Rising to his feet, he lifted her into his arms and carried her to the sofa.
Her eyes unfocused, limp as a rag doll in his arms, she was only vaguely aware of her surroundings. Blissful, in her dreamlike state of calm and peace, feeling herself floating still. Euphoric. Her mind gloriously quiet and empty.
Gently laying her down and covering her with a fleece throw, he smiled down at her, feelings of tenderness and love overwhelmed him. His Baby Girl never let him down. Pride swelled in his chest as he looked at her, taken aback by her delicate beauty and her strength. He had never known another woman as strong and as submissive as her.
She was His. She had offered herself to him completely and unreservedly and he never took that gift for granted. He respected her always, even when he was disrespecting her.
He brought over a basin of warm water and a soft flannel and began to wipe the mascara and tears from her face, whispering soothing words of comfort to her as he cleaned her. Delicately rubbing arnica lotion into her skin, where her bruises were starting to spread, and cradling her in his arms, he felt her begin to stir and come back into herself.
She opened her eyes, her vision started to clear, she became aware of his low, gentle voice and his touch, “Baby girl, Daddy loves you,” and saw him smiling down at her, peppering her face with butterfly kisses as she purred and moaned.
“Here, drink,” he offered her a glass of watered down juice and helped her bring it to her swollen, bitten lips. Wincing as the glass pressed against her torn lip, she sipped slowly at first, then greedily gulped down the sugary liquid as she realized how thirsty she was, juice running down her chin. He used the flannel to mop it up as she caught her breath.
Her throat felt raw and she was beginning to feel the sting of the welts from his belt across her ass cheeks, shifting her weight slightly to relieve the pressure on them.
“I’m so proud of you Baby, thank you for that. You are the best Good Girl. You gave me so much. I love you,” stroking the hair from her damp face, wanting to comfort her and let her know how much he adored her.
Her knees raw and throbbing, hips bruised from being thrust against the wooden counter, her pussy tender and burning from his relentless pounding, she felt every single ache, as her adrenaline levels dropped and reality kicked in. She welcomed the pain… a bittersweet reminder of his ownership, his claiming of her.
She knew she would bear the marks of his unique love for days to come and feel the power of his dominance every time she moved.
Her bloodshot eyes met his and she smiled up at him, happy to serve him.
Happy to please him.
Happy to be His.
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