Note: This story involves consenting adults and is no way a work describing acts of pedophilia.

My little baby girl

“Jesus Christ will you shut the hell up?” I thought as I stared blankly at my boss sitting across from my desk. He’s droning on and on about how his internet connection at home is slow and if I think he should buy a new Dell. I try to act as if I’m paying attention but all I hear is “Blah blah blah” and I desperately want these five minutes of my life back.

Mercifully he concludes his lame diatribe and walks out of my office. I decided to check on my girl again. Months ago after acquiring her, I installed web controlled wireless security cams in the house. I’m not concerned about burglars, but do it just to watch over her lovingly. She loves the idea that she can be watched secretly and protected by her Daddy.

Amanda is in her mid 20’s, has a petite body with athletic overtones, and raven black hair which hangs down between her shoulder blades. Her eyes, definitely her most striking feature, are a deep, radiant blue. Sometimes when I stare into them I feel as though I’m floating in the air and they are compelling me to fall into them. She’s certainly not a supermodel, but she’s very attractive in an understated way and men pay attention to her in public for reasons even they can’t comprehend. When I “found” her she was a shy, reclusive loner who isolated herself in clothes befitting an old librarian who obsessively kept way too many cats. Months of training stripped that outer coating off to reveal the beautiful temptress within. She means the world to me.

Anyway, I look on the web again and am watching her while she does her chores in the nude. During daily tasks, she isn’t allowed to wear clothes, which was very hard for her to grow accustomed to. Even now after so many months of ownership my chest still tightens up a little every time I look at her. They are feelings of love to be sure, but so much more than that. When I gaze upon her I am driven to possess her, use her, and revel in her treasures. It is at the same time a need for spiritual bonding and an insatiable drive to further my dark hold over her and to subjugate her to my will through mind-bending sexual experiences and intense mind games.

Tonight I’m going to do something special. I’ve been thinking about it all day and can’t concentrate on my work. I’ve remained in my office most of the day letting the desk shield the evidence of my arousal. While watching her, I’m touching myself through my slacks and pondering the dark, twisted things I will do to her this night. As I’m watching her on the cams, I ring the phone. Noticing who is calling, she takes a moment to calm herself and answers, “Yes Sir.” Subconsciously she turns around to face the nearest security cam in the hopes that I am watching her at this moment.

I reply, “Hello Mandy, how is my little girl?” This is a trigger. The use of the name Mandy as opposed to Amanda causes her face and chest to flush red. She knows what this means, it’ll be one of our very special nights.

When she replies I can hear the huskiness in her voice even as it rises in pitch to mimic a young girl’s, specifically a girl of about 10 or 12. “I’m really good Daddy.” I continue this little banter with her in which I ask her about her chores, her girlfriends (non-existent 12-year-old friends of course), and anything else little girl related. With this banter and using the power of my voice, I am grooming her for the day’s events.

I tell her to have dinner ready when I get home at 5 and that I will be renting a movie for us to watch for the evening. I tell her to go and get ready, and with a “Yes Daddy, I love you” she hangs up the phone to get ready.

I turn off the cam and actually try to get some work done. However, I cannot push her from my mind and I fantasize about the things I will do with her. I stop on the way home and pick up “The Jungle Book” by Disney.

As I walk in the door, I expect her to come running, but I get no reception. Normally on one of these nights, she’ll come running up and give me a girlish hug and a kiss on the cheek. I call out, “Mandy? Daddy’s home” but I hear silence in return. Well, that’s strange, but the house is sparkling clean and I can smell food in the oven, so I sit down and read the newspaper while I wait. It’s important to remember that I have to do things that are stereotypically Daddy-like such as reading the paper, drinking beer, fatherly language etc to complete the illusion, though in truth I actually dislike doing these things. It hardly builds the right atmosphere if she comes into the house and her Daddy is playing Halo.

I hear her key in the lock watch as she nearly skips into the living room. She is dressed perfectly in a tight t-shirt top which says “Princess” and a knee length skirt with cute pink tennis shoes and matching socks. She isn’t wearing a bra because we haven’t gone out to buy her first training bra yet. This is a farce of course as she is a small C-cup, but it will make for another exciting encounter. She’s put her hair up in pigtails and looks simply adorable. As I sit there gazing at her two things occur to me. The first is that I love this girl as much as any man has ever loved his woman, and the second is that we are both going to go to hell for our sick, twisted needs.

