Taboo Confessions: The Brat

I COULD SAY THAT I was rebelling against the patriarchy or some shit. Rebelling against all the prudish fuckery of the world. Taking a stand for the perfectly normal sexuality of your average teenage girl. But that would be a bunch of bullshit.

The truth is I did it because it was fun. That's all. Just some fun.

I loved the way his cheeks got all red, the way he'd start to stammer, the way he tried so hard not to look, but just couldn't help himself. His pants would get that telltale tent in them and then he'd get all flustered and try to cover it up but that only drew even more attention to it.

It was fun. The funnest little game.

Until it wasn't a game anymore.

•

I don't know how it all got started. Maybe the first time my dad told me I couldn't leave the house in the outfit I'd put on to go hang out with my friends, or maybe it was the first time I noticed the way men my dad's age would look at me when they thought I wasn't looking, or maybe it was just because it was my last semester of high school and I was bored out of my mind. Whatever it was, that first time I went downstairs in nothing but a tight t-shirt and a pair of panties and my Dad almost choked on his coffee, I'd found my favorite new hobby.

Oh. Sorry. Probably should have mentioned. This little game I'm talking about? I play it with my father. My uptight, goody-two-shoes Dad. The guy who wouldn't know fun if it climbed on his lap and started grinding.

The rules are simple. I put on the most revealing, sluttiest clothes I can and then walk around in front of him until his cheeks turn bright red and he can't think straight anymore.

Bonus points if he has to excuse himself to go upstairs.

Pretty sure I know what he's doing up there all alone in his room, the pervert, but who am I to judge? The guy hasn't gotten laid since Mom left 3 or 4 years ago.

I'd almost feel sorry for him if he didn't have such a huge stick up his butt.

Maybe parading my body around in front of my father isn't the nicest game, but it sure is fun. He tries to act like he doesn't notice, but he does. He always does. His eyes crawl all over my body then he gets all embarrassed and self conscious and sputtery.

And every time I go to stay with my mom, I come back with more slutty things to torture him with.

Mom doesn't care what I dress like, She says you're only young once and if you've got it, you should flaunt it. And she has an insanely high limit on her credit card and loves taking me shopping.

Score.

So I had drawers and drawers full of the shortest skirts, the tightest tops, all kinds of bra and panties and bodysuits. The kinds of things that would make a stripper blush and my Daddy lose the ability to form words with his mouth when he saw me walking around the living room in them.

And if I really wanted a thrill, I'll plop done next to him on the couch looking like I'm about to star in my first porn film and watch him get very very still and break out in a cold sweat.

If you've never made a man break out in a cold sweat, I highly recommend it. Instant ego boost.

The longer I did it, the more I pushed the boundaries of what I thought I could get away with. Flashing Daddy little glimpses of my panties under my tiny skirts, bending over in a loose shirt so he could see my bare tits, coming down to breakfast in a sleek lace bodysuit with my bathrobe wide open.

I just kept pushing the limit and the pushing it some more.

You can call me a brat, if you want. I don't care. I've been called worse. By my own father, actually. When he'd finally had enough and taught me what happens to brats like me.

I'd been called a slut a million times. Mostly by boys at school who were made I wouldn't let them fuck me. But I'd never been called a whore before. And I'd never been bent over and fuck like a rag doll, either.

And the truth is, I kind of liked it.

Even if I did keep saying "No, Daddy" while he did it to me.

Daddy likes it when I say things like that now. He likes it when I put up a little fight.

And I like it, too.

I like how it makes him get even rougher with me. How he'll just overpower me and take me. How he'll call me a brat and a slut and a whore.

Maybe I am a brat, but it got me what I deserved, even if I didn't know that I wanted it.

•

It happened one afternoon when I didn't have anything better to do. I think it was a Saturday. Daddy was home and reading in his armchair in the living room like he always did when he wasn't working. And oh my God I was so bored. All my friends had gone to the beach but I had a paper to write so my dad made me stay home.

