DADDY'S NAUGHTY PET のすべてのチャプター: チャプター 81 - チャプター 90

1The apartment was too quiet that evening. My laptop sat open on the coffee table, screen glowing with the half-finished essay I hadn’t touched in an hour. Rent was due yesterday, and the reminder email from the property management company sat unread in my inbox like a bomb waiting to go off. I was nineteen, living alone for the first time, and broke in the way only a first-year college student can be—ramen for dinner, no heat when it dipped below sixty, counting change for the bus. I kept telling myself I’d figure it out by Friday. I kept lying to myself.I wore what I always wore when I was alone: tiny gray sleep shorts that rode up my thighs every time I moved, and a thin white tank top that had gone see-through from too many washes. No bra. My nipples poked against the fabric, dark and obvious, but I didn’t care. No one was supposed to see me tonight.The knock came at 8:47 p.m.—three hard raps that made me jump. Victor. I knew it before I even looked through the peephole. His si

 My knees ached against the cold hallway tile. The grout lines pressed into my skin like tiny ridges, grounding me even as my head spun. Victor’s hand was fisted in my hair—tight at the roots, not pulling yet, just holding me exactly where he wanted. His cock filled my mouth completely—thick, hot, heavy on my tongue. The head bumped the back of my throat on every shallow thrust, making my gag reflex flare. Spit flooded my mouth instantly, too much to swallow, so it leaked from the corners of my lips and ran down my chin in warm, sticky strings. I tried to push against his thighs. My palms flattened on the rough denim of his jeans, fingers curling, trying to create distance. But he didn’t budge. He just tightened his grip in my hair and pushed deeper—slow, deliberate—until my nose brushed the coarse hair at his base. My throat convulsed around him. A choked, wet sound escaped me—half gag, half moan I couldn&r

The living-room carpet scraped my bare feet as Victor dragged me forward by the hair. My scalp burned where his fist gripped, roots pulled tight, forcing my head back so I had to stumble to keep up. My tank top was still bunched above my breasts, nipples stiff and stinging from the hallway air and his earlier pinches. The soaked crotch of my shorts clung to my pussy lips, the fabric dark and clinging every time my thighs rubbed together. I could smell myself—sharp, musky arousal mixed with the faint detergent from the cotton—and it made my face flame hotter.He shoved me toward the couch. “Bend over the arm.”I tried to twist away, hands coming up to push at his chest. “No—Victor, please, I can’t—”His palm cracked across my cheek—not full force, but sharp enough to snap my head to the side. The sting bloomed fast, hot and bright. My eyes watered instantly. Before I could recover he grabbed both my wrists, yanked them behind my back, and pinned them there with one massive hand. The ot

Victor flipped me onto my back with one rough shove. My body hit the couch cushions hard—air knocking out of my lungs in a gasp. The fabric was warm and sticky from my earlier sweat, clinging to my skin as I tried to scramble up. My ass cheeks burned from the slaps, the handprints throbbing like they had their own heartbeat. Tears dried on my cheeks in tight, salty tracks, and my pussy ached—raw, empty, still leaking wetness that smeared the cushions beneath me. The living room lamp cast a yellow glow over everything, making his shadow loom large as he stood between my legs.He grabbed my ankles—fingers wrapping tight, bruising—and yanked my legs wide. My knees bent, feet dangling in the air, pussy spread open for him. The cool draft from the window hit my exposed folds, making me flinch. I could see myself in the reflection of the dark TV screen—breasts heaving, nipples red and swollen from his pinches, thighs glistening with my own come. "No more," I whispered, voice cracked and hoa

The stretch was overwhelming—burning fire at the rim, deep pressure inside that made my eyes roll back. I screamed into the cushion—raw, broken sound. My legs kicked, heels hitting his calves, but he pinned one thigh down with his knee, spreading me wider. He slapped my clit again—harder—fingers cracking against the sensitive flesh while he pumped his fingers in my ass."Take it," he said. "This ass is paying interest."I sobbed—tears soaking my face, snot mixing with the mess. "Stop—hurts—please—"But my hips arched back—pushing onto his fingers, craving the fullness even as it burned. The slaps on my clit turned rhythmic—crack, crack, crack—each one sending shocks through me, the pain melting into something hot and desperate. My pussy dripped steadily now, wetness running down my thighs in rivulets, puddling on the carpet below.He pulled his fingers free suddenly—my hole clenching around nothing, gaping slightly. The emptiness ached. I whimpered at the loss, hating myself for it.T