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[sweetsalome]

The mental and physical prepping for this day was a little uneven.  Not that her dad has a lot of baking equipment, but a trip to Target and that is pretty much taken care of.  Like meeting her birth mom, there was a number of waffling moments in which she considered just backing out at the last minute.  Really it won't be the hardest thing she has ever done, but it felt a little like putting herself in harms way.  Like stepping out in front of a train or a truck with the thought that at the last minute the traveling force would somehow swerve and miss her.

There was almost a feeling as if jealousy wouldn't be the issue but doing or saying something stupid would be.  After their vacation in Virginia, Salome found herself a bit more confident in their relationship.  She was his, and he was hers, there would ever be a way for that to change.  You can't change blood, DNA, what they had.

Not to mention it all going down on a Saturday when all she would rather do is lay about and be lazy, spending a majority of the day in her pajamas.

Not that she isn't in her pajamas now, sprawled out on the couch with head phones in.  Waiting.

Comments

[sweetsalome.livejournal.com]

There are perks in being fucked from behind. Mainly the very animalistic nature of it. Oh she does love that, the massive pervert, she just can't help it, no matter what universe. The downside is that she can't see him and she does, does LOVE watching him fuck her. Cheek down on the bed she can hear him get himself ready.

Oh fuck. The kinkest sound in the world has too be that jingle of belt. It has to be, there is nothing sexier then that and the sound of zipper. She is shaking with anticipation by the time he finally takes his hand off of the back of her head. She didn't need to see anyway, she just needed to hear those sweet, sweet sounds.

A cry out when his finger presses inside of her. It feels so good to finally have something soothe that need to be filled. One. Two. Its the gloves, they stretch her out along with the usual size of his fingers getting her whining and shifting to spread her legs wider for him. All before turning her head to catch the sight of her father behind her. Exposed. So, so, so hard. He is god to her, giving her this, knowing what she needs, what she wants.

Who needs another lover when the one she has is so fucking good.

"I love my father, there is nothing wrong with being with the person you love. There is something vile about fucking a bitch like you. The sight of you makes me sick, you and your mediocre cock are pathetic. You should be ashamed of even trying to fuck me with that thing. Stick with your fingers it will be less embarrassing for you."

Lies, she loves his cock, especially framed by a SS uniform. Her hips push back against his fingers as she curls her own into the sheets with moan.

"It was worth it, for him, it is all worth it. I would do it over again if I could."

[soursanguine.livejournal.com]

That's what mirrors are for. The one across from the bed does a fine job; he can't help but admire himself towering above her, six sleek feet of terrifying black. The only thing that can tear his eyes from the sight is her body, the chance to see her legs spread, to meet the gaze she casts over her shoulder.

He scoffs, then sneers at her little barrage of insults, and his fingers are gone from her in an instant, the crop returning. It strikes that beautiful little ass of hers, and her thighs, once or twice tapping her clit. "Please. If I didn't know you to be perfectly willing to use those teeth, I'd like to see how small you think it is when it's jammed down your throat. You talk to me about shame but you're the wettest little slut I've ever seen, and you're only getting wetter. Meine kleine Schlampe in Hitze, bist du nicht. Zu denken, rufen Sie mich ein Hund. Schau dich an."

Every second drives him madder and madder. He can't remember the last time he had this much fun in one day and on so many different levels. He never would have dreamed experiencing this with his beloved little Salome; he'd hoped to introduce her gently into the world of vicious sex, but this is an opportunity that can't be passed up. She's certainly surpassing all his expectations.

That last bit she gets out about it being worth it has him hiding a grin, his expression something between a smile of genuine pleasure and an animal baring its teeth. He drags her hips toward the edge of the bed, shifting her knees to better prop her pelvis in the air and give him the right angle to fuck her while standing. He strokes the head of his cock along the flooded valley between her legs, caressing, but not yet penetrating. Still, the contact is enough to make him groan. "Ich möchte Dich betteln hören. Sag 'bitte', kleine Schlampe." The crop whistles down upon the back of her right shoulder, his wolf's grin never fading for a second. "Come on, beg."

[sweetsalome.livejournal.com]

The pain is a little like cocaine. Just a little taste and suddenly she wants more and more. The times he hit her are just not enough, there needs to be more and she is anxious to have both his cock in her and have that exquisite pain that he brings with the riding crop he is holding. She is rewarded when the crop comes down on her again, making her yelp and writhe in pain. It stings, it stings all up and down her thighs and across her ass, every breath of air presses against the sensitive flesh reminding her again and again of what he has left on her. The mixture of pleasure and pain that comes with the tap against her clit has her gasping and silently crying out as she presses her face into the mattress, it's agony that roars in her ears and has her trying to shut her legs against the sting of it again.

"The wetter I get the more filth will get on you when you finally manage to get your cock in me." She croaks out the words fighting for breath and blinking back the wet from her eyes that aren't necessarily tears but just wet from the sudden stings. "You are a monster, you are an animal, you better be otherwise you're nothing but a degenerate pervert that would rather put his dick in a dog, is that what you are?" In her head it sort of makes sense but she is sort of gasping and trying to keep her hips up and brain straight. Her hips are managing but her brain is suffering. At some point she is just too overwhelmed with just want.

