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The end of summer: part one
After a couple of days I was becoming worried. I was very much looking forward to starting at design college in Seattle, but I also very much wanted to be whipped once more by my Daddy before I went.
As usual I’d needed at least a day for my body to recover from my last ordeal as the willing victim of my sweet Daddy’s violent sadism, so initially I didn’t really mind too much about the weather, but on the second day the weather was even worse! The wind rattled the windows and blew the garden furniture around, and the rain became even heavier and colder. As if that wasn’t enough, then the lightening started, huge dazzling flashes from cloud to cloud with enormous bass rumbles all around and deafening cracks of thunder exploding right overhead.
But the third day dawned and even though the sky was grey, the wind had dropped and the rain had stopped, at least for the moment, and by the time we’d finished our after lunch drinks and Daddy was stubbing out his Cohiba, the clouds were breaking up enough to allow some long periods of warm sunshine. The conditions were as good as they were going to get.
He went out and wiped down our barrel with the little leather cloth he normally used exclusively on his Merc, and I went up to the room that had been mine since I was a little girl. I dropped my dressing gown on my bed and, naked, picked up my wrist straps and carried them over to the window. In the silence the jingling sound they made as I put them on brought back all the delicious memories of my pain and of my sweating, weeping orgasms. They jingled again as I picked up a couple of hair clips and walked over to the mirror corner Daddy had created for me when I was just a little girl with a developing fascination in my own body, and with a wry smile I stood with my feet about shoulder width apart and looked at my reflection. Whatever else, I certainly wasn’t a little girl any more.
I put my hair up. Daddy and I both like it when he can see absolutely all of me, and I studied myself closely, nodding as I decided that I liked what I saw; at least I have nice teeth and with my broad lips I have a pretty smile.
Dear Reader, I think that most of you guys, and maybe some of you girls, would enjoy kissing me on the lips.
I finished fiddling with my hair and realised I was standing there grinning at myself like an idiot. My eyes wandered down my body and decided that my Daddy was right; my neck and shoulders are slim and quite sexy when they’re completely bare. Very kissable!
Then I cupped my breasts, one in each hand, loving their weight, the clips on my wrist straps cold across my stomach as I gave into temptation and played with my nipples for a moment, rolling them between my fingers and thumb and deliberately pinching them hard enough to make my eyes water. I’ll freely admit that I’m very proud of my breasts, although I suppose that they’re really too big for the rest of me, but they’re firm on my narrow chest even if they do sit quite wide apart, making them appear almost as broad as my hips from in front. They look good, no; they look lovely. They’re soft and very kissable. But what I like best about them, apart from their size, is that they’re smooth, and quite heavy in my cupped palms, and they yield easily to the touch of a finger, or a hand, or a tongue, or a belt.
I crossed the room again and put on the high-heeled sandals I always wore for my Daddy, and then strolled back to my dresser and picked up my ankle straps. They’re a little awkward to put on, so I squatted down over the floor mirror so that I could reach my ankles and have a look at the rest of me; the important bits, that is. So still squatting, I spread my legs a little further and looked down into the mirror on the floor, and teasing my labia apart with my fingertips, looking directly into my tight, young cunt; you do realise that without a mirror it’s impossible, and I watched as a rope of my wetness slowly swung down from the shining, wet lips of my cunt and slowly made its way down to land on its own reflection. Moving very carefully so as not to break this fragile symptom of my lust, I turned my toes inwards, straightened my back and reached behind me to ease the cheeks of my bottom apart.
Now, maybe I’m a strange girl, but I think my anus is very beautiful, and whilst it’s obvious that it’s there all the time, what is perhaps unusual is that I’m aware of it, all the time. Even now, as I go about my day-to-day, I constantly feel that deep between my arse cheeks I have a second pair of tiny, tight dark lips, and I would kiss if I could. My Daddy loves my anus too, and loves to kiss it.
Dear Reader, maybe you would like to kiss it for me too. I would love it if you could kiss and lick my sweet little arsehole as I sit here writing down my dirty little memories for your enjoyment. It would be my pleasure to hold my bottom cheeks apart for your gentle kisses and your soft tongue; maybe you would force your tongue into me like my Daddy does.
