Speakeasy

Every time she opens her mouth, he can feel his brain hazing out more and more, something primal in him taking precedence over any part of him that’s still thinking. But then when she shifts, folds herself up under him, there’s extra bounce, less resistance and more give in their swaying and jerking and he can’t keep a low growl from slipping past his lips.

It’s nothing but groans and grunts for a few moments, trying desperately not to lose his pace and let this fire between them falter even a bit.

“Babygirl is.... is a natural at this. So... so good for Daddy.”

His voice starts to shake with the exertion so he just shuts up, lets his heaving drives into her and his rushed breaths speak for themselves.

Her skin is glistening now, all up and down her body, shining in the dim light, rivaling the starts above them.

“God, babygirl’s bewitched Daddy, hasnt she.”

His eyes rove up her as they bounce back and then recoil from the pressure. Every expression her face runs through is perfect. Enraptured and blissful and overwhelmed. Exactly what he’s feeling too.

“Are you gonna be Daddy’s drug?”

It’s hard to accomplish with the position of her legs, but he pushes past her knees and crashes into her mouth, takes the most ravenous and hungry kiss from her as the fiery, hollow ache starts to curl up toward his chest.

His lips crash to hers and it's the most intense moment of all of this somehow. He has her bouncing and swaying with him all while their mouths are locked and they hungrily work at each other with primal desperation. Nowhere for either of them to go but to and into each other.

She's really starting to feel the fire now. Her hips are hot, burning between the two of them and the friction of their skin grinding leaves red burns all over the front of her. Every muscle is clenching and twitching, spasming around him, trying so hard to keep up with the wicked pace he's rutting into her.

But it's nothing short of what she wanted. She's the one that told him to go harder and she doesn't regret it. If she didn't think it would break her completely, she'd beg him for more.

Actually... Something about that is appealing the more she's allowed to fixate on it.

"Daddy is so big, bigger than I thought. He's stretching his babygirl but, fuck, she likes it-"

Fuck she likes it a lot. She bites his lip as she moans, shutting her eyes tightly as he reacts to her, thrusting down into her hard enough that there's a loud crack of her wet back on the floor, a wet thud definitely loud enough to be heard downstairs. It makes her thighs start to shake as the press against the sides of his neck. Everything feels pushed and pulled but she could stay like this forever.

The sight of him over her, pinning her down with his hips, working into her hungrily, unhindered, is a sort of high all its own. God, his tan skin, flexing muscles bearing down into her- Does he know what he's doing or is it unintentional? Either way, she hopes he never stops.

"Does that mean Daddy will play with his babygirl all the time? Will he throw her under him every time he wants a high? I can do that. God, please let me do that."

Luna lets one of his hands stay up in her hair but takes the other and moves it across her skin, brings his hand right over one of her breasts, adding a more subtle begging in with her verbal kind.

"Daddy, ride me every night. Get rough with your babygirl."

A chuckle escapes him along with a heaved our breath, everything in him shaking along with his voice. He can feel the sweat beading at his temples and he can feel how wide his own eyes are with this, the way these feelings are swelling and catching him up way above himself.

“F-fuck.”

He lets his hand tighten around her breast when she moves it, uses her skin there as leverage to pull her closer to him. The movement is rough, like shes whining for, jerky and a little hard, and he can see the skin under his hand turn red immediately as her body jerks to his command. Her eyes fairly roll back in her head and he feels everything inside him quiver red hot.

“Daddy will... ride his babygirl. And stretch her, and fuck her open so good for him. Every night for longer than she can stand it. Daddy’s gonna play with his little girl until she cant take any more. And then he’ll keep playing with her. And keep playing with her.”

He jerks her again a little roughly just to see a repeat reaction, which she gives to his every expectation. He leans into her knees and groans into them. With his hand shaking, he presses between them, where they connect, where it’s so hot and wet and sticky, the source of all the smacking and desperate wet popping sounds.

Once his hand is wet and glistening from between her legs, he swats at the fleshy part of her hip, hard enough to leave an instant red mark, hard enough to sound sharp and cracking with the wet and forceful meeting of skin.

“So babygirl likes it when it hurts? She likes for Daddy to hurt her so good?”

The jerking at her chest has her moaning, has her bouncing, arching her back up as her wet skin makes a terrible noise from being pulled against the hardwood floor under her. The expressions she's making are unfiltered, eyes rolling, mouth hanging open, brow knitting, the tendons in her neck rolling under her skin.

But nothing gets as quick of a gasp out of her as his hand connecting with her hip. Her eyes fly open and her body jolts suddenly, her head picking up off the ground just for him to tug it back down by her hair. Luna stares up at him with wide eyes for just a split second before they almost immediately fall back to a high half-lidded gaze, her vision blurry except for her focus on his face and how he stares down at her.

"Daddy is so big and strong... I bet he could push his babygirl around, really ride her all night."

