Buying Daddy’s Freedom

I’m waiting for you as I was instructed to do. I don’t even know your name, but you apparently know mine. My dad says that if I don’t “make you happy” he will go to jail for a long time. I’m the price of his freedom and he is so cowardly that he hides the price behind a euphemism.

I’m 18 and at 5’1″, I’m the smallest person in my class. I’m wearing my school uniform as I was asked to do: white blouse, short plaid pleated skirt, striped tie, white cotton bra and panties, white socks, flat shoes. My short brown hair is in an alice-band. I’m not wearing make-up. I wonder why you want me to look so childish. Are you afraid of women? Can I use that against you? Or are you just making a point?

I arrived at the discrete but luxurious hotel that you named in your note and was lead into this suite by a bellhop who devoured me with his eyes.

“There’s a package for you Miss,” he said and handed me a box wrapped in gold paper and tied with a blue ribbon.

I thanked him. He looked at me with a strange smile on his face.

“Have a good evening Miss,” he said. As he left he let his thumb stroke down the outside of the erection I could see growing in his pants.

I felt soiled and wanted to leave, but I’ve never seen my dad so frightened of anyone as he is of you. I’m determined to be brave. I know I’m strong enough to get through this.

I sit down on the edge of the four poster bed and see myself in the full-length mirror opposite. I look pale and small and frightened.

There is a card on the box. It says “Put these on with your hands behind your back, kneel facing the mirror and wait”.

I realise that the bellhop would have read this. I blush with shame. No wonder he was hard when he left.

I open the box and find a pair of black leather padded handcuffs joined with a single ring that will keep the wearers hands very close together. I can see that they will lock when closed. There is no key. I follow your instructions.

Now I am kneeling with my hands locked behind me and resting on my arse. My back is straight and my breasts are pushed forward. My skirt doesn’t quite cover my knees. I look at myself in the mirror and wonder what you will do to me. We have never met. I don’t know what you look like. I just know that my dad is very scared of you. In my own eyes I can see the fear. I stare into the mirror until I replace the fear with anger and the calm that comes with controlling that anger.

I close my eyes and I start to wait…

* * * * *

I’d expected humiliation maybe even pain. I was ready for it. Resigned to it. I hadn’t expected, didn’t want, arousal.

I think it was the blindfold. I’d meant to stare at you; to dare you to take pleasure in fucking me; to let you know what a shit I think you are. The blindfold robbed me of that. Left me only with touch and smell and taste. Senses that betrayed me. The feel of your cock against my bound hands should have revolted me but it sent shivers through me. So hard. So insistent. So male. Then your tongue on my skin, in my mouth, while your cock pushed and pushed.

I struggled. I am not a slut. I will not enjoy this. I’m doing it only for Daddy.

So now I’m laid over an armchair, my arse in the air, your hand on the waistband of my panties, and what I want more than anything is for you not to see that my panties are damp.

“Are you going to be a good girl?” you ask. Your voice is so strong, a mixture of passion, control and just a hint of cruelty.

“What do you want?” I say, hoping you will hear hatred in my voice.

“Everything you have to give. Anything I care to take,” you say as you rip the panties from me. Your fingers slide into my cunt, fast and uncaring. I try to move away but you pull me back by the hands, pushing your fingers deeper.

“Wet little cunt, and still a virgin – so rare these days – well a girl’s first time should always be special,” you say and my hymen rips beneath your fingers.

I scream “BASTARD”. You remove your hand. I relax, trying not to cry. I knew you would take me. I should be ready for this – but I’m not. Now I’m ashamed; ashamed of being a virgin; ashamed of my father for letting this happen; ashamed of myself for letting you get to me.

You lean over me and pull my shoulders back so that I’m lifted upwards and my body pivots on my clit which is pressed against the arm of the chair. Your cock is between my legs. I feel it like a hot poker. Your hand, the hand that has just deflowered me, is under my nose. It smells of cunt and blood. I move my head sideways with a mou of disgust but you slip the two fingers into my mouth.

“Clean them Alice. Suck them,” you whisper in my ear. I hesitate and feel your cock start to move against the lips of my cunt. I suck, bobbing my head on your fingers. Trying to distract you from my cunt.

“Virgin you may have been, but that mouth of yours has sucked cock hasn’t it Alice?”

Your fingers leave my mouth. You push me down hard against the chair and SLAP, SLAP, you hit my arse hard.

“Answer me Alice.”

“Yes I’ve sucked cock” I say quietly.


“Louder girl” my arse is stinging my tears are making the blindfold wet
“YES I’VE SUCKED COCK” I shout and with a single violent movement your cock slides all the way into my cunt.

You grab my hips and you fuck me hard. Pounding me. Thinking nothing of my pleasure. You feel huge to me. So hard and brutal. Each time you pound me my clit hits the chair. I’m aroused but I’ll never come like this, but you don’t care. Then you grunt and I know you’re about to come inside me.

You spurt. It feels hot and so much more invasive than coming in my mouth. Grunt, thrust, grunt, thrust, each thrust sending more invaders into my womb. My arse and thighs are bruised. My cunt feels torn.

You pull out with an audible plop.

I cry “No” and neither of us knows if I want you to stop or continue. You leave my arse exposed and walk in front of me.

“Clean it Alice. Suck it,” and you push your cock past my lips, putting the head in my mouth. When I start to suck you remove the blindfold and pull back my head back by the hair until I am looking you in the eyes. I bare my teeth around the head of your cock and throw my Medusa glare at you.

You do not turn to stone but your cock stiffens a little.

“You are a brave girl,” you say grinning down at me with your perfect white teeth “pity your father is so weak. Take your time getting me hard again. We have all night.”

* * * * *

It’s nearly morning now. I am almost ready to go home. Just as soon as I stop shaking. You really shouldn’t have said that about my daddy. You let the demon out. I tried so hard to control her.

I think you saw it in my eyes when she took over; when she bit down hard on your intrusive flesh.

The bruises on my face tell me you must have hit me hard and often, but I didn’t feel the blows. There was just anger and the rending of flesh.
My head caught you in the belly and you fell backwards. The demon clamped down hard and suddenly there was blood everywhere. You hit your head on the way down. I don’t think you were conscious for long. I spat you out and in the mirror I saw the demon, bathed in blood, staring at me. Then she was gone and the trembling began.

I could have called an ambulance. It might have helped. Instead I sat by you until you were cold.

Soon I’ll take the keys from the dresser and take off these cuffs. Your shirt and trousers, placed with such precision on the chair, should cover me once I’ve showered. So much blood. Sticky now, like tar on a hot day. The girl in the mirror looks so small but soon she will be ready to go home, to daddy.

© 2005 Mike Kimera. All rights reserved. Content may not be copied or used in whole or part without written permission from the author.

Mike Kimera’s short story collection, Writing Naked, is now available at Amazon UK / Amazon CA

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