Male Domination Erotica
"Daddy's Girl" - a Licorice Whips Sex Story by Christine Catalano
Nadine could see her father watching her from over the top of his newspaper, but she was used to it. What does he expect to see? I’m okay now.
“Nadine, watch that cup. It’s too close to the edge of the counter.”
Nadine sighed inwardly, but disguised it with her usual cheerfulness. Best to reply with a question, she had learned. “I’ve got it, Daddy! Do you want any more coffee?”
“No, I’m leaving for the office soon.” She saw him put his paper down, making sure it was as perfectly folded as when he removed it from its cellophane wrapper. So precise. He asked her the usual question about her plans for the day.
She told him, starting with the gym and ending with dinner. Her father indicated his approval with a curt nod, stood and turned to leave. Then stopped.
“Oh wait.” His eyes narrowed, always a bad sign. “There was a message on the machine for you from someone by the name of Frank, something about a confirmation? What’s that about?”
He smells something. Nadine was used to this, too. “It’s nothing, Daddy, I’m trying a new hair salon, that’s all.”
“I like your hair the way it is. Don’t do anything drastic, now, you hear?”
“No, Daddy.”
Nadine smiled to herself. If she so much as parted her hair on the other side, he would think that was “drastic.” But he wouldn’t notice a difference, because she wasn’t going to any salon. She smiled again. Her father was a bit suffocating at times, but she loved feeling protected. And it made putting one over on him that much more satisfying.
. . . . .
“Yo, Nadine! You okay? I tell you, I’ve used this guy before. There’s nothing to worry about.”
Annie snapped her fingers in front of Nadine’s face, bringing her back to the present. Nadine had just finished her morning workout, and could feel the sweat dripping between her breasts and down her back. The waistband of her gym pants was soaked. She took a thoughtful sip of her iced latte before she finally answered.
“That’s what you said about the first one.”
Annie grimaced, leaned over and whispered in Nadine’s ear. The two women giggled, the giggles turned to sly laughs, and finally to snorts. They grabbed napkins and covered their mouths, gasping for breath.
“What did you tell your father?” Annie asked.
Nadine shrugged. “I told him I was going to the hairdresser. What could he say to that? I mean, it worked for you with Ted, right? At least I’m not married.”
“You may as well be,” Annie snapped.
The mood, and the women’s faces, turned serious. Nadine knew Annie disapproved of how close she and her father were. She had often complained that she didn’t give any guy a chance. But of course there was nothing really wrong. Certainly nothing sexual. Her father would have been shocked at even the suspicion of anything like that. Everything about him was perfect. If only she could find a man her own age like him.
Annie knew she had no right to judge her friend. Her own marriage was hardly an advertisement for the institution. And she knew what Nadine had been through with that med student. The one who kept her panting for him while he was away for long stretches at school. The delirious holidays and crazy adventures; the abandonment, cruel in its abruptness; just a plane ticket home and a one-word note on the pillow, Sorry. In short order, his marriage to someone else, the DWI that caused a pedestrian’s death, losing his medical license, and the prison time. If it wasn’t for her father’s attentiveness and care, Annie was sure Nadine would have killed herself too. People who didn’t know Nadine well thought she’d recovered completely. “Resilient,” they said. But Annie knew she’d never been quite the same. She softened. “I just want you to be happy.”
“Like you and Ted?”
“We have our problems, but it’s nothing we can’t work out. Any long-term relationship has dry spells.”
The two women finished their coffees in companionable silence. When you reach a certain age, you don’t expect life to be perfect. You’re just glad when it doesn’t hurt too much.
. . . . .
By the time she got home, Nadine saw she had just enough time to shower and blow out her hair. Rushing would take the edge off her anticipation, but make her more anxious. I shouldn’t have had the coffee, now alcohol won’t affect me. At least caffeine makes me horny. Like I’m not horny enough already!
As she soaped herself in the shower and thought about her appointment, Nadine remembered the boys she experimented with in high school. They were all the same. A secluded spot, a few beers, then they’d neck. They were nervous and shaky, even though they knew she was easy. The more they grabbed at her and sweated, the less turned on she was by them. Finally she gave up. There had to be more to this sex business than what these young kids could offer.
She was right. In her junior year, she met a classmate’s older brother at a party. He was home on break from med school and was supposed to be chaperoning. Instead, he was checking out all his sister’s friends. Intrigued by his smooth, easy manner, she hinted at what she was looking for. She didn’t have to hint too hard. And it didn’t hurt too bad, either, considering it was her first time. After that evening, she saw him every night he was home. She learned a lot. Mostly she learned she liked sex after all. And she liked it rough.