She shifts her hips to try to angle them better but there's no real angling under his full weight and that only makes her moan louder, rolling her head off to the side, letting her hand roam over the red marks of her skin to feel the irritation. It makes her shiver, makes her toes curl, a chill spreading out across her, and it makes her red swollen skin tightening around him start to throb harder.

"Daddy, please, make me do what you want me to do. Make me take you, stretch me, play with me, whatever you want. Fuck, please make me do everything you want. I want it. Your babygirl wants it so bad."

He’s having a hard time keeping his groans to himself, keeping his composure the more she says, the more she begs, punctuated with her own airy whines and near cries.

Part of him feels like he’s right on the edge, like too much more of this will kill him. Has he ever been this turned on before? Has he ever felt so voracious? And he’s never been one to quit out of fear of the unknown.

“Oh yeah?”

His chest huffs, his forceful breaths hitting against her skin. His hair is beating against his forehead with his pace now, wet and to the point of sticking instead of bouncing.

“Babygirl wants to be Daddy’s plaything? His pretty little fuck toy?”

His lips graze the skin on her chest as he blows the words out, biting down on a nipple and yanking a bit just to see the skin blush under his bite.

“Oh, Daddy is more than willing to oblige. He has to warn his babygirl though, she’s going to be feeling this tomorrow. And every time she moves, the ache will remind her how she belongs to Daddy. How she’s his to play with however he pleases, for as long as he pleases, even until she’s falling apart under him. Babygirl would like that, wouldn’t she?”

He doesn’t give her a chance to respond before he pulls his body away from her, her legs flopping down from his shoulders and her body unfolding in response. He doesn’t give her much time either to ponder what’s happening and why before he grabs her at the hips, hoists her up over his shoulder and turns, practically throwing her hot, sweating body across the arm of the sofa pushed into the corner.

With a hand at her back, he works her further up until she’s right where he wants her, stretched out on her stomach, bent over with the arm of the sofa under her hips, elevating them as her feet dangle just off the floor.

She lifts her head to look over her shoulder at him but that is also short lived. He takes a handful of hair and uses it to hold her head down, cheek into the couch.

“Daddy’s been wanting to taste his babygirl all night. Bet she tastes so good for Daddy.”

He pushes her thighs apart, one hand still firmly holding her head down, as he pushes his face between her legs and swirls his tongue around in the wetness, finding where she’s still stretched open from him and letting his tongue flick inside her and tease at the stretched skin.

“Mmm. Daddy wishes babygirl could see how swollen she is for him. How she stretched so well to take Daddy. What a very, very good girl.”

Luna whines immediately, throwing her head back as she gasps and pants as up to the ceiling as she can angle her face before Shand pushes her head back down again. It doesn't stop the whining, though. Her entire body flushes at the growing sensation between her hips.

"Daddy- Fuck-"

Her hips squirm against his face as her breathing really picks up, hot bursts of air out of her open mouth against the cushion of the couch, bouncing back up into her face. Even more so than before, her entire body seems to react instantly to him.

Her legs stretch to try to find the floor to anchor herself but she can't reach it no matter how hard she tries. In response, her legs jerk up to grip the arm of the couch between her thighs, which only spreads her open more for him.

He laughs up against her but she continues to struggle at his face, her hips starting to rock. When she feels his tongue, she moans loud enough that it echoes in the room even more than the sound of their bodies slapping together earlier. All the muscles in her back tense as the sweat off her body starts really staining the couch, along with other things.

"Does babygirl- Does she taste good for Daddy? Maybe try her so more to be sure- Shit. She just wants to be so good for Daddy."

Luna pries her hands out from being trapped under her body, but only to reach above her head and claw into the old cushion in front of her, gripping it for dear life. This wasn't actually what she had in mind for tonight, but maybe that's because she didn't even know this would be something Shand or even herself would be into.

But damn is she so very into it. So very into how he hums up into her and the sound of his voice vibrates all the swollen folds of red skin.

Shand makes an intentional show of smacking his lips, licking them loudly, all intensely wet and sensual noises.

“Mmmmm. Babygirl is the best tasting thing Daddy has ever had. I️ could just eat you all up.”

He leans back in, taking a large bite at her backside first, getting soft skin up between his teeth before biting down, pulling back to admire his teeth marks on her.

“Babygirl is going to have so many souvenirs to remind her who she belongs to.”

He goes back to his infernal teasing between her legs, feeding off her reactions to him, buckling down harder whenever she seems to get most desperate and loud.

But he can only take so much more of that like he is. He’d taken this detour to help himself calm down, to make sure he could stretch this out as long as humanly possible. But every second is torture. He’s somehow managed to get himself even harder from the taste of her on his tongue, from watching how her thighs quiver at his touch.

So he backs away again, runs his hands over her hips and up her back, giving her a moment to catch her breath, which seems to be running away with her. But before she can acclimate herself fully, he grabs both her wrists in one of his hands, circling them tightly and pressing them into the sofa cushion above her head. He smacks her ass a few more times, addicted to the specific shade of red she’s turning under his hands. He mumbles to himself the whole time.

