More from Rhea

• Being Daddy’s Good Girl with a Blowjob

  October 17, 2025

  I was lounging on the couch, flipping through a magazine, when Daddy walked into the room. He was home early from work, which made me happy. I love being his good girl. I set the magazine down and smiled at him.
  
  “Hey sweetie, how was your day?” I asked, leaning over to give him a kiss on the cheek.
  
  “It was good, baby girl,” he replied, his hand coming to rest on my knee. “But I have a special request for you.”
  
  I bit my lip, intrigue sparking within me. “What is it, Daddy?”
  
  He took a deep breath, his fingers absently tracing circles on my skin. “I want you to be a good girl for me. Go upstairs, take off your clothes, and suck my cock until I cum in your mouth.”
  
  My heart began to race at his explicit command. I’d done this before, but never without Mommy around. The thought of having Daddy all to myself sent a thrill through my body.
  
  “Yes, Daddy,” I breathed, standing up and grabbing his hand to lead him upstairs.
  
  In our bedroom, I turned to face him, my dark hair falling in loose waves around my shoulders. “Like this, Daddy?” I asked, slowly unzipping my dress and letting it slip to the floor, revealing my lacy bra and panty set.
  
  “That’s perfect, good girl,” he praised, his eyes roaming over my curves. “Now, get on your knees for me.”
  I did as I was told, my blue eyes locking onto his as I undid his belt and unzipped his pants. His hard cock sprang free, already throbbing with need.
  
  “Open wide, baby,” he instructed, his voice low and husky.
  I parted my lips, taking him into my mouth. I sucked gently at first, but soon increased my pace, my tongue swirling around his sensitive head. Daddy groaned, his fingers tangling in my hair as he guided me up and down his length.
  
  I could feel his cock twitching, knowing he was close to climax. I quickened my movements, my mouth and throat working together to bring him to the edge. “That’s it, good girl,” he murmured, his pace faltering as he neared his peak.

  With one final suck, Daddy let out a deep moan, his cock pulsing as he spilled his hot cum into my mouth. I swallowed every drop, my eyes never leaving his as I savored the taste of his release.
  When he was finished, I gently pulled away, a satisfied smile on my face. “Was I a good girl, Daddy?” I asked, wiping my mouth with the back of my hand.
  
  “You were exceptional, baby,” he said, helping me to my feet and pulling me into a tight embrace. “I’m so proud of you.”
  I melted into his arms, feeling a deep love and contentment wash over me. Being Daddy’s good girl was the best feeling in the world.
  
  

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• The Taming of a Hero – An Erotic Blog Pt 2

  October 15, 2025

  I watch the moment dawn in his eyes — that fragile flicker of belief that he’s earned my mercy. I am taming him. His arrogance wraps around it like armor, and for a heartbeat, he truly thinks he’s won. I press a small button on my wrist console, and the magnetic cuffs hum once before releasing with a hiss. The room exhales with us.
  
  There,” I say softly. “You’re free.”
  He rises slowly, rubbing his wrists, the faint imprint of containment still glowing against his skin. The look he gives me is half triumph, half suspicion — the kind of expression that makes men reckless. “That’s it?” he asks. “You’re just letting me go?”
  
  I shrug, feigning indifference. “You’ve proven your point. You can leave.”
  
  The lie tastes delicious.
  
  He takes a step toward the door, shoulders rolling back into that hero’s stance — posture straight, chin high, ego restored. I trail behind him, quiet, every movement calculated. He pauses at the threshold, glancing back with a smirk. “Guess the great Rhea finally met her match.”
  
  I let a small smile curve my lips. “Guess again.”
  The floor pulses beneath his feet — the faint hum of the nanofield awakening. In an instant, invisible filaments snake up around his legs, wrapping with electric precision. He jerks, startled, the blue light flaring across his skin. The trap was already set, waiting beneath the surface since the moment he woke.
  
  His eyes flash with disbelief, then anger. “You—”
  “Me,” I finish, stepping closer, my heels clicking against the floor in perfect rhythm. “You should know by now, hero — I never give back what’s mine.”
  
  He struggles against the field, and I watch — calm, deliberate — as the tension in him builds again, like a storm gathering its strength. He’s magnificent when he resists. It’s almost art, watching him fight an opponent he can’t punch.

  
  I tilt my head, studying him. “Freedom was never yours to begin with,” I say softly. “I only wanted to see what you’d do with the illusion of it.”
  
  
  He meets my gaze then, pride flickering with something more dangerous — respect, perhaps. Maybe even understanding. I let the silence stretch, the hum of the energy field filling the air like a heartbeat. Then I move closer, close enough for him to see the reflection of the lightning outside flicker in my eyes.
  
  “You came here to prove you were stronger,” I whisper. “But strength isn’t the absence of restraint. It’s knowing when to stop fighting.”
  
  My hand hovers near his jaw, not touching — just close enough. He stills, instinctively.
  
  “Now,” I murmur, voice low, “let’s see if you can learn that.”
  
  The storm outside breaks, thunder rolling through the glass as his defiance falters — not in defeat, but in realization. That’s all I need. I turn away, the faintest smile ghosting across my lips.
  

  “I’ll let you think about that,” I say, and with a gesture, the lights dim to black.
  
  
  
  

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