Hot Daddies

It’s my job to stand still and take it for Daddy. I don’t have to like it. I just have to stay standing, relatively still, and take whatever he wants to dish out. That’s what boys do, he says, that’s how you build a boy up. His job is to teach me how to be a man. Just like my job is to stand still and take it for Daddy.

Tonight he told me to lay out his leather. It’s my job to take care of Daddy’s gear. I know every piece intimately. He’s wearing the chaps I just cleaned yesterday. His large furry belly hangs over them and my cheek aches to rub against it. The buttery leather is comfort to me, as much Daddy as his breath on my skin.

The belt he’s wearing was passed from one man in his family to the next, on down to him. It is old and strong, and it has drawn my blood. When I hold it in my hands, it radiates with his strength. He has told me that when I am ready he will pass it to me.

The leather jock he wears was a gift from his Daddy. It has taken on his scent. Even after I clean it, it still smells of him, of musk and fur. The gloves he is wearing know my skin well. They are molded to his hands, a gift from his first boy, who made them specifically for him. My body is attuned to them. They graze my cheek and my lips automatically part, already tasting a mix of leather and Daddy so precious I just want to open myself up to worship.

And his boots. Oh, his boots. Corcs, they’re a gift from his leather brother. Every boy that Daddy has taken in, from stray to slave, has fed these boots, with tears, fear, saliva and cum. Daddy’s boots are magic. Home is Daddy’s boots: Cleaning them. Conditioning them. Polishing them until they gleam. Walking behind them, my attention focused on being exactly at his heel. Sitting on the floor before them. Resting my cheek on them. Writhing on the floor under them. Being kicked by them. Feeding them. When I am attending to Daddy’s boots, I know who I am.

He radiates purpose as he walks toward me in those boots, and suddenly I can’t breathe. One hand grasps my throat and the other holds my chin. My lips part, my eyes widen.

He kicks my feet apart and slams me into the wall. His weight feels so good. He slams me again, harder, thrusting my breath out. It feels so safe here, pressed up against the wall by Daddy.

The pain is not important. It is just a way to illuminate the path. It’s important that my pain brings him joy. I sense it filling him as he begins to punch my pecs. He is radiating gladness, and I soak it in with every thrust of pain. There is something about the intensity of getting punched so near my heart, right by my throat and face, that makes me cry every time.

He is relentless, driving into me, pushing me. The tears are flowing down my face. He pauses to lick them from my cheeks, wrapping his hand over my nose and mouth, taking my breath and filling my senses with leather.

Then he lets me breathe. He pulls on his SAP gloves, and the lead shot drives into me, challenging me to remain still for him. He smells different when he’s hurting me, cold steel wrapped in Daddy-soaked leather. I breathe in, filling my nose with him, knowing it will make my heart race. The pain wraps around me, holding me close and warm.

Daddy turns me around and begins to kick me. My ass and thighs are on fire. I breathe in pain, exhale fear, and push my boots into the ground. It’s my job to stand still and take it. I narrow my focus, concentrating on linking the soles of my boots to the floor with every blow. I can do this. I want him to be proud of me. As his boots connect with my thighs, I focus on riding the energy through my boots into the ground. I will please him.

He pulls out his police slap and begins to pound it into my thighs like a sledgehammer, the lead shot ramming into me. It pounds me hard, and my dick begins to throb. He’s hitting that spot where it starts to translate to sex. I am not a masochist, and there are very few intense sensations that feel like anything but pain. It is pure sex. My lips part, and I start groaning. It is all I can do not to bend over and beg him to fuck me now. I take each blow into my cock, feeling it swell until it seems like it’s going to burst.

“You like that, don’t you, boy? You like getting your ass pounded like a good little faggot. You wish my dick was in your ass right now, don’t you, boy? This isn’t about you. This is about getting me off, so don’t expect I’m going to pay any attention to that hardening cock of yours, boy. The only dick you should be concerned with is this one.”

He pulls back and picks up his favorite cat. It slams into my back, and I am utterly still: no breath; no movement. He begins to lay into me. The rhythm is hypnotic; fire dances along my skin as the cat drives into me. The cowhide is thin and braided, and the knotted tips feel like they are slicing me open. Waves of reddish-orange pain wash over my vision. My feet are planted. I will not move. I am helpless against the pain, lightning so strong it almost knocks me over. I am so small in the face of it. Nothing I can do will stop it. I stand still and take it, and it transforms me. I am taking it for Daddy.

I register a shift and know he has taken up his quirt. It is dedicated to me. It has drawn my blood and it will tonight. I gladly give myself to Daddy, tears, cum, fear, blood and all. The first wound opens and I hear his growl as he continues to slice me with two thin strips of leather.

We share blood, Daddy and I. In that way, we make real the relationship we have created. The intensity of that sharing is what wraps around my neck and connects me to him. It is the deepest sense of belonging I know, to be Daddy’s boy, to feed him in all of his hungers. It takes everything within me to stay still for Daddy as he lays down his quirt and starts licking along my skin, drinking me in with his delicious mouth. I hold my breath with the effort, almost trembling with gladness. I can hear his boots on the floor as he walks away.