“What a pretty piece of art for Daddy. He’d frame that ass if he could. Wouldn’t babygirl love to be an art fixture for Daddy? Standing like a statue or hanging from the ceiling. So he could enjoy her all day.”

He smacks across the bite marks and she jumps especially hard, so he chuckles a little and rubs a soft hand apologetically over the spot before draping his body tightly over hers, pinning her to the couch with his body as much as his hands pin her wrists. Helps face isn’t far from her ear as he nudges her thighs open a little roughly with his knee and lines himself up. She’s so wet that it doesn’t take much to push back inside her, though he immediately moans at the tightness, how he has to stretch her back out all over again.

“Looks like babygirl didn’t stay open for Daddy. That’s a shame. Daddy might have to find a better way to keep her stretched out for him. Hmm? Daddy thinks he has some ideas already.”

The whine immediately rolls into a whimper when, instead of his curious tongue, he's pressing all of him back up into her. It's immediate, fast, and unapologetic. She turns so her forehead presses into the couch, hands curling into fists so her nails dig straight into the side of his hand.

He's not wrong. Even in that short time, she had closed back up. All the better, really, because she feels every millisecond he forcefully stretches her back open.

"Daddy has to teach his babygirl how to stay open- Teach me now so I can't forget anymore."

The words sort of tumble, begging muffled into the cushion.

"B-Babygirl already forgot how big Daddy is-"

Her voice is shaking as much as her legs are quivering, rubbing restlessly against the arm of the couch, dying to get some sort of friction and movement going. He only amuses her slightly, ramming up into her once. The tight ring of muscle gives, letting him plow up further in so hard that she shoves her mouth down and bites the cushion, digging her teeth so hard into it she swears she can taste the dust and stuffing inside.

Shand starts twitching up into her and the muscles start to close around him again, desperate to keep him there in her, desperate for anything really. His hips, his tongue, anything that will toy with her like this. She lifts her head, coughing the pillow out of her mouth so it lands back into place with a nice wet spot of her saliva, trying to get up to her elbows but his weight is making it difficult on her.

"Would you tie me up and teach me how to be a pretty plaything? Make me Daddy's ideal fuck toy? Everything he wants? I can learn, babygirl wants to learn."

She's having a difficult time speaking around the moans, around how her tongue feels swollen from all the moisture taken right off of it by the fabric of the couch, but her body doesn't stop moving, doesn't stop trying to rock back onto him to feel him even somewhat moving and filling inside of her.

His pace slows a little at that, brain going down a different path altogether now, thinking out his next plan. He doesn’t stop altogether, but he makes each thrust harder and more deliberate, grunting each time his hips hit into the back of her and her backside rolls with him. Watching all of her roll forward at his bidding is beautiful, like watching a wave thrust up onto the sand over and over.

“Would babygirl like Daddy to tie her up? To strap her down and restrain her really really good? So Daddy can use her all the ways he likes and she’s totally helpless to all his whims? So her body is completely defenseless against all his wildest and toughest fantasies?”

He lets his free hand test against the small of her back, pushing it down into the cushion in time with his strokes. All his muscles are burning and maybe it is a good time for another rearranging after all. Damn, the time in between keeps getting shorter. If he’s going to train her to suit him, he’s going to have to train himself to last longer while he’s at it.

He jerks her body up by the wrists, holding them above her head with his one hand until she’s standing on her tip toes, stretched out, muscles shaking visibly, skin glistening.

“How lucky Daddy is to have a toy like this.”

He feels along her breast with his free hand, pinching at her nipple before roving over her whole body like he’s taking inventory, taking stock of where she curves and where she’s softest, hand lingering between her slightly open legs before he swats at her where she’s practically dripping. She yelps a bit, body jostled in a way that he finds absolutely stunning. It gets him smiling wide.

“Daddy wants to share with babygirl before he starts breaking her in for him. Taste.”

He covers her whole mouth with his wet hand, smearing it along her lips and pushing his fingers into her mouth for her to suck.

If he had told her earlier that he'd be making her taste herself like this, she would have probably backed away, walked away, the night would have turned out very different. But, now in this moment, it seems so obvious that it's what he would do.

And it's not even the tasting her on him that really gets her, it's the tasting how she blends with the taste of him, the sweat on his fingers with the wetness from between her own legs. It's how he clearly enjoyed the taste of her, and how forcefully he's demanding she do the same, pressing his fingers past her lips with very little shame. It's the action of it all that gets her more than the taste, though it is definitely sweet just like he said. Oddly, the slight taste of the bitter salt off his skin makes it even better.

Luna slowly begins to oblige, unsure of what to do at first, what he's really looking for, more moving her lips around his fingers first, trying to feel this out. Then it all starts coming more naturally. She closes her mouth around his fingers and hollows her cheeks, sucking in against him so she can release him with a loud popping sound as the suction breaks.

