Chapter 86: The Unexpected Visitor
The quiet after the courier left was a living thing. Julian let it stretch, watching Elise kneel on the cool marble floor, her bare skin pebbling in the conditioned air. Her eyes were fixed on the door, wide and dazed, a wet sheen on her lower lip. The brand on her thigh seemed darker in the twilight gloom.
“You’re shivering, baby.” His voice was conversational. He placed the slim package on the console table without looking at it.
She turned her head slowly, the movement uncoordinated. “Was… was he s’posed to see?”
“Does it matter?” Julian walked toward her, his shoes soundless. He crouched, bringing his face level with hers. He thumbed away the drool. “He saw what I allow him to see. A glimpse of my favorite thing.” His thumb pressed against her parted lips. “Open.”
She did, and he slid his thumb over her tongue. She suckled instinctively, her gaze unfocusing.
“Good girl.” He withdrew it with a soft pop. “That little cunt of yours was dripping a puddle on my floor. You didn’t even know, did you? Too far gone in your little head.”
A faint, confused blush rose on her cheeks. A flicker of the old Elise, the one who would have died of shame, surfaced and then drowned in the deep, placid lake of her conditioning. She shook her head.
“No, Daddy. Didn’t know.”
He stood and took her hand, pulling her up. Her legs wobbled. He guided her back to the sofa, not to the arm she’d been bent over, but to the softer cushions. He sat and drew her into his lap, sideways, cradling her like a child. She immediately tucked her head under his chin, her hand fisting in his shirt. The scent of sandalwood and their sex clung to them both.
For a long time, he just held her, stroking her hair. His own orgasm had been profound, a claiming that went deeper than the physical. Filling her ass, watching his own seed defy gravity inside her, had felt like signing a contract in biological ink. He felt a deep, unsettling peace.
“Daddy loves you,” he murmured into her hair. It wasn’t a lie. It was a fact of his current existence, as true as his need for oxygen.
She made a small, whimpering sound of pure contentment. “Love Daddy most.”
He smiled. It was the smile of a man who has successfully transplanted a heart and now watches it beat in a new chest. “I know you do.” His hand drifted from her hair, down her spine, over the curve of her buttock. He traced the swollen, tender rim of her anus. She flinched, then relaxed, pushing back against his finger. “Sore, my darling?”
“A little,” she whispered.
“That’s how you remember me when I’m not inside you.” He shifted her, lifting her so she straddled his lap, facing him. The cashmere onesie was still rucked up around her waist, a absurdly innocent frame for her utterly used body. Her cunt glistened, swollen and open. His cock, half-hard again, nudged against her thigh. “Look at you. A mess. My beautiful mess.”
He didn’t thrust up into her. Instead, he reached for the package. He tore the plain paper away with one hand, the other anchoring Elise by the hip. Inside was a small, velvet box. He opened it.
Nestled inside was a delicate anklet, a fine chain of white gold. From it hung a single, teardrop-shaped black diamond. It was obscenely expensive and looked as fragile as a wish.
“For my good girl,” he said, his voice low. “A pretty little reminder. So you never forget who you belong to, even when you’re bathing.”
Her hazel eyes fixed on the glittering stone. She reached a tentative finger out. “Pretty.”
“Lift your foot.” She obeyed, and he clasped the cool chain around her slender ankle. It fit perfectly. The black diamond rested against the bone, a dark star against her skin. He ran his finger over the brand on her thigh, then down to the anklet. “Two marks. One I made with heat, one with beauty. Both mine.”
He let her admire it for a moment, watching the wonder in her face. Then he gripped her hips, his fingers digging in. The tenderness in his eyes narrowed into something hotter, more demanding.
“Now, baby. You’re going to ride Daddy. You’re going to take this cock all the way inside that sweet, fucked-out little pussy and you’re going to come for me. You’re going to squirt all over me. Do you understand?”
She nodded, her breath quickening. She positioned herself, her small hands on his shoulders. He guided his cockhead to her entrance, nudging through the slick folds. She was so wet it was a river.
“Do it.”
She sank down, a slow, trembling descent. Her mouth formed a silent ‘O’. He filled her completely, a deep, stretching ache that was now as familiar to her as his voice. She leaned forward, her forehead against his, her breath puffing against his lips.
“Move, Elise.”
She began to rock, a clumsy, hesitant rhythm. He let her struggle, watching the concentration and pleasure war on her face. He placed his hands on her ass, not helping, just feeling the muscles clench and release.
“That’s it. Take what’s yours. This is your cock, baby. Say it.”
“My… my cock,” she panted, the words slurred.
“Your Daddy’s cock. And who does it belong to?”
“Me. It belongs… belongs to me.” The assertion, programmed so deep, made her clench around him violently. A choked cry escaped her.
“Yes.” He finally moved, thrusting up to meet her downward slide. The impact jolted her. “Now fuck yourself on it. Harder.”
Her rhythm broke into frantic, jerking motions. He took over, pistoning up into her from below, the sofa creaking under them. The slap of skin grew louder, wetter. Her cries were constant now, little sobbing shrieks that echoed in the high-ceilinged room.
“You feel that, you stupid little slut? You feel how deep I own you?” His own composure was shredding. The paternal mask slipped, revealing the raw, possessive hunger beneath. “Your ass is still full of my cum and now I’m filling this cunt. You’re just a vessel for me. A perfect, warm hole.”
His crude words slammed into her, each one a trigger. Her body began to tighten, a coil springing too fast. She was babbling. “Daddy, Daddy, I’m gonna—“
“Come. Now. Soak me.”
A guttural scream tore from her throat, raw and unlovely. Her body went rigid, then a hot gush of liquid erupted from her, splashing over his groin, soaking his trousers, dripping onto the leather sofa. The convulsions milked his cock, and with a groan that was almost pain, he came, pouring into her a second time, his release mixing with her squirt inside her well-used passage.
She collapsed against him, boneless, sobbing openly. He held her through it, one hand cradling the back of her head, the other possessively splayed on the small of her back, pinning her to him. His own breath was ragged in her ear.
When the last tremor subsided, he leaned back, looking at her ruined, blissful face. Tears streaked her cheeks. Snot and saliva smeared his collar. He wiped her face with his palm, a strangely tender gesture.
“There’s my good girl,” he cooed, the crude predator gone, the doting Daddy returned. “My perfect, squirting little girl. You made such a mess for Daddy.” He kissed her slack mouth. “You can keep the anklet on forever.”
She nuzzled into him, her eyes closing, already halfway to sleep. The black diamond on her ankle winked in the dim light, a tiny, inescapable shackle. He didn’t move to clean them up. He just held her, watching the city lights blink on one by one outside the window, a man in the quiet, satisfying stillness of a perfect, permanent victory.