Disclaimer: All characters and events are purely fictional. All characters are at least 18 years of age.



*****



Baby Girl



Gingerly, slightly nervously you push the key into the lock of the front door. It's already getting dark and nobody is home. You wouldn't like to admit it, but you're a bit scared to be alone after sunset. You brave it anyway, knowing Daddy will be home soon to look after you and you have to prepare for him. It's the end of a long stressful week, he needs to unwind and relieve the tension. You fully intend to help him with that as best you can, the only way you know how.



Truth be told, you could do with a little stress relief yourself. You need to shut off for a while, stop thinking, give yourself over to someone else. Someone who knows how to take charge. Someone bigger and stronger. Someone who can put you in your place. You need to be used by Daddy.



That'll come later, you know that, but first comes the preparation. You push the door open, just a crack and peek inside to check the coast is clear. You don't really expect there to be anything, but better to be safe than sorry. Once safely inside, you close the door behind you with a dull clunk, discard your school bag and shoes on the hallway floor, then head into the kitchen.



You open the fridge to see if there are enough bottles of beer, Daddy's favourite, for tonight. You count eight, plenty. There is also Ribena, sickly sweet juices and fizzy pop. He knows to keep a good supply for you. You pour yourself a tall glass of some garishly coloured, fruity flavoured liquid and sip it through a straw as you go up the stairs.



Immediately you strip naked and wander from bedroom to bathroom, leaving your clothes in a heap on the floor. You're completely unselfconscious, comfortable in your nudity. After all, there's nobody here to see you.



The full length bathroom mirror, once so intimidating doesn't seem so bad anymore, even under the harsh glare of the overhead lighting. You stand in front of it and take in the contours of your body, not shying away from your reflection or trying to cover up. Your eyes linger over your chest, tummy, hips, thighs and that special place in between.



It wasn't always like this. In the past you could hardly bear to look at yourself undressed. Now here you are, fully disrobed, turning left and right to see your physique from different angles, admiring the shapes and lines you create with your poses. You're not ready to call it perfect yet, like Daddy does, but you have a newfound appreciation for your own form.



You remove your thick, horn rimmed eyeglasses, place them next to the sink and inspect your face. Once it was hidden behind a heavy layer of makeup. Foundation, powder, lipstick, blusher, mascara, eyeshadow, the works. You go au naturel these days, or with just a light layer of neutral tones to work with your complexion. Daddy likes you bare skinned and unpainted. With a clean, soft washcloth and gentle cleanser, you wash away the grime of the day.



Patting yourself dry, you are pleased with what looks back at you in the mirror. Big, almond eyes, kissable lips and a cute nosey, all framed by a mane of thick hair. Daddy always calls you pretty and you think maybe, just maybe you should trust him on this, the way you do on most other matters. Spectacles back on, you allow yourself a sly smile and blow yourself a kiss.



You contemplate a shower to freshen up, but quickly reject the idea. As well as a natural face, you know he likes a natural scent too. No perfumed lotions, potions or concoctions are necessary, just the unique scent of you. He will want to bury his face in your muff and breathe you in, delighting in the musk of your pussy. He desires it that way and you want nothing more than to please him.



Back in the bedroom, you need to pick an outfit and get dressed for Daddy. He is a man of simple tastes and his penchant for the natural extends to all things. He likes his girls young, fresh faced and without a stitch. However, sometimes you like to wear a little something for him to take off. It helps you get into the headspace of giving over control to him, having him make the decisions for you. Plus, you know he likes undressing you too. Your body is a present he gets to unwrap, before he has his way with you.



You open the drawer containing your play clothes. Neat stacks of vibrantly coloured vests and t-shirts sit next to pairs of panties and balls of socks. Hmm, what to pick? You pull out a few possible tops and hold each one up to your bare chest, contemplating the look. The yellow polka dots? No. The pink t-shirt with Hello Kitty print? Definitely a maybe. The powder blue silk camisole with white lace trim? One of Daddy's favourites, yes!



Now for bottoms. A thong? He loves your bum and it would show off your peachy cheeks perfectly. Not with this top though. Frilly french knickers in white satin? Perfection.