Her tongue explores next, flicking between his fingers, the tip of her tongue tracing the creases of his knuckles, licking all around his skin, lapping up any trace of the slickness he wanted her to taste all just so she can get to him faster, better. Even in the roughness of his movements and actions, somehow even the skin of his hands still bends under her tongue, under how she touches around him, wraps her tongue around one of his fingers and pulls him further back into her mouth, biting down on him to keep him there.

There's something about the motions that has her eyes rolling back, eyelids fluttering, head leaning back against him as she takes shallow hot huffs of air in and out her nose, chest heaving like she's hyperventilating. All the while, her hips jerk and jolt from feeling him still pressing up into her even though he's standing her up, stretching her out to feel up and enjoy. It's the helpless feeling of being stuck there at the mercy of his whim that gets all her muscles twitching, her toes trying desperately to find some sort of traction on the floor so she can sway more on him. Somehow, things are getting even more wet down between her hips the longer this helpless feeling goes on, the same way she didn't think he could feel any harder up inside of her but he definitely does.

It's so much that she feels like she can't really even move.

"Does Daddy like this? What if his babygirl's saliva sticks to him? Runs down his fingers?"

Beyond what she should be able to do, she manages to talk semi-clearly around his fingers, though she doesn't have the energy to even turn her head to the side and look at him to see his response to what she's doing.

“Does babygirl want to make Daddy’s hand as sopping wet as it is down here between her legs?”

For emphasis he jerks up into her, keeping her stretched taught with her hands still above her head, his fingers never leaving her mouth. He lets her tongue at them for a bit more until he can feel how wildly he’s starting to twitch inside her, strain for movement and friction. The burn of it makes him huff.

He scans around the attic, trying to make his next move in his mind first. And then he finds it. He’s not sure how the attic is proving so helpful in all his efforts, but he’s not mad at it.

In the opposite corner, some rope is pooled in the floor in wide circles. An idea starts to form. He pulls himself out of her yet again, taking the opportunity to pop his fingers from her mouth and massage desperately between her legs, letting the same fingers that are wet with her saliva slip up into her one at a time until he’s pumping three, four out of her with a wet smacking gush.

“Can’t have you closing up on Daddy again.”

His voice is rough now, guttural, his body telling him that he can’t delay the inevitable for much longer. With his firm grip on her wrists, he leads her over into the corner and nudges the rope up with the toe of his shoe, kicks it up into the air to grab so he doesn’t have to bend and make her bend with him. We wraps the rope around her wrists a few times over and under and between, then pulls on it to check his work before tossing the end of the rope up over he exposed wooden rafter and pulling.

He pulls until her toes graze the floor and she whines again, her chest heaving and her skin pulling right. He takes a second to lean over and kiss it, all around her breasts and her collarbone and her stomach, before looping the rope off around a slanted support beam beside them.

Another quick look around the place yields another treasure and he crouched in the floor by their discarded clothes for a moment and pulls his belt from the pile. He smacks the end into his palm as he stands in front of her, taking every inch of her.

“Open for Daddy.”

He nudges the leather between her teeth and loops the belt behind her head, pulling tight until her hair crimps underneath it.

“Now tell Daddy all about everything babygirl wants him to do to her. Don’t leave out any detail. Daddy wants to see her get his belt dripping wet with how badly she needs to feel him inside her.”

The rope digs into her wrists and she can already tell marks are beginning to form as her entire weight rests digging into her skin and bones. Luna tries to lower herself down to reach the floor but, like with the couch, it's just out of reach. Then she bends her arms and tries to pull herself up as if angling her arms differently will give some relief.

It doesn't. Her arms shake from how exhausted her body is from everything, from how every inch of her is still somehow screaming for him as if she hasn't gotten enough. It doesn't take long before they give out and she drops, dropping back down with enough force that her body swings and she can feel fuller parts of her bounce as she begins to sway a little, suspended in the air.

There's very little to her that feels like it isn't cracking just a little bit under this possessive play they have going on. The idea of being his sex toy for as long as he wants whenever he wants makes her mind red hot the longer this continues. God, she would love him to treat her like this every night.

Ride her, push her around, pick her up, throw her down, taste her, shamelessly manipulate her body around and whisper all these demanding things in her ear. She'd do anything he wanted just to feel his breath wash over her skin and feel it send a shock crawling down her spine. Hell, if she could figure out how to stay tied up somewhere long-term for him to come to whenever he pleases, she would.

All these things and more cross her mind, but none of them seem to get out past the belt. The words mix and mumble into the leather, her teeth digging into it, grinding against it. She tries to lock her eyes with his so she can at least get her thoughts across nonverbally, but her eyelids are so heavy she has a hard time even seeing him.

She whimpers something long into the belt, her lips moving with an unheard plea and beg, cold air beginning to let her feel how so much slickness has been spread all across her, how it drips down her legs now, makes the mesh of her dress still bunched at her waist stick to her skin. A shiver races across her, hard enough to make her choke around the belt just long enough that she feels a bead of drool begin to pool under the belt then slip out over her bottom lip, dripping off her chin.

