Not even two days after I sent the last email to my new Dominant, I came through on my promise to write him again, this time with more graphic details of the things I wanted done to me.
I laid in my bed, hopeless to even think of sleep, and explored the curves of my body fantasizing about feeling his hands on me, his rough skin that somehow always feels gentle to the touch as he grants me the pleasure I need.
That fantasy became my second letter to Daddy.
"From: Ana B.
December 5, 2022
Good morning,
In my last message, I told you I would tell you exactly how I like to be touched, starting with two of your fingers tracing my slit up to my clit.
I really enjoy feeling light touch at my opening, to have your fingers tease me as I get wet, to look into your eyes begging wordlessly for more, but not getting it. I like to move my hips closer to you, only for you to deny me. Touching me like that unlocks such a needy slut that lives just beneath the surface of my facade. I'd keep trying to get your fingers in me.
But in reality, all I really want is for your fingers to enter me not even as far as your first knuckle. You'd pinch my clit between your finger and thumb, feeling it grow swollen.
When I think of you touching me like this, you are seated in your chair and you have me pushed up against the desk. One hand is exploring my glistening pussy and the other starts to squeeze my stomach on my side. I'm fighting that touch because I want to rock my hips down onto more of your hand, but you are solidly holding me into place.
Eventually, as you stick your fingers in deeper but still leave full penetration to be desired, you grow tired of me trying to set the pace. You stand up, make me taste your fingers and me on them, and then move to be seated on your bed, bending me over your lap to punish me for not appreciating your touch at the speed you've offered.
"You need a lesson in patience. You are always asking for more, moving too fast."
You hit my ass hard at first, and then you wait. I'm a little nervous to say anything at all, so you hit me again.
"Say sorry for rushing me, slut. Tell me I'm in charge. Learn how to follow my lead."
I stammer out apologies in desperation, all while you are hitting me, not as hard as before but quick and repetitively so you can see a red glow start to adorn my cheeks. You pull aside my panties again and I beg you to forgive me and give me your gentle, but determined touch again. Being fingered while bent over someone's lap truly does not happen enough to me, but feels so good in a vulnerable, anticipatory way.
I'm wet for you now, Daddy, in the story and in real life.
Before you finger me again, I feel you put one hand on my lower back and reach to grab my feet, lifting them off the floor, crossing my ankles, and bending my knees so my toes reach your mouth. The adjustment moves my head closer to the floor, which makes me feel even dirtier, as does being bent over in just my panties while you are fully clothed.