Service

She came home with a cloud about her shoulders. I recognized it immediately, in the heavy fall of her boots and the weight on her neck, guiding her eyes downward. How it pained me to see her so crestfallen, those proud, strong shoulders slumped inward. I went to her side in a moment, taking from her the burdens of her bag, her coat, her hat and gloves.

"Let me draw you a bath," I said, my hand floating up on instinct to wrap around the back of her neck. "You can relax now, Daddy."

"No," she said, her voice stern, hardened. "I want you, baby. I need you on your knees."

There was no questioning it. There was nothing else to say. Her voice was low, a monotone hum of furious need. She let my hand rest against her for a moment, her downcast eyes closing for one grounding breath, and then she was on me.

Her hand clamped down around my wrist and pulled it from her neck, the force of her overwhelming me.

"I want you on your fucking knees," she said again, and this time her voice had come alive. Every syllable was drenched in emotion, her thumb on my pulse pressing deeper as if in search of something.

"Yes, Daddy," I said, breathless.

It didn't matter, then, what it was: some asshole on the street walking home, or the bark of the foreman at work. It didn't matter if she was stressed about bills or her broken-down car in the driveway or a shitty phone call with her mother. She was there, with me, in that moment. She was there, with me, to take back her power.

She pulled me to the bedroom, her eyes meeting mine to scan my face for a brief moment, searching for a hesitation that she never found, but sought out all the same. She barreled through commands while she rifled through her dresser--take your panties off, on your knees, face the wall--and pulled out her strap. She disappeared into the bathroom, reappearing with a bulge in her jeans and her shoulders pulled back. I wondered if she glanced in the mirror at all. I wondered if she tried to shake off the shame that plagued her, if the sight of her strapped, denim-clad reflection acted as a balm. I wondered if she felt at home in her body again, or if she needed me to help her get there.

"You follow directions well, you fucking slut," she said when she came into the room. My back was to her, my head downturned, my hands resting on my thighs. She gripped my head in a tight grasp, the breadth of her fingers arching over my scalp mercilessly. "Are you going to be a good little bitch for me? Are you going to follow orders?"

"Yes, Daddy," I said.

I took her words in like water, lapping at them hungrily. Her voice, and the way she used it on me, triggered an avalanche of pleasure in my chest. I was warm between my thighs, my toes twitching with anticipation as my thoughts grew quiet and malleable.

"I'm going to use you long and hard, baby," she said. "You're my little toy."

"Yes, Daddy!" I said.

She came around, her body filling the space between the wall and my face. Her jeans were straining around her butchcock, her zipper glinting under dim lights. I gripped my thighs tighter, my cunt already twitching.

"You want it hard tonight, you filthy fucking whore?"

Her hands spread wide around the back of my head. I bowed beneath the weight of her fist. My mouth was so close to her butchcock I could nearly taste it. My mind was silent.

"Yes, Daddy."

"You want me to fuck you? To use your tight little holes?"

"Yes, Daddy!"

"Show me how badly you want it," her fingers tugged at my hair, and I squealed.

I could say nothing else, as she pulled my face forward, smothering me against the crotch of her jeans. Her goading laugh, the teasing bite to her words floated down over my shoulders and all the while, I lapped at her. Sunken down into the depths of submission, I was pliable. I was wanton. I was perfect here, with her.

My teeth smacked against her zipper, her fingers moving ruthless over my scalp while I ran my tongue up and down the length of her. I urged her forward, teased her out, until one hand finally moved to unbutton.

"You're going to open that pretty little mouth of yours, girl," she said, reaching down past her denim. "You're going to show me what a hungry little cockslut you are for your Daddy."

Her voice flowed like water through my mind, clearing out every stray thought so only her commands could stick, could pool down into the foundations of my mind.

"Yes, Daddy," I mumbled, my lips slick with saliva. "Yes, please let me suck your cock. Please let me show-"

"Shut the fuck up, you stupid whore," she cut me off, and my breath caught in my throat. She pulled her cock out to free her hand so she could grip my chin fiercely. Her thumb and forefinger pinched my lips, releasing me only to hand two heavy smacks across my cheek. "Open your fucking mouth."

She held my head in her hand, the strength in her grip anchoring me to her, and with her other hand plucked her butchcock from her jeans. The silicone was warm and fragranced by her own rising pleasure, and my mouth watered all the more. Still, my mind was quiet. I followed the sound of my own breath, more keenly aware of the sensations taking over my body. My nerves cleaved to her, molecules coalescing to cry out in rapture and agony.

Daddy pressed the head of her cock to my lips and I took her in with a sigh, my eyes fluttering closed. I inched closer to her, my knees bumping up against her toes as I leaned back. It was thoughtless, instinctual, a primal movement of our bodies. She gripped me harder, and in turn I softened, pumping out my chest and dipping my head back.

"There's a pretty girl," she whispered, the slightest shake in her voice. "You just love having your mouth used by Daddy, don't you?"

There were no words, of course, only a delirious moan. Briefly, I plucked her cock from my mouth, to run my tongue along her shaft, to rip something more guttural from her throat, but I was hungry. I couldn't stand to be without her, to feel so empty once again. So I took her back into me, wrapping my lips around the molded veins of her dick, and I gave, and gave, and gave. I bobbed up and down, building up momentum and driving myself further down onto her. She groaned at the sight of me, at the feeling of my hair, so delicate in her hands. I sat there, choking and sputtering on aching knees, and I felt so pretty I nearly cried.

"What a fucking good girl," Daddy sighed. "You're making Daddy very proud."

Such tender words she spoke, as she pulled at my hair more fiercely than ever before. I cried out as she pulled me away from her cock, slapping me across the face once more.

"You like that, you hungry little whore?" her voice was thunderous, joyous. "Don't fucking pout. God, you're pathetic."

She gripped me by the hair, by the throat, and locked me in her embrace. Her cock plunged into my mouth again, my throat straining against her bulbous head.

"Take it for Daddy," she groaned, her hands squeezing, her hips bucking forward. "Show me how much you want it, babydoll. My perfect little whore."

"Please, Daddy!" I cried out when she finally released me. I didn't know what I was asking for, but I knew it didn't matter. She would bring me back all the same.

Again and again, she pulled me back to her. Her hand roamed around in cruelty and kindness and her words did much the same. She rained filth down upon me with the same cadence as one singing a nursery rhyme, and I could do nothing but melt before her. I could do nothing but submit, to give in to the delights she laid out for me. For Daddy, I could only open myself, exposed and vulnerable, so that she could feast. I sat before her, stoic and receptive, waiting for her calloused hands to reach for my shoulders, to grip me and foist me up. I knew what would come when she did: the rope around my limbs, the bruising on my ass and thighs, the collar. My pussy dripped in anticipation, but I knew how to wait. I knew I would be gasping, inhalation shaky and muffled against a tear-soaked pillow, when the time came. I knew I would be surrounded by her, filled by her, given all of her. I knew that here, with her, I could be of service. I could be perfect, for her.

I just needed to be patient.