She can feel the head of him, so close, so, so fucking close, she knows how good it will feel when he pushes inside of her but she resists. Grabbing the sheets ahead of her and using them to try and pull away because the fight isn't totally over yet, he needs to work for it. Of course her escape attempt is thwarted when the crop comes down across her back and she howls. Her arms tremble and she presses her face in the sheets to wipe away the tears.

She hopes he leaves bruises.

"Fuck you, pathetic man whore. I'm not going to beg for something not worth begging for. Fuck you, fuck you." She needs to work on her angry German insults. She needs to beg, oh heaven fucking help her does she want to beg.

[soursanguine.livejournal.com]

Like father, like daughter. He's more than happy to give her all she so desperately wants. Every yelp is that much more encouragement, the way she wiggles for it, her body so obviously craving more. He loves a challenge.

"Maybe you can clean that off with your tongue, too. You seem to like my uniform enough, perhaps you can pay it proper homage as you did my boot." He tugs one of her pigtails and bends down, his tongue running over the side of her throat and up to her ear. "Du hast recht, kleine Wildkatze, ich bin ein Tier. Ich bin der große böse Wolf. Und ich liebe nichts mehr als den Geschmack des zarten Haut wie bei Ihnen." His teeth sink into the lobe of her ear and then he straights up again, watching her as she drags herself away a few inches before he brings the crop down upon her.

"If I wanted to fuck a dog, liebling, I would have put a bullet in your head and gone to the breeder. But instead, here we are. I am gracing you with my presence, and you are trying desperately not to love every second of it. Calling me a degenerate pervert when you're the one fucking her own daddy. The nerve of you."

His fingers work forcefully against her clit, his eyes riveted by the lines of red that crisscross her beautiful little ass. Richard lowers his head to run his tongue along one, groaning softly. He'll be shocked if there aren't at least a few bruises left over. "Oh, your flesh turns the loveliest colors. You can't possibly imagine." As his fingers continue working between her legs, he lifts his head and brings the crop down again, first with a few gentle taps each upon the same spot and then a sharp swat that howls through the air as much as Salome's voice does. "Your lips say 'no, no', but your cunt screams, 'yes, yes'. I'll keep this up all day until you beg for me, and do a good job of it. Don't forget there's a front to you, too."

His thumb brushes over his still-healing initials, carved into her inner thigh. "Tsk, perverted little girl, did you let your father do this to you? Perhaps I'm only giving you what you want by marking you up."

[sweetsalome.livejournal.com]

Of course she wants to lick his uniform clean. She wants to lick his cock clean, she wants him to fuck her throat even if he is completely limp for no reason except to do it to her. He is making her head spin with want, everything he gives her she wants more of and then to push it and take it further. There is nothing better, there is nothing more exciting then pushing that line between the two of them till they find a stopping point, if there is even one of those. She loves that he uses her, that he doesn't hold back, that he can be vicious and brutal as the role demands. She would have been so disappointed if he was a meek little pussy cat with her when in this uniform.

"You make my skin crawl, make me lick your disgusting costume and I'll throw up all over you, Nazi pig." Her skin is doing something alright, but it's not crawling, it's trembling and wanting more, and more. He does that to her, he makes her want all the awful things in life as if they were the crown jewels and then he gives them to her and they are sweeter and more delicious then she could ever imagine.

"Maybe you just can't help yourself, maybe you love degenerate Jew slut all over you. What would Der Führer think about your little trip to the dark side? All your comrades? Maybe they'll start to think that you're just as impure as the rest of us." Oh those fingers, those blessed digits when they start rubbing against her clit she groans out, fuck it, fuck it if he holds it against her, it feels so good and she presses back against his fingers, delighting in degrading herself by practically humping his hand and trying to get off. Dripping on the leather, she hopes they are completely ruined. Asshole.

The taps have her jumping, twitching and whimpering, the final smack. The final smack has her screaming and coming over his hand once again. How many times? She lost count, she doesn't even care just so long as they keep coming. The pain mixed with pleasure is one of her new favorite things, shaking her and getting her to grab the sheets under her, twisting and tugging as she groans out. The pleasure is more intense, longer lasting, she is sure of it.

"I'm not going to beg, but you can continue rubbing against my cunt like a fumbling boyfriend if you'd like. I hope I've ruined your gloves, you vicious cunt." Her legs squeeze shut, trying to trap his hand when he mentions the initials in her skin. Looking over her shoulder at him, her eyes narrow and she bares her teeth at him once again.

[soursanguine.livejournal.com]

The dangerous thing with Richard is that he's like a car speeding out of control. There really is no stopping point. Especially not when he's busy corrupting his sweet little daughter, dragging her down to his lecherous level. It's important work, and with that in mind he has to push her and push her, explore her, expand her mind. And it's so easy for him to do it in roles like this, basically any role.

"Throw up all over me and I'll crush your windpipe, you little bitch." He brings his hand down upon her welted ass in a hard slap of his open palm. "Of course I love degenerate Jew sluts getting their filthy cunts wet for me. Why do you think I got into this business? Der Führer can suck my cock. I'm not in this for the Reich. I'm in this to take advantage of girls like you. Though I admit, it's rare I come across a girl so feisty. Maybe I'll keep you around, make you into my pet instead of sending you camping. Wouldn't that be generous of me?"

