Eyes of Dominance

One of my older stories.

I recline on the couch, sipping a bottle of water to cool my nerves. I guess from my face it’s evident that I’m not happy with tonight’s arrangements, because you stop what you’re doing and come over to me.

“Hey, what’s wrong” you question.

I look up at you, and try to best figure out the appropriate response. “Nothing, it’s just I’m not fond of this” I finally settle on.

“Why is that?” you question.

I take a heavy breath as I ponder the question, but you speak up first. “It’s nothing serious. I’m just going out with some friends for some drinks. You don’t drink often, so it’d be silly for you to come and mope around. I’ll be fine, my friends will look after me.”

“Not as well as I’d like, or I would.” I mutter, drawing a smile.

“No, maybe not as good as you, but you can’t follow me everywhere. I can be responsible” you say.

I smile jokingly “Oh, so you’re a responsible princess now? So when I had to spank your ass last week for not being on time, or when it was for not picking up your mess of clothes, or a few days before that for–”

“Okay, okay. I sometimes have lapses” you cut me off, blushing slightly at the memories. “But I’ll be good tonight!”

I nod my head, taking in your form. I pull you down for a kiss, forcing you to straddle my left leg. As I deepen the kiss, I feel you ever so slightly grinding against my thigh. A smile touches my face, and I begin to press my leg against you, rubbing you through your pants. A soft moan escapes your throat, as you pick up the pace slightly, rhythmically rocking back and forth, briefly lost in your pleasure. My hand slowly slips down the small of your back, creeping down the back of your pants.

A car horn sounds from the street, and you stand suddenly. “Shit, I lost track of time” you whine, frantically throwing last minute items together, looking for your shoes. I sit back, briefly pondering if it would be worth it to take you right then and there, leaving your friends by themselves for the night, but I push my selfishness away and help you grab your shoes. As you run to the door, you yell back at me “See you in a bit! Maybe we’ll pick up where we left off!” You shoot me a seductive glance, then close the door behind you.

I stand in place for a minute or so, contemplating my decision to let you go. It’s the right thing to do, I reason. You’re an adult, and you have every right to go have fun with your friends. Still, it makes me slightly uneasy, the promise and danger of alcohol, without me to watch over you. I lay back on the couch, and distract myself by playing around with my phone.

After about 20 minutes, I sit up, and start typing up a text to you. You aren’t going too far; surely you’re there by now. I type out ‘Have fun tonight princess! Don’t get too drunk; I’ve got plans for you tonight ;)’ With a slight smile, I hit send and get up to get another drink. 

As I reach the fridge, a sound shakes me from my quiet reverie. I look down; lying face up on the counter, your phone vibrates slightly, displaying my message across its screen. You must’ve left it here on your rush out the door. I pick it up, and consider my options. I would have surely thought that you would come back for it, but the bar is only 10 minutes away, if that, and you’d have already been back by now were you coming for it. I consider just leaving it be, but a nagging thought keeps giving me pause. I have no way to reach you, and no way for you to contact me in case something goes wrong. I grab my keys and walk out the door. I’ll bring the phone to you, I decide. Plus, it will give be the opportunity to drive and clear my head, to plan what I have in store for you when you return.

10 minutes go by, and I pull up to the bar, crowded beyond my expectations. I park in the only available space, and push my way inside. The scent of flowing alcohol hits my nostrils immediately, and I start scouring the establishment for your face. With all these people around, its hard to make out anyone distinguishable. Finally, I spot you, towards the far end of the bar, smiling and laughing. I don’t see your friends anywhere, perhaps they’re further back, or in the restroom? I start to walk towards you, but then a male patron puts his hand on your shoulder, and I freeze up when you don’t seem to mind it. In fact, you seem to light up at his presence, and graciously take the drink he offers you.

Despite every instinct to march over and grab you, drag you home, and give you hell, I hold fast, watching silently. Maybe he’s a friend, or a friend of a friend. I don’t want to rush up to you and look like an ass interrupting something potentially innocent. So, I hang back against the wall, in perfect view of you, and begin to observe.

15 minutes in to my watch, and already my theory of innocence has been debunked. That guy is no one you previously knew, nor is the other man hovering nearby, dropping cheesy pick up lines and quips at every opportunity. I briefly wonder why I’m not acting on this, picking you up, literally if need be, and walking you out to the car, but I have a sense that there’s something more going on. As much as you smile coyly, and accept their advances (and drinks, I note worriedly,) you hold yourself back enough not to get too close, or encourage them beyond the pleasantries and light touches that set my nerves alight in annoyance. You briefly scan the room, perhaps looking for your friends, and I duck my head out of view, drawing questioning looks from a few patrons. I smile uneasily at them, and return to my vigil once its safe, and sigh testily as a third contender moves into view.

