Daddies And Their Naughty Angel
I was heaving, but his fingers never stopped working me, smearing the liquid between my legs and belly.
Ruining me out of my own mess.
He could have just stopped, but he wanted to insult me further. To drench me with this disgraceful state.
His palm slapped down on my clit again. He didn’t stop.
Each slap was harsher than the last, and I shrieked, my vision whiting out as another shuddering wave of shame exploded from me, this time, I wasn’t completely sure if it was pee or something else.
“You can’t stop, can you? Wonder how your Daddy would feel if he knew you’re a piss whore who soils herself. He didn’t train you, but I will,”