His Little Runaway (6 page)

Was
Ashley Lewis that young lady? Until fifteen minutes ago she would never in her wildest dreams have imagined that her body would respond the way it had to him. But his sheer
bigness
, and his experience—they seemed to work on her senses like an intoxicant, until she couldn’t even recognize the facts about her that she had always thought defined her. Like who her boyfriends would be.

She had never thought about sex much, even when the warden had promised to make her do sex things. That was just about power.

Wasn’t
this
about power, too, though? But power used for good as opposed to power used for evil?

Wes came back. Ashley could hear the water running into the tub now.

She spoke without really thinking about it, not even sure what answer she wanted. “Can I keep the t-shirt on in the tub, sir? I mean, you know, to… cover me?”

Wes smiled patiently as she looked up at him from the couch.

“No, honey. You have to take it off so I can see all of you. I’ll go get new clothes for you and let you use the washcloth on your privates, once I’m done with the rest of you.”

She felt her face go very red. How could he just say that about her
privates
? And her privates were so… well, they had gotten so warm and even wet, at the beginning of the spanking and then when he rubbed her bottom, and even when he had snuggled her in his arms. She had felt that kind of warmth before only a couple of times—never with a boyfriend, but just lying in bed thinking about things, like certain movie stars and certain movies.

Ashley knew theoretically that it was possible to use your hand to soothe that warmth away, but she never had, feeling always that to do that would be to give in to the feeling in some way, and thinking that she didn’t want to be the kind of girl who gave in that way.

Now, though, the urge to put her hand down there, between her thighs, on her privates—even with Wes
watching
—started to grow way, way past any point to which it had ever come before. To have him say
privates
seemed to light a fire in the place he named, so great that the warmth began to turn into an ache.

Wes bent down and picked her up just as easily as he had maneuvered her over his knee during the spanking, at that terrible moment when he had rendered her bottom completely motionless so he could finish punishing it. The worst part of the spanking had turned out not to be the pain, which did become bad, but the way being over Wes’ lap had made the pain somehow connect to her soul, so that to keep her bottom pushed up the way he wanted it became its own lesson in obeying him, and she really did feel ashamed that she couldn’t keep herself from kicking and couldn’t keep her right hand from trying to cover her poor little bottom.

The best part, of course, was when he took her in his arms, as she was in his arms now. To feel that she had had her first bare-bottom spanking, to teach her how she must behave from now on, and that the man who gave it to her—who had taken her in hand—wanted to hold her that way… well, it made being carried into the bathroom feel even more like flying than it already did.

The water was warm and bubbly. She didn’t think hard about why a former special ops warrior living in a cabin in the woods should have bubble bath, but merely enjoyed the perfectly warm temperature of the bath as, after standing up briefly so Wes could strip the t-shirt off her, she scrambled into the tub, wanting him to get as brief a glimpse as possible of her pussy.

Had he seen it when she kicked, during the spanking? At the time, she had been in too much discomfort even to think about it, but now she felt another blush suffuse her face. She looked down; the bubbles covered her up, thank goodness. But Wes handed her a washcloth and said, “You can put this down there to cover your privates if you want.”

She smiled nervously up at him. “Thanks,” she said as she took it and submerged it there. Somehow, though, to have the washcloth there made the feeling that, as strange as it seemed, she
wanted
Wes to see her pussy even stronger. She swallowed hard.

Wes had turned away to get another washcloth, and now he dipped it in the sudsy water and began gently to wash her face. The scrape on her cheek, though far from completely healed, hurt a lot less than it had only a few hours before. The warm cloth on her face felt delicious, and when Wes moved to her shoulders and upper arms, Ashley realized that she had started to press down on the washcloth between her thighs, and the ache there was growing. Oh, God, was she actually masturbating here in front of him? She guiltily eased the pressure, though her pussy seemed to cry out for more.

If Wes noticed anything unusual, he didn’t mention it. Just brushing against her breasts, he moved down to her tummy, clearly working to make sure he didn’t tickle her by making each sweep of the cloth even and long.