The sight of her cunt dripping onto his finger makes his cock give a painful, violent twitch of need. He groans, then again as she cums--not just from his finger, but the feel of his crop against her flesh. Oh, the pride he feels, he tucks the riding crop under his arm to gently stroke her lower back while she climaxes, lifting the hand away only when she comes down.

Smiling, he lifts his hand as her legs seek to close. Making hard eye contact, he licks his leathered fingertips clean, groaning softly at the taste. "Not at all. As a matter of fact, I'm of the opinion that you've improved them."

For a few seconds, he steps away, rifling through the drawer of the end table. One hand stays clamped around her thigh to keep her in place while the other comes up with a little friend who should be most familiar to Salome by now. The metal blade exposes itself with a snap and he flips her over, climbing upon her to straddle her hips and brandish the knife at her. He runs the point lightly down her jaw, her throat, his free hand gripping her jaw. "Me, vicious? You're the one threatening to bite off my cock. You're the one spitting on my boots. Oh, that reminds me." With a sharp squeeze, he forces her jaw open and spits into her mouth, before his hand slides to rest against her throat, to hold it without putting enough pressure on her to cut off her air. That comes later.

"I suppose if you don't want my cock in you, I could always fuck you with something else." He waves the blade before her eyes, that dark smile never once fading. "So which would you rather it be, little girl? My cock, or my knife? Since you seem so keen on letting your daddy use a knife on you, there's no reason why I can't."

[sweetsalome.livejournal.com]

God damnit she shouldn't love that as much as she does. Holy fucking shit. She is a woman and should fight against such foul language but there is no denying it. When he calls her those names, bitch, slut, or anything else her body practically hums. Like anything the more she shouldn't want it the more she does want it, the better it fucking feels. The more he degrades her and perverts her the better it is and the more she wants it. The more violence the better. She is growing to see the correlation, how good everything is with brutality to back it up.

A groan at the smack on her already red ass. A whimper for his threats. Yes, she is his little bitch and the more they continue on with this play the more she wants him. As if she didn't in the very beginning, but for some reason she feels that want has changed, perhaps become more real, more authentic then just the generic wanting because he is her father and he is fucking hot.

Now she wants him, this vicious, monster who beats her and makes her lick his boots. Because she wants more of that same treatment. Because he will save her. It sort of freaks her out when her thinking becomes the thinking of the person she is supposed to be.

"Ja," she finally breathes out the word, watching him lick his glove clean. "It would be most generous of you," not that she has stopped thinking about wanting to bash his head in with something hard till he bleeds, but there is an odd sort of want that is starting to creep up into her brain. To make him want her, to make him want to keep her.

The bed feels like rusty nails against her back and ass when he flips her over and straddles her. That knife. Yes, she knows that knife very, very well and the shaking that starts up when he dances it over her skin could be fear or excitement it's hard to tell. The knife keeps her still as he forces her mouth open and spits into it.

Humiliating. Degrading. Delicious.

Her hips arch and she twists under him slightly at the act, she has had his spit in her mouth before, but this, this is just disgusting, a show of power and who is on top. Literally and figuratively. She savors it on her tongue like it his come and not just saliva and she opens her mouth, sticking out the flat of her tongue at him. Would he fuck her with that knife? Probably not, that's a one time thing, if he did they wouldn't be able to play any more, but he could do things to her with that knife making any further play time possible but delightfully painful. It's tempting. So tempting.

"Nein, nein! No! I - I don't want the knife! I want your cock, please, please, give it to me!" There is his pleading and begging. She was bound to break, plus, too much holding out makes both of them ache. "Please, I need it. You should feel me without anything in the way, feel how tight I am on your cock. I'll give you the best fuck of your life, you'll never need anyone else but me. Please."

[soursanguine.livejournal.com]

She drives him absolutely wild. He has a tendency to lose himself in this sort of situation, anyway, but compounded by the fact that this is his sweet little daughter in her adorable pigtails who just came from the slap of a riding crop against her, well. It's got his heart absolutely soaring. He sees now more than ever all the potential his little girl.

It's almost enough to bring a tear to a man's eye.

Finally, finally she starts to come to her senses. Finally, she starts to be rational about the whole thing. You just never do know with women when they'll actually come around. He likes a fighter, but their fighting does little good if they really do fight to the bitter end. He gives a smile of genuine pleasure to see her keeping his saliva on his tongue, wicked as his teeth look in the light of the bedroom.

"Kluges Mädchen. I don't know, though, you were an awfully rude little bitch. I'm almost inclined to change my mind. Still..." He contemplates the knife and then tucks the blade away, dropping it into the pocket of his trousers. "I suppose you wouldn't be quite as smooth of a fuck if I cut that cunt of yours up. And if I'm going to keep you around, that simply won't do. I suppose it'll depend on whether or not you live up to the reputation your daddy described to me."

Dismounting, Richard shifts back and spreads her legs nice and wide. He leans back and tilts his head, admiring the sight of her, his tongue running visibly across his teeth like an animal licking its chops. His cock throbs with anticipation, and he grinds it against her, sneering into her eyes in pleasure at his triumph as he buries himself within her. As he finally, finally feels her around him, feels how wet and how tight all this is, his eyes roll up into the back of his skull. "Oh, yes, ja, du hast eine herrliche Fotze. Das fühlt sich gut an, nicht wahr? Du liebt meinen Schwanz, ich weiß, du tun."