Stuck at home pulling 800 words on the fall of the Roman Empire out of my butt while all my friends were out having a great time without me.

I don't know if that your idea of fun, but it sure as hell isn't mine.

I was bored and I was pissed at my dad for not letting me go. Maybe that's why I decided to push the boundaries the furthest I've ever taken.

First, I went downstairs in my tiniest bikini. If I couldn't go to the beach, I'd bring the beach to me.

I mean, I call it a bikini, but it was really just a few tiny triangles of fabric held together by some tie strings. It exposed my skin that it could ever cover. It barely even covered my nipples, and the bottoms hung so low you could tell that I kept the hair between my legs completely shaved.

And I know Dad noticed that. It was the first place his eyes went when I walked past him into the kitchen. They went right between my legs, then up to my tits, barely contained by those tiny slips of fabric string.

His cheeks went instantly red and he brought his book up higher in a pathetic attempt to hid his face.

First round to me, I'd say, but I was only getting started.

I paraded around in that bikini all afternoon, making up all kinds of excuses to walk right past my Daddy's chair. Needed some water. Needed to check something in the backyard. Needed to get something out from under the couch, kneeling with my barely covered ass up to give him a good look.

He had to keep his book in his lap for a little while after that one, but I couldn't help but notice how that book seemed to me hovering an inch above his lap. Somebody was pretty hard.

Round two to me.

But round three was the biggest play I'd ever tried to make. I waited until Dad ordered some dinner for us -- I think it was pizza, Dad was never very daring about take out -- and hopped into the shower. When he called up that dinner had come, I was in my room, naked, toweling myself draw. I'd timed it perfectly.

I pulled on my bathroom, tied it as loosely as I could and went downstairs in nothing but that. And when my not really a knot came undone coming down the stairs and my bathrobe fell open, my Dad saw everything.

Every bare inch of his bratty little girl.

My little plan had worked out just as I'd hoped. Daddy had looked up to see me and the bathrobe fell open and there I was.

Only, his cheeks didn't flush red this time. His whole face was red. And his fists were clenched.

One look into his eyes and I could see that I'd finally pushed my Daddy too far.

•

"What the hell do you think you're doing?" he snapped.

His eyes were dark and scary, his face bright red. He kept clenching and unclenching his fists. I don't think I've ever seen him so angry in my entire life. Not even when I failed my Chemistry mid term last year.

"Daddy," I whimpered, all the play sucked right out of me in an instant. I was scared. Genuinely scared. "I'm sorry, I'll go put on some clothes."

But Daddy was just getting started. "I think it's a little late for that. You've been prancing around the house all day looking like a fucking stripper and now this?! Just flashing your whole damn body at me?! How the hell do you think that's okay?!"

"I'm sorry, Daddy. I'll go get clothes on."

I turned to go back up the stairs, but Daddy took two big steps towards me, grabbed my by hair on the back of my head and yanked me into the living room.

"Daddy! You're hurting me."

"Good," he growled. "Your Daddy is going to do a lot worse than this in a second.

He tugged the bathrobe off me, leaving me naked and too scared to even think of moving. I didn't know what he was going to do to me. But Jesus was he angry.

A tug on my hair and suddenly he was sitting on the couch and I was sprawled over his knees, face down, my bare ass in the air. He still had one had in my hair, pulling so tight it really hurt, but I could feel the other hand on my ass, rubbing a little circle with his palm on my skin.

"Daddy has to teach you a lesson," he said.

I knew what he was going to do then, and now it was my turn to feel my cheeks go beat red. "Daddy! No! You can't!"

He brought his hand up and then down again. Hard. So fucking hard. There was a loud crack and I jumped.

I hadn't been spanked since I was a little girl. I'd forgotten how much it hurt. How humiliating it was. There I was, an 18-year old girl on her Daddy's knees while he brought his hand down again and again and again on my bare ass.

God, it hurt. And it was so fucking humiliating.

Being spanked like a little girl again. Daddy's hand smacking on my skin, sending sharp shivers of pain through my whole body.

