Need... the raw, feral, sickening, go-crazy kind of need. She had never felt it before—not like this. She thought she had. Whenever she whispered that she needed him, she had believed it. But she had been naive, foolish even. Silly girl, she could almost hear him chuckle in her mind. She hadn't known what she was asking for.
He had known. He had seen it in her, the desperate ache she mistook for readiness. And because he knew her better than she knew herself, he had done nothing. Not yet. She wasn’t ready. And until she was, he would deny her everything. No matter how much she begged.
"Please, Daddy... I wa—need it so bad. Please..."
A smirk. A step away. The quiet, unspoken no.
And she was left there—laid bare, spread wide, open in every sense except the one that mattered most. Her body was ready. But she wasn’t naked in the way he wanted her.
She didn’t understand at first. The torment wasn’t just physical—it seeped into her mind, creeping into every quiet moment until she was drowning in him. He was in her dreams, in the air she breathed, in the whispers of the night breeze against her skin. She thought sleep would be an escape, but even there, he haunted her. And worst of all, he knew.
She was losing herself. She woke up in a fevered haze, slick with sweat, the evidence of her torment staining the sheets between her thighs. The scent of longing thickened the air, her chest heaving from another dream where he touched her, where he took her, where he gave her everything he wouldn’t give her in waking life. But then she woke, and the ache was sharper than before.
She hated him for this.
She loved him for this.
Every second stretched unbearably. She started second-guessing herself, wondering what she had done wrong, why he kept pulling away. Was she not enough? Was she not worthy of his attention? Was this his way of telling her she would never truly belong to him?
Her thoughts turned dark. Her desire curdled into frustration, then pain, then madness.
She needed to escape this torment.
So she did the one thing she swore she wouldn’t do.
She went to him.
---
The night air was thick and suffocating, but she barely felt it. Her body was burning from the inside out. Every step toward his door felt heavier than the last, as if her own shame was trying to drag her back.
She shouldn’t be here.
But she was.
She had tried to fight it, to reason with herself, to convince herself that she could hold out just a little longer. That she could be patient, obedient, good.
But fuck that.
Her hands trembled as she raised them to knock. She hesitated—just for a second, just long enough to consider turning around. But the moment passed, and the knock echoed in the silence.
Her heart pounded.
Nothing.
She knocked again, harder this time, the weight of her desperation forcing its way through her clenched fist. The sound barely faded before the lock clicked.
And then he was there.
He didn’t look surprised.
He didn’t need to be.
Of course he knew she would come. Of course he knew she would break eventually. He had been waiting for this.
She was already shaking, already unraveling, already losing whatever self-respect she had clung to. She opened her mouth, but her voice failed her.
So she did the only thing she could.
She dropped to her knees.
She didn’t wait for permission. She didn’t need it. Her body moved on instinct, surrendering to the inevitable.
Her thighs parted, spreading wide, her feet tucked neatly beneath her, toes pointed backward. Her back remained straight, not slouched—not sloppy. Her hands moved to her thighs, palms up, an unspoken offering. Her head lowered, but not in shame—in surrender. Just like he taught her.
"Please."
One word.
That was all she could manage.
And that was all it took.
A smirk curled at the corner of his mouth, slow, knowing, victorious. He stepped forward, his presence consuming the space between them. His hand found her hair, his fingers threading through the strands, stroking, taunting.
The gentleness broke her.
Tears welled up, spilling down her cheeks before she could stop them. The weight of everything—the torment, the craving, the surrender—crashed down on her all at once.
He tilted her chin up, forcing her to meet his gaze.
"Say it," he commanded.
Her voice was wrecked, barely a whisper.
"Please... I nee—"
She didn’t get to finish.
He yanked her to her feet. His mouth was on hers before she could even gasp, swallowing the rest of her plea. His kiss was hard, bruising, filled with every moment of restraint he had held back. She melted into him, her body responding on instinct, pressing as close as she could, but it wasn’t enough.
It would never be enough.
That night, he gave her what she had begged for.
She screamed his name. She sobbed. She broke.
And he put her back together.
The sound of skin against skin, her moans, her cries, his growls, the sharp sting of pleasure and pain merging into one—it was everything.
When it was over, when she was spent and aching, bruises blooming across her skin, she laid beside him. And for the first time in what felt like forever, she could breathe.
Because he was there.
Because he was hers.
Because she had finally learned what it meant to need.
And she knew now—she would never need anything else.
