Note: This story, including all names and people, is entirely fictional and not based on any real life experiences or events.

“Can you get me a glass of water, sweetheart?” Liam asks me, without even looking up from where he’s reading on his chair.

“I don’t know. Can I?” I retort from the couch opposite him. He finally looks up at me, and the answering glare he gives me would normally make me shrink a little, but I’m too annoyed to back down from my childish retort.

He closes his book, then slowly puts it away on the table between us. “I gave you an order, Mia.”

“And I refused your order, Liam.” I’m being childish, I know, but I don’t care. He can get his own damn glass of water.

He leans back, intertwining his fingers behind his head. One ankle crosses over his knee, and now I do shrink a little beneath his intense glare. “Get me my damn water, Mia. You won’t like the consequences if you don’t.”

My reply is tumbling out of my mouth before I can stop it. “Screw you, Liam. You’re not my fucking dad.” As though I could push the words back into my mouth, both my hands fly up to it, covering the lower half of my face. “I’m sorry,” I say into my hands.

Fuck. I’ve really done it now, which I realise by the way he’s looking at me. He looks almost pleased at my outburst, like he can’t wait to see the way I’ll beg him for forgiveness within minutes.

And he’s just looking at me, waiting to see what I’ll do. I hate when he does this, because it just makes me so god damn antsy and a little terrified of him. And I know he’s not even waiting for me to beg or apologise, because no matter what I say, he’s still going to punish me until he’s satisfied.

I wring my hands in my lap while I wait for him to do something. My fate is sealed, no use fighting it now.

I think it’s important to mention that Liam is a complete sadist. He thinks my red ass is the most beautiful thing in the world, and the sight of me in tears for him gets him off like nothing else.

Luckily for him, I get off on the way he hurts me just as much.

But he won’t hurt me without a good reason to. It’s almost frustrating, frankly, as sometimes I need to intentionally provoke him for him to give me the treatment I desire. Whether that be by breaking his rules or by talking back to him like I am now.

I didn’t talk back to him today for my sake, though.

When Liam came home, I could tell he was moody. We had some small talk about work over dinner, but all I could squeeze out of him was that he had a rough day. He hasn’t really talked to me much for the rest of the day, but it didn’t take me long to figure out what he needs.

I did try to offer myself to him, kneeling at his feet a little while ago while he was reading, but he said, “Not right now, Mia.” But I could tell he was still frustrated and antsy, and frankly, in need of something (or someone) to take his frustrations out on.

And that’s where I come in.

I’ve been snippy and mouthy for the past couple hours, more so than I usually am. I’ve followed all his instructions for me, but with more and more attitude each time, and he’s become visibly more frustrated all afternoon. When he asked me to grab him some water, I refused his order for the first time.

Telling him he’s not my dad was truly the cherry on top, and with the frustrated look on his face, I know I’ve won. He’s frustrated with me, and I know he thinks I’m either doing this to trick him into giving me attention or that his energy is rubbing off on me, and to be honest, it’s both of those things. But most importantly, I know he needs an excuse to fuck me without restraint, and I’m happy to give it to him.

“Come here,” he orders. I hesitate, looking at him with what I hope is a pleading look on my face, but he’s not having it. “Now, Mia.” His voice is so domineering that I start to get up, but I sit my butt back down again immediately.

“No.” I’m poking the bear so recklessly right now. Even though I’m terrified of what Liam will do to me, it also sends a rush through my body, all gathering between my legs when he starts rolling up his sleeves.

He goes to stand, but I beat him to it. Surprise flickers in his expression, and I almost laugh, because I’m not going over to him.

Instead, I tell him, “You don’t own me, and I can do whatever the fuck I want,” and turn on my heels, walking away.

I hear him get up immediately, and I involuntarily run away from him until I make it to the kitchen table. There, I turn around, coming face to face with the most terrifying version of Liam.

His hands brace on either side of me on the table, caging me in, and I have to lean back to look up at his face. His breath fans my lips when he leans down, taking my bottom lip between his teeth in a painful bite.

He releases me when I gasp, but his face stays a mere inch from mine. “You’re a reckless little brat, aren’t you?” he growls. “What’s so fucking hard about getting me a glass of water?”

Even with his domineering presence caging me in, I can’t not say this. “You can’t expect me to follow all your instructions when you won’t even look at me.”

His gaze softens, and he pulls back a little to kiss my forehead. “I’m sorry,” he says. “I’m sorry I’m in a shitty mood. It’s not your fault, but I haven’t been in a very loving mood today.”