The young lady is in trouble

Speaking authoritatively I ask what every father has asked throughout history, “Where have you been young lady?”

She blushes and replies, “I’m sorry Daddy, but I was at Sally’s house. She needed help with our Math homework.” Of course, there is no Sally, but this is a nice touch. So, I tell her to get washed up for dinner.

Everything occurs like it normally would if it were a father and daughter at home, except that I occasionally disrupt her pattern with little triggers here and there meant to keep her off balance and wondering what will happen next. I do this by seductively touching her arm briefly in an inappropriate way, “accidentally” bumping into her in the kitchen, and a myriad of other small gestures. As she’s washing up I get up and quickly grab a bunch of DVD’s and toss them all over the floor. Then as she comes back into the room I chastise her for not cleaning the living room properly.

Her eyes go red as she says, “But I did clean it, Daddy. I don’t know how those got on the floor.” I walk up to her and look her in the eyes and ask her if she’s arguing with me. She replies, “No, not at all.” So, I tell her to pick them up and she argues (intentionally) “But I already cleaned up Daddy,” so I slap her smartly across the face. Of course, this stops her in her tracks and she stares at me mutely while her eyes tear up. God how I love her when she looks at me like this.

My eyes bore deeply into hers and I coldly ask “Is there some breakdown of communication here? Did I not just ask you to clean that stuff up?” She demurely says “Yes Daddy, I’ll do it right now,” and begins picking up the cases. I then tell her to do it slowly because I am admiring her form while she is bent over in that skirt. She turns around to look at me after I sit down with a quizzical look on her face. It is a mixture of confusion, arousal, and apprehension. “Why do I need to go slowly?” she asks. And I respond with the tried and true parental statement “Because I said so” with a smirk.

As she’s picking up the DVD’s I am admiring her bare legs and the white cotton panties she is wearing. She turns around and observes me watching her cute little bottom and shows the same expression. Being that she’s 12, she is still innocent to the ways of the world, but not totally ignorant about the carnal desires of men. She and I have had that talk on another occasion about how dangerous strangers are, especially men. She knows I’m staring at her behind, but she can’t bring herself to believe that her Daddy would look at her “that way.” This thought is disgusting to her and shames her greatly. What is wrong with her that would make her beloved Daddy look at her this way? Any attention, even attention like this is welcomed as she knows it is a sign that he loves her.

After she is done slowly picking up the videos she asks, “May I get up Daddy?” I make her wait almost a full minute as my eyes caress her entire body and face and I tell her that I think she needs a hug.

Mandy walks over to my chair and bends over to hug me. It’s natural to hug your little girl after punishing her and the show of affection will calm her mind. Or at least it would have if I hadn’t taken my left arm and let it slyly roam to the top of her bottom and rubbed gently. Once again, I can feel her energy change to shock and confusion, but as before it is suffused with the innocently raw desire to be touched in forbidden places. She continues this hug for a nearly uncomfortable length of time because she doesn’t want to anger me further.

Images flash in my mind right now of taking her into her bedroom (which is a room with the little girl theme with the canopy bed and girl stuff everywhere) by the hair, restraining her arms with the pink jump rope I bought her last week, and savagely penetrating her over and over again. I sigh to myself and relax, reminding myself that the prolonged build-up of the encounter always pays off in the long run. Instead of ravaging her I tell her she can go and get my dinner.

While we eat, I occasionally remind her to act like a young lady with table manners the way any good Daddy would. We both eat quickly because we are anxious to continue the role-play.

I own a large lazy boy chair for a couple of reasons, the primary of which being that she can sit on my lap comfortably on it. While I lounge in the chair and watch TV she quickly cleans up the dinner mess and brings me a drink. However, she holds the drink incorrectly, most likely on purpose. When a subbie/slave hands her Master a drink she should be holding it with her palm up cupping the bottom so as not to make the hand transfer cumbersome. I’m sure she has done this on purpose to incur some wrath.

I refuse to take the drink while looking deeply into her eyes. The pause is agony for her as I well know, but she relishes the torment. “Why am I displeased with you Mandy?”