Mmm.
Sorry! Let’s get back to that summer in France.
I had to break the thick, viscous string of my arousal stretching down from my cunt to its reflection when I stood up and looked myself over once more, a tall, slim, tanned young brunette with big breasts, naked except for my high-heeled sandals and the jingling straps at my wrists and ankles. I took a deep breath as I felt those wonderful and exciting tensions begin in the pit of my stomach. Young and confident and ready for anything, with my hair piled on top of my head and the very tops of my thighs wet and shiny from the mucus ropes beginning to drip and swing from my excited cunt, my breasts swung free as, excited by my nakedness, I swung round to find my Daddy standing also naked, watching me from the door. In his bare feet I hadn’t heard him come upstairs; in his hands he carried his belt.
“Will I do, Daddy?”
He had to clear his throat before he could speak.
“You’ll do, Princess, oh yes, I think you’ll do. Look at what you’re doing to me,” and he indicated his stiff cock standing free in front of his body; as I watched a bead of his fluid oozed from the slit at the very tip and trickled slowly down the shaft.
He came in to my room and wrapped his arms round me, his cock hard between our bare stomachs, and lovingly kissed me. He placed the belt round my body and buckled it in place so that it sat comfortably on my hips. My uniform was now complete, and strangely, I no longer felt naked. Daddy took my hand and held my arm above my head as I turned slowly in front of him on my heels, showing myself off to him; my Daddy, my lover, the master of the pain he was about to give me and I was about to offer him as a token of our painful and perverted love.
“Yes, Princess, you’ll do,” and with that he lead me by the hand, my wrists and ankles jingling as we walked hand in hand out through the door of my bedroom, down the wide stairs, and out to the garden, where our huge wine barrel lay on its side, solid in its cradle and with its massive varnished curves gleaming malevolently in the afternoon sun. It looked strong and mean and dangerous, a dark engine of depraved and evil pain. Suddenly nervous, I caught my breath. I would be a tiny and defenceless naked girl strapped against its massive flanks.
My Daddy spoke.
“The wet grass is too soft for your heels. I’ll carry you,” and turning me half towards him he put his left arm round my back and bent forward to scoop me up with the other. I put my arms round his neck and snuggled against him as we carefully set off, Daddy’s bare feet silent across the damp lawn. My bottom and my cunt lips brushed intoxicatingly against the tip of his bobbing erect cock as he carefully carried me to where I was to be tortured. I felt the heat of his sex against mine.
I whispered,
“You know you could have me if you want me, Daddy.”
“I know, Princess, I know...”
We had arrived at the huge wine barrel, the hot sun beating mercilessly down on our naked bodies. The sweat trickled down my back, and deep in my stomach the lovely tensions had become a hard knot in my abdomen. I squeezed my thighs together; like my back, they too were sticky with my sweat. He kissed my forehead and continued,
“..but here we are,” and he leant forward to allow me to step daintily from his arms and stand in front of him.
I unbuckled the belt and slipped it from my waist. Then I lifted my arms and with my unfettered breasts swaying freely between us I placed it over his head so that it was looped round the back of his neck, the two ends swinging across his chest.
Keeping his back straight, he then bent his knees a little and wrapped his arms round the backs of my thighs, just below the cheeks of my bottom. He tightened his grip and straightened up, and with his stiff cock pushing its way between my knees; he gently lifted me from the ground and laid me with my back against the barrel, its hard smooth wood warm against my sticky, sweating skin.
I stretched my arms out and he quickly clipped my wrists to the thick wire looped at either end of the barrel. With my sweat gluing me to the varnished wood and my stretched arms clipped tightly above me on either side, I was safely and securely held in place. Helpless, I tipped my head back and gazed straight up to the cloudless blue sky.
Crucified against the curving flank of our huge machine with my taut stomach stretched and my feet dangling above the grass, my full, soft breasts swayed freely, gently swinging from side to side as I tried to control my rapid, nervous breathing, to pull more of the warm soothing summer air into my lungs by breathing slowly and deeply. But crucified as I was against the curving wood, and my stomach a knot of fear, all I could think about was that my big hard nipples were without doubt the most prominent part of my otherwise slim body, and my Daddy was about to whip them. My attempts at self control collapsed and I caught my breath as I recognised the completely exposed and vulnerable position my silly, inventive, schoolgirl mind had engineered for the punishment I was about to endure.