I bat my lashes a little, looking up at him with a small pout. “Then don’t be gentle with me. Fuck me like you hate me, Master.”

Realisation grazes his features, and his lips pull up in a smirk. “Is that what you’re doing, then?” He kisses me suddenly, his tongue shoving into my mouth for a fleeting moment. I almost whimper when he pulls out again, but I stop myself when his breath fans my ear. “Then bend the fuck over so I can deliver your punishment.” He pulls away, and I hesitate for a moment, taking in his heaving chest and broad shoulders in his white shirt, his erection pressing against his slacks, and his piercing blue eyes boring into mine. “Don’t make me ask again, Mia.”

I snap out of my daze, hurrying to turn around. I don’t bend over fully, instead bracing myself on my hands at an angle, presenting my leggings-clad ass to him. His hand grabs at it, and I hum a little at the sensations, but without warning, he pulls my leggings and my panties down in one go. They pool around my knees, and I shiver a little at the sudden open air hitting me between my legs.

“Don’t move,” Liam instructs. I mean, how could I? But then I hear him pulling his belt out of his beltloops, and I physically feel myself paling. I try to turn my head to see what he’s doing, but his voice stops me. “I told you to stay still, little girl.”

I try my best, but I flinch when I hear his belt snapping behind me. He lets out a sinister laugh at my reaction. He’s enjoying scaring me, and that thought makes moisture build between my legs. Belonging to him, letting him use and destroy me for his sadistic pleasure, it all makes me so impatient for him to impale me.

He doesn’t do anything for a while, but then I suddenly feel the leather of his belt hitting my skin. I groan at the pain, but I don’t move either.

I brace for the next one, but Liam instead comes up behind me and grabs me by the hair, pulling my head back until I’m looking into his eyes. “Count,” he demands gruffly.

“One!” He releases me with a pleased little smile on his face, then goes back to give me another strike with his belt. “Two,” I grit out. It’s already feeling like way too much, but I stay in my spot like he told me to.

He comes up behind me again, his palms soothing the sting. It doesn’t take long before he goes back again, giving me another two strikes in quick succession. “Four!” I yell.

I bend over a little further. My palms are so sweaty, and my arms are shaking so hard that it’s difficult to keep myself upright. Liam lets out a pleased hum when I slide down, and he grips my neck, pushing me down until my chest is flush with the table.

He gives me a hard spank with his hand, and the unexpected sting makes me hiss in pain. “Six more,” he says, and I nearly cry at the thought of taking six more hits.

I cry out at his next hit. My hands clench on either side of me, and I honestly have no idea how I manage to stay still for him. “Five.”

His next strike is the hardest one yet, and the fact that I can tell that it is, and not just amplified by the sting on my ass already, speaks to how hard it is. I feel a few stray tears dropping from my eyes and dripping onto the table beneath me. “Six,” I breathe out once I manage to compose myself a little.

Liam gives me another, but when I don’t count, he comes up besides me. He leans down to kiss my forehead, then wipes away my tears with his thumb. “You’re doing so well,” he praises. “You okay?”

“Yes, Sir,” I say immediately, because even though it hurts, there’s nothing I want more than to hurt for him. “I want more.”

He chuckles a little. “Three more, then you’re done.” He pauses a moment, looking at my face with fire in his gaze. “Fuck,” he groans when another tear slips through. “I don’t think you realise how fucking good you look when you cry for me, baby.” He wipes the tear away, then sticks his finger in my mouth.

After I suck it clean, he gets up again, and I brace for the next impact. He doesn’t hold back, and I shriek a little at the pain. “Eight!” Another strike, just as hard. “Nine!”

He stops there, letting me quiver in fear and anticipation of his next strike. He cups me from behind, pushing his two middle fingers inside my wet heat, and I moan. “I want you to ask me nicely,” he says, “for your final hit.”

“Please,” I breathe without hesitation.

“Please what?” he asks and pushes his fingers deeper. He’s pushing so hard that the table is pushed forward a little, scraping across the floor.

“Please whip me with your belt, Master,” I beg. “Please punish me.”

He grabs my hair, pulling my head back. “That’s a good fucking girl,” he praises. “Begging so politely.”

He releases me and pulls out his fingers, and I brace for the final strike. I hear him take a breath, and I know he’s going to make this the hardest one yet. He hits me without any restraint, with full intention of hurting me, and I scream at the pain. The sound of leather hitting skin, combined with my scream and his guttural groan, sounds truly depraved. The pain is so intense that a few more tears are pushed out of me, and I can do nothing but lay there and whimper while I recover.

