9 comments/ 37647 views/ 10 favorites Daddy's Proclamation By: KierHardy 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. Daddy's Proclamation Nothing is rushed. I build the pace slowly, sensuously. I take my time to dine upon your heavenly peach, allowing your juices flow freely, coating me from nose to chin. I relish that rare and extraordinary taste only a young girl can possess. I've travelled the world, seen and experienced many things. I am confident that nothing can compare. With every pass, my appetite grows ever keener. I slurp and quaff with ravenous gluttony. Indulging my greed and revelling in your delicious cunt. I consume you with pure, carnal joy, every mouthful loaded with sensual gratification. "Daddy, stop! I'm going to come...Oh, please let me come! Please!" I ignore you, but continue to feast with gusto. Every bit of your luscious vulva is devoured. Licking, sucking, nibbling on your plump, ripe clitoris and your swollen, fat majora and minora. Then, the unmistakable tension in your muscles. The half stifled scream. The uncontrollable trembling of your limbs. You come vigorously, with an intensity I have never felt from you before. I don't stop eating until you have finished completely and push me away with the last of your strength. Once your body has stopped shaking and you've regained control of your breathing, you open your eyes to see my stern features staring at you. You're flushed and still panting. Little drops of perspiration cover your forehead and trickle down your temples. Your ponytail is coming loose and strands of sweat soaked hair are stuck to your face. I did not give you permission to orgasm. You disobeyed your Daddy and I am very cross. You attempt to reason with me, "Sorry, Daddy. It just felt too good and I did ask you to stop. I couldn't help it." This is no excuse. It was your responsibility not to come, to hold yourself back, no matter what. If you can't follow simple instructions, if you can't do as you are told, then you must be disciplined. You can see in my glare, a spanking is imminent and leap from the bed. **** Punishment You try to get away, but I have you securely by the wrist. You tug and pull, trying to avoid the unavoidable, but merely delaying it. "No, Daddy! I won't let you. No! Let go of me." I pay your defiant protestations no mind. This isn't about what you want, it's about what you need. You aim a swift and forceful kick at my groin. It's accurate, but I'm able to deflect it with my knee, before it reaches its target. The line has been crossed and you know it. I wasn't going to punish you severely, just put you over my knee for a few swats on your bottom, with the back of my hand. However, now I'm angry. That kick has altered my mood irrecoverably. It was an act of aggression I simply cannot tolerate. I'm no longer holding your wrist. There is no physical contact between us at all, but the look in my eyes has hold of you. It grips you, vice like, around your throat. Neither one of us moves. You stand restrained by my glare. "I'm sorry, Daddy. I didn't mean to." I say nothing. "Please, Daddy. It was an accident." Your heart pounds in your throat as you try to anticipate my next move. Everything in your brain and body is screaming at you to run, to get away and escape the harsh chastisement you know I have in store for you. Yet you don't budge, you can't. With astonishing quickness and agility I grab you, lift you off your feet and toss you, face down, onto the bed. Although the mattress is soft, you land hard. The impact leaves you disoriented, you feel it in the pit of your stomach. I'm usually quite gentle with you, even when we play "rough", I hold a lot back. You forget just how much stronger than you I am. The rare occasions when I manhandle you like this, brings sharply into focus just what I am capable of, what I can do to you, if I so choose. You know I'm no longer playing and you make no attempt to escape. I search in the suitcase for the implement I need. It doesn't take long to find what I'm looking for. You lie passively, with eyes shut tight, not daring to move. A whoosh past your head and a slap on the duvet beside you. The cane. Your eyes open with a start. Not that. Instinct takes over and you try to flee, but my heavy hand plants you right back down in your place. You writhe and squirm in vain as I hold onto the back of your neck, forcing your face into the bedclothes and muffling your pleas for leniency. I am in no mood to indulge you now. You have awoken my sadistic streak and it needs to be satisfied. I think about gagging you, but decide against it. I want to hear you scream with each lash. What you require now is a short, sharp shock directed at your pert backside. A couple more practice strokes through the air, before bringing the first blow down across both your