Poppy Ch. 02

Same warning and thanks as before!

*****

"Time to wake up beautiful," I half whisper, stroking her cheek with the back of my index finger.

She stirs, moaning slightly in such a pleasantly affecting way. My stroke moves down to her neck; still damp from our exquisite engagement but 5 hours ago. I'd somehow managed to fall asleep on the living room couch. In fact, I slept better than I think I ever have before.

Her eyes open lingeringly, as though she's not yet recalled what they had borne witness to when last they were alert. After a few seconds she begins struggling fiercely, apparently testing her restraints once more, and of course finding no reprieve. Her eyes dart wildly before finally settling on mine; the instantly apparent terror within them telling of the final comprehension of her reality. Where she is, what I did to her - what I am to her and she to me.

"Sleep okay angel?"

She's just staring at me, piercing me with a look of disbelief smashed into fear.

"Do you need to use the bathroom?"

She can barely manage a hoarse "yes." Other than that she's now practically unanimated, save for her chest rising and falling at an entirely unnatural rate.

"I thought you might. Now, I'm going to have to carry you, okay?"

Of course, her answer is of no consequence, but I wait nonetheless for a defeated nod.

"Good girl," I smile fondly, as I climb back onto the bed and in between her legs; the panic which consequently floods her being wholly evident at the surface of her skin.

I proceed to untie her left wrist, and she winces as I grasp it doubtless more firmly than I need to as the bonds begin to loosen. She doesn't put up any resistance, and I enjoy stroking the inflamed line with the pad of my thumb for a few moments. I recall how liberated two free hands had made her feel last time -- her charming little outburst. I wonder how long it will take before they subside. I certainly hope it's not too soon.

I let her suitably raw released wrist fall so that it's resting by her head. Now for the right.

Not as ferocious as last time, but she's had a rather physically trying time of late so I give her an 'A' for effort. She even manages to give my cheek what feels like a pretty impressive scratch. Still, I restrain her once more with quite remarkable ease; pinning her wrists above her head so that my face is directly above hers.

She shudders quite dramatically, squeezing her eyes tightly shut as a drop of my blood falls onto her cheek. I watch, rather captivated as it rolls down her face toward her ear; penetrating her tears - streaking through the middle like an arrow. Another drop falls, met by another flinch, and I lean further down to kiss it from her.

"Poppy, don't you think you should kiss me better too?"

Her eyes open in a more reluctant, pained manner this time. She simply whispers a rather emotionless "no," before she looks away from me, back over my shoulder at the ceiling. It seems as if she finds the sight somehow comforting.

I smile. "Sweetheart, I really don't want you to have to wet the bed."

Her eyes dart back to mine as realisation clearly hits. Without a word, she lifts her head from the tear and sweat soaked pillow and presses her lips directly on to her work. My eyes shut almost automatically as I very audibly inhale through clenched teeth. Not because of any pain. There's a sting sure, but more than anything I feel an aching elation shoot right through me. She holds there for a few static seconds and then lays her head back down again, returning her gaze to clearly soothing mundanity.

There had been a little blood on her lips before due to her aggressive biting, but the picture now is exceptionally striking. The urge to fuck her to the point that those beautifully stained lips frame a pure, tortured scream is quite overwhelming. But I suppose I've my end of the bargain to keep up.

In a surprisingly swift manoeuvre considering my burning inclination, I manage to pull myself off of the bed, sit Poppy up by pulling her wrists forward, and then pin them behind her back; binding them together with one of the lengths of rope that she's now so familiar with. She gasps a little as I let her fall back down, so that her arms are now forcing her back into an arch. I can't help but admire her in this position for a few minutes. So helpless: like she's just presenting herself for me to take. Her usually immaculate hair by my own hand is now soaked and matted at the same. Beautiful little purpling bruises have emerged in various places, and the sweetest little pool of blood...

Once more resolving to be attentive, I force myself to untie her left ankle. I'm sure there's a little glint of hope in her eyes as I do so. I hope there was.

Rather than untying the other, I drag the ankle I've hold of toward it; so regrettably closing her legs, while consequently pulling the rest of her body at a twisted angle which doesn't look particularly comfortable. Before she's entirely liberated from the bed frame I secure her ankles together with the free cut of rope; leaving a length of only around ten centimetres between them (not long enough for any kind of quick get away, but just enough to allow for easier access and what not). I feel her sharp intake of breath as I push my arms underneath her shoulders and knees, before lifting her to me in a cradling embrace and carrying her toward the bathroom.

