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His Little Troublemaker by Emily Tilton – Extended Preview

hislittletroublemaker_detailShe stepped back from him and looked up into his stern face. Suddenly he seemed impossibly tall—paternal and patriarchal. She felt her face twist into a pout, a final plea for mercy for her backside, but Daniel’s eyes remained stern and impassive. “Get going, young lady,” he said. “The sooner you get your clothes off, the sooner your spanking will be over.”

She managed to take her jeans off without thinking about it very much, but as soon as she had skimmed her halter top over her head she caught sight of herself, in only her gray panties, in the mirror. She almost always went braless, since her breasts were so little.

So little. When she took off her panties, she would see the blond pussy curls that said Cynthia had grown up. That she could have sex. That she could do it with a man.

She hadn’t had sex in so long, though, that she couldn’t tell whether it was just the forced abstinence of jail that made her so warm and damp down there now, or whether whatever was happening with Daniel had turned her into some blushing, sex-crazy mess. Whether the thing with the spanking and the whipping, and taking off her clothes to get punished, had tapped into something far lewder than she had ever experienced before: far naughtier and far more innocent at once.

Feeling entranced, somehow, by the strange mixture of shame and arousal, she fixed her eyes on the mirror as she hooked her thumbs into the waistband of her panties. She watched minutely as she pulled them down, and saw the loose, fair curls, and even saw her pink secrets peeping out among them.

How could the hair there seem so shameful? How could she imagine, utterly against her will, what she would look like if it weren’t there, and—worst of all—what Daniel would think, if he were to see that she was bare between her thighs? Of what he would say?

You’re very pretty down there, young lady. I’ll need to have a much closer look.

Her face burned. She pushed the thoughts away as firmly as she could, finished stripping her panties off, dropped them on her bed. Now she really did just want to get it over with, since it seemed like she couldn’t even be content with the natural embarrassment of his instruction that she get undressed for her spanking, but she had to add her own lewd, mortifying level of silly fantasy to the mix.

She had to have a spanking, because she had stupidly decided to violate the rules for a second time. She had to have a whipping because Daniel needed to make sure she learned. She had to be naked for her punishment because he had decided to take away her privacy, too, to make the lesson stick.

Fine. It would hurt, but afterward he would hug her again.

Naked. She swallowed desperately, doing everything she could as she turned back toward the door to avoid seeing herself in the mirror.

When she emerged, holding her right arm across her chest and her left hand in front of her pussy, and looked toward the kitchen, she saw that he had pulled out the spanking chair but had gone back into his bedroom or his office. She scurried across the hall and into the kitchen, then stopped, unwilling to venture further in order to obey Daniel’s order about taking up the position that would mean, Yes, I am ready for my spanking…

A word had gone missing, and now it came into her mind so forcefully that is seemed to propel her toward the spanking chair.


Yes, I’m ready for my spanking, Daddy.

“Hands on your head, young lady,” Daniel said from behind her. “And go stand where I told you to stand.”

She whirled to see him only two or three feet away. Her hands clutched at her naked private places.


“But I’ll see your breasts and your pussy,” Daniel said matter-of-factly. “Yes, I will. That’s the idea.”

She felt her eyes go wide, and she bit her lip. Not sure whether she did or didn’t want to, but knowing for certain that she had to, she raised her arms and twined her fingers across the top of her head, looking into Daniel’s eyes as she did it, watching with a hot blush as his gaze roved up and down her naked body.

“Good girl,” he said finally. “This is how you’ll stand from now on when you undress for punishment.”

Daniel had decided the moment he saw her in the hall that he had no choice but to give her a naked whipping. Now, though, all his dominant paternal instincts had kicked in. He knew precisely how he should handle this lesson so that Cynthia received the greatest possible benefit from it, but keeping the erotic side of those instincts at bay had definitely started to pose a problem.

When he had told her to take off her clothes he had felt sure he could keep himself, and the hardness of his cock under the denim of his jeans, in check. The sight of her with her hands on her head and her perfect little breasts with their small pink nipples offered to him, though, stirred him in a way that seemed to go well beyond the merely sexual.

He looked her sweet naked body up and down as a matter of course. The lesson he intended to give involved her knowing that he would have the power to inspect her as he saw fit. The way his cock leapt to see how her adorable pussy peeped pinkly out among the flaxen curls below her flat tummy, though, made focusing solely on punishing Cynthia, as he had resolved he would, a good deal more difficult than he had supposed it might be.

