She sprawled out on his bed, sinking into the comfortable softness. She feigned falling asleep, wondering what he would do. When he showed no reaction, she peeked at him with one eye, squinting slightly. He was still sitting at his computer, his face impassive. She sat up on the bed, her legs tucked under her. His mouth slightly turned down, his eyes intense, he kept typing away. Now she was getting bored.
"Daddy," she called softly, putting on her cutest face. He blinked and turned to look at her. She pouted slightly – he generally found that irresistible. "Daddy, come here." There was a hint of a whine in her voice. He blinked again, paying no attention to her tactics.
"What did you just say?" His brow furrowed and he looked more intense than ever before, if that was even possible. It was the face she hated. It scared her – made her feel like she was doing something wrong. Generally, she misinterpreted this expression, but this time, she felt iffy about what she had said.
"I...I said, Daddy, come here," she said meekly, her gaze faltering, her eyes dropping, unable to meet his. He let out an enormous sigh – one that conveyed annoyance and exhaustion. But she knew the latter wasn't true – after all, why had he wanted her to come if he was going to be too tired for anything? He got up from his chair and headed over to where she was, standing in front of her.
"Look at me," he commanded. She immediately glanced up, locking eyes, her lips slightly parted. She looks so fucking innocent, he thought. Oh, the things Daddy's going to do to you, baby girl. She blinked questioningly at him, wondering if she was going to be allowed to speak. He cleared his throat slightly. "Did you just tell Daddy what to do?" His voice was extremely calm, quiet, and downright cold. She looked down, fear and anticipation coursing through her body. "Did I say you could look away?"
"N-no, Daddy." She didn't dare to say any more. He seemed to find this unsatisfactory. Everything, it seemed to her, was going wrong. She had no idea what was going to come next. He continued to look down at her and touched her face very gently, tracing a finger down her cheek. She involuntarily shivered.
The sheer sound of his hand hitting her face shocked her more than anything. Her glasses flew off of her face. He didn't break eye contact, enjoying the fear and surprise that flashed across her face.
"What am I supposed to do with a little girl who can't follow directions? Who doesn't follow directions?" He looked imploringly at her, daring her to answer.
"I don't know, Daddy. You say that...that bad girls get punished," she whispered. Her eyes were wide and positively doe-like. He thought that she looked as if she may cry any moment – he wanted to see tears escape from that innocent gaze, make her learn her lesson. She didn't look away this time, even though she felt like running out of the room. Her face stung and she had never been so nervous before in her life.
"It looks like my little girl really does need a lesson." His gorgeous blue eyes – often filled with warmth and kindness were stone cold. Before she had a chance to answer, he pushed her back forcefully onto the bed. He held her down and kissed her, meeting her soft lips with his. She struggled for a minute – he knew that she hated kissing! As she let out a muffled "stop", she felt his hand tighten around her throat. I should've kept my mouth shut, she said inwardly to herself. He kept kissing her, forcing his tongue into her mouth – she reciprocated half-heartedly as he held the back of her head close with his other hand. She knew she hated this, hated being made to reciprocate, and yet, she loved it. It made her feel sick and nervous, but she could feel her cheeks flushing, her heart beating faster (he probably could, too), and her pussy getting wet.
He broke the kiss, looking into her eyes with an expression that was a mix of both revulsion and utter dominance. He had felt her bodily reactions change – her shallow breathing, her heart rate, and now, as he slid his hand up her skirt, just how wet she was.
"At least you're good for something," he sneered, toying with her, giving her pleasure, but nowhere near as much as she wanted him to give. "Just a slut. Daddy's little slut, hmm? Isn't that right?" He shoved his fingers into her mouth, watching her eyes widen again as she licked them clean.
"Yes, Daddy." She looked up at him expectantly, feeling slightly disappointed when he moved off the bed.
"Get up." She slid off the bed, her arms hanging awkwardly at her sides. "Take your clothes off," he directed, taking a seat back in the great swivel chair. Inside, she cringed and died a little. This was yet another thing she hated – stripping for him, or for anyone, for that matter. She slowly removed her clothes, letting them fall into a pile on the floor with soft 'plop's. When she was fully naked, he simply stared at her for a good minute. She felt cold and vulnerable; not knowing what would be next. "Turn around." She turned on the spot, feeling a bit less embarrassed as she didn't have to look at his face. "Let me see that ass," he said, a hint of glee in his voice. She bent over slightly, holding herself apart with both hands. He couldn't tell, but she was blushing like crazy, feeling totally exposed. "Mmm," was all he said. What the hell is that supposed to mean?, she cried defiantly in her head. She heard him get up and instinctively straightened back up. She heard a disgusted sigh.