It doesn't feel like her most graceful moment but the feeling of his belt and rope still holding her there, forcing her to shamelessly show him how much control she's losing over herself, does still play into all her wildest fantasies right now.

In an attempt to spur him on, she presses her knees together, crossing her ankles, closing her legs back up. It's as defiant of a move as she can make right now, not keeping herself open for him like he explicitly told her to, but, even then, she can't confidently meet his gaze. Her chest continues to heave and she keeps looking away from him as if she's innocent, as if she's not disobeying him.

“Oh, babygirl. Its a good thing you asked me to teach you. Because it looks like you have a lot to learn. Do you know what happens when Daddy’s toy disobeys him?”

Shand shakes his head, trying to be as foreboding as possible while still riding his own high and trying not to go mad from not being inside her.

He runs his hand softly down her sides, along her waist and past the bunched discarded fabric of her dress. He brushes it to the side just as softly in one moment and smacks against her backside the next, and again immediately after, multiple times. The loud sharp sound, one after another, seems to echo and he can hear her gasp through the belt.

“Daddy has to punish his girl when she disobeys... he has to do something that will teach her to listen to him next time.”

She wriggles at her hips, her skin no doubt smarting from the sharp blows, as he looks around again for something to facilitate this lesson. Then he remembers... a long shot, maybe a little much. But they’ve come this far, haven’t they? And the haze over his brain pushes him toward it anyway.

Around the other side of the sofa is a large cardboard box, taped up. Dolan and Trita hadn’t even tried to be discreet when they’d brought it up here, so what’s inside is common knowledge. All their old toys, the ones that they’d grown tired of a long time ago, sterilized and set aside for reconsideration at a later date.

He rips the tape off the top with slightly trembling hands, splitting his view between his search in the box and her stretched out body. In a matter of moments, he emerges from the box with something hidden behind his back and a lopsided and mischievous grin on his face.

He walks slowly over to her, dropping the item on the floor behind him but securing her gaze upward with a firm grasp on her chin as he reaches around and undoes the belt gag.

“I’ve come up with a better use for this.”

He slips the leather up her face until the wide band is around her eyes and secured not quite as tightly as before, just enough to stay in place and impede her sight. He swears under his breath at the drool running down her chin, at the red marks against the sides of her mouth.

“Now babygirl. This is going to hurt Daddy just as much as it hurts you. So take this time to think about what you’ve done and what you can do better next time.”

He grabs the thick dildo off the floor and runs it up the inside of one of her legs, then flops it against her stomach, toying with her before he brings it right up to her entrance, tapping against her swollen skin several times with it before pushing inside with very little care and beginning to pump it in to the hilt and out of her at a furious pace.

Luna takes a sharp gasp, immediately whining, whimpering, trying to figure out what the hell is going on. Whatever he's forcing up into her isn't warm, doesn't feel like him, and it's moving too fast to be his hips.

God, it's moving so fast. She recoils each time the object rams up into her, striking her hard. Somehow, in all of this, her muscles still trying to clench around it, but as soon as they spasm and pull, it pops back out of her with a wet sound. Then rams back up in, then out, and the cycle repeats at a furious pace her body can't keep up with. Even her noises are confused, stuck between moaning and outright crying as the friction starts to burn.

As the stretching really starts pushing her to her limit. It goes so far up her, fills her so much, that she swears if she looked down she could see the difference in the shape of her body the moments it's in and push all around her and the moments it's out.

She jerks and pulls on the rope, throwing her head back, sweat dripping down her face and chest. Her legs kick out some, knees bending, moving so much she nearly starts swinging on the rope. Her entire body is bouncing and jiggling, gyrating in the most obscene ways that make her acutely aware of her mass in certain areas of her body, like her breasts.

"Daddy- Oh, fuck, Daddy- I'll learn, I- Ah."

All the words get forced together and jumbled out, especially as the aching really starts down between her hips. With her neck still bent back, her tongue unconsciously starts pulling at her lips, licking along them, leaving a nice sheen in its wake, before it starts trying to press and flick out of her mouth in time with the nearly unbearable pumping. The beam above even starts creaking, sending a chill straight down her spine.

Has he always been like this? Damn. Hell. Fuck. She could get used to this while hoping she never does. She is under his complete possessive control and she loves it, even feels a ripple of contraction through her muscles around the object even just thinking about it, how he's talking and treating her.

He’s kneeled beside her now, doing his best to stabilize her swinging body, feeling his own hips start to draw tension at the noises she’s giving, how every part of her body moves and recoils, but silently begs for what he’s giving her. And down this close, he can see the sticky drops rolling down her thighs, coating the inside of her legs in wetness that shimmers and looks downright obscene in every good way.

“Oh, babygirl, you’re torturing Daddy like this. Do you think you’ve learned your lesson?”