Really, you need that pretty place shaved, don’t you, little Cynthia? Daniel remembered when Brooke had asked him if Daddy didn’t think she really should look more innocent down there. He had kept his cool, though he had stiffened instantly in his pants at the image; he had said merely, “I think that would be a very good idea, little Brooke. Daddy would like to do that for you very much.” A bare pussy on Cynthia Beaman would suit her innocent quality very well indeed—again, with renewed difficulty, Daniel had to keep his arousal in check.

He sat down on the hard wood chair, remembering how often since moving into this house and furnishing it five years ago he had thought how well the chairs he had chosen would serve the purpose of old-fashioned punishment. When the time had come a few minutes before, he’d had no hesitation at all in calling it the spanking chair, though he had never spanked another girl here.

Cynthia hadn’t had time to take up the position he’d commanded, since he’d interrupted her in apparent hesitation over whether to cross the kitchen to the chair, but now she had turned, in the lovely submissive hands-on-head posture, to look at him with wide eyes. He saw fear, and he saw blushing arousal. How was he going to keep from pressing on with the arousal, as he knew he should? He had no doubt at all that his little girl badly needed fucking, and that gratifying that desire would give both of them a lot of pleasure, but it would definitely complicate matters in a fashion that seemed very unpredictable.

My little girl. Daniel had been trying not to think of her that way, but now that resistance crumbled—how could he think of Cynthia any other way, really? He had taken it upon himself to care for her and guide her. Despite the way her first spanking had happened, she had responded so well to it—too well, really, because clearly by the end of the day today she had craved more, whether or not she herself knew it.

“Come here, young lady,” he said, patting his denim-covered right thigh. “I took you over my knee yesterday, but tonight you’re going over my lap the way a little girl does. You’ll hold the bottom of the chair to help you keep in place, and you’ll raise your bottom nice and high for me.”

Cynthia swallowed hard, and a vertical crease came onto her troubled brow. “Do I have to?” she said in a tiny voice, much higher-pitched than her usual speaking tones. The same thing had happened last night, Daniel remembered. He felt absolutely sure that she was a little on the inside, now, and his heart went out to her. He thought of the wonderful hug in the hallway, how he had almost said no because he knew how it would affect him. But how could he say no to this?

“Yes, sweetheart, you have to. You broke the rules, and I have to punish you. You know that.”

The crease in her forehead deepened, but she began to shuffle over to him. The urge to make her stand between his knees for inspection, the way he had done with Brooke so often, his fingers finding out the naughty secrets of the far-from-innocent arousal of her innocent-looking bare pussy, nearly overpowered him, but he pushed it back and patted his thigh again.

When she arrived at his right side he reached up and put his hand around her waist and paused for just a moment as the electricity of that touch traveled through him. The way Cynthia shivered seemed to indicate that she had felt it too. Daniel had to admit this moment, before positioning a girl over his lap, represented one of his favorite things in the world: the feeling that a sweet young lady had submitted herself to his discipline, that she knew she could no longer avoid the bare-bottom spanking she had earned, that soon his firm justice would teach her that disrespect would always bring a painful consequence as long as she belonged to him… they all combined to harden his cock and thrill his senses.

He tugged firmly, and her sweet naked body, so little—she must stand 5′3″, if that, Daniel realized, something that had only impressed itself on his awareness as he moved her into this most little-girlish of positions—came over his thighs, upended.

“Hold the bottom of the chair, sweetheart,” he repeated, when she failed to do that after a few moments. “I’m going to lift you up onto your tiptoes to get your bottom where it has to be. When I’m spanking you, it will help you stay in place.”

A little sob came from Cynthia’s throat, and she obeyed, taking the stout wooden chair legs into her hands. He looked from the perfect little backside, like a cleft peach, now nearly where he wanted it in order to give his little girl what she had earned, to her downturned head with its wreath of golden hair. He reached over and down, and gently moved the hair so that it fell across her bare right shoulder. She turned her slightly startled face to look up at him.

He smiled down at her as, with his right hand on her bottom, he moved her into position. His hand lingered there, rubbing a gentle circle to prepare her for punishment and deliver the message of his caring, though the feeling of her firm but velvety backside cost him a good bit of arousal, and a little fantasy of training his little girl’s bottom-hole floated up into consciousness before he could stop it.

Another sob, and then she said, so softly that at first he couldn’t be sure he had heard it, “Oh, Daddy.”

The moment his ears registered that she had said Daddy, his heart plunged in. “Daddy has to spank his little girl now, sweetheart.”

