Carried Away

Author's Note:

CW: BDSM, barehanded spanking, impact with an object, anal play, foot play, CNC. All characters are consenting adults.

Carried Away

As I sit at my desk at work I squeeze my thighs together and squirm in my seat. It's Friday afternoon on a rainy December day and I have one client left before the weekend. I can't believe it's finally here. My phone buzzes and I glance at my texts. I already know it's from my new Daddy.

In one hour, Papa is leaving and coming to get you. Are you ready babygirl?"

it reads.

Yes, Papa but I am nervous, I reply. The phone lights up again, the vibration against the wood of my desk sounding thunderous given my heightened state of arousal.

Good Princess,

I read.

You shouldn't lose your fear of Papa.

I'll be safe with him but never from him. That is what he promises. He will take me completely for the first time this weekend. He's told me he'll be sweet to his babygirl if I behave and submit but we both know I can't do that. We both know there will be consequences if, or rather when, I don't.

I'm running on adrenaline, having not slept the night before. I recall tossing and turning and fantasizing about lovely and savage things. I think back to how drenched my panties had been as he'd slipped his hand into my dress and stroked my breast while devouring my mouth in my car after our date a week earlier. We'd driven separately but he'd slipped into my passenger seat for just a few moments. It was all he'd needed to set my body on fire.

He'd enjoyed the looks we got from other patrons which he attributed to our obvious affection and our twenty year age gap. We'd both enjoyed him giving me a taste of dessert by dipping his fingers in the ice cream and letting me lick the sweet liquid from his fingers. I giggle to myself thinking that

this

was the more likely reason for the stares. His parting words after exiting my car to go home flash through my mind. "We have unfinished business," he'd said.

It's pouring rain when I get out of work and make my way home. I shower quickly and double check my overnight bag. It's unusual for me to let a new partner take me out of town in their own vehicle, limiting my options to flee. Papa has earned my trust however and I have agreed to take this big step. There is no turning back. I know he is coming.

My dress is hanging on the back of my closet door, steamed and ready to go. It's a black version of the one I'd worn for our first date, and while normally I wouldn't choose a repeat, even in a different color, he'd enjoyed the silky feel and plunging neckline so much that this dress is by request. I change my lingerie at least three times before settling on a set that I think will please him. He'll have to work to take it off of me and I want it to be worth the effort.

The tension has been building all week, and I don't know how we'll manage to make it through dinner and a nearly two hour drive to his home on the Cape. I giggle thinking about him suggesting these plans and offering to scoop me up on his way from New York to his home "up the Cape."

"Papa," I'd teased," you're a New Yorker through and through. It's "down the Cape to anyone local."

My heart nearly leaps out of my chest as my phone buzzes against my bureau, and I quickly slip into my dress and jacket.

I'm here,

it reads, and I feel as if I'll swoon waiting for the knock at the door. It is time.

Dinner seems to take forever but I enjoy Papa's company greatly. He loves feeding me dessert with his fingers, but tonight as I take my last sip of raspberry sangria we ask for the check right away and flee for the car. He holds my hand in the parking lot and opens the door for me. I slip inside and wordlessly buckle my seatbelt. He has already told me he is adamant about wearing one.

Safety first

, I think.

As we drive, he wastes no time slipping his hand between my thighs, reaching across the shift. He growls as he feels my slick pooling there and licks his fingers. It is the first time he's ever touched me there. He returns his hand and begins to stroke my most sensitive bundle of nerves, teasing me. We both know there is nowhere to run.

Two can play this game

, I think. I know Papa absolutely adores my feet. I have painted my toes fire-engine red just for the occasion, and as the idea forms in my mind I find myself reaching to unzip my ankle boots and remove them along with my socks. Foot play is not my usual thing, but I don't really mind and I'll do just about anything to drive Papa wild right now.

I'm flexible by nature but this is enhanced by years of dancing. I lift my feet first onto the dash, coyly running my toes up the shin of my opposite leg, and squirming suggestively in my seat. When I see his body begin to tense in response, I swivel my body so that I can reach my legs across the center console and run one foot along the side of Papa's face.

He shocks me when he grabs my foot and licks my toes, and I squeal and retract my feet. "Don't tease Papa if you do not want him to take you up on such a tempting offer," he chuckles.

Recovered from the shock I tentatively slip my feet back over to his side of the car and gently use them to stroke his thighs and hard cock through his pants. He groans in his seat and slides his hand back under my panties, now having a much easier angle. The teasing continues for the duration of the ride and as we approach, he begins to give instructions.

