pushing me. I thought I had limits, but now I’m not so sure.”

“In what ways do you want me to keep pushing?”

“Well, the pleasure-pain, for sure,” I temporized. “I want to know how much further you can take me.”

“Okay, I sort of figured that. How else do you want me to push?”

“I think ... I think I need to see how I react to more public play, more ... embarrassment, more ... humiliation play. The scene with the boys in the dance studio was a real turn-on for me, and I want you to ... do more of that.”

Now he was really grinning. “I can do that. Anything else? Are there any specific fantasies you still want to explore?”

That was another very good question. I kind of let the cat out of the bag when I called him Daddy, but now I guess it’s time for me to really face that... interest. “Yes, Daddy, I want to be your little girl.”

His brow furrowed as my answer sank in. “You want us to role-play a Daddy-daughter relationship?”

This is the moment of truth, it’s true-confession time. “Yes, Sir, I do, and not just Daddy-daughter, an incestuous Daddy-daughter relationship.”

“Why?” he asked seriously. “What’s driving that fantasy for you?”

“I ... I...”

“Come on, out with it.”

“When I was a teenager, I used to think back about when he used to spank me ... and get an erection ... and I would think about him ... and my mother ... in their bedroom, wondering whether I would be better in bed than she was ... we never did anything, but I thought about it... a lot.”

So you have what they call Daddy issues?”

“Yes, and I want you to use your little girl sexually as well as to discipline her unruly behavior.”

“You want to make this fantasy real?” he asked incredulously.

“It’s as real as fantasy gets,” I admitted. “I want ... I need ... to feel that kind of control. Not all the time ... I know we’ll have scenes when we’re not in those roles ... but when we are I want my Daddy to be really strict, demanding total obedience, and to punish me if I disobey.”

“Okay ... I think I get this. But given how well you tolerate physical pain, punishing you might be a challenge,” he said musingly.

“There are other ways to punish,” I replied. “I love your creativity, and I’m sure you’ll find ways to make me sorry I didn’t do what you wanted or didn’t do something as well as you expected.”

“I’m sure I can figure something out,” he replied, and then he gave me a shark-like sneer. “Now why is my daughter not wearing a bra?”

I’d told Harvey I wanted an ongoing, if intermittent, Daddy-daughter scenario, but I never expected him to immediately drop into that role. I was surprised into a frozen, deer-in-the-headlights reaction and he immediately pursued that persona.

“Get on your knees,” he ordered, pointing between his spread legs. When I didn’t immediately respond he shouted, “Move, you dumb bitch,” and then I jumped up and knelt in front of him. I was so flustered I didn’t know what to do, and he gave me no time to figure it out. “Hands behind your back,” he directed, and without thinking I instantly grasped my left wrist in my right hand at the small of my back.

He prodded my left breast with his finger and then swirled its tip around the nipple, pressing into my areola. My nipple stiffened in involuntary response, poking into the fabric of my tank top until its swelling was obvious. “Jesus, you really get turned on easily,” he remarked.

“No, Daddy,” I whined, “it’s just how my body reacts to what you’re doing.”

“I don’t think I believe that,” he said sternly. “I think you must be a real slut.” He grabbed the hem of my tank in both hands and pulled it up so my big round breasts were exposed. He cupped them and slid his thumbs back and forth over my nipples, and of course they betrayed me, standing up like little bullets under his touch.

“Ohhh.” I couldn’t suppress a moan, and he pounced like a tiger after prey.

“I knew it!” he exclaimed, and I blushed in embarrassment. He squeezed my breasts hard and then released them, and I thought, or maybe I hoped, that he was done, but I was sooo wrong. He pulled his left hand back, slapped the side of my right breast, and then back-handed my left on the return.

“Owww,” I complained, and I instinctively recoiled, pulling my head and my upper body backwards, but he was having none of that. He grabbed a handful of my long blonde hair in his right hand and pulled me back towards him. Then he drew back his left hand and slapped me, and I was too stunned to even cry out.

“Don’t you dare try to avoid your punishment.” He twisted my head, pulling my hair from side to side. “You do that again and you’ll really be sorry. Just take it, you know you deserve it.”

I bowed my head. This wasn’t how I had envisioned this scenario; I always fantasized a loving Daddy-daughter sexual relationship. But maybe that will happen later; maybe he thinks he has to establish his control as my Daddy first. In one sense Harvey had me pegged; in my fantasy I was a slut, always horny and ready, and I needed a strong Daddy to keep me under control and punish me when I misbehaved. I didn’t know why Harvey decided to play this that way, being harsh with me first, but he obviously had.

He spanked my breasts, harder and harder, faster and faster, until they turned a bright pink. This isn’t BDSM play, I thought. This is real Daddy-daughter punishment, and it really hurts, but punishment was always part of my fantasy and my pussy is fast becoming a swamp; I’m so turned on by this role-play I can’t believe it.

“Get up!” he commanded next. “Let’s see how else you’ve become so slutty.” After I stood up in front of him, I put my hands on my hips and swayed them insolently, rocking from side to side on my four-inch heels. I wanted to goad him, to see how much harder he would be on me, and he responded like I hoped he would.

“Lose the skirt,” he ordered, and I slowly, seductively, unbuttoned and unzipped it and let it drop to the floor, revealing the skimpy thong I was wearing. “Fuck!” he reacted convincingly. “Turn around, bend over, and grab your ankles.”

I obeyed and he immediately started spanking my bare ass. He used both hands, alternating on each cheek, and he hit me so hard I almost fell over, but I managed to keep my balance despite the torrent of blows. “Oooowwww,” I howled, and after only about 30 seconds my ass was a burning red mass of pain.