He soothes the sting with his palms again. “You’re all done, baby,” he says. Even though I already knew that, hearing him confirm it gives me so much relief.

“Thank you,” I say.

He laughs. “For what?” He uses two fingers to rub my clit, and I shiver.

“Thank you for punishing me, Sir.”

A low, guttural groan emanates from his chest. “That’s right,” he growls, still rubbing me. “You can say whatever the fuck you want, but I own you, Mia.”

His thumb teases my entrance. “Yes,” I moan. I can’t get enough of how he’s touching me and his possessive words.

“Say it,” he demands.

“You own me, Sir.” I say it without hesitation. “I belong to you.” My voice is breathy, each word interspersed with moans of pleasure.

He pulls away from me, and I let out a few heavy breaths. Within moments, I hear his zipper, followed by his thick head pressing against my entrance. He pushes in with ease, and I moan. He places one hand on my hip while his other grabs my wrists, pinning them behind my back.

His thrusts are slow and methodical, almost exploring, and I love it, but I need more. “More,” I demand a little impatiently.

He laughs. “Such a needy girl.” He picks up the pace. “So fucking wet for it, aren’t you?”

“Yes, Sir,” I moan. He goes even faster, even harder, pushing me further into the table. With my hands behind my back, I can’t stop myself from sliding further onto the table.

“You’re such a little brat,” he starts, still giving me hard, punishing thrusts. “Is this what you wanted? To get bent over and fucked like you’re worthless?”

“Y-es,” I push out, the syllables broken up by each thrust.

“Pathetic little slut.” His degradation is only turning me on more. The way he’s fucking me has quickly turned relentless and unrestrained. I clench around him, desperate to keep him inside me forever.

He fully pulls out, and I whine at the sudden empty feeling inside me. “Shut up,” he demands. He releases my wrists, then grips my thighs and pulls them apart, spreading me. I feel his tongue on my clit in the next moment, and I writhe when he aggressively sucks it into his mouth.

“Fuck,” he groans into me. “You taste so fucking good.” He keeps lapping me up, driving me so, so close to my orgasm.

“Oh, god,” I moan. “Master…”

He pulls away, but hooks two fingers inside me, keeping me on edge. “Angel?” I almost groan at the way he sounds so concerned, like he did something wrong.

“I need to come, Sir,” I beg. “Please, please, make me come!”

His answering huff of a laugh fans across my exposed core, then his tongue returns to flicking at my clit, all while his fingers stay inside me. “You can come, baby,” he says, and that’s all I need.

My release sends shivers through my entire body, and when he doesn’t slow down, I push backwards into his face. I’m shaking, completely overwhelmed, and before I realise it, I’m begging him to stop.

He goes to stand again, and in one, swift motion, he plunges back into me. He grips my hair in one hand, and places another on my waist, keeping me steady while he completely ruins me.

Moans escape his lips when he comes deep inside me a minute later, filling me up completely. He moans my name into my neck when he leans over, covering my body with his.

We stay there for a while, just recovering. I’m panting heavily, completely overwhelmed by what we just did. He stays inside me for so long that I feel him softening. When he finally pulls out, I feel his come running down my legs. His fingers gather some of it, which he brings to my mouth, and I eagerly suck them clean.

He gives me a pleased look. “Good girl,” he praises. “Taking whatever I give you.”

He cleans me with a rag before he pulls my leggings back into place. With a kiss to my cheek, he helps me up, guiding me to the bathroom. We shower together, and his cock quickly stiffens when he cleans my body.

I almost roll my eyes at how eager he is, but I love it regardless.

Later that night, when we lay in bed together, my tired body sprawled across his, he gently stirs me from my drowsiness. “I’m sorry about my mood earlier,” he tells me. “You’re right. It’s not fair that I give you orders without giving you any attention.”

“It’s okay,” I say, honestly.

“Thank you for giving me what I needed.” He nuzzles into my neck as he says it, and I giggle a little at the tickling.

“What, an excuse to take your frustrations out on me?” I say it in jest, but that is, in fact, exactly what I gave him.

“Exactly,” he laughs.

We fall asleep together a short while later. Being used by Liam brings me so much happiness. Knowing that I’m doing good for him, that he’s proud of me, and that I make him happy. It all makes me so content.

Even when we won’t tell each other what we need, the other person can usually tell. If I had been in a bad mood, maybe Liam would’ve given me a therapeutic throat fucking.

That thought sends heat down to between my legs again, and I immediately formulate a plan for tomorrow.

Thank you for reading!💜