“Lean forward, honey,” he said, “and I’ll wash your back.”

Then it was her thighs, inches away from where Ashley held the washcloth, her calves, and her feet.

Then he said, “Alright, I’ll go find some clothes. You finish up. Wash your privates and then you can drain the tub and take a shower.”

He left the bathroom, the door behind him remaining ajar.

Ashley nearly refrained even from trying to wash herself between her legs, but how could she? The merest touch of the washcloth, though, as she spread her legs in the spacious tub and began to rub there, sent a shudder of terrible pleasure through her whole body. She had never felt arousal this strong. Suddenly the need to see Wes naked, the way he had seen her, seemed to take command of her imagination. She had never seen a man’s penis outside a picture in sex-ed class, but now she couldn’t stop picturing Wes’, hard and ready to do the thing Ashley had of course known she would do one day but had never really considered in relation to an actual, individual man. Sex.
Fucking.
For the very first time, Ashley Lewis thought she would like to be fucked, with a hard cock thrusting into her tender little privates. Wes’ hard cock.

She had her fingers under the washcloth now. She was playing with herself, not washing herself; how could she deny it? If Wes fucked her with his hard cock, it would go in
here
, where she could feel the opening, very low down. Two fingers could get in, and make her moan, while with the other hand she rubbed the place at the top with the dirty, dirty name:
clitoris. Clit.

Would Wes spank her for masturbating? The very thought made the arousal fiercer, worse and better. The two fingers could go in a little way, but then they came up against what she knew must be her hymen—with too much force.

Ashley cried out in startled discomfort.

Wes came in, holding a t-shirt and athletic shorts, a concerned look on his face. In his eyes, she saw him realize exactly what was going on.

“Would you like daddy to do that for you, honey?” he asked softly. “Your daddy is the one who should make you feel good that way. Little girls who touch themselves without permission get spanked, because their daddies are in charge of their privates. I know you didn’t know that, though, so I’m not going to spank you.”

“B-but…” Ashley stammered, so embarrassed and so aroused that she wasn’t even sure she wasn’t about to ask him to spank her anyway.

“But now you do know that rule, and you either have to stop touching yourself, or tell daddy that you would like him to be the one to play with your little pussy.”

Ashley stared back at him, trying to make sense of the choice he offered her. Could he actually be saying that he would punish her for what she wanted to do with her own body, if she refused to let him touch her that way? As much arousal as she felt, something about that idea seemed wrong to her.

As if reading her mind, Wes said, in a very different kind of voice. “Ashley, I’m asking you if you want to start what’s called an ageplay relationship with me. If you decide you
don’t
want me to be your daddy, that’s fine, and I won’t spank you for masturbating. That’s part of the ageplay dynamic, and if you don’t want that dynamic I’ll just turn around and go, and this time I’ll shut the door behind me.” The ghost of a smile appeared on his lips, and it reassured her greatly.

“N-no…” she said, realizing that her hands had remained in the embarrassing places they had been when he walked in; now she guiltily moved them away and replaced the washcloth between her thighs.

“No, what?” Wes asked softly.

“No, daddy?”

His little smile turned into a grin. “That’s not what I meant, but I think I can tell what you mean.”

Ashley couldn’t help smiling back, as terribly strange as the whole situation seemed.

“No, don’t go?” she whispered.

“You want your daddy to make your little pussy feel good?”

“Yes, daddy,” she said, even more softly. “Please, daddy.”

“Did my little girl’s pussy get wet when she had her spanking?”

Why did it feel so perfect? So much better than anything had ever felt, to have this man only, what, maybe seven years older than she was, calling her a little girl and saying such dirty, naughty things to her. She could only think that Wes had been right: she needed a kind of discipline she would never have thought she could find, now that she had, according to the way most of the world looked at it, grown far past it.

“Yes, daddy. It got so wet, and I couldn’t help it. I had to touch it.”