"Please, Daddy," I begged. "Stop. It hurts."

He kept spanking my ass while I whimpered and squirmed on his lap. The more I squirmed, the harder he spanked me.

At some point I started crying.

And at some point I noticed the hard lump pressing into my stomach.

Oh, shit. Daddy had an erection. A huge fucking one from the feel of it.

Was it seeing me naked? Having me naked squirming on his lap? Or spanking me like he used to when I misbehaved. I guess it didn't really matter.

I could probably give myself a point for making Daddy hard, but I didn't care about that anymore.

The only thing I cared about was how much those spanks hurt and how hard my Daddy was now. I kept squirming as he bruised my ass and he kept getting harder and bigger.

Punishing me was definitely turning him on, and if I'm being honest, it was turning me on, too.

I could feel my little pussy getting wetter, the juices starting to flow, they were going to be dripping down my legs if he kept this up and he'd see how wet I was making myself and that would be even more humiliating than being put across Daddy's knees and spanked like I was still in pigtails.

This was the worst thing ever. Even worse because it made me desperately want to rub my little clit while did this to me.

It was already aching for my fingers. My pussy, too. I just wanted this to be over so I could go upstairs and lie in bed with the tears streaming down my face and fuck myself until I came. How fucked up is that?

But I wasn't going to be going upstairs any time soon. Daddy was just getting started.

"Well, well," he said, his voice scary and cold. "Looks like someone has a little problem. Is this turning you on, you little slut?"

Oh, shit. He could see how wet this was making me.

"Do you like getting spanked by your Daddy, you little brat? Is that why you've been taunting me for so long? Just wanting for me to punish you so you can get a little thrill?"

"No, Daddy..." I stammered, but he cut me off with another crack of his hand on my ass.

"Oh, Daddy is going to punish you all right," he hissed. "Daddy's going to show you what happens to little sluts who tease their fathers."

"Please Daddy, don't. I'll be good. I promise."

"Too fucking late, whore."

His hand slipped down between my legs, fingers touching my wet pussy lips, rubbing at them, teasing them.

"This does turn you on," he smirked, "You're fucking soaking wet."

I whimpered again, but from fear or excitement I didn't know. Or care.

My hips moved all on their own, raising my ass, driving his fingers harder against my cunt. Daddy drove them into me, sliding them between my lips. At least two fingers, maybe three. I was so desperate for them I couldn't even tell. But it felt so good.

"Greedy fucking whore. Is this what you wanted your Daddy to do? Fuck you with his fingers?"

"No, Daddy," I protested. But yeah. I did. Really fucking badly.

He drove them in and out of me, so hard and fast I could hear how wet I was, I could hear the squelching sound of a pussy that was just gushing with juices.

Holy Christ was I turned on.

And based on how hard his cock was, so was my father. It felt like a stone pillar pressed against my stomach.

Jesus, I wanted it in me. I would have given anything to have it in my cunt.

Daddy's fingers were doing their job. I could feel my stomach tighten, could feel a warm glow starting to build.

Fuck, I was going to come. On my Daddy's lap with his bruises on my ass and his fingers in my cunt.

"Daddy, stop," I whimpered. "You're going to make me come."

And he just kept finger fucking me harder and harder.

"Daddy, please."

But it was too late. That glow in my belly exploded, ripped through me. I lost what little control I had left. Just shook and shuddered and groaned and came.

I don't remember ever coming that hard before.

Daddy kept driving those finger into me until it was all over and I was lying there with my cheeks wet, my cunt aching, and my ass sore.

I couldn't believe what had just happened. Couldn't even breath.

Dad had spanked me like a brat. And then he'd finger fucked me. And I'd fucking liked it.

All of it.

I didn't know what to do or what to say, but Daddy didn't give me any time to recover and gather my thoughts. He just pushed me off his lap, threw my bathrobe at me, and ordered me to go upstairs.

"You're grounded, young lady. Until you learn to behave like a proper young woman."