I breathe in the scent of his boot and begin to lick. Nothing tastes like Daddy’s boots. Electric power fills them, and it surges through me as I worship. I can’t help writhing at the feel of it. This is my place. I belong on the floor at Daddy’s feet, my mouth on his boot. I know exactly what my job is, and that keeps me grounded.

All of me is centered around his boot: the texture of the leather; the taste of the polish and saddle soap, with undertones of piss and cum and tears worked in over the years. I savor it all with every stroke of my tongue.

His other boot comes to rest on the back of my neck, driving my mouth into his boot, making me writhe, my cock pulsing as it rubs against the floor. Daddy groans as I press my mouth onto the toe, taking it in like a cock, sucking on it. His other boot forces me onto it in a rhythm of his choosing, as I strain to take him in.

I lunge for the other boot, taking the toe into my mouth immediately, my cock thrusting into the floor as I work my mouth onto it. The first boot slides between my legs and drives into my balls.

He grinds his boot deeper into my balls until the pain is too much and I begin to cry. He chuckles as he rams his boot between my legs harder. Tears drip onto the boot in my mouth.

“Yes, that’s right, boy. You are going to lick your way up to the only cock that matters. Daddy’s cock. Start with my chaps. It’s your job to please Daddy with your mouth, boy. If you do, you just might get to taste Daddy’s dick tonight.”

I begin to lick, savoring the feel of the buttery leather on my lips. My eyes close and I breathe in the scent of it. Daddy begins to speak in a slow deep soothing voice.

“You did very well tonight, boy. You stood still for Daddy. You took everything I had. You fed Daddy right. You have earned the honor of worshipping my leathers.”

My sole purpose in life is to please Daddy with my mouth. I open my mouth wider, licking intently along the leather of his chaps. My head between his calves, I writhe on the floor, intent on savoring every inch. I lick up to the knee on one and then switch legs, worshipping with luxurious strokes of my tongue. I can feel myself flying, airy. It is trancelike, and yet I’m completely focused. He groans when my mouth reaches the back of his knee, and his other leg clamps down onto my head, holding my mouth there as I continue to stroke him with my tongue.

His leg releases me, and I continue my journey up his thighs. Muscle shifts in response to my tongue. His hand snakes down and grips my hair before stroking my head. My cheek is against his leather jock. I can smell him. I am in heaven.

He pulls my mouth onto his jock. I almost cum, right there. His boot slides between my thighs and the heel grinds into my cock. Tears well up in my eyes. His hand again grips my hair tightly, pulling it as he drives his boot heel into my cock, harder. I whimper, and tears fall onto his jock. He grips my head, rubbing my eyes into the jock to soak up the tears.

“That’s right, boy. Cry for me. Cry on my cock. That’s my good boy. That’s what Daddy needs. Your tears. Be a good boy for Daddy and cry onto his dick. Daddy’s dick is the only one that matters, isn’t that right, boy? The only dick in the world is the one you are crying on, boy. Daddy’s dick. Do you want to taste it, boy? You better lick that jock real good if you want to feel Daddy’s dick in your mouth.”

I move my mouth eagerly. I breathe in, savoring the scent and taste of Daddy. My whole being becomes centered on this small piece of cowhide separating me from Daddy’s dick.

It’s my job to please Daddy with my mouth. I will succeed. I ignore my dick. The only thing that matters is pleasing Daddy with my mouth. I am in the zone now. Nothing will distract me. Daddy’s hand strokes my hair. I hear his growling groans faintly as I work my mouth on his jock. My focus is so intent that I start to whimper when his hand grips my hair, pulling my head back. I blink open my eyes and as my vision clears, I see it: Daddy’s dick.

I eagerly move my mouth to him and take my time, licking around the head, taking it into my mouth to suckle, wiggling my tongue into the slit. I lick my way up to his balls and take them into my mouth, laving them with my tongue, sucking on them, gently running my teeth along them, breathing in the musky scent of Daddy.

I lick my way along the shaft, coating it with my spit, and then I start taking Daddy into me. I moan as I thrust my lips onto him. My eyes lift to his, and I begin to take him down my throat. All I care about is sucking him, for as long as he will let me, with as much skill as I can muster. He is hitting the back of my throat, and I struggle to take him down, gagging a bit, my eyes tearing, and then he’s there—deep inside my throat, my nose in his fur. I swallow around him, rippling my throat on his cock. I could stay like this forever, my mouth locked on Daddy’s dick.

It’s my job to please Daddy with my mouth, and I can tell he is pleased as I look up at him. His eyes are locked on mine, and he reaches down to grip my head. Now I’m free; free to give myself over to his will as he rams into my throat, holding me still for his dick. He fucks my face so hard I am gagging, tears are streaming, and he does not stop or even acknowledge my struggle to take him in, just jams himself deeper. His eyes are feral. I am not breathing. I am not thinking. I am just a hole for Daddy to fuck. I am pliant in his hands as he moves my head, ramming me onto his dick.