She abruptly stopped reminiscing. Control, she heard her father’s voice saying. There's safety in control. Stay in control, and nothing can hurt us.
She poured herself a glass of champagne from the stash she kept in the little fridge in her bedroom. Then another. As she drank, she held the bottle against her body. The smooth, impersonal hardness was soothing, as soothing as the liquid itself. Now Nadine was ready.
. . . . . .
The man at the door was not what she expected. Well-muscled, yes, but slightly shorter than the usual guy the agency sent. Naturally swarthy, not quite tanning-bed dark. His close-cropped hair revealed his age by its pattern and color, as did the lines in his face. But a very handsome face, nonetheless, she judged. He was smiling as his gaze took her in. She sensed he was discerning, yet kind, too. She began to feel warm. She didn’t realize it, but her hands were trembling. Was this going to work?
“That’s a lovely caftan you’re wearing,” he purred in a light, honeyed, measured voice. It had a deep, barely perceptible vibration in it that stirred her in a vaguely disturbing way. “Ms. Springfield? As you probably guessed, I’m Frank, from Blueberry Hill.”
In a tight, clipped voice, Nadine answered, “Yes, that’s correct. And you can skip the phony compliments. You have the instructions from the agency?” She didn't mean to sound so harsh, but she was still nervous and it just came out that way. He was nothing like the last one, not at all. That one had been cold and mechanical, he never even looked her in the eyes; she didn’t want a replay of that fiasco.
He nodded, a bit bemused as he continued his visual appraisal. “Alright, Frank,” she said, a bit softer. “Then we can start now.”
He straightened up and his aspect became hard and stern, which had the effect of adding at least two inches to his height. He was quite intimidating now. “First things first.” He held out his hand and she gave him the envelope. He counted what was in it, permitted himself a moment’s flash of smile, and the envelope disappeared into the inside of his jacket, which he then slipped off and hung over a chair.
“Well, what are you waiting for, bitch? Show me the bedroom,” he snapped, lifting his chin and looking down at her with narrowed eyes. She felt a distinct twinge between her legs at the command in his voice and bearing. Just like Daddy!
She led the way upstairs. When they reached the bedroom, he looked directly at her. “Take that off.” She slipped the caftan off. As he studied her suddenly vulnerable body, she stole a glance downward, and saw the large, well-defined outline that had appeared under his pants. “What are you smiling about?” he growled. “I didn’t give you permission to look!” He stepped forward and shoved her onto the bed.
“Now you can look.” He slowly stripped off his clothes. First the shirt, revealing a muscular torso with just the right amount of hair. He took off his belt very slowly, letting the hard leather slide through the pant loops and then through his hands. The buckle made a clinking noise as it hit the floor. He thrust his hips forward a bit as he undid his button fly. His pants were tight across his loins, and he slowly pushed them down till they fell down by themselves. Chest hair continued down his belly and traveled down in a narrow stripe toward his genitals, where it blossomed out again in a virile triangle.
How she wanted to trace her fingers down that furry path! She was already wet enough between her legs to take him inside her. Her fingers began to move involuntarily towards the shiny, pink bud starting to peek out from its hiding place at the top of her swollen red slit. In one movement Frank stepped to the bedside, leaned over and smacked her hand away. “I’ll tell you what to do and when to do it!” As he leaned over, his erect penis brushed against her hip, making her shudder in anticipation. His cock was brick red, just a bit larger than average, curving with a graceful arch. The head was large and had a big, wide rim. But it was the thick shaft that got her attention. The base was easily as wide as the head. She couldn’t take her eyes off it.
“Like it? Good, cuz you’re gonna suck it now.” He knelt over her face and pointed to his balls. “Start here.” And she did, gently taking each one by turns into her mouth. She breathed hard around them while they were in there. Then she began working her tongue around that prodigious root, darting, licking, and blowing softly. He smiled to himself. Good, this one knows what she’s doing.
He moved lower so she could reach more of the shaft and the head. As she lapped and sucked, circling the head and enjoying the spongy resilience, its color deepened to a dusky purple. “That’s enough!” He sat back on his heels, then slowly stretched out and lay on top of her. He sucked her nipples, hard, giving quick bites that made her gasp with pain and delight. Moving down, he did the same to her velvet-soft folds. She groaned and started to rock her hips as her swollen, ripe clit began to pulse and burn.