Wes crossed the few steps so he could bend down and reach into the tub—deep into the tub, down between her legs. Ashley moaned so loud as he touched her there, began to rub her there with fingers that seemed to know how to soothe the aching and the burning, even better than she could herself knew.

“You won’t always be allowed to have your pussy touched after a spanking,” he said right in her ear, as his fingers made her back arch and her hands ball into fists. “When you’ve been naughty, sometimes daddy will need to make sure you understand that only good girls get to come.”

Ashley’s mouth hung open, her breath coming in short pants. She felt sweat beading on her brow.
Come
. She knew that some women couldn’t have orgasms, and she had thought she might be one of them. Wes was teaching her a new lesson, now: Ashley Lewis no longer doubted that she could come. The question would be whether she could be a good enough girl to come several times every day, the way her delirious brain seemed to be telling her she could never live without, because
this
, now, with her whole body spasming and splashing in the bubbly warm water, with Wes’ enormous hand still caressing her mercilessly, gently,
this
must be what coming was.

Chapter Eight

After the tension started to leave her body, Wes kept his hand on Ashley’s furry pussy possessively, still fondling but not actively wanking his wonderful little girl.

“Did that feel good, honey?” he asked.

“Yes, daddy,” Ashley whispered.

“Would you like daddy to help you in the shower?”

She giggled: a wonderful silvery sound that seemed to shine light into places in Wes that had been dark for two years.

“Yes, daddy. You’d have to take off your clothes, wouldn’t you?”

“Would you like to see your daddy naked, honey? Have you ever seen a naked man?”

“Only in pictures,” Ashley said with another giggle.

“So you’ve never seen a man’s penis up close?”

“Oh, daddy!” She tucked her chin into her shoulder as pink spread across her face.

“I know it’s a little embarrassing,” Wes said, smiling, “but a little girl who touches herself in the bathtub is ready to have big-girl time, and that means learning to make her daddy’s penis get hard, and learning to make it feel good until the semen comes out. After your shower, daddy’s going to put his penis inside your little pussy.”

He rubbed her there again, and her whole body quaked with the pleasure of the touch and, he felt sure, the dirty talk that he loved so much. Her face had turned bright crimson now.

“And we’re going to shave you down here, too,” he said, not wanting to stop the flow of her arousal, or his—Wes’ cock felt like an iron bar inside his jeans and delaying taking them off and feeling Ashley’s first tentative attentions to her daddy’s pleasure had become a delicious torment.

“Oh, no…” Ashley said, as Wes began to run his fingers more pointedly up and down her tender slit, moving her toward another orgasm.

“Yes, honey. A daddy likes to have a smooth place to put his cock, so that when he looks down at what he’s doing he can see himself moving inside her. And a little girl likes to have a tidy private place under her panties, so she can always feel nice and clean. We’ll get you shaved tomorrow: daddy can’t wait much longer to fuck you.”

At the coarse, grown-up word, Ashley shuddered with pleasure and cried out over his fingers. Wes could tell she loved dirty talk just as much as he did.

“Move against daddy’s hand, honey. Help him make his little girl come. When daddy gives you permission, you can be as naughty as you want with your little pussy.”

She needed no further urging, but began to move her hips in the water, shamelessly bucking them so that she could rub her clit on his fingers even as they fondled her there.

“That’s it, honey. Such a good girl to show your daddy how much you need his big cock inside you.”

“Oh, God. Oh, God.” Ashley’s voice sounded strangled, as if this orgasm was going to be much bigger than the first; so big that she felt like her body couldn’t even deal with the pleasure.

“Come for daddy, now, and then daddy will show you his penis,” he whispered in her ear, and that set her off: she cried out and splashed water out of the tub and onto Wes’ jeans with the arching of her back that seemed to go on forever.

“You got daddy wet, honey,” Wes said in mock reproach. Now he didn’t spend any time soothing her pussy, because his need had become simply too great. He stood up, unbuttoning his flannel shirt. He stripped off his jeans, so that his cock sprang free right in front of Ashley’s face where she sat in the tub.