Baring his teeth, he begins a series of long, hard strokes within her, staring down his nose into her face while his cock slams home again and again. "Don't cum without begging me to." He draws the crop from under his arm and taps her breast experimentally, tilting his head before bringing it down in a firmer little swat. "You have such a lovely body. I suppose I could get used to this."

[sweetsalome.livejournal.com]

There is no need to fight to the bitter end during this little play, that wouldn't be any fun and deep down she really doesn't want to fight, she wants his cock and she wants to come and come and have him come as well, because getting him off is half the fun.

This shouldn't turn on the way that it does. Her father in that dark uniform, balls deep inside of her. It might, might be forgivable if he was just a random lover, but he's not, he is her father and that, like all of the games they play adds a very real edge to the whole thing. Like fencing in the movies, except, in this movie, they are using real swords. He looms high over her, dark and deep like the shadows in her closet that she knew were monster when she was little. She used to be so terrified of them. There is almost that same fear here, even though she knows him, in this play she doesn't, he could hurt her, seriously hurt her because he is a horrible Nazi monster.

But oh does she want him to keep her.

He pushes home inside of her and she sighs out a groan, her eyelids fluttering closed and her head falling back as her cunt greedily clamps down around him, greeting him after such a long absence. He fits like a glove. Of course he does, she is from him, perfectly made for him, from him. "I will fuck you like no one has ever done before," she rocks her hips up hard against his, driving him in deep as her thighs fall open and she keeps her hips tilted so he can get in deep, deep.

Those smacks, that pain, the reaction travels straight down to where they are joined and she squeezes viciously around him. Even as she twitches to cover herself she immediately falls open to take another smack. Her eyelids heavy, vision blurred she bites down on her bottom lip as she stares up at him. "You should let me fuck you, let me show you how I fuck my daddy. You can even beat me while I do, you'll love it. What more could a man like you want, then to watch his little Jew slut bounce on his cock and scream for him? All you have to do is lay back and enjoy."

[soursanguine.livejournal.com]

The pleasurable fear in her face is a more potent aphrodisiac than anything he's known consensually; to see his beautiful daughter cowering as much as writhing, and all because of him. It's why he's so hard, why he can't resist slamming hard within her now that he finally has her so tight around him. So perfect. He can feel it all the way down in his toes, the pleasure, and it's intensified by the flutter of her eyelids.

"Mm, I have a feeling you're right. How wet you are, I've never met such a perverted little girl who wants me to beat her and fuck her." The smack that brings greater tension around his cock only has him groaning, a reward for his sadism. "Case in point." His hands shift to her hips to help her find that perfect angle, the wet sound of her sending a shudder through him. There's a growing dampness on his trousers just from only beginning to fuck her.

At her suggestion, he laughs, although the way she bites her lip adds to the desperate temptation. "Do you think I'm stupid, meine kleine Wildkatze? You're going to try to take advantage. If you do something foolish, you'll regret it." He taps her teasingly upon her nose with the riding crop and slides free of her, running a finger up his own length that's wet with her and lifting his fingertip to his mouth to taste her. A foolish idea to let her on top, he's sure, but he does prefer to try things out before investing in them. He shudders, saying, "You taste as fine as you feel. Very well."

Lying back on the bed, he props a few pillows behind his upper back so as to admire the show and avoid messing up his hat. He crooks a finger, tucking the crop behind his head for the moment and keeping a firm grip on it lest she have any ideas. "Kommen Sie hier schnell. Ich möchte sehen, welche Tricks meinem neuen Haustier tun können."

[sweetsalome.livejournal.com]

She aches to have him pull out of her. That they had worked so hard to get him inside of her only for him to pull out. It's fine she will get what she wants soon enough, as soon as he stretches out on the bed. She kneels off to the side and fixes her pig tails, pulling them tighter after what he has put her through she is a frightful mess, trembling and red, half from blush, half from the beating he put on her. Her eyes lock on him, the black of the uniform against the bed, how hard he is throughout all of it. Oh yes, he wants this just as much as she does.

"Mein was einen harten Schwanz du hast, big bad wolf." Her tongue moves over her lips as she stretches forward to run the flat of her tongue up the underside of him. Lick, lick, lick, licking at him like she would do a Popsicle in the dead heat of summer. Tasting herself and him, groaning and sighing before she lets her lips move over the silky head of him, easily her favorite part, she loves the smooth feeling of him against her lips and of course that's where all that delicious come comes from. Lifting her head she cleans the surrounds of her lips before moving to straddle his hips.

"One day, maybe when you're brave enough you should fuck my throat." Biting down on her bottom lip she breaks eye contact with him and instead reaches down to spread her swollen cunt open so he can watch himself disappear inside of her as she sinks down on top of him, inch by inch. She pauses half way and begins sort of quick up and down on just the head of him, dripping down the length of him as she grips the front of his uniform and groans.

"Fuck, since my daddy has been gone all I've had to make do with is my fingers and they aren't nearly as fulfilling." Finally opening her eyes again she looks up at him, lazily taking the rest of his cock as she pleases. "I've been dying to fuck. Even if you are a mangy mutt, you'll do."