buttocks. The initial impact isn't what hurts most. You cry out from the sting, which comes a split second after, bringing rapid waves of pain in its wake. Tears instantly fill your eyes and a two long welts appear on your dermis. I allow a few moments for you to settle, then whack! Another stroke of the vicious cane to your still buzzing posterior and another screech of anguish. You buck your hips, trying to shake me off, but your Daddy's clench is firm. You're not going anywhere. The tears flow freely down your cheeks. Eventually you settle and brace yourself for the next impact. Again the bamboo whistles and lands on your bum. Again you wail in agony. You kick your legs wildly and again you try pleading. "Enough, Daddy! Please! I'm sorry, Daddy!" It's not enough for me, not at all. As I raise my arm, you bite down on the blankets. Thwack! The cane cruelly licks you again. A howl of torment escapes your lips, but you are losing the energy for physical resistance. I inspect your bottom. Four expertly placed stripes, glowing red on each cheek. I am pleased with my work so far, but I'm still not finished. You grit your teeth and await the next excruciating smack. It falls with brutal accuracy, causing another scream and two more stripes. We both know the next one will be the last. There is an unspoken agreement between us that I won't go past six of the best. We also know it will be the most savage of all. Your face is screwed up and buried in the white linen. Fists clenched and knuckles white. Your arse is on fire. Each second you have to wait with this apprehension feels like an hour and I'm dragging it out as long as possible. This one is really going to count. At last it comes. A crack of thunder across the very tops of your thighs and a lightning jolt courses through your whole body. I can feel your muscles spasming. You don't yelp or cry at this one, it's too intense, just a loud, sharp gasp. It takes your breath away. It is done. Your spanking is over. I release you and catch my own breath back. You lie sobbing and twitching uncontrollably. Your rear end is stinging and throbbing like never before. Nothing feels quite like the cane and nothing can prepare you for it. You'll be feeling this for days to come. A harsh reminder not to test Daddy. Sitting myself on the bed, I try to comfort you. Kisses on your shoulders, stroking your hair, gently caressing your back, from neck to hip. "Shh. There, there, Baby Girl. It's all finished now." I venture onto your vividly lined bottom. As soon as I make the slightest contact with one of the hypersensitive wheals, you flinch and hiss. "No. No, Daddy, please don't. It hurts." I leave you and disappear into the bathroom. I return shortly with a flannel soaking in a bowl of cold water and some soothing balm. I can't see you suffer for long. The wet terrycloth is shocking at first, but soon begins to offer relief from the burning left buy the rod. Your sobs gradually subside and the twitches cease. Next the lotion. You grimace again, it smarts despite my efforts to be gentle. However, once applied, the calming aloe vera works its magic. Once your bottom is well treated, I shift my attention to your face. You're flushed and your eyes are puffy. I refresh the flannel in the bowl and dab your face with the cool, sodden cloth. You look at me and sniffle, the corners of your mouth downturned. I kiss your forehead and hold you close. "I'm sorry I'm such a bad girl, Daddy. I don't mean to be," you say, still sobbing slightly. "Now, now, Poppet, it's okay. I know you're a good girl really," I reassure you and you nuzzle up to my chest. **** Daddy cradles you in his powerful arms. The arms he used to restrain you, to hold you down and flog you, just a few minutes ago. Who would have thought arms capable of such uncompromising severity could also be so tender and loving? Your bum is still singing a chorus of misery, but you feel clean. The lash has washed away your sins. You have paid your penance, atoned and been redeemed by Daddy's strict hand. The pain drowned out the noise and confusion in your mind, the anxiety that torments you, leaving behind sweet silence, total peace. You are free. **** Breeding Neither of us realises how long it's been. It could be hours. The two of us drifting in and out of sleep. Arms and legs entwined, skin against skin, sweat mingling with sweat, my body warming yours. Hands wander in a semi-conscious haze. Touching, fondling, groping. Thighs opening. Genitals stiffening and moistening. Fingers stroking and penetrating. Lips find lips. I lay you on your stomach, passive and acquiescent, yielding instantly. You appear so vulnerable beneath me, such an innocent little thing. Who would ever guess the dramatic way you suck my dick and swallow my cum? I'm astonished at how alluring you can be, without even