But not yet; in order to open me up to his attack even more, and to hold me even more securely in place, my Daddy separated my legs and then lifted my calves one by one, spreading my legs far apart and clipping my ankles to the wire loops at either end of the barrel, almost directly below my wrists. My legs were thus stretched far, far apart, wider than I would have thought possible, until they were almost horizontal. With my broad arse thrust forward and my sweating body bent back across the curved surface, my cunt now gaped, the lips completely open and almost as prominently exposed as my breasts.
Believe it or not, I actually giggled at that point when I realised that I did in fact have to thank my mean old games mistress at school for something after all. If she hadn’t forced me to become a member of the school swimming team, with all the extra swimming and weight training, even at the age of seventeen I would never have been able to spread my legs so wide and in that position. If they could see me now…
“Princess...”
My Daddy’s voice rescued me from my unpleasant memories of upper sixth sport in an English girls’ school. Even being whipped by him is a lot better than playing hockey in February, let me tell you. I lifted my head enough to watch as he stood admiring my young body, helplessly spread-eagled and naked for his pleasure and mine. My heart started to pound and the hard knot in my stomach threatened to stop me breathing.
“Princess, you look so beautiful.”
I blinked in disbelief. I looked so beautiful?
I could have believed it if he’d said I looked so raunchy, so sexy, so vulnerable, defenceless, spread open and completely exposed to his evil attack. Yes. I could have gone along with all of that. But I certainly didn’t feel beautiful, I suddenly just felt naked and scared and fragile and very frightened. But I didn’t feel in the least beautiful.
All of which I suppose just proves that beauty is in the eye of the beholder.
Of course, maybe if you’d been there, dear Reader, you too would’ve said I was beautiful, with my young body stretched tight, strapped naked across our barrel, waiting to have my big, soft, sexy breasts with their dark areolas and erect nipples brutally whipped. Maybe you too would have seen beauty in the sight of me clipped tightly across the huge torture device I’d invented. Maybe you too would have seen beauty as you waited to watch me sweat and squirm when the square hard leather tip of the belt I’d given to my Daddy punched into my soft flesh, and maybe you too would have seen beauty as you waited to hear me scream when I felt the shock of it crack against my tanned skin, burning into my core and the hurt of it making me cry.
Because I knew that I was going to cry; deep down I knew that I wanted my Daddy to show his love for me by making me cry. It was why I’d given him the belt as half of a present, the other half being me, any and every part of me, for him to use the belt on. I’d presented myself to him; he had all of my young, slim body to use as a target to hit with the stiff leather belt, to whip me for his pleasure and as a release for his depraved and sadistic sexual desires.
“Daddy,” I whispered, “Make me cry and make me cum.”
And with my heart pounding and a brick of fear in my stomach I tipped back against the slope of our barrel, and closed my eyes, and waited, completely defenceless and exposed for him to abuse for his enjoyment.
I waited in the warm sunshine for my Daddy to whip my bare breasts.
The first flick of the square leather belt tip smacked into my left nipple with a sharp crack. I was too surprised to scream, I merely jerked my eyes wide open and grunted deep in my throat as instinct kicked in and I struggled to soothe my stinging flesh with my hands. I was strapped in place; I could do absolutely nothing to protect myself or to even comfort myself. The full enormity of my complete defencelessness was vividly brought home to me as I watched my Daddy stand comfortably in front of me with an easy smile on his face, taking his time with his erect cock swaying in front of his body to carefully aim at the same nipple.
I could only watch, wide eyed in my sweating fear as the wicked leather snaked towards my shrinking flesh, the stinging tip coming closer and closer until it once again smacked into the my soft, yielding breast. Then another sharp crack; both my nipples were on fire.
