She wore only a tank top, shorts, and flip-flops and she wasn’t carrying anything. Great. That meant that her discipline would be “creative”. That was always the worst. I would have preferred a good hard paddling.
Scared as I was I couldn’t help but be turned on by the swing of Christa’s hips and her incredible ass. The next hour or three would be agony but there were definitely advantages to being my daughter’s slave.
We entered the tool shed. It was very hot as usual and the smell of sawdust hung in the air. I loved that smell. Little did I know I would soon come to associate it with fear and pain.
“Undress, daddy. Hmm…let’s see what we’ve got here.”
I folded my clothes neatly and stood waiting for her next command, trying to prepare myself for the pain to come. It was useless, of course. Christa always breaks me.
She giggled. “Okay. Come here, daddy.”
I stepped forward and she took my dick in her hand and pulled me closer to the bench. She laid my dick in the bench clamp and started slowly tightening it. I stood there trembling, knowing that my manhood was completely at my sadistic daughter’s mercy.
“Bet you never realized this was at the perfect level, huh daddy?”
“N-no Mistress.”
She stopped tightening. My dick was mashed flat. There was no way I could wiggle loose.
“Now let‘s see…” Christa inspected the neat rows of tools on the walls and shelves.
She took down a paint stirrer. One of the big ones for the five gallon buckets.
“Now don’t squirm too much, daddy, or you lose your dick.”
She bent it back and let it fly. It connected with my ass with a loud slap. Holy hell that hurt!
She did it again and again, covering my ass with hot red welts. When the stirrer finally cracked she got another one and continued to assault my abused... Læs hele novellen
