The first time I tried to tempt my DaddyDom, I was lucky enough to get a spanking. Actually, I thought he was joking; after all, I’d only just arrived in a taxi from the railway station, and my hair looked less blonde, and more diesel-streak black. But I’d remembered not to wear my panties, just as he’d commanded me. They were tucked into a side pocket in my suitcase, in case of an emergency. It had been a bit windy on the platform, and I think that, maybe, the conductor got a bit of an eyeful as I bent down to relieve myself of my case, and the breeze took my little knee-length kilt and wafted it over my backside.
I smiled as Daddy Adam opened the front door. He stood there in his black suit and shoes and a pristine white shirt, his hair beginning to set a mid-tone between the two. I felt a throb in between my legs that radiated outwards, up into my belly and down my thighs, all of which was getting a bit chilly, standing there in the cool of the early evening. I opened my eyes wide with that innocent look he liked so much the first time we met, fingering my cleavage through the wide open neck of my white blouse. And I took a bite out of my favourite fruit. (I was hungry; I’d had no food for hours. So spank me).
“I want to have your submission in this house, Eve. Not that strange passion of yours. Get rid of it. And if you even offer it to me, I’ll have to punish you.”
So, when I held out my lovely round apple to him, so that he could bite it, he spun me round, bent me over his knee, and spanked my naked backside. I felt the heat from his palm on my cold little cheeks, and I ached in my sex, knowing that my pale weather-beaten bum would be imprinted pink with his hand mark.
When I forgot the next time, Daddy was coming out of the shower. I was kneeling on the floor, where he had left me to stay, head bowed and naked, until he returned. My leg ached a bit, pressing as it was on the join of two floorboards, and I twitched a bit to get more comfortable. As I wriggled around, I spotted my handbag under the bed, and it was getting on for lunchtime, and Daddy wasn’t out of the shower room yet…
He found me on all fours—threes—with a Golden Delicious in my hand and a mouth full of that forbidden fruit. Well, he only forbade me to give it to him, not to eat it myself. He could sneak doors open quickly and quietly, I learned that much. I swallowed the apple I was chewing and bit on the end of my thumb, as I felt his eyes boring into the top of my head. Through my long, mascara black eyelashes, I looked at him with my deep brown eyes (okay, so my hair’s out of a bottle), and gave him my best Little Girl look.
“Would you like a taste, Daddy?”
There he was, naked and still glistening with warm wetness from the shower head. Sunlight caught the outline of his body through the side gaps in the closed curtains. He was beautiful. He was my DaddyDom. And I still couldn’t quite believe he wanted me to be his little girl. I wanted to be with him, and to please him, but to this day I don’t think I’m a good little girl for him. Right then, though, this little girl was more than ready for a taste, I can assure you.
“My silly little girl. You can’t tempt me. We have different passions – at the moment. But I think Daddy could tempt you. I know exactly what you’d like to taste.”
He knelt down in front of me, so that his half-erect cock was about an inch from my lips. It had a kink in it when not fully hard (it wasn’t the only bit about him with one of those, I soon discovered), and it reminded me of an apple stalk. I opened my mouth in readiness to harden him off and take whatever pleasure he would then allow me. But he took his stalk in his own hand, and began teasing it out for himself. I whimpered. He grinned. He held my head still, close to his cock, while he stroked it ferociously. I thought he wanted me to catch his cum, so I opened my mouth. He closed it again.
“No taste for you. I don’t eat apples. You know that. My silly little girl. Turn around.”
I bit my lip as my pussy lips began to pulse. Another spanking. “Oh, yes please,” I murmured.
But there I was wrong. I could hear the sound of his shaft, slathered in pre-cum, moving fast in his fingers. His cockhead squished and slopped as he worked it hard, but I couldn’t see a bloody thing. I wanted to shove it in my mouth and suck. I wanted to roll my tongue around the end of his beautiful wet end, but he held my head forwards, preventing me from turning round. I could hear his breath, harder and more erratic against my ear, and my pussy ached in desperation for what he was refusing to give me. And not letting me watch was just mean. He moaned loudly once, and shot his load onto the floorboards, narrowly missing the white sheepskin rug at the side of the bed.
“I want you to clean that up now, Eve. No licking. There’s a cloth in the bathroom. I think three more days without tasting Daddy’s dick should serve as warning enough. Next time, I’ll have to punish you more.”