Wiping the tears from my eyes, I slipped on my bathrobe, tied it tight and stomped up the stairs to my room, confused and scared and angry, feeling the wetness between my legs, down my thighs.

I'd just had the best orgasm of my life.

And I wanted more.

Fucking hell.

•

Alone in my room, I could finally catch my breath again and at least start to process what my Daddy had just done to me.

He'd spanked me. And fucked me. With his fingers. And I'd liked it.

A lot.

Fuck.

I could tell my mom. I could get him in so much trouble. She'd yell and scream and maybe even call the cops on him. She'd make sure he could never do anything like that to me ever again. The only trouble was, I wanted him to do it again.

I wanted him to do it all again and then do even more.

So, yeah. I wasn't going to tell my mom. And he definitely wasn't going to tell my mom.

Mom would make it stop and I didn't want it to stop. I wanted him to hurt me more and fuck me more and use his fingers and his cock and whatever he wanted on me.

Jesus, my cunt was aching at the thought of it. Daddy's hands. Daddy's cock.

I opened my robe, let my fingers wander down between my legs, rubbed myself, thinking about the anger on my Daddy's face, the hunger in his eyes.

I wanted it. I needed it.

I had to make my Daddy do it to me again.

And by the time I made myself come, laying there in my bed with my robe wide open, my legs spread, my fingers fucking my cunt just like Daddy's had, moaning his name, I already had a plan.

•

I gave my Dad a few days. A few days to feel safe again. To think maybe I'd learned my lesson.

Oh, I'd learned my lesson all right. Just not the lesson he thought he was teaching me.

And he did start to relax. At least a little bit. He stopped looking up quite so warily every time I came down the stairs in the morning, stopped bracing himself whenever I came into the room, he even forgot I was supposed to be grounded and let me go see a movie with my friend Jackie.

That was his first mistake. His second mistake was deciding to stay up and wait for me to come home so he could lecture me about staying out past my curfew.

When I walked through that door, he had a lot more to be angry about other than how late I was.

For one thing, I'd changed out of the clothes I'd been wearing when I left the house earlier that night. The last time he'd seen me, I was in a pair of jeans and a comfy t-shirt, but now I was in a tiny little tube skirt and a crop top. Oh, and I'd ditched the underwear, as well. There was nothing under my clothes other than my aching cunt and my hard little nipples. That crop top was nice and tight, too. So Daddy could see those nipples poking through the fabric. And he did notice. His eyes went right to them when I stumbled through the door, reeking of alcohol.

Oh, we didn't go to any movie. We went to a party and got drunk. With boys. Lots of boys. Drinking and dancing, and yeah, their hands were all over me. And I mean all over me.

And I told Dad all about it while he stood there, sputtering at me.

"What are you going to do, Dad?" I snarled. "Are you going to spank me again? Are you going to shove your fingers in me? Got you hard, didn't it. Finger fucking your little girl. I could feel how hard it made you."

Oh, that did it. Dad's eyes went stone cold. His face darkened.

I don't think I've ever seen him that angry ever. And it made my cunt twitch.

He growled and lunged for me, his hand snaking out, grabbing me by the hair, dragging me to the wall and throwing me up against it, face first. It happened so fast I didn't even have time to react.

In the blink of an eye, he had me pressed against the wall, one hand on the back of my neck, the other sliding down between us to grab the bottom of that short, tight tube of a skirt. He yanked it up, exposing my bare ass.

"Is this what you like, Daddy?" I teased. "Is this what gets that dick hard? Throwing your little girl around? Hurting her?"

His palm slide over my ass. Warm on my skin. I shuddered at his touch, aching for that first spank.

I didn't have to wait long. He drew his hand back, brought it down on my ass. Hard. So fucking hard. I jerked against the wall in surprise and pain.

Another smack.

And another.

"Daddy, you're hurting me."

"Good," he growled and smacked my ass even harder.

Again.

And again.

And again.

I was whimpering now. My cunt dripping. My ass screaming in pain. I didn't want him to stop, though. I wanted him to keep hurting me. I wanted him to teach me.

