Daddy Punishes his Princess

Realistic fiction, close to my current relationship dynamic and scenario. This is my first story on Literotica. Enjoy, freaky people. Feedback appreciated :) Chapters weekly. At least 10 parts.

Why is it that I am so nervous to merely exist? Miriam rarely had the prime opportunity to be the true, 5'9, 155 lb, 24-year-old caramel goddess that she envisioned she would grow into back when she was a fantasizing, teenaged girl. Now, as she lay with her slim legs pulled to her ample chest, arms splayed to the sides like in Titanic, cut off from her most handsome lover, Jean, she quietly moaned into her hands. No one would hear her underneath her black, silk duvet. It had been a week since he, the love of her life, her ex-boss, went away on vacation.

She had met Jean LaCroix when she began working as a patrol cop in the northern part of the city a year prior. Him, the perfect V-shaped emblem of masculinity, he seemed eternally thirty in the best way, though he was ten years ahead of that reasonable age estimation. Handsome. His sandy blonde hair curtained his square jawline. It was longer than most men's, yet it was ruggedly intriguing. His look was made more charmingly austere by his narrow, yet expressive, icy, blue eyes and his porcelain complexion. The latter was changeable at a moment's notice by her mere wanton gaze. She had watched his normal pallor turn flush with both desire and shameful glee -- such a human notion- because he was under her scrutiny once more. Jean, a man everyone admired. 5'10 and 200 pounds of Adonis, many nights spent running her hands over his sensitive, bare arms in the police gymnasium. How he would melt into her touch, and her womanhood would be stuffed with his cock not even five minutes later.

Miriam knew that he needed her. In turn, she craved his discipline. Jean used to have her naked body sprawled across his lap, ass up, so that he could spank her hard. She adored these punishments. She was a little bit slutty after all, seducing and fucking her married boss. She'd had so much of his seed in between her legs that it had ruined her for other men. No other man could fill her cunt with seed nine times in a row with no refractory period. His cock was always hard for her, drawn to her. She touched him in a way that no one ever would besides her. His entire cock, enveloped in her pretty mouth. She licked his balls and sucked on them, dressed up for him, kept her cunt shaved for him, and cut her hair for him. Whenever Mira touched Jean, it was with tender love, playful teasing, or submissive grace.

Mira walked to her shower and touched her milky, 34DDs. They'd filled up only in the past week. Mira had been taking Fenugreek and had hormonal fluctuations recently due to changing with her birth control routine. Now, her body was raw and hot, completely in heat, and her breasts had swelled with milk, a side effect of taking specific medications for her mild health conditions. Jean never made her feel bad about herself for having Ehlers Danlos Syndrome, and he stopped when she felt like her joints were going to dislocate during sex. He was such a loving Dominant. Daddy always took such good care of his girl. But now, Mira had been fired, and Daddy needed to punish her. They were always looking for a reason to get rid of Mira, and it hurt. Her attorney had a pretty good case for an emotional distress lawsuit against the Department, as they knew Mira had experienced a violent crime, and some supervisors perpetuated an environment of workplace harassment that left her in tears nearly every day. Quietlly, of course.

Milk emptied out the milk into the tub as the water cascaded down her caramel skin and soaked her curly, tapered locks. She never felt beautiful until this year. Her generous friend Bri's dumpster-diving escapades at Ulta Beauty had produced a skincare routine that would rival that of many celebrities. Her skin had a certain golden glow, underneath her cafe au lait complexion, a combination of her predominately Black American and Italian American heritage. It used to feel like a curse. She had curly hair when every girl wanted flat-ironed straight hair, and thick, dark eyebrows when thin eyebrows a la Gwen Stefani were all-the-rage. Thick, curvaceous thighs, a plump ass, and narrow waist that appeared suddenly as she stopped the hormonal birth control that she had been on for years prior. She slipped two fingers into her wet vagina and felt the slippery egg-white material that meant she was fertile.

Miriam finished scrubbing her body, shaving, and moisturizing her youthful skin. She always made sure to be in as good of a physical disposition as possible for her lover. Jean deserved it. A tired body that worked harder than anyone else at the Department. The Department that fired his young love. They wanted each other every day. The conversations they had, the proclivities they naturally shared- it felt unreal. This wasn't a momentary honeymoon either- they had loved each other for quite some time. His calloused hands had glazed over every centimeter of her velvety skin. He'd cared for her after many physically painful transgressions, moments that she'd otherwise have sobbed through alone. Any way to alleviate his pain even marginally- was a success to Mira. But now, she needed to prepare to submit to his punishment. This loss of time, loss of Jean, it was unbearable. She needed him. She ached for him.

