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let go of her fears and enjoy our experiences to the fullest, but this isn’t one of them.

“I really, really, really do.”

“Okay, my sweet girl.”

I take my time retrieving the bottle of Swiss Navy, opening it, and drizzling it over myself and her. I want Emily to anticipate what I’m about to do to her. I can see she does by the way her adorable little ass wiggles.

I pull a pair of pillows over so they’re at hand to prop up her hips for when I really want to slam into her, then take my cock in hand and rub the swollen head up and down her slit. Knowing I can plunge into her anywhere, wherever I want, shoots heat up into my belly and all through my veins. I dip into her cunt first and bathe in the welcoming warmth. Just the tip, in and out. Emmy makes delicious little sounds. She loves the initial sensation of penetration, which is why I designed the scene this way. We may not do this often, I’ll save it for special occasions, but if she likes it as much as I think she will, we’ll be doing it again.

I take my tip out again and rub it up and down her glistening slit. Gripping her satiny hip with my other hand, pressing my palm against my brand, I hold her still.

“Are you ready for Daddy here?” I ask, pressing my tip to her tender hole. “Is it sensitive from the enema?”

“A little, Daddy.”

“Mmm, I can tell. It’s so pink.” I part that rosy furl with my blunt head and push a little way in, just past the two rings of muscle, then pull back out and plunge into her cunt again, half-way this time. “And this sweet little pussy is so red. So pretty.”

I fuck her for several strokes before I withdraw and play with her clit while she squirms and whimpers.

“Is that still sensitive after all that coming?”

Between sweet, little gasps, she manages, “Yes, Daddy.”

“You know what a temptation a sensitive little clitty is for Daddy,” I say.

She grinds her face into the covers. “Please.”

“Yeah, I thought so.” I give her clit several sharp taps with the balls of my fingers, hard enough to sting. Her gasps turn into long moans. My baby doll does love her pussy spankings. Once I’m sure her clit is singing, I plunge back in, this time into her ass, which earns me a little wail. I fuck her for several strokes, then pull back and slam into her pussy. She pikes up as much as the arm restraints will let her, onto her elbows, and rocks back onto me, wailing as that sweet cunt clamps down on me.

“Ah, there we go, my good, good girl. Come all over Daddy’s cock.”

She squeals and shudders as wave after wave breaks over our joined bodies. I ride out her orgasm, grasping her shoulders to pull her back onto me and thrusting deep to stimulate her all the way to her core. She loves having her cervix bumped, particularly when she’s orgasming, to pitch the pain just that bit higher. When she sags onto the bed, I rub her back while I keep sliding half-way in and out to prolong the aftershocks.

“There’s my good baby. I want you to give me one more, so we come together while I’m in your bottom. Fill you nice and full of Daddy’s gift.”

She mumbles into the covers but nods weakly.

I don’t take it easy on my little girl, because I’d disappoint her if I did. Emily’s made of much tougher stuff than she looks. But I do give her another dollop of lube before I push, slow and firm, into her soft ass and ride her. I love all of the sensations of sex but the grip of those bands of muscle up and down my shaft, the deep heat of her body, the increased friction of thrusting through tissue with little natural lubrication, they’re like nothing else. Her ass begins to squeeze me with hard pulses, and I lose myself in the pleasure, pounding my little girl into the pillows as she whimpers and wails and her body grips me tighter and tighter. She squeals out a high scream of release just as my own roar punches through my chest and our bodies meld into a single, bucking, blurring, blissful entity.

I collapse on top of her then unsnap her wrist cuffs and roll us both to the side, so I don’t crush my sweet baby. I tuck her tightly into my chest and thighs and murmur my pleasure to her through the shuddery aftershocks. When she twitches uncomfortably, I withdraw from her and wipe us both up before taking off her cuffs and settling her onto the pillows.

“Are you ready for a drink and a cuddle, my wonderful little girl?”

She nods dreamily.

I prop her up on several pillows, spread her Ravenclaw binkie over her, and offer her the sports drink. While she drinks, I tidy up the room, grab a selection of stuffies and two books, pull on a T-shirt, and settle into the bed. I offer her the stuffies one by one. She picks Peter Aloha Bunny, who is her most constant companion, and Professor Teddington, who is too stiff and hard to sleep with in my estimation, but we’ll see. I settle them to either side of her and arrange the rest of the stuffies on her far side in case she wants to grab one or more in the night. Then I open the first book and read her “Frog and Toad Are Friends,” enjoying her giggles as Frog finds button after button that is not Toad’s missing button. The story’s about friendship and that’s what I want her to focus on: the encompassing affection of our many friends who have come to celebrate this moment in our lives with us, rather than any niggling worry about Luisa not liking her. By the end of the story, she’s

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