Chapter 7: Submission

My body trembled.

My cunt throbbed.

Juices smeared slick between my legs and dripped down to my knees.

I rolled to my back.

Spread wide.

Stared at the ceiling like he was watching from above.

And I touched myself.

Again.

Even though I was sore.

Even though I was overstimulated.

Even though my clit felt bruised and my cunt felt like it had been split open from the inside.

I didn’t care.

I needed it.

I needed to cum again.

To break again.

To melt under the weight of a man who wasn’t even there.

My fingers slid between my folds.

Hot. Sticky.

So slippery I couldn’t grip anything.

I circled my clit.

Soft at first.

Then harder.

Then faster.

And I whispered everything I wanted to scream.

“I’m yours…”

“I’d let you do anything…”

“Please, Daddy…”

I imagined his hand on my throat.

His cock in my mouth.

His voice, filthy and low…

“Good girl. That’s it. Fuck yourself for me. Get that pussy ready.”

I moaned.

My thighs spread wider.

My heels dug into the bed.

I fucked my fingers like

I fucked my fingers like they were his.

Like they were thick.

Calloused.

Commanding.

Like they could wrap around my throat and shove inside me at the same time.

I shoved them deeper.

Curled them.

Twisted my wrist until I felt that swollen spot inside me, and pressed.

Hard.

“Daddy…”

It broke out of my throat like a sob.

My hips snapped up, fucking the air.

Fucking my own hand.

Soaking my palm with every slick, dirty thrust.

My clit was swollen. Raw. Screaming.

But I kept rubbing.

Kept moaning.

Kept crying out like a whore in heat.

Because I wanted him to hear.

I wanted him to know how far gone I was.

I wanted him to smell the slick pouring out of me from down the hall and come drag me by the hair, bend me over the mattress, and ruin what was left.

I didn’t want soft. I didn’t want gentle.

I wanted to be used.

I wanted his voice in my ear saying:

“This is what you wanted, isn’t it, little Omega? To be Daddy’s cumdump. To stretch that cunt open until it forgets every cock but mine.”

I whined.

Thrust my fingers harder.

Slapped my clit with my palm until my thighs shook.

“Please…”

My voice was high. Broken. Full of tears.

“Please fuck me, Daddy…”

“I’m yours…please…please…”

My legs began to shake.

The orgasm hit like a fucking car crash.

No warning. No slow build. Just impact.

My pussy clamped around my fingers.

My hips jerked violently.

Cum squirted out in thick, creamy gushes that soaked the sheets beneath me.

I screamed into the pillow.

“DA…Daddy…!”

My body convulsed.

My vision went white.

And when it was over, when I collapsed back against the mattress, soaked in sweat and shame and slick, thighs still trembling, pussy still twitching around my own fingers…

I saw it.

A shadow.

In the doorway.

Just for a second.

Then gone.

No footsteps.

No voice.

No sound.

But I didn’t need it.

I didn’t fucking need confirmation.

I knew it was him.

I felt it in my bones.

The way the air dropped five degrees.

The way my nipples peaked like he was blowing over them.

The way my cunt throbbed like it wanted to apologize for being touched by anyone but him.

My fingers slipped out of me with a wet, obscene squelch.

I could still feel my orgasm leaking down between my cheeks, coating the backs of my thighs.

I didn’t move to clean it.

I didn’t move at all.

I just laid there..open.

On my back.

Legs wide.

Fingers drenched.

Breathing like I’d just been wrecked by a ghost.

Because I had.

Because he had.

And when I finally dragged my eyes to the door, to that empty space where his shadow had been..

I whispered it like a confession.

Like a brand.

Like a prayer to something bigger than the Moon Goddess.

“I’m yours, Daddy.”

No answer.

But I didn’t need one.

Because there was proof.

On the floor.

Right where the door had been cracked just an inch..

A faint, wet print.

Barefoot.

Massive.

Facing inward.

Like he’d been standing there.

Watching.

The whole time.

And now he’d left it for me.

A message.

A claim.

I sat up slowly, cum dripping down my inner thighs, my cunt sore and gaping from how hard I’d fucked myself.

I bent forward..wincing..and touched the print with my fingertips.

Still damp.

Still warm.

My breath caught in my throat.

My pulse pounded in my ears.

I curled my fingers into the sheets, dragged myself back onto the mattress, collapsed on my side like a girl who’d just been knotted.

Even though she hadn’t been touched.

Not yet.

And I whispered it again.

“Please. Next time… let me taste you.”