All 20 candles were lit. Her two-bedroom ranch house was aglow in amber ambiance, complete with swirling plumes of incense smoke, whirled further by ceiling fans. An ignominious visitor was to be expected in half an hour, Miriam ran the Swiffer down the hardwood floor and dusted the wooden surfaces once more. She poured him and herself chilled glasses of Moscato. Jean had many fine tastes, and she liked to honor them. In turn, he gifted her and truly tended to her. Many times they just had fun conversations or kissed deeply. She loved him, truly, and he still had trouble sometimes comprehending that she willingly loved serving him.

A knock at the front door signified her lover.

She stood behind the door as she opened it for him. As it shut, she was revealed, Jean's gray tshirt clinging to her bare breasts, hard nipples and large areolas visible through the thin fabric. She stood in only her black boyshorts, no shoes, red nail polish and compression thigh-highs for her blood pressure. Jean locked her door, and sat on the floor near her shoe-rack to take off his worn, black, work boots. She scampered off to her gothic bedroom and laid on her back. Jean entered, adorned only in his navy, 5-11 pants. His gorgeous pectorals and toned obliques glimmered in the candlelight. The faint, smokey remnants of burning, incense cones twirling in the air gave his form a preternatural quality found naught in many men. She went to his feet immediately with tears in her eyes.

"You know what's coming, Mir."

She bowed her head in acknowledgement.

"Sit." He patted the bed next to him.

She plopped beside him. Normally, she would massage his tired muscles or play with his hair at this stage. Tonight, she was unsure of what he had planned.

Jean turned her slightly, and he began massaging her long neck, kissing it, and sinking her shoulders back into his chest. As she relaxed, Jean produced silver shears and grabbed a lock at her nape, crunching it before she knew what was happening. He dropped the disconnected lock on her lap. Mira smiled wryly.

Jean had always loved her curls. They distinguished her from many. She had always joked that if she messed up bad, he could cut her hair. She didn't think he would take her up on that offer.

Jean began severing the curls one by one from the underside of her head at only an inch from the scalp. She felt his cock get hard as it pressed into her wide ass. He was enjoying this! He liked cutting off her hair. It excited her. Her boyshorts were soaked in her lust.

He moaned as he cut off her raven locks. He didn't think shearing her would turn him on this much, but he couldn't ignore the sexiness of the control over this lovely woman. He liked that only he could take her do this to her, snip off these spirals men loved with ease.

Just when Mira thought he was done humiliating her, he pressed her head forward and produced a small, black Wahl. He was shaving her! The clippers were pressed into her nape over and over until the skin was red and all the curls sheared evenly with a #1. He folded and stretched her ears down and buzzed behind each one, flicking the dark curls onto her lap, maliciously. He continued his minstrations until not a strand was over a quarter inch on the back and sides. A little more butch than she preferred, but a lesson had to be delivered. Princess was fired. Not her fault entirely, but she could be a bit too outspoken at times.

"Are you sorry?" he inquired.

"Not enough," Mira replied cheekily.

Jean hoped she'd give him reason to do this. He popped the guard off of the clippers before pinching one of her large, raspberry nipples with one hand. This bitch-that's what she was right now- needed to be punished. He loved spanking her, choking her, spitting in her cunt and shoving his fingers in. Spreading her little tight asshole, inserting a digit. licking her cunt until she ground her clitoris in his face, his chin covered in her cum. Smelling her musk, knowing how badly she wanted his cock inside of her. Watching her act fervently, milking his cock, dripping out his seed. Her pear-shaped breasts leaking milk only for his pleasure and exclusive milking. It was a big responsibility.

Prior to the punishment tonight, Mir had gotten really drunk and confessed that she wanted him to shave her pussy. She'd had a previous lover do it, get on his knees and tend to her lady bits when she was pregnant and couldn't do it herself. Jean had joked that she may as well let him shave her head, and she drunkenly told him to do it. Jean, a gentleman despite the dirty things they did together, refused and insisted it be done when she really needed it.

"Head down." Mira dropped her chin to her chest. Jean roamed the guardless blades up his slut's nape, short, black stubble reduced to almost nothing. The same behind each ear, and then he was shaving her crown to skin. The longest curls on top were shorn, stripped in seconds. Slowly he shaved her back-to front, dropping the soft curls on her lap, clipping paths across her scalp. She loved having men shave her. Her milk was leaking at this point, and her pussy was burning up. She felt this coiling deep within her womb that can only be satisfied with his manhood.