Cynthia turned her face to the floor, and her voice came back stronger, but also much thicker, and also sounding very dreamy. “Yes, Daddy.”

Daniel raised his hand high, and brought it down hard. Cynthia cried out, and her right leg kicked, but he took her around her slim waist and kept spanking. He always spanked hard: he wanted to make sure any little girl who needed a lesson got that lesson. He wouldn’t spank her for as long as he had the previous night, because he didn’t intend to skimp on the whipping with his belt, but he would certainly make sure Cynthia continued to understand that he didn’t carry out household discipline in half-measures.

“Daddy! Daddy!” Cynthia yelped. Now that she had said the word that must have felt so forbidden to her, and heard it echoed back in Daniel’s own paternalistic voice, she seemed to cling to it. “Please, Daddy! No more!”

But he kept spanking just as hard, using his familiar left-right-center pattern, though the sheer smallness of her bottom’s little peach made the three spots very close together under his large hand. He could feel in the motions of her body that she had given herself up to the idea of her attorney as her protector and guide, and that the tears she cried now weren’t just for trying to sneak out, but for much more: maybe even for a life she never got to have, with a daddy who wouldn’t have spared the spanking or the cuddling.

Those motions, held in check but not stilled, stirred his cock even more, of course. Alongside the disciplinary yielding, too, Daniel could feel her submitting her little body even more thoroughly to his big one. When she kicked again, he had a very distracting view of her pussy, between her thighs, and he thought he even saw a glistening between the creamy outer lips, where the coral secret of the inner ones just peeped out.

“Daddy… Daddy… please…” his little girl sobbed as he spanked her hard and fast, and he knew she couldn’t have told him for what exactly she made that plea.

His blood felt like fire in his own veins, too. He no longer thought he would be able to stop himself, when Cynthia lay over the arm of the couch, and he no longer wanted to. He finished the spanking very abruptly, and she gasped as he picked her up under his arm, stood, and carried her into the living room, only six feet or so away.

“Daddy, not the belt, please,” she whispered into his chest as he stood next to the couch.

“Shh, sweetheart. Daddy has to. You were naughty.”

The sobbing moan that came from her chest, as her chin moved against him in a nod, wrenched his heart, but it steeled his nerve as well. He put her on her feet facing the plump, green-canvas-covered arm of the big couch, which stood the perfect height from the floor for bending a little girl over to whip her bare backside. He pushed her over firmly, though not roughly, until she came up onto her tiptoes again, bright pink bottom just where it should be.

As he unbuckled his belt, Cynthia gave a little cry, as if at the very sound of the metal’s clink. She had her cheek on the sofa cushion, and his eyes met hers as he doubled the black leather and wrapped it around his fist. Her eyes went wide and she bit her lip. A tiny whimper came from her throat.

“This is Daddy’s belt,” he said sternly. “He needs to use it on little Cynthia’s bottom when she’s very naughty.”

Her lips made a tight line, but then she said, in her tiniest voice yet, “Yes, Daddy.”

Daniel turned his attention to her bottom. He could see from the color that he had probably kept up the hand-spanking a little longer than he meant to, so this whipping should be a bit less severe than he had intended at first. When his left hand made contact with her warm cheeks, a whining sound came from her as he rubbed, unable to stop himself from cupping first one warm half of her cleft peach, and then the other—the most sexual thing he had done with her yet.

His left hand found her waist, as he with his right raised the belt high. He brought it down with the whistling sound and the crack that made a belt whipping so very effective, and Cynthia cried out, bending her knees with the smart but otherwise holding still.

“Good girl,” he said. “Stay just like that.”

And she did, holding her position as he whipped her, much more slowly than he administered hand-spankings. Her cries rang out louder than they had yet as she took her punishment, and after a minute or so her thighs and bottom cheeks bore a tracery of angry red welts that she would be able to see in the mirror tomorrow to remind her of the need to obey the rules.

His hardness inside the jeans only grew at the lewd motions of his little girl’s hips, the clenching of her bottom-cheeks, and when he finally laid the belt down on the coffee table he knew what the answer would be to the question he asked when he again stood behind her, now putting his hands possessively on her young hips.

“Does Daddy’s little girl need fucking? Does she need his cock in her little pussy?”

Cynthia didn’t think she had any other word but yes in her vocabulary at that moment, as least as far as Captain Daniel Garcia, Esq. was concerned.

She found one more, though, as she told him that his cock in her pussy was the thing she needed most.

“Oh, Daddy, yes. Yes.” Then a third. “Please, Daddy.”