You slip the top on over your head and step into the frou-frou undies. Next, some ankle socks, covering your pretty little toes. Daddy is going to love peeling those off. After a moment to consider bunches or ponytail, you settle on a ponytail, tied in place with a bow. A twirl and a big smile, Daddy's princess is ready.



Dropping to your knees, you reach under the bed for the heavy, brown leather suitcase, your "toy box". The clasp is a bit fiddly, but it soon opens with a snap. Quickly, you check over the contents. All your old favourites are there, like the bright green anal plug that Daddy once made you wear for a whole day and the little buzzy thing that makes you squeal when it touches your sensitive clitty. Some not so favourite things are there too, like the steel nipple clamps that bite into your skin. You don't mind a little nipple pinching, but these left you red raw for a week. Hopefully, Daddy won't put those on you again.



A little mood lighting is needed, a few candles will serve nicely. You open one of Daddy's drawers looking for some matches or a lighter. You know you're not allowed to play with these things, but you are going to be extra careful. Finding a small cardboard box, you shake it to hear the little wooden sticks rattling inside. You remove one and quickly strike it along the phosphorus coated strip. A spark, a flash and the splint is aflame. Being sure not to burn your fingers, you light the first candle and blow out the match. The lit candle can be used to light the rest.



Soon a comforting, cosy, incandescence fills the room. One of the candles is scented, a pleasant honeysuckle fragrance. You are happy with your preparations. On the clock by the bed, the big hand is nearly on twelve and the little hand is just about at seven. Daddy will be home very soon. Just the thought of it sends a tingle through your pussy. You want to touch yourself, but resist the urge and try to ignore it. Tonight your body is for Daddy, he is the only one who gets to touch you down there. If he suspected you'd been there first, punishment would be inevitable. A sound thrashing maybe, or worse, he might not touch you at all.



You remember that dreadful occasion you made him so cross that he kept his hands from you for almost an entire week. The savage whipping he gave you on the seventh day was a relief, compared to the sickening frustration of being scorned and untouched. Spankings you can take, but feeling unwanted and unloved is cruel and unusual punishment, one you hope never to repeat.



Your Daddy's hand is all you really need. Whether it is to pet you or beat you, caress you or slap you, it is what you crave above all things. So, like a good girl, on your knees beside the bed, next to the open toy box, you wait.



****



Daddy



Darkness has already fallen when I step off the train. It's chilly and I pull the collar of my coat up to protect my face from the wind. My briefcase is heavy and the weight of it makes my shoulder ache. It's a fair walk back to my house and not one I'm looking forward to on a night like tonight.



I hitch up my sleeve to see my watch. Just gone seven. I press my chin to my chest and head towards home. A gusty gail starts to blow and I feel the first drops of rain hit my face. I'm fucking miserable.



Turning the corner onto the high street, the heady aroma of spice from the Indian takeaway fills the air. I ignore the tramp begging for change outside Tesco. I'm not stopping for anything tonight. Right at the pharmacy, then the next left and straight on to the end of the road. Nearly home, my mood starts to pick up.



I'm thinking about what's waiting for me. She'll be home by now, my little Princess. It's been a dreadful week and an evening with her is just what I need. How will we spend it? A nice dinner and snuggling in front of the television would be good, but perhaps there's another option, a better option.



Visions of her flash through my mind. Youthful, flawless skin. Obedient wide eyes, behind large, dark framed spectacles. Sweet mouth open and ready. Yes, there are much better options. I'm home.



A soft, floral aroma greets me when I open the door. A few paces in and something catches my foot, causing me to trip and stumble. Bollocks. I fumble for the light switch. The instant illumination startles me and it takes a few seconds for my eyes to refocus and see the offending articles. A pair of shoes, far too small to be mine, lie strewn across the floor, accompanied by a leather satchel. I'm going to break my neck on her stuff one of these days.



I can't be angry though. I've been waiting too long to see her for that. Instead I just hang up the bag next to my coat and put the shoes away with my own. I listen for any movement coming from upstairs, but hear nothing, the house is dead silent. Far too quiet. Usually at this hour the it's filled with raucous pop music or exuberant splashing in the bathroom. I wonder what she could be up to.



I decide to leave it a couple of minutes before I go and find out. In the kitchen, I open the fridge and help myself to a beer. A half empty juice carton sits in a puddle on the countertop. With a sigh, I mop down the surface and return the box to its rightful place next to the milk. When is she going to learn to put things away and pour without spilling everywhere?