She knows damn well, but she won’t say. I know what she craves, but I want to make her squirm for it. “Well????” I ask, and she replies that she has no idea.

I roughly take the glass from her and tell her to go and get me a wooden spoon from the kitchen. She starts to argue, “But Daddy, I didn’t do anyth……” but I am faster than she expected. I deftly turn her wrist over with a slight twist and the sudden pain forces her to fall to her knees before she can finish the word. Though she is in a supplicating position she looks up with me with those captivating teary eyes of hers and awaits my commands. I angrily (an act to enhance her experience) explain to her how to hold the glass while I punctuate each word with more wrist pain. I then instruct her to get me the wooden spoon.

She brings the spoon and stands in front of me. She has a solitary tear on her left cheek. I instruct her to bend towards me and I kiss the tear away.

“You know your Daddy loves you more than anything, right sweetie?” I ask.

“Yes Daddy.”

“I want you to be the best little girl in the world. I can’t allow my girl to get lax in her responsibilities. Now, assume the position.” She reluctantly does so. I just let her lay there anticipating what is to come and I calmly watch TV for a minute or two before switching it off. As I gaze down at her across my lap, I can’t help but once again admire her form. I gently stroke her hair and neck while I consider the proper word for this punishment.

I begin by lecturing her, “Mandy, how many times have I told you how to bring a drink to me? How many times must I repeat it? You need to pay better attention to details or you will make me very angry. Now, to help remind you of this, we shall use the word conscientious.” She begins to cry softly as she realizes that word has 13 letters and because she is very ashamed of having failed in this small, but a significant task. I can feel myself getting powerfully erect and I’m sure she can also feel that on her tummy.

Punishment time

However, as I reach down and lift up her skirt, she starts to wail and kick a bit. She doesn’t like (or pretends not to like) to have her panties on view and was hoping for a spanking through the skirt. She sobs, “Daddy, aren’t I getting too old for you to see my panties???” I grab her hair to steady her and give her one sharp, stinging crack with the wooden spoon and tell her to shut up, be a good girl, and receive her punishment. With the skill of a magician, I deftly slid her cotton panties down over her cheeks and exposing her bare bottom. She jerks upward in an attempt to protest and I force her back down with my firm hold of her hair.

She calms but continues to cry softly. “What was the word,” I ask and she responds with conscientious. “Alright, let’s begin.” I slap her right cheek with my bare hand and she responds with a “C” said loudly and clearly. Then with a second and she responds with an “O.” We, of course, are spelling the word conscientious so she will remember to be such. However, as we are 8 letters in she is sobbing uncontrollably and is quite unintelligible. I tell her that none of the next spanks will count until she catches her breath and starts speaking clearly and I switch from using the spoon to my hand. The hand is mortifying because I am touching her panty clad virginal bottom but at the same time more arousing than the wooden spoon. I switch back and forth from bare hand to spoon so she never knows which is coming next. I take a few moments between each slap with the hand to caress her bum and occasionally the tops of her bare legs. After a few swats with the hand, she gets better control of herself and starts calling off letters again. We finish with the final “S” and I let her lie across my lap sobbing while I stroke her hair and tell her that I love her. Mandy has porcelain-like skin on her bottom which easily reddens. Stroking her like this after a spanking is one of our most intimate moments.

When she is calmed down, I ask her if she can be a good girl now, and of course, she responds, “Yes Daddy.” I then have her pick up the drink, put another ice cube in it, and return it to me in the proper way and all is forgiven.

I have her put the movie in and she sits on the couch. I then tell her that I want her to sit in my lap. I can see from the look on her face that she is uncomfortable with this, most likely because her panties are very moist from the spanking, but as she is being a good girl, she complies.

The movie, which is one we’ve both seen before, is inconsequential and I am barely paying attention to it. Instead, my focus is on my girl, how nice she feels in my lap, and how nice her little girl perfume smells. As we watch, she sings the songs in the movie as she knows it pleases me when she does this in her little girl way. However, as she pretends to remain oblivious of my intentions I have placed my right hand across her legs to hold onto her outside knee in a very innocent way. I can’t have my little girl falling out of the chair so I also hold her around the waist with my left hand holding her hip. I begin the seduction by slowly rubbing her knee and lower leg in a seductive way. Her legs are deliciously smooth and soft as I require that she shave every day and moisturize her entire body twice a day. As I am stroking her leg, she adjusts herself in my lap in an innocent way, but I know damn well she’s massaging my crotch as well as alleviating some sore spots on her bottom. This is all done very slowly as the need must be allowed to build like a volcano about to erupt.

