He had made her cry. Work sucked, and the mistake was not hers. He'd squandered her hard-earned self esteem to buy an excuse for his incompetence. He was a fraction of a man and she had always handled him with grace, but today he had broken her.
Inside this room, and out, she's a warrior: Boudicca in skirt or panties. She's above him. Her every atom a rebuke to his mundane masculinity. Her appetites a "fuck you" to his four stale weekly wanks. But he had made her cry. Daddy is going to need to do something about that.
Her past lovers would have handled it differently. Some would have said her boss was a schoolboy pulling her hair because he liked her. Some would spew impotent fury, drawing a sketch of violence they wouldn't paint. Her last would have taken his side. But I know what she needs.
She stands before me, straight backed as I always insist, despite the weight of her unjust frustrations. Today had been tough, but it will not be the day when she lets me down. With my thumb I push a tear from the corner of her eye and smooth it into her cheek.
"Please Daddy" she says. She has so many "Please Daddy's". Each a plea for a different ritual. I know what every "Please Daddy" means. Her breath gives each a new meaning, her eyes filled with craving and context. I love each one, but this "Please Daddy" is my favourite.
I strip her of the day, her body soft above her steel. She looks at me, eyes wide, vulnerable, brave. I take a breath and hold it. She holds her breath too. As I see her expectation peak I take my hand from her cheek and grab at her throat hard. I breath out, but she can't.
I squeeze just enough for her to taste her fear, that bitter flavour. I push her onto the bed and she gasps for breath as she falls. I hold her down by the neck and with my thumb still wet, I push a first drop of juice from the opening of her pussy and smooth it into her clit.
Still holding her throat I pull her face closer to mine. Her breath is needy, warm. "Who do you cry for?" I say, and for the first time this evening she smiles. "Nobody" she lies, and her cunt drips onto my fingers. She's becoming defiant. That's just what she needs.
I push my full weight onto her as I grab the straps from the floor. She struggles as I tie her arms down with her head hanging back over the foot of the bed. She tries to kick out at me so I strap her legs open wide. She is helpless. She is mine. I take off my belt.
"Who do you cry for?" I say, and she glowers. "Nobody" she dares me. I stand with her face looking up at me, her body stretched out before me, her legs spread. I lift the belt above her pussy. I take a breath and hold it. She holds her breath too. She gulps down the tension and...