I gasped, and struggled to contain the pain as my Daddy pulled the belt back and once again carefully aimed it at me, and once again I watched helplessly as the leather snaked towards me, its tip curling away from me until the very last split second when it viciously flicked round with all the weight of my Daddy’s arm behind it and it punched deep into the soft mound of its target, burying my erect nipple and its surrounding areola in a pool of sharp agony that exploded across my body.
This time I screamed, a real, full-throated, heart-felt scream that echoed off the garden walls.
Thank God! It started me breathing again!
The belt was becoming suppler as it flexed and warmed up, its tip becoming even more vicious as time and time again it spat its venom against me, the weight of the leather punching deep into me again and again, flattening my breasts hard against my chest; the weight of the blows forcing the breath from my body. Daddy’s arm was loosening up as he settled into a leisurely rhythm, hitting me harder and harder as he sent the belt snaking towards me, the square tip eagerly seeking its soft, defenceless targets.
I hated that damned square belt tip; it was killing me, but I couldn’t take my eyes off it; I could only watch as it flew through the warm summer air towards me, carrying the full strength of my attacker’s arm to bring pain to my sweating, tortured body.
I lost all sense of style and control and dignity and simply screamed with every impact.
My nipples felt as though red-hot knitting needles were being twisted into them and through them and then wrenched out and rammed back in. I stared down at them in horror, expecting to see blood, but I suppose seventeen-year-old girls are tougher than they look. My dark nipples were a deep, glowing red and hurt like hell, but they were somehow undamaged, and anyway, this was just the beginning; so far the silky skin of the full soft mass of my breasts was untouched. I realised that there was still a long way to go.
I attempted the ultimate schoolgirl defence; I started to cry.
Through my tears I watched my Daddy stop, look deep into my tear filled eyes, and then with an even bigger smile, take his usual unhurried aim at my heaving, sobbing chest, and the belt once again snaked towards me. His cock shone with the streaks of his excitement that trickled from it and it was even stiffer than it had been. Crying as I was being whipped had proved to be no defence; it had only made my Daddy more determined and his cock even more erect! In my pain and fear, I could actually hear my heart thud in panic in my chest.
But actually I couldn’t stop crying; my body was in pain and my mind was in chaos. Between my deep shuddering sobs I fought for breath, struggling to fill my lungs with the soothing summer air, fighting the agony from the dark mass of burning pain which was all that was left of the once delicate tips of my now wrecked breasts.
You have to remember that with my back spread tightly across the curve of the barrel, my breasts were even more exposed than if I simply strip and stand up straight, so that when he took a step to his right, turned slightly so that he was till facing me, and lifted the belt higher than before, he was easily able to bring it down hard across the fleshy tops of both of them, the last five or six inches of leather smacking heavily across the smooth unmarked upper slope of the my left breast, and the tip, that wicked, evil, square leather tip, landing on the corresponding part of its fragile partner in pain.
The tears were streaming down my face and blocking my nose and choking in my throat; and the sweat was streaming down all over my shining, young body, but my Daddy looked cool and relaxed and in control. He was still smiling and simply enjoying hitting both of my breasts at the same time. My soft, sweet body burned with the fire of his punishment.
Howling like the cornered animal that I was, and crying continuously in my pain wracked, sweating helplessness, I could only watch through my tears as my Daddy moved half a step and carefully lifted his arm to hit me again, again bringing the leather cracking down across my soft mounds and causing yet another deep red stripe to spring to life on my shining, dripping flesh. This time the square belt tip curled even more wickedly round my soft contours, and planted its fiery kiss deep in the soft flesh of the side of my breast, forcing a path deep into me, crushing the breath from my lungs. The leather dug deep into me and seemed to grip my skin as he deliberately rasped the belt back across my abused skin as though he was trying to rip my breasts from my chest.
It was agony. I howled in pain and sobbed uncontrollably. I was staring with unbelieving eyes down at my tortured skin, completely lost in my pain and my desolation, when he took me by surprise; he whipped me in exactly the same way again, and again, and again…. and again. The pain was beyond belief and my lovely big, soft, kissable, tanned breasts, which were created to be looked at, and to be admired, and then to be gently stroked, squeezed, fondled, licked, were simply tortured masses of hideous red lines and weals and pain as they swung helplessly on my body.