The beer, cold and refreshing, slips down easily. Still not a peep from upstairs. I think I should go up and assess the damage. She probably had some fun making a mess in the bathroom when she got home and is now fast asleep on the bed. That's usually what silence means when Daddy's Baby Girl is home.



Slowly, one by one, I ascend the stairs, being quite so as not to wake her. She's always grumpy after a nap, so I want to get her up as gently as possible. I don't want any unpleasantness this evening. No fights or arguments, just a lovely night together.



The smell of Honeysuckle is much stronger up here. The door is open a crack and the warm glow of candlelight can be seen inside. I wasn't expecting this. I reach out and it yields, swinging open on its hinges.



****



The big hand is on the three now and you can hear fumbling and the jangling of keys downstairs. Daddy is home. The door clanks as he pushes it shut. A brief silence then a thud and a curse. Oh no, you forgot to put your shoes away and he's tripped over them again. Is he going to be mad with you?



You cringe and brace yourself, expecting to hear your name in an irate bark. Nothing. No stomping up the stairs either. It sounds like he's in the kitchen. What's he doing? Maybe he's not going to come up, he's just going to leave you here, waiting. The not knowing is murderous.



Then finally, soft thuds and creaks. He's coming up the stairs. You ready yourself. The door moves. He's here, standing in front of you, looking straight into your eyes.



****



Worship



"Welcome home, Daddy," you say, looking up at me. "I've been waiting for you."



"Hello, Princess. This is a nice surprise." My lips curl involuntarily into a devious half smirk.



You are kneeling by the bed, a good and attentive little girl. Dressed seductively in blue and white, with a ribbon in your hair. Astonishingly beautiful, like one of Nabokov's "nymphets". Our suitcase of intimate toys and devices sits open at your side.



I approach, not breaking eye contact, until I'm less than a foot away. Towering over you, I reach down to stroke your face, under your chin then down each cheek. You close your eyes and gratefully accept my touch. Almost purring as I comb through your gathered hair.



I can feel you climbing up my trouser leg. Reaching the top, you gently fondle my bulge over the woven fabric. Nimble fingers find the zip, pull it down and slip inside. You squeeze slightly and feel me grow.



Using both hands, you undo my belt and button, the waistband falls to mid thigh. I remove my shirt, leaving my broad chest bare, save for its dense covering of dark hair. You always say the hair, which covers the majority of my body, along with my substantial physique, gives me the aspect of a bear. Whether I'm a soft and cuddly Teddy bear or a ferocious Grizzly, all depends on my mood.



You incline your head forward to plant your lips on my enlarged, cotton covered appendage. It twitches in response.



"May I, Daddy?" you ask politely, gazing at me with hopeful eyes.



"Of course, Baby. Go ahead," I answer and you bite your lip.



As you lower my underwear the elastic slides down my shaft and over the head. Suddenly free, my prick springs up, perfectly erect, proud and expectant.



Before touching it, you first drink it in visually. Not a single part goes unobserved. The neat slit opening to my urethra at the very tip. The foreskin, which nearly envelopes my bulbous glans. The thick, blue veins that meander down my meaty shaft. The mass of ebon pubic hair at the base and my heavy, gravid testicles below. You moisten your lips in readiness.



Tentative fingertips touch me, delicately gliding across my length. Tracing the veins that so fascinate you. Cupping my scrotum, as if trying to judge the weight of it. Gradually you wrap your fingers completely around me and ease back the foreskin to expose the bright, glistening head. A clear bead of pre-cum appears. A quick lick and it's gone.



I position myself on the bed and lie back, you between my knees. I am ready for you to serve me, Daddy's perfect little slut. You exist only for one thing, solely for my pleasure. It's why you were put on this earth. Pleasing me gives your life purpose and meaning. Nothing but my manhood exists for you now. You are completely transfixed, held spellbound by it.



You bow your head in reverence and press your lips against my swollen cock head. Touching it to your nose, you breathe it in. You enjoy its rigidity and the sensation of my skin against yours as you allow it to glissade over your angelic face. More kisses, up and down the shaft, then long, deliberate licks, bathing me in saliva from balls to tip. Not a single part of me goes unexplored by your tongue, paying special attention to the curvilinear ridge of my helmet and taut frenulum.