[soursanguine.livejournal.com]

Oh, so sweet and trembling, fixing that beautiful hair, her whole body and face reddened with lust and agony. But it's what comes out of her mouth that could practically give him an instant orgasm; it's a shock, in a sense, as he didn't realize she knew any German beyond little things like 'bitte' and 'nein'. He laughs in dark, delighted pleasure and then groans, arching his hips up into the flat of her tongue. "Umso besser, Sie mit ficken, mein süßes kleines Mädchen."

He tugs affectionately on one pigtail, not hard enough to hurt, just enough to tease. His toes curl within his jackboots as her lips move over the head. "Oh, yes, fuck. Remember, liebling, no teeth. I told you, it tastes good, doesn't it?" He grins, then watches her lick her lips and mount him. Her suggest gets a shudder from him. "Oh, I'm sure I will quite soon if you're going to have that attitude about it. Don't worry, I'll be so deep in your throat you won't manage to close your mouth enough to bite it off."

A low growl of pleasure peels from his lips as he watches her spread herself, watches his length consumed in time with a low swell of pleasure over his skull. "Christ, yes, oh, you feel so good." One hand slithers up her thigh then rests upon her hip, a soft gasp pouring from his lips as she teases him. All that beautiful fluid consumes his cock and he watches it with absolute hunger, his fingers tightening around her hip.

Then, finally as she begins to take him all, his head tilts back and his eyes flicker up. "Please, you're dripping for it. You want to fuck an animal so badly you'll even enjoy the way he beats you when he does it." Speaking of, there's that crop again, landing hard against her thigh, and then the flesh of her ass. He grins darkly up at her, the hand on her hip lifting to frame her jaw and draw her down toward him. His heels dig back into the mattress as a symptom of his pleasure while his hips arch up toward hers. Grinning wickedly into her eyes, he growls, "If I'm to keep you, my little pet, this is my cunt now. Is that clear?"

[sweetsalome.livejournal.com]

She picks up things, and of course in language lab everyone wants to know how to say the dirty words first instead of everything else. Generally German isn't her thing but when he says it, holy shit, it is something completely different then what she is normally used to and it becomes incredibly arousing and exciting for her. Especially when he is yelling at her, though it could be argued that pretty much all German sounds mad, no matter what the person is saying.

There will be no use of teeth tonight on him, at least not on his cock, she is focused on getting fucked and fucking him, in securing her place with him. He could at least protect her, keep her free of all the trouble brewing, securing her place with him means she needs to be feisty, and needy and wanting in all the right ways, not biting off his cock. That wouldn't do anyone any good. Salome is nothing if not pragmatic. When he promises to put it down her throat, she just smiles.

Another yelp, and another, her cunt squeezing around him, knowing what is good, knowing that it is finally getting what it wants. An orgasm by his fingers is good, an orgasm from his cock is just ten times better, it's more intense, like pineapple kush compared to skunk weed. Just so, so much more better. He'll give her that, that and his crop. She thinks about turning around on him so he can have the full expanse of her back to beat against. Her hips speed up slightly at the idea, taking him in deeper and harder, thinking about how good he fucking feels and how she should fucking hate doing this but doesn't. She feels like a horse, the harder he hits her the faster she fucks him. He brings her out of her thoughts with his hand, drawing her down into that dark face of his. He looks like death.

"My cunt will always belong to my daddy, no matter what you do to me." Her hand on either side of his head against the pillows and she thinks about yanking it out from under his head and putting it over his face. "You can fuck me however you like, beat me as you like, but I'll always be my daddy's girl." And she winks at him.

[soursanguine.livejournal.com]

Something about the aggressive nature of the German language always lends itself well to the kind of vicious dirty-talk Richard is inclined to, anyway, but it adds a particular bit of brutal authenticity to something like this. It's a language of growls and snarls, of violence and passion. Fuck the romance languages, he's never liked the sound of French or Italian. There's no force behind them. Give him the bark of German and he can say foul things all night long.

Richard groans sharply and arches his hips hard as she tightens around him in reaction to the swats of the crop. "Das ist richtig...Du willst mehr, nicht wahr?" Another swat, this one upon her still-unmarked breast. As she slides down the length of his shaft, he shudder and slams up into her. "Härter, Mädchen. Lassen Sie mich sehen Sie tanzen auf meinem Schwanz, mein kleines Haustier."

Aw, his good girl. His lips twitch with a just-barely concealed grin before he manages to twist them into a sneer. "We'll see about that, liebling." His hand slithers down her jaw to rest upon her throat, the leather pressed tight against her warm skin, but not enough to stifle oxygen. "When you have nobody but me, when I'm the only thing between you and an oven, you'll see exactly who owns this pretty little cunt of yours."

He head lifts and he pushes a hard, smothering kiss to her lips, his teeth clamping down upon her lower lip before his tongue swipes over the point of impact. He groans into the cavern of her mouth, then grins against her lips while the crop whistles through the air to land upon the edge of her thigh. From beneath the bill of his hat, his eyes practically glow with hunger and total delight.

His amazing little daughter. Christ. Maybe he'll buy her flowers for this. She'd probably like flowers. He needs to give her something, at any rate.

