Daddy’s Debt II

My pen scratched across the paper with a sound that felt final.

I signed my name —Layla Voss— right under the clause that said I belonged to him for the next twelve months. Body. Soul. Every filthy inch of me.

Johnny Ross didn’t wait for the ink to dry.

The second the folder snapped shut, his big hand wrapped around the back of my neck and pulled me into a kiss that ruined me. It wasn’t soft. It wasn’t gentle. It was two years of pent-up hunger slamming into me all at once. His tongue claimed my mouth like he already owned every moan I’d ever tried to hide from him.

When he finally pulled back, I was gasping, my lips swollen, my pussy throbbing so hard it hurt.

“On your knees, princess,” he ordered, his voice low and rough. “Show Daddy how grateful you are.”

My legs folded before my brain could argue. The thick carpet cushioned my knees as I stared up at him—six-foot-three of raw power in a black dress shirt, storm-gray eyes burning down at me like I was the only thing in his world.

“You’re trembling,” he murmured, his thumb stroking my cheek with shocking tenderness. “Breathe for me, baby girl. I’ve got you. I’ve always got you.”

I hated how those words made my chest ache with something far more dangerous and sickening than lust.

His belt buckle clinked. The sound of his zipper was obscene in the quiet office. When his cock sprang free—thick, heavy, veined, and already leaking—I whimpered. It was… huge!! 

“Fuck… look at you,” Johnny rasped, fisting the base. “On your knees for your stepfather like a good little whore. Open that pretty mouth.”

I obeyed. The moment my lips parted, he fed me the fat head, stretching my jaw wide. The salty taste of him exploded on my tongue.

“That’s it,” he praised, one hand gentle in my hair while the other gripped my jaw. “Suck Daddy’s cock like you were born for it. You’ve been teasing me for two fucking years in those tiny shorts. Now you’re going to choke on what you started.”

He pushed deeper, hitting the back of my throat. Tears pricked my eyes, but I didn’t pull away. I couldn’t. Not when he was looking at me like I was the most precious thing he’d ever ruined.

“Good girl,” he groaned, voice thick with pride. “Such a perfect little slut for me. Taking every inch like you were made for Daddy’s cock, mmm??”

He fucked my face with slow, controlled strokes—never too brutal, always watching my eyes, always murmuring soft filth between the commands. “Breathe through your nose, princess… that’s my baby. You’re doing so fucking well.”

When he finally pulled out, strings of spit connected my lips to his glistening cock. I was a mess—tears on my cheeks, drool on my chin, thighs soaked.

Johnny hauled me up like I weighed nothing, spinning me and bending me over the massive desk. My tits pressed against the cool wood, ass up, shorts and panties yanked down in one rough motion.

“Jesus Christ,” he breathed, spreading my cheeks with both hands. “Look at this pretty pink pussy dripping for your stepfather. You’re soaked, Layla. Been wet for me since the day I walked into your life, haven’t you?”

I moaned, pushing back against him shamelessly.

“Answer me,” he growled, landing a sharp smack on my ass that made me cry out.

“Yes, Daddy! I’ve wanted you for so long—”

Another smack. Harder. 

“Say it properly.”

“I’ve been touching my pussy every night thinking about you, Daddy. I’m such a dirty slut for you.”

The praise that rumbled out of his chest was pure sin. “My good girl. My perfect little whore. You’re safe here. No matter how filthy I make you, you’re safe with Daddy.”

He didn’t tease. He lined up the thick head of his cock and slammed home in one brutal thrust.

I screamed.

The stretch burned so fucking good. He was huge—bigger than anything I’d ever taken—and he didn’t give me time to adjust. He just started fucking me like he’d been waiting two years to wreck me.

Every thrust slapped his hips against my ass, driving me harder into the desk. His hand fisted my hair, arching my back as he railed me.

“Fuck— so tight,” he groaned. “This pussy is gripping me like it never wants me to leave. You feel that, baby girl? Feel how deep Daddy is inside you?”

“Yes… oh god, Daddy… you’re so deep—”

He reached around and rubbed my clit in tight, perfect circles while still pounding into me. The dual sensation made my eyes roll back.

“You’re going to cum on your stepfather’s cock like the desperate little slut you are,” he commanded, voice dark and loving all at once. “And when you do, you’re going to thank me for ruining you.”

The orgasm hit me like a freight train. I shattered around him, my pussy spasming violently, squirting all over his balls and the expensive carpet.

Johnny didn’t stop. He fucked me through it, growling praise against my ear.

“That’s my good girl. Making such a pretty mess for Daddy. You’re mine now, Layla. All fucking mine.”

He pulled out suddenly, flipped me onto my back on the desk, and shoved my knees to my chest. The new angle let him sink even deeper. I could see the bulge in my lower belly every time he bottomed out.

“Look at that,” he rasped, pressing a hand over the bulge. “Look how deep I am inside my baby girl. This womb is going to take every drop I give it tonight.”

I was sobbing with pleasure, nails digging into his shoulders.

“Johnny— Daddy, please…”

“Please what, princess?” He slowed just enough to torture me, grinding deep and slow. “Use your words like a big girl.”

“Cum inside me,” I begged, voice broken. “Fill me up. Breed me. I don’t care how wrong it is— I need it.”

His eyes flashed with something feral and tender at the same time.

“Fuck, you’re perfect.” He started pounding again—harder, deeper, more possessive. “You’re going to take every drop of Daddy’s cum. Going to walk around this house with my baby growing in you while your mother is off chasing ghosts. You’re never going to be alone again, Layla. Never.”

The second orgasm tore through me even harder. I screamed his name as my pussy milked him relentlessly.

Johnny buried himself to the hilt with a guttural groan and exploded. Thick, hot ropes of cum flooded my womb—pulse after pulse—until I felt swollen and claimed and filthy.

He stayed buried deep, collapsing over me, forehead pressed to mine. His breathing was ragged, but his hands were gentle as they stroked my hair, my cheeks, my trembling thighs.

“You did so good for me, baby girl,” he whispered, kissing my tears away. “So fucking good. I’ve got you. I’m never letting you go. You’re safe. You’re mine. This is your home now.”

I clung to him like he was the only solid thing left in my world—because he was.

I felt used.

I felt owned.

I felt like the biggest slut on the planet.

But somehow.. I’d never felt safer in my entire life.

Johnny kissed me slow and deep, still buried inside me, still leaking the last of his cum into my ruined pussy. “Welcome home, princess,” he murmured against my lips.

I smiled through the tears, wrapping my legs tighter around his waist.

I was exactly where I belonged.