Daddy said he had a hunch you’d be a very bad influence, Heart.
brat
Hello, vices.
Every night during my visit to Penthouse’s, he set me a bedtime.
Somehow, I always managed to maneuver my way out of it.
Truth: The more I fight you on it, the more I actually want that ballgag in my mouth.
Continued from here.
When I heard Penthouse starting to come in, I adjusted myself somewhat, lowering the sheets here and there and raising my ass a bit. It was partially to just be a brat and partially to get out of actually having to take a nap.
“Sweetheart?” I heard him say from the doorway. “Are you trying to tease me?”
I kept my face down in the pillow to hide my smirk. “Maybe.”
After a few footsteps, I felt him climb into bed and thread his fingers through my hair, tugging my head back.
It’s kind of funny how winning sometimes looks.
The night I got there, Penthouse and I messed around. It was somewhere between tired and playful, with the vaguest implication of a dynamic.
When he was close, he asked if he could finish on my chest. I consented and he looked me over with a triumphant smirk. There’s something about a man who has been dominating me getting right close to cumming that makes me super bratty.
So, when he asked me what I was going to do with his cum, I presumed he probably expected me to blush.
Instead, I smiled and shrugged. “Oh, just taste it like this.” I wiped two fingers over my bare stomach as if to pantomime gathering some of his cum and brought them to my lips, bringing my head up and down on them. My eyes flashed up to meet his and I grinned around my fingers.
I probably shouldn’t be so smug about how he came right then.
“You’ve been so spoiled baby. Are you sure you want more?”
-my sexy husband
That guy from my frat actually just asked me if I’ve ever heard of Feminist Ryan Gosling. Seriously?
So, I had no issue bullying him a little. Because I think it’s been too long since I bullied him. And because I think he deserves it.
It was because he claimed bows brought out her innocence. Which he swore, promised, was buried beneath her incessant brattiness.
“What do these bring out, Daddy?” she asked.
He looked over her shoulder, shook his head at the holes, and reached down. “My cock. Now open your mouth.”
She’ll claim she just fell asleep that way. But you could hear that telltale contrived breathing of feigned sleep the second you walked into the room. You could see the stiffness in her limbs. You could see the twitch of a smile repressed as she heard you cross to the side of the bed. And, of course, if you were still in doubt, there’s always the pouring that will ensue when you apologize, tell her to go back to sleep, and turn to leave the room.
“Daddy, I’m not fighting you. I’m just high-fiving you.”