Page 39 of My Big Fat Daddy Issues

“That’s one,” he says, thrusting back into my mouth savagely. “This is two.”

His palm comes down on my bottom again. My thighs shake, and my head starts to get fuzzy. As his cock hits the back of my throat, I think I might cum without being touched.

“Three,” he growls, not giving me time to recover.

The third strike is harder, the sound echoing off the walls. It pushes me even further into the space I go when I’m being punished. I suck on his length harder, comforting myself and apologizing all at once.

His hand comes down a fourth time after the low rumble of his speech reaches my ears. Everything’s getting hazy around the edges. All I’m capable of doing is letting him fuck my mouth while he punishes me just like I deserve.

The sting of his fifth strike lingers longer, and tears spring to my eyes. I don’t know why I had to push his boundaries. The rules are in place so he can take care of me.

“Halfway done, baby,” he grunts, shoving his length down my throat and holding it there. “Six.”

This time, I moan around his cock when the spank lands. The pain of my punishment morphs with pleasure. Daddy pulls back enough that I’m able to suck in air. Then, he’s thrusting back in.

The next three times his hand meets my bottom blur together. I feel like I’m floating, paying my penance for disobeying while being safe in my Daddy’s orbit. I’m dripping down my thighs, my little girl parts aching for relief.

“One more,” he says, his cock kicking in my mouth.

So many things happen at the same time. He says, “Ten,” and shoves himself deep into my esophagus. His balls release, and hot cum pumps into my mouth. I suck weakly, more wetness dripping from me, making a puddle on the bed below me.

“Fuck, baby,” he says, giving little pulses, creating just enough of an opening that I can breathe before I pass out.

I’d gladly pass out on his cock. I want to. I think it’s a fitting punishment.

“That’s enough,” he says, his voice shifting as he slips out of my mouth. “Let Daddy look at you.”

My throat is raw, and I sniffle pathetically. His palm, the same one that he used to spank me, rests against my cheek with gentleness, letting me know my punishment is over. I close my eyes as he brushes tears from my face.

“I’m sorry, Daddy,” I say. “I’m sorry I broke the rules.”

“I know,” he tells me as he lies me down, cradling me against his chest. “I’ll let you catch your breath. Then you can apologize by letting Daddy fuck your sweet little pussy.”

“Okay, Daddy,” I say, my body already calling out for more.

We lie there for a few moments. He rubs my back, and I soak in his comfort. Then, he rests his hand on the swell of my belly where I’m growing our child.

I rarely think of my mother. Jackson has help me come to the conclusion that she is flawed and it’s hard for a child to come to terms with that fact sometimes. She’s tried to reach out, mailed me a letter which Jackson intercepted saying what she had to say was not healthy for me and he would be running interference between us until she could act like respectful to us both.

“I’ll get you some water, little girl,” he says, leaning down to press a kiss to my stomach. “It’s my job to take care of both of you. You are my special girl, nothing it the world will come between us.”

“I love you, Daddy,” I tell him as he straightens up. “We both do.”

“I love you both too, little girl,” he replies, leaning down to steal a kiss before continuing. “More than you’ll ever know.”

He’s my world and my protector, my Daddy and my lover. My husband and very soon, the father of our baby.

Not everyone understands what we have, but he tells me that doesn’t matter.

He’s mine. I’m his and my happily ever after is named Daddy and he’s never letting me go.