Then, as she heard his jeans drop to the floor, his big, firm, controlling hands leaving her hips forlorn for just a moment and returning to grip her tightly and tell her that her new daddy had no intention of doing anything but fuck his little girl until he felt as good as he could feel, she found several more words, most of them filthy.

She looked over her shoulder as she lay naked over the couch, her bottom burning to remind her Daniel had punished her very thoroughly indeed, but burning in a way that made her ache for him between her thighs. She saw his sinewy body, his washboard stomach. She saw his beautiful cock, pointed right at her: the sign that spanking and whipping her had made him want her just as much as she wanted him.

“Please put your big cock in my pussy, Daddy, please. I want to be your good girl. I want to make you feel so good. Your little girl needs fucking so bad.”

Cynthia had grown up rough, as she usually thought of it. No real abuse, she supposed, but in the area of foul language, no relief. She had ceased to think of fuck, and even of pussy and cock as really foul, at a very young age. Still, though she had had what she considered a pretty normal amount of sex, she had never talked dirty the way you saw sometimes in movies.

But yesterday Daniel said that he didn’t like her saying fuck, and today, for some reason, now that with this punishment she had somehow become his little girl and he had become her daddy, she wanted to be his good girl by being his bad, foul-mouthed girl. Did she want him to spank her again, she wondered? How could she, when the little bottom he stroked now burned so hot under his touch? When she was sure she would have to blush when she looked in the mirror and saw the marks from his belt tomorrow, if not every day for a week? When she would lie on her side in bed tonight and run her fingers along the welts and think about how she must learn to be a better little girl, just as her daddy wished?

She suddenly felt so shy that she turned away from the naughty sight of her daddy’s hard penis, and looked at the couch. She didn’t know how, but the shyness, and the heat it produced in her face, made the ache between her legs grow until she could feel herself getting wet—much wetter, she realized, than she had ever been for sex in her life. That, too, made the shyness and the blush increase, until she could hardly bear even to think of herself this way, over the couch with her knees being gently pulled apart by her daddy’s hands.

“Such a pretty pussy,” Daniel said. “So ready for Daddy to fuck.”

Cynthia moaned, utterly unable to keep it inside her chest despite the lewdness of the sound that suddenly felt so inappropriate. This wasn’t like any sex she had ever experienced, and it hadn’t even really started, had it? Every whimper, every little sob of desire, felt wicked—and in its wickedness felt utterly right.

She cried out as her daddy touched her private parts for the first time, rubbing a gentle circle around her clit with two fingertips. “Does that feel nice, sweetheart?” he asked. “Little Cynthia’s flower bud feels very big.”

“So good, Daddy,” she sobbed. “So good, Daddy.” Then she couldn’t stop saying the thing she had never called any man before this one, her Marine pilot attorney who was going to turn her life around—how could she doubt it now? “Daddy. Daddy. Daddy.”

She felt something against her pussy, against her clit, and it was bigger than his fingertips and she knew it was her daddy’s cock, rubbing in that same place. She whimpered with pleasure, but with frustration, too, because he couldn’t go in there, and she needed her daddy inside her so bad right now.

“Shh. We’ll do a morning-after pill tomorrow, and then we can get you an IUD. You’re going to be Daddy’s naughty little girl from now on, so we have to be sure you don’t get pregnant from all the sex you’re going to have.”

Oh, how could that make her even hotter? The idea that her daddy would control her pussy like that? Birth control had always seemed the opposite of sexy to Cynthia, but now she felt that Daniel could growl about it for hours, telling her exactly how he intended her womb should serve him, and she would just want his cock, and then his seed, inside her all the more.

“Daddy’s going to fuck you just like this now, sweetheart, with your face down. We’ll fuck face-to-face later, too, but Daddy likes to fuck this way after he whips a girl, to help her learn her lesson.”

Her mind hadn’t really taken it in before he put the head of his cock further back, in just the right spot, and pushed in with a grunt of pleasure over which she cried out with the sharp, sudden ecstasy of having her pussy filled with a man’s hardness for the first time in months.

Then, speaking again as if something from deep inside her that she couldn’t control had broken loose, she moaned, “Please teach me my lesson, Daddy.”

At that moment his hips came up against her bottom, and his thighs against the thighs he had whipped so mercilessly, until her whole rear end had felt like he had set it on fire. She cried out even louder, and her hand gripped the canvas of the seat cushion where he had so roughly pushed her face before the whipping, to get her ready for punishment.