He stops pumping into her for a few moments, drawing the dripping dildo across her stomach and tapping her breasts with it as her chest heaves. He brings it to his mouth and licks it to get a good taste of her, then takes her by the chin and kisses her feet enough that she can taste herself on his tongue. He’s not touching her legs, but he can still feel from this distance how her thighs shiver and shake.

“Can you prove you’ve learned your lesson, babygirl? Can you tell Daddy what you’ll do different next time? How you’ll be good for Daddy?”

As extra incentive, he kneels back down and starts to lightly smack the incredibly swollen skin between her legs with the dildo, teasing her dripping entrance with it again, making her gasp every time he pretends he’s going to shove it up inside her and resume his pace again, but he holds off following through.

Some thoughts start to turn, surprisingly enough. Despite how fried her mind feels from the intensity of the haze that's settled in it, some pieces start connecting.

If disobeying him got her that sort of attention, then... Would it get her more? She would be okay with more.

"Daddy... Babygirl can't take anymore. She took all of Daddy and all of that. She's too tired to learn."

Even though she is exhausted, she lets her voice trail off in playful but pathetic whining.

"There's nothing else Daddy can do, right? He has to let his babygirl go."

Of course, that's not what she wants at all. If he's really playing this game, then he did say he'll keep playing with her even beyond what she can take. It's all about what she wants and she loves that thought just as much now as she did when he said it.

Even though her eyes are covered, she lets her head lean forward so she can "look" down at where she hears his voice coming from, letting the tip of her tongue hang out the corner of her mouth as she pants, her lips and chin a wet mess from both his mouth and also from her own drool.

"Why can't Daddy just tell his babygirl that she's been a good girl?"

With a quick flick and possibly the last of her energy, she pulls her hips and legs back from him, pressing them tight together again to close him off from her, her hands gripping the rope around her wrists that has just started digging into her skin.

Shand stands slowly, having to stretch his hips out at the muscle spasms he’s feeling, and takes a handful of one of her breasts and pulls, swinging her right into his body. He holds her there against him, both of them wet now with sweat and everything from inside her. He holds her to him so he pushes between her legs, poised to slip right into her. But he holds her tight enough to control it, letting his tip slide across her swollen skin, more teasing.

“Oh, does babygirl want Daddy to lie to her now? If he lies in one way, he can’t be trusted in any other way, can he? And babygirl has to be able to trust her Daddy. Especially when he tells her that he’ll train her to be perfect for him, even if it breaks her.”

He lets a loud smack fall on her backside, and her body quakes and shivers right into his. He loves how he can feel the recoil against him, feel her gasp and feel her abdomen tighten, her legs shiver, like her body is holding onto its last little bit of control.

He smacks against her again, and this time he takes a handful of her red ass and kneads his hands into it, just like with her chest, pulling and letting his nails leave little indents.

“Is babygirl going to make Daddy really spank her? It looks like Daddy might have to take her over his knee.”

He lets her go, lets her body swing backwards and he can see her muscles tighten as she works to hold herself up again. He enjoys the view but doesn’t make her work long. He reaches up and undoes the rope, leaving her wrists tied but untethering her from the ceiling so her feet are back solid on the floor again.

The belt stays across her eyes too as he pulls her by her hips and falls back onto the couch, pulling her down to lay face down across his lap, her hips angled up across his legs and her face pressed again into the couch.

“How much does babygirl think she deserves as punishment, hmm?”

He waits for a second before grabbing the dildo off the floor and working it unceremoniously back up into her to the hilt and leaving it there, yanking her legs back closed to hold it in place as he awaits her answer, rubbing her ass as more teasing before his first strike.

Luna moans the entire long moment she can feel him slip the object back up inside of her, voice shaking each time he adjusts it to make sure all of it finds a way up into her, even when she's sure it can't go any further. She feels so stretched, yet it still somehow manages to force all the folds open more, forcing them to give, pushing the skin around it to make room for itself.

It only gets worse when he forces her legs closed. Her legs can't even completely close for how big the thing is, not to mention she can feel it shift up in her, feel it slip and press up rather than just in. Her legs shake and tremble, try to open some for relief but he snaps them closed again, her thighs making a wet slap upon contact with each other.

"I've been a good girl-"

The statement almost immediately gets cut off by his hand across her already sore ass, her body jolting at the sharp impact. Luna bites her lip, dipping her head down to press her forehead into the couch. Despite the pain of it all, her hips almost immediately start rocking up against his knee, the front of her hitting up against him.

She hopes that she can somehow get the feeling of his skin against all the swollen skin that throbs, but, as she quickly learns, the object he has pressed up into her blocks her off from him. She whines loudly, pumping her hips faster in feral-like desperation, trying to force the object out by hitting herself up against him. In all of this, he keeps her legs shut. It isn't going anywhere.

His hand collides against her again.

"I'm such a bad girl. I'll never ever learn. I'll never listen to Daddy. He'll have to spend all night teaching me over and over again."

The times the words to match her rocking, working herself up to rest on her elbows almost defiantly, not letting him have the satisfaction of pressing her face down. Though she'd give it to him if he took it, even she knows that.