I still don’t get what his problem was with apples. They’re lovely. Strip it of its outer layer and feel its soft flesh in your mouth. A good one will have juice flowing on your tongue and down your chin before you can stop it. Then you can lick it up. And during those three days, I became determined to find a way to make him tempted by my apple. After all, he had said he would punish me if I continued to try, hadn’t he?
One time, I tried to disguise it in a crumble. The blackberries oozed red, and the cream sat on top. I fed him a spoon of it as I sat on his knee in my little kilt and no panties, and it almost touched his lips when he spotted it. He bent me over the table and took the wooden spoon I had stirred the dessert with.
“Naughty, naughty girl.” He flipped up my kilt. The spoon whipped down over my bare arse cheeks, until I squealed every time it stung.
Another time, I was up a ladder, pulling apples off the tree in the garden, happily chewing on one. He came up behind me and slid his hand up my leg. I jerked off the ladder and fell clean into his arms, apple in hand and basket landing on his stomach as we both fell to the floor, laughing.
“Ouch, you little minx. Come here.”
He pressed his lips to mine, forced them open. So, really, it was an accident that it almost fell into his mouth. But he whipped me over my jeans with a frayed twig that resembled a little flogger. It stung, and it made me wet. And I wanted him all the more. But he went indoors, and left me there, alone.
So, for three days, I watched Daddy Adam’s cock drifting flaccid, or half erect, or completely stiff in the early morning when he awoke with me in his arms. For three days, I imagined its head easing its way into me as I knelt by his feet with my head on his knee while we watched the television. And for three long days, I made do with patting my pussy and a quick go with my fingers every time I went to the toilet. But he wasn’t stupid; he began to follow me into the bathroom and watch that I kept my fingers to myself. I couldn’t understand it. Couldn’t understand how he left me alone; why he wouldn’t touch me.
He leant over me one morning, as I sat at the kitchen table, the fruit bowl in front of me, my fingers deliberately around my coffee cup. I don’t know if he could tell I’d been crying. I’d not made any noise in the bathroom. I’d made his breakfast, like a good girl, and kissed him on his forehead, and left the room.
“What’s the matter? Why’s my little girl sad?”
He stroked my hair, down over my head, and into the nape of my neck. His fingers worked round to the side of my neck, and his thumb stroked the underside of my chin. I twitched, shrugged off his hand. I wasn’t thinking straight. Daddy punishes me for disrespect. But, to be honest, it didn’t really matter just then.
“Eve, what’s the matter?”
He spun me round on the chair, and the coffee sloshed across the table. Unusually, he didn’t give it more than a cursory look. The wide-eyed stare and the frown he gave me as he held my head up to meet his gaze filled my eyes quite involuntarily with tears. “Tell me, you naughty little minx, or I’ll punish you.”
“You can’t punish me any more that you are already.” The tears just fell, soaking my top. It was pathetic.
“Is this all because of the last few days? My dearest little girl, you tried to make me do something I didn’t want to do. What did you expect?” He looked at me with his head on one side. “But it’s not just that, is it?”
“Do you want me to stay? I mean–if I’m such a pain with trying to get you to do stuff, if you don’t want me—”
He kissed me. His lips pressed onto mine, and he scooped me off the chair into his grasp. As he worked his tongue into my mouth, I felt the sharp, hard sting of his hand coming down over my backside. He drew away, then kissed me again; for every kiss I felt his hand come down. A knot unfurled itself in the pit of my stomach, and spread through my spine. Every spank left a slightly bigger patch of wet in the crotch of my panties; an ache that germinated in my cunt followed the folds of my pussy lips and converged in my clit. I tried breathing between kisses, but the air seemed to dissipate, leaving me breathless.
“Come with me, my silly little girl.” He took my hand, and I watched him standing, pensive. “That yellow apple. Pick it up. And the red one.”
I did as I was told. I’m a good girl, really. I like to think I am. I want to be. “What do you–?”
“Give them to me. Now strip, my silly little girl.”
He never took his eyes off me, as I removed my top, and my jeans, and stood there in front of his in my blue lace bra and panties. He beckoned to me, and I stood, toe to toe with him. The apple rolled down my back, made me squirm as the cold skin rolled down my spine. He smiled. “Take off your bra. Now your panties.”
I did as he asked. His breath brushed against my skin. His head bent, and I leant mine into it, knowing how much he enjoyed my neck. But, to my surprise, his hand caught both of mine behind my back, and he pulled me to the bed.
“Lay down, my beautiful little girl.”
I did as I was told.
“Now–stay still. Don’t move; if the apple falls I’ll stop, and you won’t get your reward for behaving yourself.” He balanced the apple in my navel, while he unhooked his tie from around his neck, and took each of my arms above my head, tying them to the wooden slats in the headboard with it.