To get her ready for fucking; and now he fucked her, as hard and fast as he had spanked her over his lap in the spanking chair. He held his little girl’s hips and moved his cock in and out just as he pleased, and Cynthia cried out under every thrust, every slap of his hips that reawakened that terrible, shameful, sexy feeling that her daddy knew how to guide his little girl, even if the rest of the world might call it wicked. Her daddy liked to fuck, liked to ride a punished bottom hard, even if his innocent little girl had never dreamed a man might use her pussy that way.

Yes, she had had sex, but Daniel’s fucking came from some other place—or maybe this was real sex. She felt the orgasm building in her tummy, in her hips; something about this position, which she had tried once without success with a boyfriend who had lasted a month or two, was very different with Daniel’s hands to hold her hips and keep her still for the pounding of his hard cock. Maybe it was the sofa arm under her, against which her clit rubbed just enough to put the orgasm within her reach.

The stimulation felt slightly frustrating—almost as if the rubbing were against the rules, and the pleasure were something her daddy might spank her for stealing, because it was her daddy’s pleasure that mattered, not hers. The inherent erotic power of this strange, new sexual world of daddies with big, hard cocks putting them inside their little girls whether their little girls liked it or not made her whimper as he fucked her. After the whimpers, as Daniel pounded her bottom harder and harder, came cries of mingled pleasure and pain at the way he reawakened the sting of the discipline he had bestowed on her bare backside.

Whether because of the frustration, or the newness of the world of submission to her daddy, or because of the sheer sensation that came from the spanking and whipping and fucking, this building climax felt much, much bigger than any other Cynthia had ever had. Even before she felt like she had come close to exploding into her release down there, she felt her knees and then her thighs start to quiver uncontrollably.

Daniel gripped her hips even more firmly, fucked her even harder, and she cried, “Daddy, I’m coming. I’m coming,” desperate for him to know what he had done to her, was doing to her.

“Good girl,” he growled. “Such a good girl. Daddy’s going to come, too, right in little Cynthia’s pretty pussy.” His words seemed to touch off both their orgasms, and Cynthia made a whimpery little scream, because the ecstasy that filled her seemed much too great to be captured by anything shameful and loud. Her whole body, feeling utterly mastered by her daddy’s, as his big penis spurted his daddy-seed into her vagina, seemed to struggle against him as he rode her backside hard for two final, jerking thrusts, then held her tightly, his manhood all the way inside—so far in that it took her breath away. Then she went limp, spent and sweaty, feeling like nothing could ever be the same for her again.

They stayed like that for a few moments, both of them panting, and then Daniel withdrew slowly and gently. Cynthia gave a little cry at the loss of him down there, and then another as he wordlessly picked her up, carried her to his bedroom, and laid her in his bed.

Cynthia looked up at him in wonder as he loomed over her, his cock soft now, but still so big. She blushed, thinking about how she had taken some pride in learning how to give a good blowjob, with a couple of her boyfriends. Now it seemed so naughty to her that she wanted to suck her daddy’s penis, but she did. She even wanted to know what her little pussy—her pretty pussy, she thought with pride—tasted like.


Daniel smiled. “Yes, young lady?”

“May I please suck your penis?”

His smile broadened. “Are you feeling like a dirty girl, after Daddy fucked you?”

She wanted to go on with the dirty talk, but his words, in his low voice, while he stood there, sent a lightning bolt of arousal to her nipples, to her clit, that made her moan, and suddenly she didn’t know if she wanted to be a good girl or a dirty girl.

“Maybe?” she whispered.

“Daddy will tell you when it’s time to suck his penis. Have you sucked a penis before, young lady?”

Again she moaned, and closed her eyes. She didn’t understand how he could do that with his voice, but she couldn’t resist it, and she didn’t want to.

“Yes, Daddy,” she said, her eyes still closed. Then, “I’m sorry.” She opened her eyes, to see him with a stern look on his face, though she thought she could see that it was only stern in play. “Do you have to spank me?”

He shook his head, and that made Cynthia feel strangely disappointed, though it also made her heart feel lighter. She really had felt a moment’s fear that Daniel would be mad at her for not being his virginal little girl. Suddenly she blushed again, though: she had remembered that she was virginal in one place at least, and as she remembered she wondered whether her daddy would ask about that place.

“No, sweetheart. Tonight is the beginning of something new for you, but what happened in the past is past, unless you want to tell me about it.” He paused, and his smile broke out again. “Or even show me.”

“Oh, Daddy,” Cynthia said, hearing her voice go up into what she now thought must be her little-girl register. “I do want to show you. I want to make you feel good, again and again and again.”

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