Mira loved going into the barbershop during the summer, and getting a number two buzzcut. The barbers would pretend to be apprehensive, but they secretly delighted in the opportunity to shave the beauty. They would cape her, snip off the length, and buzz her slowly, making sure she was shaved publicly the right way, with all of her curls on the floor. Men would sit in the waiting room transfixed by the shearing, turned on as much as the barber was. He would lightly press his rock-hard member against her as he maneuvered her head and pulled down her ears to clipper her feminine scalp. It started as a way to save money. Her regular barber would shave her for free, for the honor of him doing it. The next few summers, she repeated it after discovering how wonderful it felt to be shaved by men, and so she could focus on her serious career and maternal endeavors. Her mean ex had shorn her nearly bald when she was pregnant years ago after being jealous that another man flirted with her, and she went to a professional to even out the shorn tresses. They'd ended up shaving her with a number one, no cape to hide her little round, pregnant belly. She looked so innocent, proper, short hair and glasses, despite the all-black clothing. Little did they know she enjoyed the way some men stared at her round hips, pregnant belly, and shorn head, clearly turned on but too afraid to admit they liked the preggo butch look. She started doing it annually to make it fun and not a negative event.

Jean pushed her on her back, pulling his shirt over her shorn head, before directing her to her hands and knees. He grabbed the silver bowl from the nightstand and placed it underneath her swollen breasts. With one teat in either hand, he milked her by hand, squeezing the milk to the bottom of her teats, and tugging her nipples rhythmically, roughly handling her relatively-heavy breast tissue until milk was streaming into the bowl. She used to have nipple rings, and he would gladly tug and pierce them again when he did more research. She loved piercings. When they met, she had her tongue pierced. He bent his head and pressed his nose to her cunt...she was ripe. He shoved a few fingers on one hand into her exposed, bald pussy and felt her spongey walls, splaying his fingers to stretch it. Mira moaned as one hand penetrated her and the other milked her like a cow. The orgasm built and hit, her cunt spasming over Jean's rough, calloused, yet maintained, fingers.

After her boobs were deflated and her nipples pointed down again, he mounted her swiftly, cock slipping into her depths until it met her womb entrance.

"You liked it, slut. Tell me."

"I loved it, Daddy."

"Not enough." He spanked her, hard.

"Ow... Daddy I loved it when you punished me."

"That's better, babygirl."

Jean rubbed her shorn scalp. It turned him on to touch the faint bristles, the only remnants of the thick, curly hair he'd happily sheared off. He'd never shaven a woman before, but he'd wanted to be the one to shave her since he'd seen the Instagram photos of her shorn head from summers ago. He could cum thinking about how uniquely sexy she was, with her black-rimmed cat-eye glasses (courtesy of Mira's nearsightedness), curvaceous figure, and perfect, bald pussy. His favorite photo was her holding her pregnant belly in a barber's chair, no cape, hair all over her belly as her little elven head had just been clippered by a man. He loved her slight little belly pooch from motherhood.

He wanted nothing more than to fill her willing womb again, and give her more children one day. Seeing her with his child, barefoot and round, yeah it turned him on. He would keep her shorn the entire time she was pregnant, and he would shave her little pussy when possible. He would sit her in the chair and admire her pregnant, light brown body as it grew. Everyone would know when they went out that he had bred her and made her this way. He had already forbid her from wearing bras when they went out. He liked seeing men stare at his young lover's hard, exposed nipples, knowing if they dared touch, he would break hands. She was his to claim, and his only.

Her body was his to touch, her lips only for his and his cock, her head only to be shorn by him, her milky bosom only to be milked by him, her womb only for him to fill. He knew she got so turned on by his dominance and control, even though she liked to bathe him and shave his face from time to time. He began pummeling her walls, pumping his penis into her brown and pink womanhood. She squeezed him, and came on his cock, so turned on from everything and lost in the ecstasy of being so fertile and being bred properly, after being milked and sheared by her love.

The pulsation of her orgasm was too much. He yanked her nipples, sending a long squirt of milk into the bowl, and he slammed his cock onto her cervix, and came with a roar, grabbing her wide, breeding hips and holding them as he sprayed her womb with his virile seed. His mouth clamped on her shorn nape, marking her breeding. Just the first time of the night. He continued pumping his cock inside of her, immediately hard again and not finished breeding his princess.