Daddy was growling under his breath as he smacked my ass bright red. Calling me the filthiest names, the filthiest things. He said I was a whore, a slut, a dirty little bitch. A never ending stream of angry filth and it only made my cunt drip even harder.

My whole body felt warm and tingly, heat spreading from my aching ass to the tips of my fingers. And he just kept whacking at my cheeks. Over and over and over.

The whimpers were getting louder, my legs getting wetter, juices dripping down my thighs.

Fuck, I liked this. I liked my father beating my ass and calling me names. Treating me like a brat, making me feel like a dirty whore.

The best part? Being completely helpless. Held against the wall and helpless as he beats me.

So fucking hot.

Daddy was breathing hard, his hand lingering on my ass longer and longer after each spank, his fingers sliding over my raw skin before pulling his hand back and smacking it again. Slowly he was touching me more than hurting me, but never letting go of my hair, never releasing me.

Suddenly his fingers were between my legs again, sliding down and touching me, gliding over my pussy lips, brushing against my clit.

I moaned and spread my legs a little wider.

"Is this how you let those boys touch you, you little whore?" he growled, fingers slipping into my cunt.

He started fucking me with them, sliding them in and out as I moaned into the wall.

"What's wrong, Daddy?" I teased. "Are you jealous? Do you think my cunt is only for you, you fucking pervert?"

My dad growled something about me being a filthy fucking tease, but I noticed how he didn't deny it, and he didn't stop fucking me with his fingers. He kept driving them in and out, harder and harder, pressing me nice and tight against the wall.

He was hard. I couldn't feel it, but I could tell. The way he was breathing, the way he finger fucked me. Oh, my dad liked this, too. He liked it so fucking much. He didn't even try to hide it.

I wasn't hiding it, either. I came right away, shuddering against the wall while his fingers pounded at my cunt, shifting my hips higher for a better angle, shoving my hole back onto them like the greedy whore I was, practically begging him to take out his cock and fuck me with that instead.

Daddy had other ideas.

I was still trying to catch my breath when he pulled his fingers out and turned me around, yanking on my hair, forcing my back against the wall.

His other hand was undoing his belt, his zipper, taking out his cock.

Jesus Christ he was hard. Hard and big. I'd felt it when he had me over his knee, but I'd never actually seen it. The thing was huge and so hard.

"Daddy?" I whimpered. "What are you doing?"

But he was already forcing me to my knees, making me kneel on the floor with my back still flat against the wall, the back of my head against it, too. His cock was there in front of my face, big and hard and long.

Dad was going to make me suck his dick, wasn't he. And I wanted to do it.

"Open your mouth, slut," he hissed. "If you're going to act like a whore, then I guess your Daddy's going to have to treat you like one."

I opened my mouth to say something cruel and biting and clever, but that was exactly what he was waiting for. The second I parted my lips, he was forcing his cock into my mouth. That thick shaft in me. God, he really was big, I was almost gagging on it already, and I've never gagged on anybody before.

His hand was still in my hair, pulling at it, keeping my head trapped between his cock and the wall. He grunted and started fucking my mouth, driving his cock in and out of me.

It wasn't slow and sexy, it was fucking primal. Daddy plowing his little girl's mouth. Slamming it into me until it wouldn't go any deeper and then pulling it back and slamming it into me again. Over and over while I knelt at this feet, choking on his dick, my cunt aching for my fingers, aching to rubbing my clit and make myself come.

Not slow and sexy. Just fucking hot as hell.

I've messed around a bit. You know... with boys. But no one's ever used me like that. Just used my mouth like I was a blow up sex doll. Just shoved their cock in me and fucking used me.

My father had made me his fuck doll. Or at least, his blow job doll.

He drove his cock deep and grunted. I felt his cock jerk and then my mouth was flooded with warm, thick cum.

My dad was coming in my mouth. Like, all the cum. So much fucking cum.

I was practically drowning in it. Swallowing and swallowing, trying to get it down, but it just kept coming. Cum was dripping out of my mouth, down my chin, down my crop top.