"I love your dick, Daddy," you tell me, with a coy smile. "It's so big and hard and it tastes so, so good!"



With those words, you part your lips and take my throbbing organ into your mouth. I can't suppress a low guttural moan as you inch me in further, sucking all the way. I'm impressed at how well you control your gag reflex as I travel over your tongue, past your uvula and tonsils, into your throat. You hold me there and swallow.



"That's a good girl," I say in a hoarse whisper.



When you come up for air, you give a satisfied giggle, you know you're doing a particularly good job tonight. You are making Daddy very, very happy.



As you suck, your enjoyment of me appears to cross over from the frivolous into exaltation, raising my manhood up from mere body part to something semi-divine. Fellatio is your act of adoration.



This has gone beyond a purely sexual experience for me too. As I feel my orgasm growing, it's beginning to take on a mystical quality. I am coming ever closer to celestial bliss. You can feel it rising within me, hear it in my breath. You know exactly what I need and you give it to me, never missing a beat as you take me to the precipice of euphoria.



As a final benediction, I come copiously and furiously into your devoted mouth, consecrating it with my sacred seed. You clean and consume every droplet with ardent zeal, careful not to waste any of the precious fluid.



"Thank you for feeding me your cum, Daddy. It's yummy," licking your lips and smiling contentedly.



You snuggle up next to me as the postorgasmic fog lifts and my cock grows flaccid. You lazily fiddle with my chest hair, twirling it around your fingers, twisting and trying to form it into curls. I'm basking in the glory of sexual release, relaxing under your doting touch. This busy and stressful week is just melting away.



I'm hungry now. Not for food, although it is getting late and neither of us has eaten dinner. No, I'm hungry for something much tastier. I am in the mood for young flesh.



****



Feast



Your glasses are askew, crooked on your nose. I remove them, fold them and place them on the bedside table. While I appreciate the care you have put into your outfit, I am a purist. I prefer my girl completely naked and unadorned. The clothes have to go.



"Arms up, Sweetie," I command gently.



You raise them above your head, allowing me to take your top off in one smooth motion. You make no attempt to cover your chest or conceal your nipples from me. I guide you into a supine position then cover your torso in hot, wet kisses.



My hands grab at your waistband and pull your panties over your bum and down your legs, exposing your cute little snatch. I hold them up to my face and inhale. I can tell you haven't showered today. The pungency quickens my blood, makes me giddy with lust.



My initial instinct is to dive into your pussy right now, but I restrain myself. I want to savour every morsel of this delectable banquet laid out in front of me.



My lips follow your elegant curves from hips to your soft belly and over your mons, skipping your labia to your silken thighs. I'm heading towards the only covering left on your body, your ankle socks.



Slipping a finger into the top off each one, they come off easily. You wiggle your toes for me, showing them off to splendid effect. I lift both of your enticing peds in turn to just under my nose and sniff. Nobody could say they stink, but there is a certain piquancy. Some may find it unpleasant, but for me it's nothing short of intoxicating.



Every tootsie is kissed in turn. Then my tongue goes to work, parting them and tasting in between. Finally, I begin to suck, each one a bite sized canapé. The ideal appetiser for the coming main course.



"Daddy, it tickles," you know what's next.



I part your legs, displaying your most intimate parts to me. My beard is both rough and tickly as I creep upwards to the aromatic delicacy I hunger for.



"Now, Baby, I'm going to eat you," I tell you, before I begin. "But, you do NOT have permission to come. Do you understand? You mustn't come. Is that clear?"



"But...But, Daddy!" you begin.



I cut you off firmly, "No 'buts', Little One. If you come, I will have to spank you."



You humph, but say no more. You're thinking how desperately unfair it is, but you know the rules by now. You are not to come without Daddy's say so. You shouldn't worry, I have no intention of denying you an orgasm all night. Just long enough to make you think I might. I want to bring you right to the edge and hold you there until you almost lose your mind. Then I'll allow you to come.



Tentatively, my lips brush your sumptuous, moist sex. Once again, but more assertively. Kisses are followed by lingering licks. The flavour is as sublime as the texture is succulent. My tongue spreads over your honey pot, lapping up your tangy nectar.