trying. Effortlessly irresistible, your seductive power is overwhelming. Never before have I felt such a pull, such desire to have you in every way imaginable. You whimper as I enter you. My entire length sinks in unimpeded, despite the tightness of your quim. My considerable girth stretches you. You accept it willingly and remain docile. Inside is snug and warm. The walls of your vagina grip and hug my shaft. It feels as though you are drawing me into you. Our hips rock and sway in unison. I am reenergized by arousal and increase the speed and intensity of my thrusts. My hips slam against you as I work my prick ever deeper. Your moans, half of pleasure, half of distress, spur me on. I grab a fistful of hair as I pound you. Frantically driving Daddy's dick into your tight, young hole. "I'm going to come inside you." "Daddy?" "I'm going to shoot my cum inside of you. I'm going to come in you and knock you up." "No. No!" "I'm going to make you pregnant, I'm going to put a baby in your womb." "But...but, I'm too young to be a mummy, Daddy!" It's too late. Choices are no longer yours to make. Daddy has decided and what Daddy says goes. Your body isn't yours to control anymore. "You're Daddy's little breeding slut." My final fervent thrusts hit your cervix. High pitched cries of ecstasy and lust pass your lips. Primal growls and grunts in low gravelly tones emanate from within me. Semen erupts from my manhood, gushing into you. Daddy's hot, thick, white spunk fills his little girl's unwilling cunt. Feeling the force and warmth of my load inside of you, you come too. The exquisite release of orgasm. Your pussy clenches, milking the last of my cum from me and into you. We are spent. **** He holds you. Fingers interlaced. You hold your belly. Both of you wondering, "did we?" He looks at you and kisses your cheek. At this moment, you may well be prettier and more radiant than he has ever seen you. More gorgeous than he even thought possible. He feels a catch in his throat. Frustration at his shocking inability to express what he's feeling. Tonight has been a torrent of emotions, conflicting and harmonious, for both of you. Anticipation and relief, adulation and fear, fury and redemption, aggression, regret, forgiveness. It's not over yet. Daddy still has one last thing in store for his little one. **** Reward Your stomach does a backflip, the blindfold makes you nervous. The last time Daddy put it on you, he left you tied up in the dark for hours, then beat your bum raw with his belt. You don't know how you'd be able to cope with another spanking after receiving the cane already today, but don't object. Naked, blind and totally helpless, you sit perched on the edge of the bed. Silently and patiently waiting. You've reached that perfect point of submission, completely given yourself to your Daddy. Physically, psychologically, intellectually, spiritually. You know you will take anything he has to give you, any punishment he sees fit. You have no choice, no thoughts, no opinions. Daddy is in charge and Daddy knows best. Your only role now is to feel and to obey. He's rummaging around, as if trying to find something. Perhaps it's those evil nipple clamps? No, they are in the toy box and he's not looking in there. Maybe something worse? The not knowing is almost too much to take, far worse than the pain of your well chastened derrière. You do not move, do not utter the slightest sound, not a peep of complaint. At long last the searching stops and Daddy comes to a rest in front of you. He kneels down, takes your left foot in his hand and rests it on his knee. This isn't what you were expecting at all. "You pleased me tonight, Angel," you can hear the smile in his voice. "You had a moment of naughtiness and made me very cross, but you took your punishment well. I'm proud of you and want to give you a present. I bought it some time ago, but I've been waiting for the perfect opportunity to give it to you. It's something very special, you must wear it always." There is a slight tickle of something cold on your instep. Daddy's fingers fasten it in place. It's jewellery. Daddy has given you an anklet, a symbol of his ownership of you. You officially belong to him now, totally and utterly. You always knew you did, you felt it and were sure he felt it too. Now you have proof, a real, physical, tangible object to display that fact to the world. Even when he is away, you will always have this reminder that you are his property. You can't suppress it for a second more. Your upper lip goes all aquiver and the tears begin again. Daddy knows these are tears of joy. He pulls the cover from your eyes and dabs them dry. Looking down, you see the shiny, white gold chain around your tarsus. There's a tastefully small tag hanging from one of the links, engraved with a single word... "Daddy's"