When he'd dump his entire load in me, he pulled his cock out of my mouth and stepped back, looking down at his little girl. I can only imagine what he saw. Me with his cum all over me. Me on my knees with my legs wide apart, my bare cunt on display, my own juices all over my thighs.

He must have thought I looked like a whore. And he'd be right.

Daddy didn't say a word, just shook his head at me and walked away, up the stairs to his bedroom, leaving my own my knees with my cunt aching.

I could taste him on my lips as my fingers moved between my legs and started rubbing.

I made myself come right there on the floor in the dark, fucking myself with my own fingers, my Daddy's cum still sliding down my throat.

God I'm a whore. Such a fucking whore.

•

After that, it was open warfare in the house. Me vs. Dad. My tight holes versus what little self control he had left.

Every day I'd come home from school and peel off my clothes, dress myself up in the sluttiest things lingerie I had, maybe put a very large, very noticeable butt plug in my ass, maybe put on a little schoolgirl skirt, a stripper dress, whatever I thought would make my dad completely lose control, and go about the rest of my day, waiting for Daddy to finish work come home and see me looking like a whore and then beat me and fuck.

Only Daddy didn't beat me. And he didn't fuck me. He just fumed, his face bright red, clenching and unclenching his fists, a volcano ready to explode but never quite actually going full meltdown.

Still turned me on, though. Turned me on enough that every night I'd go up to my room and touch my aching cunt and make myself come thinking about his angry, desperate, hungry face. All the things he wanted to do to me. All the ways he wanted to punish me.

I didn't bother closing my door when I did it, either. I didn't care if my dad saw his little girl fucking herself. I wanted him to see it. I wanted him to watch his daughter shove those big dildos in her cunt, watch her grinding on a fake disk while she held a vibrator against her clit. I wanted him to hear me moaning his name when I did, wanted him to know exactly what I was doing and who I was thinking about when I did it. And I did it almost every day. Sometimes twice a day when I was feeling extra horny. And I was always extra horny after torturing my dad all night.

Day after day. Week after week. My dad having to listen to the moans coming from my room, hearing the buzz of my vibrator, the slap of my hand on my ass, the little wooden paddle. I kept waiting for him to finally break, come into my room, and fuck me, but somehow he managed to control himself.

Oh, he was definitely listening. I could hear his bed creaking, jerking himself off to the sound of his little girl masturbating. And I caught him watching me more than once, standing in the hallway, his eyes crawling all over me. I just stared back at him and kept fucking myself, daring him to come into my room and either stop me or fuck me.

God, the look on his face when he watched me. Rage and lust and embarrassment and indecision. You could see him wrestling with all of it. So fucking perfect.

If only he would stop fighting it and just give in.

He wanted it. I wanted it. I wanted Daddy to make me his whore. Just fucking me like a goddamn toy. Treat me like a slut and fill me with his cum.

But after weeks of this and Dad still not fucking me, I needed a new tactic. I had to find something that would finally break him, make Daddy forget all about what an uptight asshole his is and remember what it was like to be a real man, make him just give in and bury his cock into his little girl's cunt.

It took a ton of thinking before I realized what I had to do, what my Dad really wanted. I just needed to get a few things. Luckily I had time, the internet, and my Dad's backup emergency credit card.

He had no idea what he was in for.

•

Friday came around again. End of the week. No school for me for a few days, no work for my Dad. And that week he had a late meeting and wouldn't be home until well after dinner. The perfect time to put my plan into action.

I raced home as soon as school was out and started getting ready. It took hours, but when I saw the look on his face when he finally got home, it's worth every fucking second.

When he opened the door, he found me in the front hall waiting for him on my knees. I wasn't wearing what anyone would consider clothes, just a black leather harness, straps criss-crossing my body, my breasts exposed, my cunt. There were black leather cuffs around my wrists and ankles and a black leather collar around my neck with a metal leash dangling from it.