My Daddy’s cock looked enormous! Droplets of his excitement flew from its tip as it swayed stiffly in front of his stomach; a shiny wet semicircle of his fluids showed where his cock had repeatedly bounced back against his abdomen as it freely swung about as his arm lifted for each stroke of the belt. Even his balls seemed to have grown so much that he had to spread his legs to accommodate them!
The pain was complete, filling my body and my mind.
I felt my grip on reality sliding away; I was beginning to see the world through a pale pink haze. The world began to fade before my eyes, to slide away on a sea of pain to a distant and remote place, and it was merely interesting, in a detached way, to observe my Daddy once again standing directly in front me, and to see the belt once again come snaking towards me in slow motion. It swept lazily through the hot summer air, closer and closer, until it jerked out of my reverie with a shriek as it cracked into me, smacking the breath out of my lungs one more time.
Christ! It hurt. It seemed that my whole body hurt. The brick that had filled my stomach an irrelevance in the face of the reality of what was being done to me. I was back in the here and now with a vengeance as both my breasts swayed and shuddered and smarted and stung and hurt; I hurt more than I could imagine, I hurt more than I could bear. I hurt too much for it to go on. But I had no choice. I shook my head and shouted and screamed and cried as the hard strap of leather advanced implacably towards me once again, punching the breath out of me as it cracked into my tender and aching body.
Then suddenly, with just a final sob, my tears dried up. I had no feelings left, only the pain. I had no breath left, only the pain, I had no tears left, only the pain. I couldn’t cry any more. I merely hung there, crucified, stretched and naked across the curve of the hard, hot wood in the French summer sun as my sweet, loving Daddy whipped my breasts with his belt.
Then at last I felt something change deep in my body.
You will have noticed that I’ve told you how the size of Daddy’s cock bore witness to his hugely obvious sexual excitement, but so far I haven’t mentioned any sexual excitement of my own during this vicious punishment.
That’s because so far, there hadn’t been any.
So far I had only been hurt; in fact from the very first stroke of the belt I hadn’t been even remotely excited sexually, I had been in way too much pain for that. I was merely hanging there, and only just hanging on to my sanity; it was my loving duty to be a tightly strapped naked plaything for my Daddy, a toy, a weeping, pain wracked object for him to torture as an afternoon diversion. For this time the only purpose I was allowed was to entertain and excite him by squirming and screaming and crying and hurting and sweating and, at last, dripping from between my legs!
Through the deep red haze that coloured my vision and my thoughts, such as they were, I stared at his cock again, and suddenly found myself savouring a warm, wanton feeling which dissolved the brick in my stomach and warmed me deep in my cunt. His cock was huge; the shaft streaked with his dripping fluids, his balls huge and hard between his parted thighs. I stared at my Daddy’s rampant body, and I felt proud.
I did that.
Offering myself to this prolonged torture and enduring this agonising torment had made my Daddy’s cock huge, hard, and ready to penetrate me! The heat of my love for him grew from deep within me, and as much as I could I flexed my pelvis against my bonds, writhing my arse cheeks against the flanks of our barrel and breathing in the warm French summer air with its unmistakeable smell of my own sex. All this pain was not wasted; I could feel my orgasm start, way down, low down in my stomach where my bladder pressed against my abdomen; right down between my legs.
Another breath of summer air drifted gently past me, redolent of the sweet, dirty smells my own cunt. With my tears drying on my face I managed a half-hearted smile as I looked into my Daddy’s eyes and the belt I’d given him snaked towards me again
“Daddy,” I croaked.
“Daddy, mmh!” The thud as the leather bit into me stopped me talking. I cleared my throat and tried again, but was again cut short by the belt as it cracked yet again across both my breasts.
“Daddy. I love you.”