[sweetsalome.livejournal.com]

Her fingers tighten in the fabric casing of the pillows as her eyes stare down at him. It could be so, so easy, she could just let go of the pillows even and wrap her hand around his collared throat and squeeze and squeeze until his lips turned blue and he didn't thrash under her any more. It would be sweet. It would be a delicious revenge and one less monster out in the world. Scientists have determined that hate and love are closely linked in the human brain, physically, the regions that are responsible for both are very close, it's not hard to see why.

Great emotion is needed for both, passion, drives them. She waffles between them in this play like a lady considering church shoes for Sunday. Through out them all she still wants to make him come. Hard.

"You want to get fucked harder then you better beat me harder. You know how stubborn and obstinate we Jews are." Her whole body aches, her ass, her breasts, and now her thigh, everything sort of screams and howls as she move on top of him, looking down as he continues with the same up and down pace on his cock, driving him deep into her but moving slow none the less, they are more hard thrusts then frantic.

He grabs her and her eyes widen, especially when she feels that leather around her throat, her pulse spikes, racing frantically against her skin as she trembles on top of him. Even so: "You don't think I could get a hundred of men in the same black uniform as you? They would worship me, they would do whatever I asked too, treat me well. Why should I give you something you don't deserve nor appreciate? You're nothing more then a mongrel mutt in a uniform." Her hands let go of the pillows and one goes to his arm, the other to his chest.

The smack however does get her going faster as promised, her eyes locked on her father's her whole body trembling and eager, crying out for something, more, always more. Always that want for orgasm but the ache to hold off to have more of this wonderful experience.

[soursanguine.livejournal.com]

He would be most pleased for that to happen, though it would no doubt earn her his fury as much as his pleasure. He can only abide so much fighting, after all. It's a slippery slope; first you let a Jew girl choke you during sex, and then before you know it she's getting ahold of your knives and putting a blade right in your throat because she's forgotten you're keeping her safe.

When it comes to love and hate, he finds one accents the other the way spicy accents sweet, or pain accents pleasure. A little sprinkling of one upon the other makes the whole that much more potent.

"I suppose that's true." And in response, he leans his head back to slap her again before replacing his hand around her neck. He grins darkly, the crop beating down against against her stomach, then around the back of her shoulder. If she insists, he feels obligated to deliver. He may be in charge of the situation, but if she's going to ask for more pain, he can't help but encourage her. Especially with that eye contact, he can't resist it, can't resist pushing her to expand his darling little girl's horizons.

The mattress squeals as his hips and back arch, each thrust of his cock within her rushing straight to his skull. Her trembling is like a new dimension of pleasure considering how tight she is around his cock. He barks out a nasty spell of laughter and drags her close, his nose pressing hard against hers and wrinkling with the severity of his sneer. "You're mad if you think they would be kind to you. Any many in a uniform like mine who would condescend to fuck you would put a bullet in your brain the second you got even half this uppity. I'm being generous. I'm offering you protection. But if you don't want it, if you'd turn up a chance at protection from a mongrel mutt such as I, then I suppose I could give you to these other men you so desire."

[sweetsalome.livejournal.com]

Spoiler alert: She is not going to school on Monday. Not after this.

A little recreational spanky-spanky is one thing but there are going to be some serious marks on her from this little roleplay, even if she is the one asking for it.

Her jaw and face ache, her head snapping to the side at the force of his smack. He has a strong, strong arm, and the force of his smack doesn't so much sting but more knock the wind out of her. It's psychological as well, it is his hand on her, on her face and if the pain didn't bring more tears to her eyes the psychological factor does. It's this idea that a smack across the face signaling that she has done something wrong, that he is truly angry at her. That's not the case here, but it's not so easy sometimes to be able to make everything all cut and dry. More tears and she chokes out a cry that slowly turns into a howl of pain and pleasure as he beats her with his riding crop.

It's impossible for her to do anything but go faster. The faster she goes the better it will be, the harder and faster the crop falls is directly correlated to the speed of her on top of his cock. Her fingers clawing and twisting at the dark fabric under her until everything is a blur of black and wet, pain and pleasure. If the beating put her on the edge it is his threat that actually pushes her over it.

It is all things. He is all things. Pain, pleasure, fear, salvation. In a sudden moment of blinding clarity she sees him as her savior, as a benevolent force come to scoop her up and rescue her. Her brain must be deprived of some serious oxygen between the screaming and the orgasm she is clearly out of her head.

Oh fuck, oh fuck, he told her to beg for it.

There is no stopping it, she simply can't help it. It wasn't something she was consciously aware of, it sort of just happened, and she was too busy screaming in pain to stop and scream to let her come. The violence of her orgasm is mirrored by the violence of his beating as her cunt squeezes and assaults his cock, trapping him deep, deep, or trying to, trying to squeeze something out of him that it needs, that it is programmed to do. All she can do in response is hold on to him desperately and writhe on his cock.

[soursanguine.livejournal.com]

Fuck no she's not. Nor back to her mother's, either. He'll tell her Salome is under the weather, then tuck her in on the couch and let her laze about watching television while recovers. Maybe give her a couple of pills if she gets really stiff. Take a couple himself and nap with her all day. He knows how to take care of his little girl, even if he gets a little out of control in moments like these.