And if there was ever any doubt about what I was, I'd written the truth about myself across my bare chest, my face, my stomach.

Slut.

Whore.

Fuck doll.

Daddy got himself together, closed the door, set down his briefcase, his eyes never leaving my body, taking it all in. They crawled over my tits, my cunt, my face, reading the words with wide eyes.

When he finally spoke, he sounded shocked and surprised, but I could hear anger in there, too.

Good.

"What the hell are you doing?" he stammered.

"What's the matter, Daddy?" I said. "You're the one who told me I was a whore."

I picked up the end of the leash and held it out to him.

"Now show me how whores like me deserve to be treated."

He took the leash and pulled the slack tight.

"Go ahead, Dad," I said. "Teach your little girl what a whore she is."

I could see how much he wanted it. It was written all over his face. He was fighting it, though. He just needed a little convincing.

My eyes locked on his, I reached down, started rubbing my cunt right in front of him.

"Please, Daddy," I pleaded, fingers teasing my clit. "Make me your whore."

That was all the encouragement he needed. His eyes went dark, his teeth clenched. He glared at me with real hate.

"God you're a fucking whore," he seethed.

"Yes, Daddy," I whimpered.

He yanked on the leash, pulling me forward. I caught myself on my hands, propped up on hands and knees with my ass in the air.

Daddy pulled me into the living room, making me crawl behind him, leading me with the leash.

He stopped at the coffee table, pulled me closer until he could grab me by the hair. He tugged, hard, forcing me to bend over the table, my tits against the cold glass, my knees apart, my cunt and ass completely exposed between the leather straps.

Daddy undid his belt and pulled it from the loops of his pants. I watched him fold it over, holding one end with one hand, testing the weight of it but smacking it in to the palm of the other.

"Are you going to punish your whore, Daddy?" I whispered.

He smacked the belt against his palm. Then he did it again.

My pussy was already wet at the thought of him beating me with it.

He brought the belt down on my ass with a loud crack. I jumped in surprise and pain. Fuck, that hurt. Even more than I expected, and it just made my pussy even wetter.

"Fucking whore," he growled, raising the belt up over his head again.

It came down on my ass again. I knew it was coming but there was nothing I could to stop from jumping again and crying out.

"Just like your fucking mother," Daddy said. "She was a whore, too. A dirty fucking whore."

Another whack of the belt. Another jump. Another whimper.

I could feel the tears welling up in my eyes, starting to course down my cheeks.

The belt came down again, even harder, even louder. I practically screamed, "Daddy! It hurts!"

"Good," he said. "And you deserve it, don't you. You deserve this for being such a fucking whore."

"Yes, Daddy."

I lost count of how many times he hit me with that belt. At some point the pain and the ache and the lust just took over my whole brain. I couldn't think anymore. All I could do was want. Want my Daddy to hurt me, want my Daddy to use me, want my Daddy to finally make me his whore for real.

At some point he stopped, though. He stopped and he grabbed my leash and he made me crawl upstairs on all fours, led me down the hallway to his room.

He dragged me to the foot of his bed, throw me down across it with my legs hanging over the side, got behind me and pulled the leash tight, his fingers slipping down between my legs and touch my warm, wet cunt. He didn't hesitate, just saved them right into me. I grabbed the sheets in my fists and groaned as I took them.

"You like that, don't you, slut," he said. "Like your Daddy's fingers in your pussy."

"Yes, Daddy. I love it. I love it when my father fucks me with them."

He started doing just that, fucking me with those long fingers, sliding them in and out. A few thrusts of his fingers and I was already moaning and moving my hips so he could get his fingers even deeper into me.

"God you're a slut," he said. "Are you going to come for me? Are you going to come for your Daddy?"

"Yes, Daddy," I groaned.

"Then come," he said.

He finger fucked me harder, faster, driving them deep. I came so hard, so fast, so loud, crying out that I was coming for him, that I was coming for my Daddy.