“That’s my boy. Daddy needs to use your mouth now. Take it for Daddy. Take my dick in your hole. Such a good hole for Daddy. That’s all you are. A hole for Daddy’s dick. Daddy made you and now he gets to use you. Use you up and eat you. That’s what you are. Food for Daddy. Yes, boy. Those tears are feeding Daddy’s leather. Let them fall. Such a good hole for Daddy. That’s your only purpose right now.”

It’s my job to bend over quietly and take Daddy’s dick. His hand on the back of my neck centers me as he spreads my legs, puts on a condom and lubes up his cock. My head is right where Daddy sits, and the leather chair smells just like him. I am surrounded by Daddy and leather, but I am scared. I always struggle to take Daddy’s dick in my ass. It’s terrifying every time.

It’s too big. I can’t do it. It’s bigger with every second. I stop breathing. Daddy’s cock always feels like this: too big, like I really am eleven and am getting raped by my father for the first time. I tremble and shake my head. I know I’m supposed to be quiet, but I can’t. I’m scared. It’s too big. I can’t. I can’t. I can’t.

“Shut up and take it, boy. It’s your job to bend over quietly and take Daddy’s dick, no matter how scared you are. No matter how much it hurts. You think this hurts, boy? I’m going to show you what hurting’s really about.”

There is no sound like a belt being ripped from its loops. It hits my back, on top of the marks from the quirt, breaking them open on the first blow. Fire races through me as he fucks me while his belt slams into my back. I am sobbing full out now, but I can’t shut up.

Daddy’s dick slams into my hole. I can’t breathe, it’s so big. My eyes bulge, but my teeth clamp shut as he beats me. My screams are muffled by my closed mouth. He’s tearing me open. I am shuddering. My entire body shakes as he pounds his belt into my back. Finally I find my quiet, and the beating stops. His dick is still invasive, but I take it for Daddy. He knows it is going to scare me each time. Daddy likes that. He leans into me, ramming me, and growls in my ear. “I can smell your fear, boy. You belong to me. Let Daddy devour your fear. Feed off your tears, your fear and your blood. That’s my boy. Your job is to bend over quietly and take Daddy’s dick. Just be Daddy’s good quiet little hole. Let Daddy in.”

“Just focus on Daddy raping your ass. That’s my good boy. Take Daddy’s dick. Daddy’s dick is the only one that matters, boy. Just stay quiet and take Daddy into your hole. That’s my good, good boy. You are being so good for me, boy. I’m going to let you cum. You hear me? Daddy’s going to fuck you, and lick the blood off your back, and when he’s ready you’re going to hold your breath until Daddy cums. You hold it for as long as you can without breathing, boy, and when you are ready to burst, you cum for Daddy. That’s my good boy.”

Daddy leans down and starts licking the blood off my back as he fucks me. He is growling, and his dick just keeps ramming into me. As I am focused on staying good and quiet for him and feeling his tongue soaking up my blood, something shifts in me. I let go. I stop fighting him. I can just focus on doing my job for him without struggling inside anymore. Right now my job is to take him into me, to be a good quiet hole for Daddy’s cock. And there’s grace in that. I have a place. I belong to Daddy. I have a job. I know how to please him. All I have to do is let go and do my job, and everything will follow from that.

“Mine,” Daddy growls as he licks the blood from my skin. “My boy to fuck. My hole to use. Mine. You are mine to do with as I see fit. You belong to Daddy. This is your place, impaled on my cock. This is who you are. I made you and I get to say who you are, faggot. You will learn to love this, as any good cub would. I will teach you. That’s what Daddies do for their boys. Teach them how to be men. You will be a good man when Daddy’s through with you. For as long as it takes, Daddy will teach you. You will learn.”

He resumes ramming into me, brutal and relentless. He thrusts in deep with each word. I spent much of my adult life searching for a Daddy like this. I am so grateful to this man for pushing me like this, for trusting me with his cruelty.

He grabs my head and wraps his hand around my mouth and nose as he fucks me. All I can smell is leather. I can’t breathe. Daddy keeps slamming his dick into me, and I start to tremble. No breath. My head is pounding. My dick throbs as I begin to think about it again, getting ready to obey Daddy’s order. And then his cock starts to feel good. I moan against his hand and have less breath. My eyes bulge, and I start to struggle against his hand. I can’t breathe. Oh, god, his dick feels so good. I am screaming in my head. My cock is ready to burst.

Then Daddy’s teeth sink into my neck. Searing pain roars through me and I can’t breathe or think, or do anything except take it. Take his dick in my ass. Take his teeth in my neck. Take his cum as it spurts into me. It all explodes inside me, rushing through me and out my cock in intense painful spurts of cum. And then Daddy’s hand leaves my mouth and we breathe together.

His arms surround me, hands stroking. I can hear his heartbeat and I let my eyes flutter shut. I am safe in his arms. I breathe in, smelling leather and Daddy and cum. I am home.