She vehemently avoided eye contact with me while she peed. She sobbed her little heart out when I knelt before her, gently pushed her knees apart and helped her get cleaned up; shame and desperation flooding all of her features.

As I admire the combination of her blood and my come which has seeped from her, I think pride best describes my feeling. Indeed, a two-fold manner of pride - and combined with almost painful arousal -- it makes for an inexplicable sensation. I consider how far that's telling of the very nature of this situation: feelings which do not conventionally combine, but that work so remarkably well together.

The temptation to play with her while in such a compromising position is just too much. When I push my finger inside of her, she breaks down - throws her head back and begins stamping her feet a little, almost like a petulant child, as she groans more than screams 'no', over and over. I think this is the best reaction yet. Though, when I add a second finger and her whole upper body convulses forward, there's no containing my grin. Further still, the retching and desperate head shaking as I have her lick my fingers - lest I present something I know she'd like distinctly less to her mouth -- was very much appreciated. Simple little thing thinks she's managed to avoid that one.

"Up you come beautiful," I announce as I lift her to me as before once her crying begins to subside a little. I can feel her fragile little body trembling wildly in my arms; only intensified as I turn towards the stair case as opposed to either of our bedrooms. Her panicked look as I begin to descend is just priceless.

Once in the kitchen, I set her down gently upon a chair at the kitchen table and proceed to bind each of her ankles to the two front legs -- forcing her legs slightly apart and ensuring that she can only stand or sit.

"Time for some breakfast I think, don't you?"

Her clear perplexity at such a casual proposition is quite amusing. I suppose this would be like any other morning, were she not completely unclothed and tied to her seat; having recently been fucked by the man responsible for her very existence. And the man who makes her breakfast. The thought makes me smile as I examine the copious array of lavish foodstuffs in our cupboards, courtesy of my little girl let loose with my credit card and the wonder that is supermarket home delivery.

"Hmm... what do you think, croissants?"

She doesn't answer. Her gaze has shifted to a blank stare at the fruit bowl in the centre of the table before her.

"Fruit?"

I highly doubt she wants fruit. I highly doubt her brain has even registered what she's looking at. Her fixed expression and continued silence would certainly seem to suggest that she's going for a state of detachment.

"Okay, you want to skip breakfast for now. That's fine."

She visibly jolts as I very deliberately start towards her in a manner intended to break her calmed state.

"I'm sorry baby, I didn't mean to frighten you," I smirk, before pulling her firmly to her feet and slipping behind her to seat myself on her recently semi-vacated chair, so that she's standing, back to me, mere inches away. Quite the view I can assure you. Taking hold of her bound wrists to ensure that she doesn't fall, I softly kiss some of the exposed rawness while simultaneously freeing my insistent erection. Her violent sob shakes her whole body. I imagine it's taking all she's got to avoid collapsing onto me.

"Hush, hush," I whisper, lightly stroking her soft, delicately bruised inner thigh. The poor thing actually manages to regain a little composure, but I know that'll be short lived. I'll make sure of it.

"Now, this is going to hurt again I'm afraid beautiful." (Turns out it didn't take much.)

I slide my hand up and lightly trace my fingers along the sweet little indent where her painfully cute ass meets her thigh; lingeringly progressing towards my next beautiful target.

"In fact, I'd say it's going to hurt a lot," I chuckle, as I press my finger in just a touch, causing her to squeal and squirm ferociously to try and push me away. Talk about defiant little openings.

"Daddy, please! Please, I'll do anything! Why, why are doing this?"

The desperation in her cries is just stunning. I ponder answering the question for a moment -- telling her that I'm doing this because she's mine, because I love her, and because nothing in this world affects me more than her agony. But she doesn't get answers.

I reach my hand up and hold my fingers before her mouth.

"Spit."

"What? No! Wh-why?"

"Last chance Poppy."

She hesitates for just a moment before, still sobbing, doing as she's told.

"Good girl."

I rub my dutifully moistened fingers around the head of my cock. Far preferable to commercial lube, I muse.

"Now then, ready sweetheart?"

"Please don't!" she screams, as I begin pulling her down by her wrists and thigh. All the resistance she can muster is delightfully pitiful. Nevertheless, I am going to require a little in the way of cooperation.