"I'm so bad. Punish your babygirl again. Daddy knows I deserve it. I'm not broken yet, I'm not how Daddy wants me to be. Oh, I'm so bad. I bet Daddy is getting so mad at me."

“Oh no, babygirl. Daddy can do this all night. And then all day. And then all night again.”

He chuckles, despite the fact that he’s way too hard to make good on that particular threat. At this rate though, he’s stubborn enough that if he has to jerk off and make her watch, he’ll do it. He smacks her again, gripping the irritated skin in his hands and groping, pulling and squeezing enough to get a new whimper out of her.

She refuses to press her face submissively into the couch, and that puts a smile on his face. He’s flexible. He can work with her. He takes a handful of hair instead and pulls back, forcing her back to arch dramatically, making her body all curves, breasts and spine and ass, enough that the sight is really getting to him.

One hand in his hair and one gripped into the soft part of her hip, he leans over and lets his teeth sink into her backside, biting and licking and biting again at the skin before he sits up and smacks at his own teeth marks.

She fairly wiggles her ass in his face, liking this way too much.

“Daddy thinks this isn’t enough of a punishment for babygirl.”

He jerks her by her hair a bit to jostle her before he pries her legs open again and starts pumping the dildo, this time really ramming it as far up in her each time as he can, until even his arm hurts with the pace and force.

“I️ bet you wish this was Daddy’s cock. But only good girls get to take Daddy. Bad girls have to take the dildo instead. Does babygirl prefer the dildo to Daddy’s cock? Because she won’t get any more of it until she’s good for Daddy.”

He adjusts the angle of the dildo, raising his leg to pull her hips up further in the air, and the noises she makes in response tell him that against all odds, he’s figured out how to drive into her even deeper.

"Daddy please-"

He's already pulling her head back with her hair but she feels her body arch in an unnatural position once he gets to pumping the dildo again. It all sound wet and sloppy, echoing in the room right along with her whimpering. Her breasts even bounce back and forth so much with the movement of his arm that they beginning light little slapping sounds of their own as they hit back up into her chest.

She moves from her elbows to her hands on the couch to support her through this, nails digging sharp enough to start cutting some of the upper layer of threads.

"It has to be you- I won't learn anything if it isn't you pushing up inside of me. You're so hard and big-"

Shand hums like that's both a compliment and a challenge. He thrusts the dildo back up into her with a sharp snap, so hard she can feel small tears form at the inner corners of her eyes under the belt. But it's not a bad feeling, she moans loudly as he keeps it pushed up into her this time, her mouth hung open and she can feel her own saliva begin to pool around her bottom lip again. She can't respond immediately to him, she had to stay there panting, squirming, dropping back to her elbows as her muscles begin to tremble visibly.

"You're so much bigger and harder than this. Babygirl won't learn anything if Daddy isn't making her take him."

He clicks his tongue, toying with the dildo, twisting it a little while it's still up inside her, a little more satisfied with that wording but it clearly isn't enough. She throws her head back, crying in growing frustration mixed with the most unbelievable amount of pleasure she's ever felt.

"I do. I do wish it was your cock. That's all babygirl wants right now. Daddy needs to tell babygirl what to do, how to be a good girl, so she can get Daddy's cock again."

The tone of her voice, airy and desperate, makes everything she's saying even more obscene than it is, all the words having to slip out through heavy panting.

"If Daddy doesn't think babygirl deserves to see him, she can stay like this, she can stay on her hands and knees for him, let him pull her hair. Whatever Daddy wants."

Shand can’t tell if the time moves more slowly or more quickly after that. It’s nights after nights of business down at the bar, stealing glances at her up in the stage whenever he’s able and convinced no ones going to catch him, punctuated with early mornings sneaking into each other’s rooms, into the attic together, anywhere they can be alone. It makes the outside world almost feel like it ceases to exist.

Almost. In between the sneaking away and the time he spends gawking at her singing and swaying her hips, Shand can still feel the tensions of the place shifting and spiking, sees the little looks Trita and Dolan share at certain comments made by patrons in dark corners they didn’t think anyone was listening in on. Once or twice some of the Wolves’ lower level thugs have shown up at the door claiming they just wanted drinks, but were tossed out by Kvanne with prejudice all the same, laughing the whole time.

Shand isn’t sure if this strange, atmospheric shift is crescendoing toward something amazing and perfect, like every night and early morning with Fen suggests, or something dark and catastrophic, like the dread that knots his stomach up when news from the street comes in, when he hears Olvreign’s name whispered from the back booths, when the haunting scenes from his visions visit him without warning at all hours of the day. All he knows is that something is happening and whatever it is, it’s out of his hands and coming at him fast.

It’s late one afternoon before opening and Shand is pacing around the speakeasy, working paths into the wooden planks around the dance floor and the bar, mulling over everything in rare sort of silence, when a glass thunking down hard on the bar jolts him out of his thoughts and he turns to see Trita polishing glasses and bottles, her pre-opening ritual, with a knowing look on her face.