As her eyes get wet with the force of his slap, Richard groans. "Das ist richtig, Mädchen, Schrei für mich. Ich liebe den Klang Ihrer Schreie." Again, he kisses her, though there's a gentler edge to his kiss now, just a hint of daddy peaking through from beneath the bill of his cap. He disappears again as her speed increases, because the pressure of his kiss increases with it until he's little more than an animal all over again.

Richard groans sharply, gasping as she climaxes so tight around him. He bares his teeth in a silent snarl, caught between absolute indignance and the utter beauty of her viciously primal climax. If her brain isn't deprived of serious oxygen, then it's about to be. The entire scene sweeps up to his skull and suddenly his hand is tight around her throat, the other hand dropping the crop so it can join its comrade. "I thought I told you to ask."

The pressure of her flesh beneath his gloved hands, though, and the pressure of her cunt squeezing him like she's going to snap his dick off--it crashes over him in a furious wave and he hammers up into her, his motions harder by the second until he pours himself within her in a deep snarl of pleasure.

He'll just give her proper what-for in exchange for her negligible transgression next time around.

As his stiff body slumps beneath her, so too do his hands relax around her throat. He groans, his skull rattling with his shudder of pleasure he can't escape. He melts down against the mattress, head floating high above his shoulders while he pants in desperation for his breath. One hand lifts to rest against her cheek, his thumb running back and forth over her lower lip. He looks at her for a moment, saying nothing, and when he can finally manage to consciously form words, he lifts the cap from his head and places it upon hers.

"You shouldn't have done that. But perhaps I'll keep you anyways."

[sweetsalome.livejournal.com]

That would totally make it all worth it. Every single second. To be drugged up and curled up in his arms all day long seems like something heavenly. She always liked napping with him but after this last go around she is going to stick by him like a puppy with abandonment issues. Just to reconnect, to know that she isn't out of his favor, that he still loves her, loves her even through all the things that happened when they played together. Not that she thinks that she has done anything wrong, but it's the slaps across the face, they have shaken her psychologically. As much as she liked them it will take some getting used to, that when he does hit her like that it is just because they are into it, not because he secretly hates her guts.

Plus, half the enjoyment of rough sex is the gentleness afterward that feels so, so good. They are companion pieces, a highlight to the lowlight.

If she couldn't breathe before she certainly can't breathe now. Her nails and fingers claw at his hands, his wrists, except, that doesn't do anything. There is leather and cloth there, protecting his arms and hands from her as she tries not to panic except, well, there is no air and she needs air, and that triggers into a desperate fight for air and a panic because she has none. Her mouth opens and she tries to take in what she can through the tight grasp of his fingers but that is practically nothing, and she is trying not to scratch anywhere else but the world around her is growing dim as he jackhammers up into her from below.

She is going to die. He is going to kill her when she is in pig tails and he is in a Nazi SS uniform.

It's her last thought before his hands relax and she can finally pull in a breath of precious, precious oxygen. Her whole body can't stop shaking and she can't stop gasping and coughing and trying not to burst into tears because of it all, because she was so scared and he needs to love her and not stop, and she won't do anything bad ever, ever again, promise! She manages not to lose it and cry and snot all over his nice uniform.

Barely.

Though when he puts the cap on her head she sags down against his chest, her arms worming their way under his back, clinging to him as she continues to shake and breathe in air. "I love you, I love you, don't, don't, let me go. Don't."

[soursanguine.livejournal.com]

Oh, he'll be more than happy to encourage that. It's a simple pleasure, taking care of her, reassuring her. He loves it as much as he loves hurting her. He could never secretly hate her guts; all he wants is to see her wince and cry and squirm for him, and oh, did he ever get that.

As she claws and thrashes and fights so fruitlessly, it paints a holy picture in his eyes. Oh, his little Salome, with her wide-open, airless mouth and eyes full of beautiful fear, her hair and face and body so innocent and helpless. The sight of her managing to reclaim oxygen is even better, yet, and the way she shakes is beyond anything.

The sheer violence of her trembling makes him coo, and in an instant, he's holding her gently to his chest and slowly sliding himself from her. "I love you, baby, shhh, I love you, daddy's here. Daddy's here, I've got you, I love you, good girl, oh, how proud of you I am, how beautiful you are, oh, Salome, my good, wonderful little girl."

Holding her to his torso, he sits up and rocks her slowly in his arms, kissing her face, her mouth, her lips. He cradles her like a child, careful to hold only the unmarked portions of her while he nuzzles up against her, murmuring, "My sublime little angel. That was wonderful. You were wonderful." He lowers his head to kiss the side of her neck, lifting the hat from her head and placing it aside on the mattress. "Why doesn't daddy draw you a bath or get you something to drink, princess? I know, daddy was scary, I know, but it was all just pretend. I would never really hurt you, darling girl, not in a bad way, I love you too much for that."

[sweetsalome.livejournal.com]

It is so good to hear his voice again. His soft, daddy voice, not the big, mean, scary Nazi voice. He wraps his arms around her and she doesn't even feel the hurt, all she can feel is his arms and how good it feels to be back in them again and safe and sound. Ironically it is the tenderness that gets her really crying, softly, just against his chest as she does a sort of crash landing and burn out from the high that she was on. She was doing pretty well, all things considering, but it was the lack of oxygen in the end that really scared her. It's okay now, it's okay, he is okay, and she is okay.

