Come to Daddy You Fucking Bitch

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Submitted: April 14, 2020

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Content

Submitted: April 14, 2020

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“Come to Daddy, you bitch, you fucking bitch.”

“Are you going to punish me?”

“Punish? No, I’m going to fucking flog you till you don’t know what fucking day of the week it is. I mean, how stupid are you?”

She drops to the floor and then crawls over to me. Her eyes are lowered in a kind of catatonic submission – weird. But this is her fantasy, her life and all she really craves for in existence. 

“Look up at me.”

She raises her ugly head.

I slap her hard three times across her cheek with my right hand. And my god it feels good. I love abusing women and being violent to them. It’s the way I am. Nature, the dark will of the cosmos, made me this way. And what’s more it’s legal. Consensual. Exquisite.  

Her cheek is red and I observe a single tear roll down it. Delicious.

“That’s for being ugly.”

“Yes, I am ugly.”

“Did I give you permission to speak?”

I slap her again. Any excuse.

“Keep your mouth shut. Understand?”

She nods.

“Get all your clothes off. Now.”

She pulls her top over her head and throws it on the carpet. Next she unclips her bra and lets her pendulous tits hang out and down.

“Fucking hell, you’re figure is awful, fucking rolls of fat and flab. And covered with moles and warts. Aren’t you embarrassed by your gross little body?”

She blushes a little. Good, I’ve got to her.

She then removes her jeans, pants and socks.

“Bloody hell, I can smell your pongy cunt. Don’t you wash or anything? Filthy bitch.”

“Right, up against the wall.”

She stands up and walks over to the bedroom wall placing her arms above her and onto the damp wallpaper. 

I look at her podgy figure, her fat legs and arms, the broad expanse of her pale back. I just want to hurt her, inflict pain upon her, and reduce her to a blubbering wreck.

Of course it’s the ultimate reconciliation: the extreme sadist and abuser versus the ultimate masochist and submissive. Dark versus light. No, matter and anti-matter. Ha, I wax lyrical.

I pick up the cat o’nine tails from the bedside table, her bedside table in her house. Do you seriously think I would opt to live in this shithole of a property?

She’s scared. Petrified. She doesn’t know who I am. I could be a murderer. Yet still she seeks out my type, my sick type, drawn like the proverbial moth to the flame.

I wonder if a part of her wants to die, to experience the ultimate high, the ultimate orgasm of death, Fuck, she’s as sick as me. 

I move to the left of her and feel the juices begin to flow as I surrender to my mastery, my sadism.

I pull the flogger back as far as I can and then deliver it in a swishing arc upon the flesh of her back. 

It makes a satisfying crack as it lands and she cries out in pain.

God this is good.

I lash her again and already her saggy flesh is reddened and abrased.

Her breathing rate is increasing. Soon she’ll be gasping.

Again and again I whip her yet she remains in position pressed against the wall. Addicted to pain. Addicted to suffering. Addicted to the dream of death. 

Yet I am an ‘addict’ myself. Addicted to hurting people in all imaginable ways. Physically. Mentally. Emotionally. Financially. 

I am a psychopath, but a smart psychopath treading a dark path and living in the shadows. Evasive. Lying. Plotting. Role-playing.

<Swish> <Crack> <Swish> <Crack> Her back is sore and red and I espy little pinpricks of blood.

She is crying, crying for herself, her addiction.

<Swish> <Crack> <Swish><Crack>

Panting and gasping for breath.

What is she thinking? What is she feeling?

<Swish> <Crack>

She clenches her hands and sucks in air.

<Swish> <Crack> <Swish> <Crack> <Swish><Crack>

Break her, break the bitch.

Little drops of blood are running down her back.

I am achingly hard.

<Swish> <Crack>

She slides down the wall and collapses in a heap on her back.

I walk over and look down at her. Her eyes are glazed and I wonder if she is dead – I know she has a heart condition. I also made her sign a disclaimer in the event that she did die – I don’t fancy prison. But she readily scrawled her near illegible signature to gratify her perverted appetites. Ha.

“You done?” I say.

I just about make out her lips form the word ‘yes’.

“Want me to fuck you?”

“Y-yes… p-please.”

I help her to her feet. She is unsteady on them and I guide her to the bed where I throw her on the mattress. 

I strip off quickly and then mount her. 

She is beginning to revive a little and responds to my thrusts. 

I squeeze her nipples hard and she gasps. Her cunt is more pungent than before so I increase the rate of my thrusts.

Within a few seconds I reach the point of orgasm and as I do so does she shouting out, “I want to be whipped to DEATH in public… it’s all I deserve… I’m worthless and an ugly slut…”

It’s over.

I withdraw my sticky cock from her hairy and smelly vagina.

“Yeah, you are a slut. And ugly. And you do deserve to die.”

 I quickly put my clothes on and walk towards the door.

She is sobbing on the bed – the flogging and rough fucking have drained her – and one day it is likely that she’ll die during it. But not this time.

“Same time next week?” she calls out.

“Yeah, probably...” 


© Copyright 2020 Matt Triewly. All rights reserved.

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