"Need a drink? I don't mind pouring certain people one before open. Anything to keep you from having me replace the floor you're wearing down."

Trita feels her eyebrow quirk up all on its own, the sass, the teasing, the sharp sort of analyzing concern, they're all just second nature, nothing to think about.

And they're never really out of place, either. Shand has been pacing the same exact path in the floor for the past thirty minutes with a pensive firm stare down at his shoes. He only really looks up to let his eyes flick to the stage. The empty stage.

Fengari isn't there, she's upstairs, probably getting ready for the night. It's even too early for the musicians to be practicing. So, what he's hoping to see is anyone's guess.

That's probably not right. He seems to be tracing a memory. Maybe multiple memories. Something to comfort him, something to remind him. At least, that's what Trita is assuming and her guess is better than anyone's, she's been watching him the entire time. Not to mention she just knows him pretty damn well at this point.

He's tense, Dolan's tense, Kvanne is tense, Axel's tense. Everyone's tense, no one can relax. With good reason. The Wolves are moving and that's never been a good sign. Especially lately. The Foxes have always been the more tactical and respected family in this city. The Wolves nipping at their heels in vain attempts to catch up, clumsy, uncoordinated.

Now? They're organized, methodical. They have a plan. They have more than a plan. They have something they firmly believe is their ace. And that's terrifying. The Wolves must be under new leadership, someone cut out for the role and who is terrifyingly running it well. That's not good news, not for the Foxes.

While the rest of the family stresses, it's Trita's job to keep a level head, to push her stress to the back of her mind and guide each Fox through this the best she can. If she doesn't, who will? That's the reason she's here, really. She's spent a good amount of time arguing with Kvanne lately. Not intentionally, it just happens between the two of them. And, when she's not doing that, she's getting a rant from Axel, an information dump from Lance, and saving every minute she can to let Dolan have his share.

It seems like she's neglected Shand in all of this. Or, maybe she hasn't felt the need to give him as much time because he's been able to find someone else's time here lately. Whatever the case, he looks like he needs a distraction or someone to talk to now.

"Come on, sit down. Your steps are starting to give me a headache. I need to talk to you anyways."

Something in the way she tosses her head to beckon him over stops him in his tracks and makes his head tilt, ever so slightly, all on its own. He’s been so busy lately trying to keep certain things secret and ignore other people’s secrets that he’s forgotten how perceptive Trita is. Well, not really forgotten. Maybe just pushed it to the back of his mind in the midst of everything else.

And the way she’s looking at him right now says it all. He slips hesitantly onto a barstool and his elbows go immediately to the smooth wood, his jaw pushed down onto his palms like his head right now is the heaviest thing his hands have ever held.

“You know. You may think you need to talk to me. But we can work all this out without talking. Don’t need to say a word. I’ll keep all of it to myself, you can keep all of it to yourself and not let anyone else in on it, and we’ll both be fine. It’ll work out like a dream. Sound good?”

She slides a rum across the bar to him, more for fun than efficiency, and he doesn’t even bother to pick it up, just leans over slightly to slurp out the top of the glass.

“Deal, yeah?”

“What on earth do you think I want to talk to you about?”

Oh, she knows. She absolutely knows. He thinks she’s going to hound him about his new relationship. And wouldn’t she love to? Wouldn’t she love to nickel and dime him over it, tease him until he hurried through that drink and runs upstairs for safety. Now just seems like an inappropriate time for that.

“No deal, bud. I know you’ve been making home in a certain singer’s bed. Does she sing for you, hm?”

Okay, well. Maybe just a little teasing is fine foe right now. Probably should leave it there, though.

“Actually, believe it or not, that’s not what I want to talk to you about.”

Shand tries to hide any interest from her but she can see the way his head tries to tilt before he rolls his shoulders to center himself again. It’s a trait he’s picked up from Dolan, whether either of them know it.

“I actually have good news for you if you’re willing to listen?”

Wheels and cogs and everything creaks to a halt in his head, things going conspicuously silent in his mind for just a moment. Is he really going to get that lucky, for her to jab him over it once and then let it be? Probably means there will be more later, when he doesn’t see it coming from a mile out. Then he’ll just have to take it in the teeth instead.

But something else quiets his thoughts, gives his momentary pause as his brain tries to wrap itself around the idea. Good news? Does such a thing still exist?

He mumbles that sentiment to himself, out loud, as he finally picks up his rum and drinks it like a human being. Why does the thought of good news almost make him more anxious, like it’s some upper cut meant to disguise a gut punch?

“You’re serious. Good news. What, you know a guy who knows a guy who can get us a cut in fixing the World Series? It’s not supposed to rain all next week? Prohibition’s over? What kind of good news are we talking here?”

He lets the rim of the glass hang between his fingers, swirling the liquid around and watching it in the minimal glow of the bar lights. They sure could use some good news, even of the trivial variety.