"I know, I know," it's just a little whisper. He wouldn't really hurt her, not really, he was in control the whole time. Yup, believe that, believe it sooooo good. But it was good, their play together, it is something she'll want to do again and again and each time it will be better then the time before. If that is even possible. With these two it just might be. "I don't, I don't want you to let go of me." Because she can't let go of him, she feels like she is frozen around him, muscles locked and tight, but really, she should get a drink of water and he should get out of the uniform. Maybe it would be a good idea.

So she tentatively tries this whole, not clinging to dad, thing and see how it works out. Yeah, baby steps maybe. "I would like some water and maybe a bath, please."

[soursanguine.livejournal.com]

Her soft tears make his heart pound with absolute, tender desire. He kisses the temple of her forehead, stroking her back, humming a low song against the top of her head. He was...mostly in control. Like, sure, maybe he got a little carried away with the slapping, but generally he had it together. With a hungry mouth of the purest, softest affection, he kisses those droplets away and leans his cheek against hers.

"Oh, baby." He chuckles gently, softly, all encouragement and sweetness. "Shsh, I know, sweetheart, but I won't go far, it won't be long. Only a few seconds, I swear, and I'll be right here the whole time." He nuzzles gently against her cheek, the top of her head. When she finally consents, he smiles.

"Of course, princess." Carefully, slowly, he rises with her held to his chest. He kisses her cheeks and her brow, the corner of her eye. He hush her, bends down to flip on the water of the tub with his elbow. "Can I put you down for just a second, baby? Just a second, let me take the uniform off. I'll be right here, and in a few seconds I'll be in the tub with you to give you a nice, gentle bath, and the water is going to feel lovely on your poor little backside."

She can cling to him all she wants. He loves every second of it, as much as he loves violently fucking her.

[sweetsalome.livejournal.com]

He takes such good care of her. He always has, at least from what she can remember. Like when she got the chicken pox and she was all itchy and miserable and he let her eat ice cream and watch cartoons so she didn't pay so much attention to the itching. Or when she had such a bad cold and wanted to take the cough medicine but it was so, so gross tasting that she didn't want to taste it and he sat up with her until she finally did take it. Just little things. She thinks about those a lot, especially when she is alone and missing him so terribly, or when she is just having a bad day and wants to be with him because he makes everything all better.

Like now, now he is taking care of everything and making it all better.

Very carefully she puts her legs down, feet hitting the cool bathroom floor, and then she manages to unclench her arms from around him as she perches on the edge of the bathtub. Yeah, he should get out of that uniform, it's nice but she wants to just be in his arms. She takes her hair down as well and puts it into a single messy bun so it is out of her way.

"I don't think there is any part on me that doesn't hurt. It felt good while we were doing it though."

[soursanguine.livejournal.com]

That was the cutest week ever. His poor itchy little baby. Drawing her oatmeal baths, stroking her head while she was out on the couch. It's not like he intends to take pleasure in her illnesses. Or that it's a conscious sort of pleasure, even. It's just that she's always so cute when she's ill, and it's so pleasant to take care of her, protect her. He seems to remember more than one cough medicine incident, though. The last one being when he tried it, himself, and remembered all at once how terrible that shit is. That was the time he decided that maybe it was time to teach her how to swallow a gel tab, instead.

These moments rather remind him of those.

Step by step, he undresses, unbuckling his tunic and hanging it up on the back of the bathroom door before ridding himself of the shirt, the tie, the boots, the trousers. Suddenly he can breathe again, Christ, he was sweating under there.

"You were so incredible, Salome. Yes, a bit of pain is wonderful when we're playing a game like that, isn't it? All such wonderful fun." Running a hand back through his hair, he takes a deep sigh of pleasure and pours her a glass of water from the sink. He watches her put her hair up, smiling faintly as he returns to her side and plucks her up to lower her into the filling bath.

"My poor baby, I'm sure you're sore. And you're going to be very tender tomorrow. But don't worry, daddy will take care of you." He kisses the bridge of her nose and smooths his thumb over her cheek. "Why don't I get you a pill to help with that?"

[sweetsalome.livejournal.com]

The wee baby Salome was always cute no matter what the situation, it was her super power or something. There is something to that though, generally when she gets ill she gets all quiet and cuddly because she has discovered that her father has magic healing powers and can make everything all better as long as she gets close enough. Seriously, whoever invented cough medicine should get kicked in the face for the taste of it. Robitussin is the foulest shit on the face of the planet and they should be ashamed of themselves for it.

He looks more like her father when he strips down out of his clothes, and she watches him as she brushes away any of the tears left on her face sniffling a little as she does so. He can breathe better and so can she, for a number of reasons, but she is glad to have him back when he strips down for her. "Yeah, it is," though she is making up for it now, in the thick of things it was fantastic now all it does is make her shake and hurt.

Taking the glass of water from him she drinks it nearly all gone as he lowers her into the water. The water almost feels good, it does, but it presses against her welts causing her to tense up which doesn't help at all. His mention of a pill has her nodding her head quickly. "Yeah, I'd like that please."