He stopped, and took one last, lingering look at my brutally tortured body, my big, soft, beautiful, abused breasts, then stepped towards me and placed the belt round my neck, the two ends hanging free in my body exactly as I had hung it round his neck so long ago; just before he’d clipped me in place and started to whip me with it. I lifted my lips to his as he pressed his naked body against mine and kissed me, his tongue deep in my mouth. With his left hand on the back of my neck he steadied my head, pressing our smiling lips together, and with the other reached down between us and I groaned deep in my throat with the wanton pleasure of it as I felt his fingers glide easily over and between the lips of my gaping cunt. He pressed the heel of his hand hard against my soaking pubic hair as his fingers delicately played with my labia, teasing my clitoris and its little hood, teasing us both with the notion that he might give in to what was after all our hearts’ desire by entering me, deflowering me first with his fingers, then with his cock.
Then he took my breath away. He did enter me!
Between my splayed legs his searching fingers pressed tightly against me as they slowly moved my cunt, then, sticky with my viscous sweetness, they moved on, gliding easily over my perineum to gently stroke the dark, tight bud of my anus, circling it with increasing insistence as I rocked my pelvis forward as much as I could, doing my best to offer him my arsehole by thrusting it back against his hand as yet another part of me for him to play with. I gently pushed from within my bowels, easing my rosebud lips out towards him and I held my breath as his finger slid easily in to me. My Daddy had entered me! I relaxed my control and my anus wrapped itself tightly round his finger like a sweet little mouth with a lollipop, drawing him deeper into me. We hardly breathed as he gently stroked me with his finger, pushing it deeper and deeper into my willing, eager arsehole.
“On my tummy, Daddy,” I breathed, “Like the first time.”
Speechless, he nodded his agreement. His cock was hard with the excitement of the absolutely brutal whipping he had just inflicted on my poor, damaged breasts, and with his finger deep in my arse and his other curled finger tips resting against my tightly stretched sphincter, he pressed it against me, squeezing it between our sweating stomachs. He flexed his knees, leant his whole body against me, fiercely bending me back between the curving rock of our wooden barrel and the pole-like hard place of his stiff cock, and masturbated against my willing young body as I hung there, immobile and totally helpless against his onslaught, a soft, slippery surface for him to pleasure himself against! I squealed in pain as the buckle of the belt that was still hanging round my neck dug into my poor, tortured breasts. He grabbed the end of the belt and threw it to the ground.
Then he was thrusting against my soft flesh like a wild beast, his cock desperately digging into me as deep as it could against my taut, stretched stomach. I did my best to help him cum by allowing him the soft access to me that he craved by trying to relax my stomach muscles, but really what I wanted was him inside me! Clipped in place like a wonderfully dirty, wildly sexual pagan crucifix with spread legs, all I could do to help him was to press my lips even harder against his and kiss him lovingly, slipping my soft tongue into his mouth with a quiet moan.
There was a grunt deep in his throat and I felt his movements become even more frantic, and then with a triumphant shout he threw his head back, and still rutting hard against me, his cock erupted all over me, spraying his sperm between us as our shining, sweat soaked stomachs slid up and down, his sperm and our combined sweat a sticky mess on our skin that smacked noisily between us in the wild paroxysm of our filthy, depraved lust. He continued to push into me and I willingly pushed back and licked inside his mouth and did everything I could to excite him with my young body and my soft tongue and my willing, dirty mind.
He thrust against me, his finger still stroking me deep in my most secret place, my anus in tight spasm round his knuckle, as I forced my slim, soft stomach against his abdomen, holding my breath and pushing my diaphragm out against his still pistoning cock as it thrust violently up and down between us, trapped between our dirty, sticky, shining, sweating bodies; held in place for ever by our dirty minds.
Sadly his brutal spasms gradually exhausted themselves and us, and eventually, with both of us still breathing heavily, he came to a complete stop, and his once proud cock started to slip down between us. He moved to disentangle our bodies.
“Please don’t take your finger out of me, Daddy,” I whispered. “I love it. I wish it could be there forever.”
And so we stayed there, his cock limp as it dribbled the last of his cum down my abdomen while his finger gently stroked deep inside my arse and my tongue licked round inside his mouth; joined as one, united in our filthy exhaustion. Gradually our heartbeats slowed as one to a normal rhythm and I shut my eyes and cried, for love this time. It was a sweet moment.
But I’d had no orgasm.