"When we arrive babygirl, I want you to speak only in French" he says. "Papa will not be able to control himself when we arrive," he continues, "and so you can run or try to struggle but even if you say '

non

' Papa will not stop. You are his now." My safe words are my only escape.

I'm desperate to come after all of his caresses. He's taken me to the edge several times on the drive but not allowed me release. Even worse, I am desperate to pee and the full feeling in my bladder and the motion of the car only contribute to the mounting pressure. I explain my predicament and Papa agrees to give me a moment alone in the bathroom before taking me, although I swear he's hitting bumps on purpose. He is still operating under the pretense that I will be cooperative.

I nearly die from relief when we arrive and I bolt into the bathroom in his home to empty myself. I use my spare moments to remove my dress exposing the lingerie underneath. The shoes and sock follow. There will be no saving my undergarments but I hope to spare my shoes and dress from what I have planned. I'm wearing cage bottom panties with a small triangle of soft black fabric covering my core and lovely straps wrapping around my hips and exposed bum. I look like a present, ready to unwrap I think to myself as I take a deep breath and step out from the bathroom onto the grey oak floors.

Papa sees me and the moment of shock he experiences at my seeming compliance is all I need to bolt for the front door. It's dark and raining and I have never been here before. I realize a moment too late, as I reach the bottom of the steps, that the walk is lined with shards of decorative shells. I've come too far to stop and I run out onto the walk, shells painfully cutting into my bare feet. It slows me for a moment and it doesn't take Papa long to catch me, but he takes pity and lifts me in his arms and sets me down on the grass on the side of his home.

Papa gives me one more chance to come inside willingly and holds out his hand. I'm tempted to go with him, but I can't submit so easily and I bolt across the cold wet lawn. I am petite and Papa is six feet tall, but while I cannot match his stride I weave and dodge, evading his grasp many times, before he catches me and pins me to the freezing ground. He is still fully clothed and I am nearly naked as I struggle covering us both in mud.

Frustrated, he takes my throat in his large hand, squeezing before crushing me with the weight of his entire body and plunging his fingers inside of me again. "This is mine," he growls, before dragging me to my feet and carrying me into the house. I stand muddy in the kitchen and as he runs his hands over his pants, he realizes he's dropped wallet outside in the rain. He steps outside only briefly, but I seize the opportunity, quickly closing the door and locking it from the inside. I catch a glimpse of Papa's angry face through the glass in the door and hear him demand that I let him back inside before I flee to the bathroom to get cleaned up. I lock the door just to be safe.

I'm feeling quite pleased with myself as I rinse my feet and legs in the bath tub. I have barely stepped back out onto the bath mat before I'm caught off guard by pounding on the bathroom door. This house it new to me, and I realize my mistake in forgetting to lock the second door. I know I've pushed things too far this time. The door vibrates and I tremble. There is nowhere to run.

Desperate, I claw at the window. It isn't very far down, but I can't pry open the storm pane. My fingers claw at the small tabs designed to allow it to be lifted, and I don't even register the door opening before I'm slammed against the wall by Papa. He grabs my hair and spins me to press my face and body against the wall, spanking me hard several times, and chastising me for my disobedience. I catch a glimpse of his credit card on the floor and realize he's used it to pop the lock.

He drags me to the first-floor guestroom and pins me down on the bed. I struggle but he is very strong and he tears off my new bra and panties. It is all I can do to turn on my side briefly to protect my bum from the blows that are already raining down. "Give Papa your ass for spanking," he demands.

"

Non Papa

," I cry trying to cover my bum with my hands. "

Ça fait mal. Arrête ça, s'il te plait!"

. He loves hearing me speak in French but doesn't really understand it. I suspect he grasps the gist of my words regardless and recalling his earlier request, I don't want to chance angering him further by breaking any more rules.

The spanks continue. These are not playful spanks and they hurt. I don't like pain, but Papa is furious. My attempts to protect myself are futile and I am exhausted from struggling to escape. Still, I refuse to present my ass to him, unable to volunteer for more hurt.

For a brief moment the spanking stops and I realize he has used one hand to pull his belt from his pants. I'm pinned by his body weight and he folds it in half in his fist. I am on the verge of tears and overcome by panic. I have never been struck by a belt before.

"Non Papa,

" I cry.

"S'il te plaît. Je suis désolé, vraiment!"