“Would you like a bite, Eve? Can I tempt you?” He held the red apple an inch from my lips, ran it along them, and my mouth opened instinctively to take it. I saw the light in his eyes, just as I felt the ramming of the apple in my mouth, forcing it open, pushing it between my teeth and holding my jaw still. My breath came quick; I looked at him with pink-rimmed eyes. What had I done? Why did he need to shut me up? I felt sick.
He laid the yellow apple at my throat, and twisted the stalk. My eyes never lost contact with his as he began to roll the golden round hardness down and slowly take it over each of my breasts in turn. The coolness that held onto the skin where the metal bowl had touched the surface made my skin goosebump. As the apple made contact with my nipple, the sensation spread from its tip, out through my breasts and down my body. If only I wasn’t tied to the bed. I wanted to touch my nipples, play with their minute hard roundness. They were reddening, blushing at the apple’s touch, standing to attention for him. Being good, just as he wanted.
His eyes remained fixed on mine. The fiery ice in the blueness burned me. I throbbed deep in my sex, and the pleasure-pain travelled up to meet the apple that he now rolled down towards my navel. My back arched as I squirmed at the sensation. Then there was nothing.
“Do you want it?” He held the apple between his finger and thumb, tweaking it, twisting it, holding just beyond my face.
“Yes.” My muffled word breathed out from the sides of the apple that remained wedged in my mouth. My body ached. I couldn’t bear it; I wanted the sensation back.
“Then stay still, Eve.”
I barely breathed as he laid the apple back onto my navel. I wanted to see, but it was impossible now, with my forehead head bound to the bed frame. He rested the apple there a moment, while he sucked gently at each of my nipples. His teeth grazed on them, just as I had done on the apple skin when I handed him his earlier. A moan escaped me as he bit my right one, tasting, testing the skin on his treat. He pulled at it with his lips and it grew hard against them as they loved it, wanted it, aroused it as far as they could. My skin burned with desire, as the coolness pooled around my navel. It formed a trail of desire that enveloped me as it rolled on. On, over my belly and down between my legs. I breathed hard against the apple gag; I held my sex rigid, my bent and tied legs screwed themselves down into the sheet as I braced myself for the cold tickle against my hard and aching nub.
He grinned, and I felt the apple change direction. He rolled it over my inner thigh, over the rope that bound my calf to my thigh, leaving myself wide open to him. The cold crept towards my toes, but he beat the apple to it. A wave of gentle release rolled through my back and into the sheet as I felt him take my toe in his lips, felt the heat of his wet tongue against my icy, naked toe. He sucked as he rolled the apple down to my ankle, and returned it up my calf and the back of my thigh. His suck increased in speed and hardness, until my focus became blurred between the static heat of his mouth and the sensuality of the cold, moving fruit. My mind fought the pain he was creating in my toe, until I almost forgot the roll of the apple as it pressed into the soft flesh of my buttocks.
And then, as the force of his mouth overcame my senses, the apple touched my cunt. A surge of sensation reared up through my sex, and my body wanted to buck. I bit hard on the apple, forcing the desperation of my arousal into it. I mustn’t move. He was staring hard at me, his eyes ablaze with the intensity of his own arousal at his own power over the will of my body. He worked the apple round in a circle against my entrance, every now and again catching the very tip of my clit. Sparks of pleasure pain lit up behind my eyelids and radiated out through my entire body. I pressed myself into the hardness of the fruit as best I could, pinned as I was by the ropes. He responded to my need, pressing it against my pussy lips, working its sphere against my hole. The apple felt warmer now, gathering heat from my skin, but it felt icy against the burning of my cunt. My orgasm exploded through my folds and down my legs as I struggled to stay still, to obey him. A guttural moan escaped around the apple in my mouth as I came hard against the fruit. My juices oozed from me, ran down my legs and onto the sheet, as he continued to roll the apple against me, and when he held up the apple, I saw my cream covering the skin.
He grinned at me, as he held the apple to his mouth, sunk his teeth through my cum, and bit down on his treat.
“Now it’s an apple worth the temptation.”
(This was the original short story I wrote that inspired my 40,000-word novella, The Coming of Eve. All characters are 18+, with ‘Daddy’ and ‘little girl’ used as sex play terms. This story was quite light-hearted and tongue-in-cheek; the characters of both Adam and Eve evolved quite substantially in the bigger work…and indeed became tongue-in-many-other-places…!).