Daddy opened the door and ushered Samantha downstairs. She knew what was waiting for her, Daddy's playroom. The thought instantly made her wet. She loved Daddy's playroom. It was hidden away behind his man cave. 'The storage room' they called it to anyone who came to visit. Sure it was a storage room; it stored their deepest, darkest secrets and their wildest fantasies.
Samantha had been a good girl lately, and tonight Daddy wanted to play. Their lives looked very normal to a casual observer, maybe a little eyebrow raise at the age difference, but aside from that, they seemed to be a normal happy couple. She worked outside the home as a corporate lawyer for a Fortune 500 company, and he worked from home, running his successful home based business. Every day she when she came home, she kissed his cheek, set down her bags, and after stripping off the trappings of the world, knelt before him in her panties, collar in hand. The weight of the world left her as he clasped it around her neck. Samantha loved her career, but she loved being Daddy's more.
The smell of leather and polish stimulated her senses as they entered the playroom. Normally, cleaning and polishing were her jobs, but it smelled fresh. Daddy must have been in here earlier today preparing for tonight. When allowed to wear clothing in the house, she routinely grabbed Daddy's shirt from the previous day, just so she could smell him as she went about her chores. Walking through the door, she could often tell what was for dinner before going into the kitchen or asking. The playroom's distinct smell was one of her favorites. It may have been one of her tasks to clean the playroom, but it was never a chore to be here.
Daddy pulled her in tight and raised her chin to look into her eyes. She gasped. He was the single handsomest man she had ever laid eyes on. The girls at work often commented on how good looking he was. They pretended that they thought it was weird she was with someone fifteen years her elder, but she knew that they were jealous of her. His intense chocolate gaze stripped all of Samantha's secrets away and crystallized the knowledge that she was completely his.
He kissed her and she was transported. The first time they had kissed, she knew that every kiss before that had been a poor display of passion. And now, every time he kissed her it was like the first time. Her knees would go weak, her breath shallowed, and the world slipped away. Nothing existed except the two of them.
Breaking the kiss, he forced her to her knees. "It's time, my little slut." The harshness of his words were not offensive or jarring but instead comforting. Samantha knew her place and smiled as he undid his belt and released his impressive cock. Immediately she began to suck it. As she did, her small hands massaged his balls and she looked up at him. Some nights it was 'normal', nothing but a release for him. Others were playful, a precursor to an eventful evening. And still others were forceful, a hole for him to fuck. Those nights he gained immense pleasure from the pleading in her eyes as he shoved his dick down her throat and she gagged.
But tonight was a precursor to play, so the sucking and licking was intended to harden his beautiful member. He tasted clean and wonderful, and she felt the dampness between her legs intensify as she knelt on the soft rug. He let her do the work, leaving his hips inactive while she bobbed up and down. Daddy ran his hands along Samantha's hair, wrapping her ponytail around his wrist, smoothing the fly aways. She smiled. It felt so good when he touched her.
Daddy became harder and soon she tasted the sweet, saltiness of his precum. That was her signal to stop. He grabbed her ponytail as she popped off, drooling as he stood her up. She looked at the carpet beneath her, a soothing pale green carpet that calmed her. She took a deep breath.
"Hands behind your back." He left her momentarily and when he came back she felt a scratchy roughness along her back. Daddy was very good with the rope. It wrapped around her wrists and her torso, weaving through her legs and over her shoulders. He tightened the knots and stood back to appreciate his creation. She felt beautiful and proud. His work of art. She loved the security of the rope and the freedom that lay in the bondage. It was something she could never explain to anyone, and the very words didn't seem to make sense, but the feeling did.
Daddy gently led her to the incline bench. What used to be a tool for working his muscles had been transformed into a tool to work her over. "Face down." When it came to instructions, Daddy was short and to the point. Their conversations otherwise were lengthy and involved, it seemed there was always something interesting to discuss, but in the playroom the roles were simple. He instructed and she obeyed.
He helped her lay so her head was at the bottom of the incline. He secured her feet to the floor. Her ass, which retained the remnants of previous sessions, was raised even higher with a bolster secured under her hips. Samantha sighed deeply, knowing that soon she would feel the sting of the strap, or belt, or flogger, or crop, whatever implement he decided to utilize tonight.
"It's the belt tonight, young lady. Twenty five, to add some nice color to those cheeks. Count!"
"Yes, Sir."
She felt him rub it against her skin. It was thick, and braided, and she knew from experience that it provided a very intense stroke. He walked up to where her head lay on the bench and squatted next to her. Daddy brushed the hair from Samantha's face, "give it a little kiss" She gently kissed the soft leather. He stood and went to her rear, rubbing the belt along her skin as he went.
"Here we go." And with that, the first stroke. No matter how many times they played, no matter how he warned her it was coming, the first stroke always took her breath away. They continued and she counted them all, gasping in between each contact. Occasionally he would pause to feel the heat that was rising from her buttock. It was soothing torture to feel the gentleness of his hand. Then the strokes continued. About twenty strokes in, the tears formed, and though she tried to hold back, at the end, she moaned out, "Twenty five Sir, thank you Sir" and began to sob. She heard him exhale in satisfaction. He placed the belt on the nearby table and unstrapped her legs. Helping her up, he put her in the corner. Tears continued to flow as he stood behind her, one hand caressing her rear end, teasing her nipples and checking her wetness while the other wrapped around her shoulders, pulling her into him. He kissed her neck and bit her earlobe lovingly, then whispered in her ear, "yes, that is my good girl, yes, good baby girl."
Her sobbing slowed then ceased. The tears dried up, though her pussy did not. It was wet when he had opened the basement door, it became wetter as she had sucked his shaft, and it was positively dripping now.
Still securely tied, Daddy led her to the couch. He quickly removed his pants and shorts and she had an opportunity to gaze at his body. Not only was Daddy tall, dark, and handsome, he had defined abs, strong arms and a nice ass. She enjoyed the moment.
Daddy sat down and helped Samantha straddle his lap. Her balance was off while so securely tied. He positioned her hips directly above his large, hard dick, and lowered her onto it. He loved the look on her face when he took her pussy. It didn't happen very often. He liked her mouth and adored fucking her ass. Plus the absence of any pussy stimulation kept her a bit on the needy side, always hungry for his cock. When she did get the privilege of feeling him fill her up, her head lulled, her eyes rolled to the back of their sockets, and her body positively trembled. How another human being could control her actions with a single movement never failed to blow Samantha's mind, though at the moment she was thinking of little else than the pleasure coursing through her veins.
Daddy began to move his hips ever so slightly, and she matched his rhythm with her own. His hands run up and down her back, caressing her skin, while he nipped her breasts and tugged on her nipples with his teeth. The moans escaping her mouth were an aphrodisiac to him. He thrust harder, but still in rhythm while they moved in their own passionate dance for what seemed like hours, content to enjoy each other's bodies.
Daddy slowed his movements and his caressing turned to untying the knots that bound her. He was so good with his hands that it wasn't necessary to see, he instinctively knew where to go and what to do to release her. It was gentle, though every time the rope rubbed against her still hot bottom, she flinched a bit.
When Samantha was untied, she stretched her arms and threw them around his neck. Daddy laughed at the impetuousness of his little girl. She never could resist a good hug.