Releasing my grip on those delightfully reminiscent little bruises, I bring my hand crashing brutally down onto her adorable ass, prompting what I can only describe as a hysterical yelp. I had thought her flawless before, but the instant red mark now adorning this ridiculously vulnerable part of her anatomy is one of the most gratifying visions I've ever encountered. It's not a flaw. It is a patent enhancement - and I feel duty bound to further enhance. Five more blows follow in quick succession, and I know that I'm supporting her from falling forward onto the table entirely through my hold on her bonds.

"There now, shall we try again beautiful?"

She offers only some very enjoyable whimpering. Three more strikes to the deepest red and she finally screams the affirmative.

"Yes what? You want daddy in here?"

I press my finger ever so slightly in once more -- and once more she's clearly none too pleased.

"Yes," she manages pathetically between sobs. I can't contain my chuckle.

"Good girl."

Using my hand to guide her, I pull her slowly but firmly into position. Her legs are bent in such a way that they're supporting far more of her weight, and I linger for a few moments; enjoying the knowledge that they must be getting a little sore, and moreover, that she knows the only relief for them is going to be a rather more unpleasant alternative.

"And, down you come," I sing playfully as my head forces its way into the tightest place I'm sure any man has ever been. It's borderline uncomfortable for me, so I can only imagine the pain my poor little girl is in right now. The scream I'm met with gives me some indication. Thank fuck we don't have any neighbours. I offer her little chance to recover as I proceed to pull her further down, eliciting an agonised moan which vibrates throughout her whole tensed form, and lasts long after she's firmly on my lap with me entirely embedded into her misused little hole.

I let her sit there for a few minutes as I delight in every aspect: her tightness, her violent shaking, her sobbing and moaning, her humiliation. She's just perfect. I take the opportunity to reach around her and cup one of her charming breasts. She shudders as I lightly stroke across her nipple, and groans beautifully as I pinch it firmly, before grasping her hip.

"Now then sweetheart, time for you to bounce on daddy's knee."

Her reaction combines a retch, some shuddering and a whole lot of dramatic head shaking. I can't help but smile as her response aptly confirms how much of a sick fuck she now knows I am.

"Hmmm... Well now angel, I'd say you've got two choices. You can stand back up, have your poor little ass smacked again until you're begging to sit back on me, or you can be a good girl and do as you're told now.

"Hush, hush, I know, I know baby. You can even start out nice and slow, how does that sound beautiful?"

Truth is, for my own sake I think this is something which requires easing in to. She doesn't say a word, so when she starts lifting herself up -- gasping loudly as she goes -- I'm not sure which way this is going. Frankly, either option suits me rather well, so I let her move freely. Well, in a rather loose sense of the word at least.

My eyes roll back in my head quite in sync with her subsequent downward movement. I'm pretty impressed that she takes all of me back in again without direction. I guess she really didn't enjoy that little smacking session at all. I adore that she's currently under the impression she can somehow avoid another one; it'll make it all the more delightful when I beat her ass once this is over, and I've recovered all of my strength, of course. Nevertheless, her reanimation pace is a little too slow, even for easing in to it, so I give a little encouraging thrust which achieves both the desired motion and cry. She finds a remarkably satisfying rhythm, complemented by a fixed, perfectly agonised moan.

"There we go. Such a good girl."

There is a definite truth in that sentiment, and no matter how much I want to prolong her ordeal, and my simultaneous elation - no man could last long were they seeing, hearing and feeling what I am.

"Would you like some of daddy's come in here as well?"

"No daddy, please don't," she somehow manages between moans; still dutifully fucking me with that perfect little ass.

"Aww, wrong answer beautiful."

With that, I pull her viciously down onto me. She clearly wasn't prepared for it, and her pained squeal is all I need to push me over the edge. She struggles to lift herself off of me, but it only serves to fuel my determination to fill her in this evidently, distinctly unpleasant way. My grip on her wrists and hip ensures that she's entirely penetrated, and entirely immobile.

In the end - and I'm not sure how long after I came - she stops squirming and quietens down a little. I release my grasp of her entirely, and am semi-surprised when she doesn't move. I wonder if she's merely considered that the damage is already done. Perhaps even that a pre-emptive departure is probably not worth the risk. Or maybe she simply can't move. In any case, I've got things to do, so with my hands around her waist I pull her up and steady her on her feet, which clearly have insufficient leeway to achieve steadiness without assistance. Once I'm out from behind her, I guide her slowly back down, and I'm more than a little gratified at her wince when she makes contact with the hard wood.

"So sweetheart, breakfast?"