Kafka obliged, his next slap landing with a bit more force, the sound echoing as her breast bounced wildly, a fresh handprint flaring bright against her skin.
"That's my girl." He growled, his own excitement evident in the tightness of his grip, the way his eyes devoured her every reaction. "Taking it so well—Daddy's proud of you, even if you're a filthy little mess."
His hands then moved with a relentless, rhythmic precision, each slap against Camila's tender breasts sending a jolt of electric heat through her body.
Her skin glowed a deep, mottled red now, the handprints overlapping into a chaotic map of their shared desire, her nipples swollen and hypersensitive from his teasing pinches and twists.
Her moans also grew louder, wilder, her voice a raw, unbroken stream of "Daddy—oh fuck—yes, yes!♡~" as the pleasure built inside her, a tight coil winding tighter with every stinging strike.