The sweat and cum on our bodies cooled and we both shuddered as a cold breeze blew over our exhausted, damp bodies. We looked up. The blue sky had long since disappeared, to be replaced once again by dark, threatening clouds. It started to rain. Daddy straightened up and stretched across to unclip my ankles, the movement dragging his now soft cock across my slippery stomach. A final drop of his cum oozed out on to me and he squirmed in a tiny last moment of pleasure.
He looked at me, “I love you, Princess.”
I looked deep into his eyes, “And I love you, Daddy.”
He looked at me, slightly surprised.
“How can you still love me, after what I’ve just done to you?”
Even though my breasts were still on fire, I had to laugh.
“My dear, sweet Daddy. I love you and I trust you.” I was nodding my head for emphasis as I made each point. “I’m happy to let you do anything to me that you want to do, anything.”
He looked at me sceptically.
“Tell you what, unclip me and I’ll prove it to you, right here, right now, in the rain.”
A dismal, mild drizzle had set in, so he carefully unclipped me, first my ankles, then my wrists, and he carefully set me down on the soft, wet lawn. The grass was soaking and my heels sank in immediately, and I staggered slightly, roughly rubbing my abused breasts against him. I cried out in pain and he steadied me by the arm and looked at me, wondering what was to happen next. I reached up behind my head, found the clips, and undid my dark hair, shaking my head to spread it over my shoulders.
“Daddy, I love you and let you do anything you want to me. It’s been ages since we finished lunch, you must need a pee. Lay me down on my back on your feet, yes, on the cold, wet grass, and piss all over me.”
He didn’t argue. We’d played piss games before, but never so formally. It was as though we were animals and he was staking his claim, marking me as being his territory, his property, more his bitch than his daughter. My breasts hurt like hell and my back was stiff because it had been bent unnaturally back for so long, but with Daddy’s help I lay down, naked in the rain on the wet grass at his feet, spread my legs wide and smiled up at him.
I’d been right. He did need a pee, and he simply stood beside me and pissed on me, not touching his cock, but turning his body from side to side to cover me in his warm, golden spray, soaking my whole body. He soaked my thighs, my pubic hair, my stomach and my poor, sore, whipped breasts, and then he pissed on my face. I opened my mouth but had to shut my eyes as he very deliberately pissed on my head, making sure that he soaked my hair. I lay there, luxuriating in the tantalizing combination of his hot piss and the cold, cold rain as they mingled indiscriminately on my body.
The last drop dribbled from him onto my stomach, and I suddenly shuddered with cold.
“Thank you, Daddy.”
“No! Thank you, Princess.”
A cold wind blew. I was soaking with my own cooled sweat, and Daddy’s cum and his piss were cooling on me too, and it was raining. I was naked, wet, and freezing, and lying on the cold, wet grass. I lifted my hands to him,
“Help me up, Daddy?”
He took my hands and helped me to my feet. More of his cooling piss dripped from my hair and soaked my back and my shoulders as I stood up. We both shivered, giggling naked in the sudden storm.
“This’ll keep you warm,” he laughed, and bending down, picked up the belt and buckled it back round my waist. Then he bent to pick me up to carry me back to the house.
I laughed; I’d proved my point. Only a seventeen-year-old girl could care about that at a time like that!
“Are you sure you want to touch me, Daddy? I’m a very filthy little girl today!”
“No, darling. You’re a very filthy little Princess.”
“But,” I thought, as he carried me back to the house, “Not only am I a very filthy little Princess, but I’m a filthy little Princess who needs to cum, and soon!”
So, my dear Reader, that’s the end of part one of “The End of Summer.”
I’m sure that had you been there you’d have been much too much of a gentleman to leave me in that state of frustrated excitement. I know I’m stamping my foot like an ungrateful schoolgirl again, but I think you’ll agree that I’d earned an orgasm. I’d love to know how you might have satisfied me at this point in my tale.
There’s only the second part of all this to go before my memories of that wonderful summer in France to come to an end. I had to go back home to study industrial design, would you believe, which was very exciting, but I was sure that I would miss my Daddy and his wicked pleasures. Perhaps you would have liked to look after me as I started my new life, young and alone in what was really a very strange country to me, for all that I was born there?
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