I squirm until I am pinned on my back but my bum is covered. He runs the belt over my body gently slapping it against my bare belly. "Do you want Papa to use his belt to punish you?" he demands. I shake my head vehemently in terror.

"Do you want to feel it bite into your ass and your breasts, or maybe that lovely little pussy?" he continues. "Papa's hand is soft in comparison".

"Non, s'il te plait," I whisper, tears in my eyes and body trembling.

"Then you will not disobey me again tonight," he says, with a tinge of softness in his voice. As soon as I collapse, my body limp in surrender he wraps me in his arms and holds me for a long moment. Most of the mud has been rinsed off of me in the tub, and the rest has been wiped off in the struggle on the comforter.

He peels his own muddy clothes off and stands by the door holding out his hand. This time I take it, and he leads me upstairs to his own room. The comforter is soft and clearly brand new. I run my hand over the soft linens before collapsing on the bed. Seeing this he says "I bought the new set for my babygirl," and joins me on the bed. His thoughtfulness makes me feel especially naughty and even more guilty.

Papa takes no chances this time pinning me quickly to the mattress. He splays my legs wide and strokes my core briefly verifying that I am wet before plunging inside of me. There are no blows landing now, and while his touch holds tenderness, it is also unyielding. Hi fucks me relentlessly with my body crushed beneath him, before rolling me over to take me from behind. There are no touches for the place I need them most and I am unable to find release as he continues to claim me.

He seems to want to fold my body into every position imaginable, demonstrating his control of me. When he rolls onto his back, he instructs me to mount him facing away but slightly on an angle and straddling his right thigh. His left leg presses down across my left calf aiding his hands on my hips in keeping me from wriggling away.

This angle creates an extremely tight fit, and my clit grids briefly against his thigh. As he lifts his hips to thrust into me, I feel his thumb against my other opening and begin to press inside. His thumb burns as it enters me and I whimper as it sinks deep inside.

"Fuck Papa," he says, knowing that to do this I will also have to impale my own bum on his finger. My fingers grip his thigh tightly, and I can feel my nails digging in as I throw myself backwards over and over despite the burning in my behind. Finally, as my whimpers increase, he takes pity and removes his thumb. He tells me to turn to face him and to continue. I comply balancing myself with my hands in his. I am on top but his grip on my hands is firm enough to remind me that I can't break away.

It feels so good to have him inside of me this way, and I sigh in pleasure as I grind my hips downward and look into his eyes from above. He releases my hands and pulls me in against his chest giving me the opportunity to tangle my fingers in his silver hair. His skin is so soft on mine and I clench my pussy as tight as I can, over and over, until I hear him growl out his release, filling me with his seed. He strokes my hair for a few moments and then kisses me tenderly before leading me to the bathroom and starting a bath.

When it is time to rinse in the shower, he joins me. Papa is gentle as he washes me and it feels so nice as his hands run over my wet body. I notice the new soaps, candles, and oils all in my favorite woodsy scents. I thank Papa for his thoughtfulness and it warms me all the way to my toes to know that he has arranged for my every need. I know he will take good care of me, naughty or not, but I feel a deep urge to please him setting in.

Finally, we return to bed and he tells me to lie down under the soft covers. I assume my own orgasm is off the table in light of my insubordination. I lie on my belly and have prepared to drift off to sleep when I feel the covers lift at the end of the bed.

He grips my ankles tightly, and I tense for just a second before he sucks my toes playfully into his wet mouth. The sensation is strange, but I can't help think about him licking and sucking other places. I squirm for a moment before he releases my foot, and I hear Papa chuckle as I feel his hands firmly but gently spreading my legs. His fingers find the slick pooling between them and gently press inside. I moan softly feeling safe and content before giving in to the new delicious sensation of his warm wet tongue dipping between my folds and tasting me.

Papa is confident. He has many years of experience and knows how to touch his babygirl's body. In his expert hands, it only takes a few minutes before all of the week's built up tension reaches a crescendo and I feel I might die if not allowed to come. Luckily, he grants permission and my pleasure spills over in wave after wave as I too find release. Without another word, Papa joins me in bed and snuggles me tightly in his arms against his chest.

"Bonne nuit Papa

," I sigh.

"Goodnight my love," he says. Papa falls asleep almost immediately, not surprising me. He is kind if old after all. It takes me a little longer, but here in his arms I feel so safe and at home. I'll tell him about his snoring in the morning I think, giggling to myself, and I can't wait to find out where he will lead me tomorrow.