30 minutes in, as I watch the fourth man tonight not so subtly grab at your waist. You smiled at the man, and I again have to stop myself from tanning your hide right here and now. That’s the 14th time someone has made contact with you in a far from chivalrous fashion. I quickly realized this was fun for you, hopping back and forth, collecting drinks and smiles and touches, before moving on to the next one. I spotted some of your friends around in the mix of people, and I come to the conclusion that despite appearances, you are relatively safe, but that does not abate the anger building in my chest. I realize I’ve been zoned out for the past few minutes during my musings, and quickly scan to find you again.

A new fifth gentleman is playing lightly with your hair, and this one breaks my resolve. I start to march towards your direction, but as if you became aware of the imminent threat, you excuse yourself to the restroom. I trail behind, and wait by the door.

A few minutes later, you return from the bathroom, and run straight into me. Your eyes widen immediately upon seeing me, and within a second you realize I’ve been here awhile. We both stare at each other for a few moments, your eyes filled with shock and fear, mine filled with anger and dark amusement. Then, to my surprise, you run, pushing through the mass of people surrounding the bar.

You get maybe 10 feet before I wrap my hands around your arms and hold you in place. I whisper in your ear, “Careful now. Don’t want to cause a scene, or maybe I’ll decide here is as good a place as any to whip you ass.” You whine and struggle against me, but hold your place. “Go find your friends, and tell them I’ve come to pick you up; you have a headache. Meet me by the car in 5 minutes.” I command. You try to pull away from me, but I hold you steady “If you run off, or try to hide, I’ve got a strap in the backseat I have no problem using in public” I warn, then release you, and calmly walk outside.

I start the car as you make your way outside. As soon as you get in the passenger’s side, the excuses start. “I’m sorry, okay? I was just having a bit of fun! It’s a game me and my friends play!”

I ignore you, and slowly start the drive home. You continue explaining yourself. “It doesn’t mean anything; it’s just for fun! Do you actually think some drunk idiots who throw money at any pretty girl with a sweet smile are worth my time? What did I do wrong here?” 

I drive on in silence, reaching home. Before I get out of the car you pleas start again. “Daddy, please talk to me! I said I’m sorry; I won’t do it again. Please don’t punish me; I’m sorry.”

I get out the car, and walk over to your side. I unbuckle you, and lift you out of your seat, then immediately push you up against the car, my lips finding yours in a harsh kiss. You must be taken aback at this response, because you just stand there, limp, unsure of what to do. I pull back, and stare heatedly into your pupils.

“You are mine. Don’t you ever forget that.” You try to speak, but my lips are upon you again. You cry out as I roughly grasp your sides and bite down roughly on your lip as I pull away. “Every inch of you belongs to me. You are not to share it with anyone else, do you understand me?” 

Without waiting for an answer, I roughly kiss at your neck, leaving marks as I trail down towards your collarbone. “Is this what you do when I’m not looking? Act like a slut in public for free drinks?” I punctuate this by biting down hard on your shoulder. You let out a sound between a cry and a moan as you push at me weakly. “Please, daddy, we’re outside, people can see!” “Then let them see” I reply. “Let them see what a naughty brat you are that thinks it’s fun to tease men. Let them see what they touched and groped tonight. Let them see what’s mine.” I hike my knee between your legs, pressing against your pussy, and continue marking your neck and shoulders with my teeth.

After what feels like minutes but in reality is probably about thirty seconds, I grab you by the arm and drag you inside. I push you across the couch. “Strip” is my only word to you, as I retreat to our room to grab what I need. When I come back, you are slipping out of your bra and panties. I place my supplies out of your view, then walk up and spin you towards me. “Did anyone touch these?” I demand, looking down at your breasts.

“No! You think I’d let someone grab my chest over a drink?” you reply.

“I don’t know what to think anymore” I answer, smacking each one hard once, then biting down on each, trailing the marks with my tongue. “Who’s are these?” I demand, looking straight into your half lidded eyes. You pause for a moment, before smirking and replying “Mine.”

I deliver another hard smack to your left breast. “Wrong answer.” 

I turn you around and push you over the couch’s armrest, ass up in the air. “I won’t bother asking if someone touched this, I saw everything.” I go back to my stash of supplies, and bring back a cane. Your eyes widen, fear replacing arousal, and you try to stand up.

“If you get up, I will tie you up and take you outside to do this. Maybe the bar patrons you were so quick to take advantage of would like to watch you get a caning.”

“No, please!” you beg, lying back over the armrest, but squirming and bucking in reaction to me stepping behind you.

“How many times did you let someone touch you tonight?” I ask calmly, before swinging the cane through the air, creating a sharp whistle.

“I don’t know, it’s hard to keep track of! Please!” you beg as buck your hips in anticipation.

“Really? It’s certainly not that hard, because I counted from the moment I walked in, and that guy in the blue shirt touched your shoulder. From that point, how many would you guess?”

I swing the cane through the air again, and you involuntarily gasp. “You fucking counted? That’s not fucking creepy at all!” you spit back at me.

I touch the cane to your bottom. “I have to keep track of what is mine.”

“Here’s what we are going to do. It’ll be a game; something you apparently find fun!” I explain mockingly. “You are going to guess the number of times someone touched my princess. If you get it right, then you’ll get that amount of strokes. If however, you are wrong, you’re getting double.