We are at the point in the movie where the snake is charming the kid with song and I decide to sing with her. I sing, not in the innocent way a kid does, but mockingly with a much darker purpose.

Trust in me, just in me….. Shut your eyes and trust in me…

As the snake seduces the kid, I am seducing my little girl and like the snake, we will both devour our prey. She closes her eyes like instructed in the song, but continues to sing with me and the TV. I’m fully erect now, and I am pushing right at the little V of her panties. We can both feel that, and it is driving me as wild as she. I decide that I have to escalate this game. I slowly slide my right hand between her knees, she jumps a little but remains eyes closed and singing. I can tell that she’s desperately trying to pretend that I’m not doing what I’m doing. She’s concentrating on the song as if she could just wish this invasion away. She’s relying on the child-like practice that if you don’t look at the boogeyman, he can’t hurt you. Well, this evil man has his needs and they will be satisfied. I slowly slide my hand up into the V, stroking the baby soft skin of her thighs. I can barely breathe at this point and I am on the verge of losing all control. My skin burns and my face must be red hot. Still, with eyes closed, she tilts her head upwards, relishing my touch, but at the same time not showing her face because she is red with embarrassment and shame. I have been stroking her hair while this has been going on and as she tilts her head upwards, I gather it in a tight fist so that I completely control her head. In just another moment, I am going to force her mouth onto mine, kissing her in a decidedly lewd way and introduce her to the world of debased sexual need.

She has a secret in her panties

Then the god damn song stops and she comes out of her trance. She shakes free of the grip I have on her hair, hops up and says, “I’m sorry Daddy, but I have to go to the bathroom really bad.” While she’s in there I sit in the chair aching in my frustration and need, but I calm myself with some deep breaths. I take those moments to remind myself to have patience, and the longer I delay the greater the release will be. I half suspect she did this to prolong both our agony and seriously doubt that she’s actually going to the bathroom. Then I notice that my entire crotch is damp with the definite aroma of feminine musk. She’s going to the bathroom to “clean up.”

The bathroom door opens and she immediately darts towards her little girl bedroom for something. I’m sure I know what it is, so I stop her and tell her to come back. “Daddy, I want to get something from my room,” she says. I tell her that she’s fooled around enough today and to come back to watch the movie. “Alright, but I need to go to the bathroom again.” Again I refuse to let her because I know exactly what she wanted to get from her room.

She comes to stand in front of me but doesn’t come back into my lap and once again, I know why. I tell her to come to me, but she won’t. I sit and stare at her for at least a full minute while she burns under this scrutiny. When I inquire as to why she answers “I don’t know. I don’t want to watch the movie anymore. Can we do something else?”

The truth of the matter is that her panties were dripping wet. In her little girl state, this shamed her that she would get all excited about her Daddy doing bad things to her so she took them off and most likely hid them in the bathroom. She can’t sit on my lap because she is wearing nothing under that skirt as I thwarted her efforts to get a new pair.

She wants to do something where she doesn’t have to sit on my lap. I pretend to consider this, which of course gives her hope that her sexual depravity won’t be discovered. While considering, I stare at her some more in a disapproving way, because I enjoy watching her squirm in her shame. In fact, she is standing in front of me, looking at her feet, while fidgeting with them. Her left foot is partially on top of her right, and she can’t stand still. After a long minute, I suggest, “Let’s play a board game.” She readily agrees because she’ll be able to sit at the table and hide her nakedness under it.

This is when I spring my surprise on her. “Go to the entryway and get the bag I left there. Daddy bought a board game today and we’ll play that.”

Mandy says, “Oh, goodie. Which game did you buy?”

With a sneer, I look deeply into her radiant blue eyes and say, “Oh Mandy, I thought the perfect game would be Twister. Open the box and get it set up.”

She returns my predatory stare with one equally afraid and innocent and reluctantly opens the box.

And this is where the fun really begins.

Last Updated on 2 years by pseudonymous