Before I'd even caught my breath, he was dragging me all the way onto the bed, wrapping my leash around the slats of the headboard and tying it off, leaving me chained up on my knees. He grabbed my wrists, brought them together behind my back, connected the leather cuffs with the little clips on the built in metal rings. Then, he connected the ankle cuffs the same way.

He had me leashed to the headboard with my face in the pillows and my ass in the air, my hands and feet bound tight now. Leashed and helpless and ready to be used however he wanted. And all I could think was, finally.

Daddy left me like that while he got undressed. Tie and shirt, shoes and socks, pants and boxers. He stood there, naked and hard, watching me squirm on the bed he used to fuck my mom in.

That cock. God, I loved that cock. How could my mom ever walk away from a cock like that?

"Please, Daddy," I whimpered, my eyes drinking in that erect shaft. "Please fuck me. Fuck your little whore with your big cock. I'm so desperate to be used by my Daddy."

He got on the bed, knelt down behind me, moved the tip of his cock to my aching cunt.

"Please, Daddy," I whimpered again.

A push of his hips and that cock was inside me. Daddy just slammed it right in. Didn't even hesitate. Just shoved his cock right into his little girl.

"Oh, Daddy," I groaned into the pillow, barely aware I was even speaking out loud.

He grabbed my hips and started fucking me. And he wasn't gentle about it. Not at all. Driving forward with his hips, pulling back, driving forward again. The bed shook and creaked with every hard thrust and I just kept moaning louder and louder.

Daddy didn't have to growl filthy things at me this time, I growled them myself.

"Fuck me, Daddy," I said. "Fuck your slutty little girl. Teach me what a whore I am."

And good God did Daddy teach me. I've never had my cunt so thoroughly used. Daddy's cock pounding at it, not caring if he hurt me in the slightest, not caring about whether I liked it or not, just fucking destroying me.

"Use me, Daddy," I was saying, but it was like someone else talking, someone far away. "I'm just a whore for you to use."

Even with me leashed and helpless, he still reached out and grabbed my hair, pulled my head back.

"Fucking whore," he grunted.

His other hand came down on my ass. God, that hurt. Spanking me right where his belt had turned my ass raw and red. I was going to be bruised in the morning and God help me, I couldn't wait to see how badly he'd bruised me.

More smacks, more thrusts, Daddy's breathing getting super jagged and erratic. He was going to come, wasn't he. He was going to come while he was fucking me.

He was starting to lose control, the movement of his hips not so steady and regular.

Go ahead, Daddy, I thought. Go ahead and come.

Daddy drove his cock into my cunt again and shuddered. Oh, Daddy was definitely going to come.

My head pulled back, Daddy's fingers in my hair, his cock in my cunt, I whispered, "Breed me, Daddy."

That did it. That was all he needed to hear.

He groaned, "Fuck. Fucking whore. Dirty little bitch." And then he came.

Daddy's shot his load deep in his little girl's cunt. And she'd begged him for it. Guess I really am a whore. But I don't care. It felt fucking amazing. My Daddy had finally fucked me and it was even better than I'd ever imagined.

He stopped shuddering and pulled out, sitting back on the balls of his feet, panting for breath.

I whispered softly into the pillow, "Please Daddy can I clean you up?"

He didn't understand at first, just stared at me. Then he untied the leash, undid the cuffs around my wrists and ankles and lay back as I knelt between his legs and cleaned every drop of my cunt juices and his cum off of his cock with my tongue.

"Such a good little whore," he said, eyes closing, beginning to drift away.

I can honestly say I'd never felt prouder than in that moment, tasting my cunt and his cum on my lips and tongue.

I'd gotten exactly what I wanted. Exactly what a whore like me deserved.

•

I have a new game now. It's not that different from my old game, but it's even more fun. I still dress up like a slut every day after school, but instead of just teasing my Daddy, I tease him and then he uses me like a whore.

Daddy says I'm very good at it.

Sometimes I even act like a brat. Daddy likes it when I do that. It gives him an excuse to punish me. Not that he needs one. I'm just a fucking whore. Daddy's whore and he can use me any way he wants.

And he does.