You have 10 seconds, starting now.” Your eyes widen, and you start babbling. “This isn’t fair. It was a fucking game! How am I suppose to know! This is bullshit–”

“3,2” I count down.

“Fuck! 13!” you shout out.

I tap your butt lightly. “13, is it? You think you let someone else touch my princess’ body 13 times, without my permission.”

“Daddy, I’m sorry; I wasn’t thinking about it like that! Please let me up, I’ve learned my lesson.”

I hum to myself as I look at your form; jumping with anticipation and nerves, your eyes desperately flying from me to the cane. “I’m afraid you let those strangers touch my princess 15 times. That means you are getting 30 strokes tonight.”

“Noooooo!” you whine, trying to stand, but I pin you with my free hand.

“You will lie here and take it, or we’re going back to the bar to do it. You will count each one, and say 'This is Daddy’s body’ after each number. You get up, we start over. You reach back, we start over. We will be here all night if we have to be.”

Before you have anytime to complain, I flick my wrist and bring the cane whipping across your bottom. The sound fills the living room, and you yell out.

“FUCK! One sir, this is daddy’s body.”

I bring it down again. I strike you again. “TWO sir, this is daddy’s body!” I bring it down on you a third time. This time you shoot up, hands rubbing your bottom. “Fuck, I said I’m sorry! This is bullshit! It’s my body, and I’ll do what I want!”

I roughly grab your hair and go back to my supplies, where I get some rope. I tie your hands together, and lead you back to the couch. I push you back over the armrest, and tie the other end of the rope to the end table on the far side of the couch. Unable to pull your arms back, and your center of gravity disrupted, you are at my mercy.

“You know what you did was wrong tonight; otherwise you wouldn’t have ran in the bar. Now, you will lay there and take your punishment like a good girl, or I will double the strokes again, and you will not be sitting for quite some time.”

A long, breathy cry escapes your lungs as you kick your leg uselessly, realizing your fate. “We start back at one.” SWISH!

“Twenty nine sir, Thh-is is daaaddy’s body!” you sob out through tired lungs and teary eyes. SWISH “THIRTY SIR!…….. This.. is daddy’s.. body.”

I immediately unbuckle my pants, and grab my throbbing cock. I take in your limp form, bright red lines crisscrossing your ass, and I can’t wait a minute later. I roughly shove myself into your cunt, completely taking you off guard. I thrust harshly and frequently, not so surprised of how wet you already. I reach down and pluck at your nipples as I enter you again and again. “Who does this princess belong to?”

“You, daddy” you moan back at me, arousal overtaking the pain of punishment.

“Is anyone else allowed to touch princess without my permission?”

“No, daddy, only you!”

I smirk, “Good, you seem to have learned your lesson. Now lie there while daddy takes his pleasure.” I resume my rhythm, and you moan out “Please sir, can I cum?”

I don’t answer right away, continuing my frantic pace. “Yes, princess, you may, but only so you remember who gives you your pleasure.” 

I continue fucking you for a few minutes, before you release with a tortured moan, and I follow a minute after. I untie you from the table, and pull you from the armrest into my arms. You wince as your butt makes contact with the fabric, but you sigh and relax into my touch as I play with your hair and trace your tear streaks with my fingertips. 

“I’m sorry I was so rough with you, princess, but I don’t like seeing you undermine me by flirting with those guys.”

You nod, “I’m sorry. I didn’t mean it that way. I just thought it was fun getting free drinks.”

I sit quietly for a bit, then reply “If that was your intention, then you should have told me beforehand. I might not have been as angry if you told me ahead of time.”

“I’m sorry, daddy. If you don’t mind telling me, why did you come to the bar?” 

I yank at my pants on the floor, and grab your phone from my pocket, handing it to you. You look shocked “How could I forget this! I…” you trail off as you read my message. “What did you have planned for me?” you inquire, a seductive look coming over your face.

“Maybe another night” I respond. “Besides, we’re not finished with your punishment.”

At that sentence you freeze up. “We’re not? But you’re cuddling me, and my butt can’t take any more….”

I chuckle, explaining “Not that kind of punishment, sweety. But since we have tomorrow off, I think its important for you to learn about who’s in control. Since you thought it was okay to use your body to your advantage tonight without asking me, I think its fair if you spend the next 24 hours restricted in that regard.”

I stand up, and go to the final item I brought out earlier; a pair of handcuffs. I walk over to you, and gently pull your arms behind your back. I then tighten the cuffs around your wrists. “Until twelve am tomorrow night, your hands will remain bound behind you. Hopefully you’ll think twice next time before assuming you’re in control.”

You turn around to argue, before I respond “unless you’d like another dose of the cane.” That stops you immediately, and you cutely pout at me.

“Go on, get ready for bed. I’ll be there in a few.” You nod, then walk off to the bedroom. About 10 seconds later, I hear a bumping noise, then your voice whining at me “Daddy, I can’t open the door!” I smile, thinking about my original plans for the evening. Then I go to help you out. Maybe tomorrow night, if she’s good.