Cosima
This was not fun.
Okay, it was, but in a way that was on the precarious edge ofI hate you, and, like,No, I really floofing hate you. Which happened to be one of her favorite playgrounds when she was with Sir.
He’d been fucking her, mostly deep and slow, for way too long. And when he wasn’t rocking his thick cock in that maddening way that would make her horny as hell but not get her off, he was either fucking her crazy hard and viciously, or hitting her. With paddles, straps, hairbrushes, evil sticks, his martinet that she loathed, a spatula she wanted to throw in the trash but wouldn’t dare, and a carpet beater that she maybe actually kinda sorta liked. Not that she would tell him that.
At the moment, he was coming down hard on her ass with a tawse. Which wouldn’t normally be a problem except that whenever she rocked forward because of the impact or because she wanted to lessen the blow even a teeny tiny bit, or wanted to give her throbbing nipples and sore ass some relief, she wouldtasteit.
He was the meanest Sir in the whole world and if she didn’t love him so much, she’d want to defenestrate him. Devy had taught her that word when she was studying for her GED. It hadn’t come up on her test but now it was one of her favorite words and Mr. Fox had been impressed when she used it correctly.
She’d use it correctly now except her mouth was full of the most foul taste. Cinnamon.
Sure it didn’t sound bad and she loved when Daddy would let her have cinnamon sugar apples as a treat but that was nice. A hint of cinnamon, mostly apple and sugar. This was beyond yucky. And not only did it taste grody but it smelled icky too. It was like her whole head was filled with the sensation of it, like it had penetrated every one of her senses. Worst, worst.
Once she’d picked “two,” Sir had attached a condom-covered dildo to a stand right in front of her face. She could smell the nauseous scent of ginger before he’d even explained what it was for, and she knew that’s why he’d used this particular gag. So when she moved forward, she wouldn’t be able to stop the dildo from going into her mouth, from tasting it.
So gross, she was going to have to brush her teeth forever. Luckily she was on the third one now and he must be getting close to being done. If he wasn’t, well, she would try to keep up with him but at some point she’d have to drop the ball, literally.
Her cheeks were hot and tear-stained, her jaw was sore from being prized open, nearly every inch of her hurt. So glorious. Except she could really do without the cinnamon. That was just disgusting.
Finally she heard the tawse hit the floor and she was glad. Her backside felt raw and inflamed, her back was striped with burning, her shoulders ached, everything was sore. And then Sir was behind her, slipping his cock inside her pussy again. Her pussy that was so wet she could believe she was dripping on the floor. How embarrassing, and the shame only aroused her more. As did the way Sir started to pinch and tweak her marks, slap at the worst ones or scratch at them. Made her whimper and buck, and oh,oh, she needed him to finish her off. So badly.
She couldn’t beg with her mouth stuffed as it was, but she knew he could recognize the sounds of pleading when he heard them. Would do with them as he liked as per usual, but she knew they gave him pleasure so she’d let him feed on her pain.
It wasn’t long before he was driving into her cunt like a man possessed, his hands making every mark and impact come alive again while her nipples were rhythmically yanked and the hook tugged at the sensitive ring of her ass.
There, yes, this was it. He’d inundated her with sensation until her brain was overflowing and now it wasn’t so much pain as…feeling. Feeling like she might be succumb to the flood and drown. Like dying, but in the best way.
She did hear him then—his low, rumbling voice that she could almost feel more than hear—and she could’ve cried with relief when he told her, “Go on, little one. Take your pleasure and come for me. You’ve taken enough. So proud of you. So pleased. Let go, I’ll catch you.”
And with a confidence she knew nothing could ever shake, Cosima believed him.
Chapter Ten
Cosima
Sore. So, so sore. All over. The sorest. But also so, so happy.
While she would’ve liked to see her parents today, Cosima was kind of relieved she wouldn’t have to go to the little white house on Birch Street and pretend she didn’t hurt all over. It would be impossible and she would turn into a puddle of mortified ooze if they asked her what was wrong.
Oh, nothing, Mom and Dad. I’ve just spent three entire days involved in activities so depraved they’re probably beyond your imagination and I loved every second of it. Pass the risotto, please?
Yeah, no thank you.
Her parents hadn’t straight up asked what precisely the relationship was between the four of them, but they seemed to understand that she loved her daddies, her daddies all loved her, and whatever the details might be, they were a family. She wasn’t really ready—and maybe never would be—to give them more details than that. Especially about the various aches and pains she often found herself with. And today she was marked and aching to the max.
Luckily, her daddies understood. When Sir had brought her down to the bedroom she shared with Daddy and Papa early in the morning, Daddy put her back in a diaper and gave her a bottle. She’d been so tired she’d struggled to finish before she fell asleep in Daddy’s lap.
They didn’t even make her get out of bed for breakfast. Instead, Daddy played highchair by sitting up against pillows in their bed and she’d sat on his lap while Papa fed her. And then she’d fallen asleep again.
But always when she stirred there was at least one of her daddies in bed with her, petting her hair or cuddling her close. Was there a luckier girl on the planet than her? She couldn’t imagine it.
After Papa had given her a lunch of dino chicken nuggets and fish sticks and mac and cheese and raspberries (all of her favorites, wow), she twisted her mouth to the side.
“I thought today was supposed to be a day with all four of us? Where’s Sir?”
Papa smiled at her indulgently as he wiped a spot of ketchup from the corner of her lip. “Ry came and snuggled you for a bit during one of your many naps, Sleeping Beauty.”