Miranda's findom streak awakens

Filthy Bargains: A Daughter's Price

The Setup

The grandfather clock in the hallway had just struck nine when Miranda caught Antonio's wrist as he moved to clear the dinner plates. Her fingers—cool, delicate, and tipped with blood-red polish—tightened just enough to make his pulse jump beneath her touch.

"Not so fast, Daddy," she murmured, the raven haired beauty's luscious lips curling into that familiar, knife-edged smile. "I believe you owe me a massage."

Maria glanced up from her crossword puzzle, her reading glasses perched on the tip of her nose. "Again?"

Miranda's laugh was light, airy—the perfect performance of innocence. "My muscles are still sore from yesterday. Someone didn't finish the job properly." Her eyes flicked to Antonio, dark with unspoken promise. "But I'm sure he'll do better this time."

Antonio's throat went dry.

Maria sighed, waving a hand dismissively. "Fine. But don't take all night."

Miranda's grin widened as she tugged Antonio toward the stairs, her hips swaying with each step, the hem of her black silk robe fluttering around her thighs.

"Oh, Papà," she whispered as they ascended, her voice dripping with false sweetness. "I have a surprise for you."

The Bargain

The bedroom door clicked shut behind them, the lock engaging with a soft, damning snick. Miranda turned, her back pressed against the wood, her fingers already working the tie of her robe loose.

The fabric slithered open, revealing pale, flawless skin, the swell of her breasts, the dark thatch of curls between her thighs.

Antonio's breath hitched.

"Like what you see?" Miranda purred, stepping forward, her bare feet silent on the plush carpet. "Too bad you'll never have it."

She reached into the pocket of her discarded robe, withdrawing her phone with a flourish. The screen flickered to life, displaying a video—their video—from the night before. Antonio's own groans filled the room, his hands kneading Miranda's ass, his cock twitching pathetically against her thigh.

"Three thousand euros, Papà," Miranda said, her voice suddenly sharp, businesslike. "Or this goes to mommy—and Stefano."

Antonio's stomach lurched. "You wouldn't."

Miranda arched a brow, her thumb hovering over the send button. "Try me."

A beat of silence. Then—

"Fine."

Miranda's smile was triumphant. "Good boy."

She tossed the phone onto the bed and sauntered toward him, her fingers already working at his belt. "Now, let's see if you can last longer than thirty seconds this time."

The Reward

Antonio's slacks pooled at his ankles, his cock springing free, already half-hard with anticipation.

Miranda tsked, her fingers wrapping around his shaft with practiced ease. "Still so small," she mused, her thumb swiping over the leaking tip. "Stefano would laugh if he saw this."

Antonio growled, his hips jerking forward, but Miranda tightened her grip, holding him still.

"Ah-ah," she chided, her free hand pressing against his stomach. "You don't get to fuck my mouth. You don't deserve that."

She sank to her knees, her dark hair cascading over her shoulders, her lips—those lips, so full, so sinful—parting as she took just the tip into her mouth.

Antonio groaned, his fingers tangling in her hair, his hips twitching with the effort to stay still.

Miranda hummed, the vibration sending shocks of pleasure up his spine, her tongue flicking against his slit, lapping up the pre-cum beading there.

"Mmm, not bad," she murmured, pulling back just enough to speak, her breath hot against his wet flesh. "For an old man."

Then she dove back in, her lips stretching around him, her cheeks hollowing as she sucked, her hand pumping what her mouth couldn't take.

Antonio trembled, his thighs quaking, his balls drawing up—

"N-not yet—"

Miranda pulled off with a pop, her lips glossy with spit, her eyes gleaming with mischief. "Oh, Papà," she cooed, her fingers stroking him lazily. "You almost made it a whole minute."

She leaned in, her tongue dragging up his length, her breath hot against his ear. "Cum for me," she ordered. "Like the pathetic old man you are."

Antonio broke, his release spurting across her chin, her cheeks, her smug, beautiful face.

Miranda laughed, her fingers collecting his spend, smearing it across her lips like gloss. "Mmm, delicious," she murmured, licking her fingers clean. "Now, about that money..."