“Please, please, help me,” she breathed. He positioned two fingertips just above the rosy tip and gently, gently circled, barely touching the slick, taut skin. She was moaning softly, nonstop now. Now and again he interrupted the circles to press down on the little piece of meat and just push it like it was a button. “Ah, ah, ah!” She felt pain and desire like sparks arcing out from her core, as her juices welled up and spilled over his fingers.
The First Act by Angelica Marken
Those two fingers then slipped quickly into her waiting passage, pressed up against the wall, then slipped out. Frank glided the tip of his penis over her throbbing clit, then right down and into her, just the tip, just the tip, in and out, over and over. Up to the clitoris, down to the vagina, but just the tip. She was so wet and slick it was frictionless. The orgasm took her by surprise, slamming her out of nowhere like a wrong turn into a concrete wall. But it wasn’t enough. “Don’t stop, oh oh oh oh, don’t stop!”
“That was too early, now you have to be punished!” Frank turned her over roughly and began smacking her ass, hard, one cheek, then the other, leaving red marks. He hit her so hard her hips jumped up with each slap. Her skin began to burn, and her vulva swelled with the stimulation. Daddy never did that.
He flipped her back over so she faced him again and drove in deep. She screamed with pain and pleasure and instinctively brought her legs up and over his back, but this only limited both their movements. Impatient, he reached back and took hold of her legs as he rose back on his knees, still inside her. She watched, not daring to breathe, as he brought her legs in front of him, straight up in the air, and propped them against each side of his chest, holding them by her ankles. Now he could thrust with his whole body. Like a stallion! She couldn't help making the comparison -- he was such a magnificent sight, with his head back and eyes closed, his powerful, beautifully shaped body in full view over her! She could only stare, open-mouthed, almost forgetting the pounding she was getting between her legs. Almost! Until his cock was slamming so far into her she had to cry out the safety word and he had to stop.
“Get on top,” he instructed, still in control. She did as she was told, mounting her stallion and slipping his eager member back in. Her carved-out entry accepted him easily, even greedily now. He gripped her by the bone at the top of each hip and with his arm movements, directed the cadence of her posting up and down. Quick, slow, quick, quick, slow. The pressure inside her began to build again, her hot fluids oozed down around his cock and pooled under them.
Frank let her set her own pace, watching her face, feeling her muscles getting tighter and tighter. The pressure between her legs spread to the insides of her thighs and the muscles there began to visibly quiver with the sustained stimulation. Now it was her turn to throw her head back as the pressure concentrated back into itself with a stab that turned outward, further and further, taking her moaning with it. Again! And again! A few more thrusts from Frank, she felt the double-throb “pre-load” at the base of his penis, and he was drained. She rolled off onto her back, limp and sated. “You didn’t say, May I,” he whispered, smiling, eyes closed again.
After Frank left, Nadine noticed something sticking out of a cabinet drawer in the entryway. It was the envelope with the money. That’s odd. Well, I want that same guy back next time, so I’ll give it to him then.
. . . . . .
At the office, Don Springfield paused in his routine to replay the morning’s events in his head. Nadine. What a character. Gina would have been proud. He still felt that absence after 29 years, but at least he had their daughter. Maybe it was selfish, but he liked having her around. He had enjoyed watching her as a child, answering her questions, showing her everything life had to offer. Later, he enjoyed watching her evolve from gawky, studious adolescent to a lovely young woman, so like his wife when they first met.
Today, she had been unusually preoccupied. She didn’t even notice that cup that was going to fall. He remembered asking her about her plans.
She had turned to face him and cocked her head to the side a bit as she rattled off her list, just as she’d been doing since she was a child. “Gym, coffee with Annie, post office to pick up your package, back here to work on that editing assignment, get dinner ready.”
Then, my little test.
“Oh wait, there was a message on the machine for you from someone by the name of Frank, something about a confirmation? What’s that about?”
He remembered the expression on his daughter’s face, the one that meant she was about to lie. “It’s nothing, Daddy, I’m trying a new hair salon, that’s all.”
“I like your hair the way it is. Don’t do anything drastic, now, you hear?”
“No, Daddy.” She was smiling to herself, as if she had a secret.
Oh Nadine. Don turned back to the business at hand. He was signing checks. One of them was to the Blueberry Hill Agency. In the notes field of his checkbook, he wrote:
For my girl. Be happy.
Originally published January 2011