Wednesday, January 24, 2018


I sit on a park bench and wait for you. We've made a little moment apart from our lives to spend together just you and I. You've known me for a long time; over 12 years. I love you, more than any words can ever fully express. That's a rare thing. I do not love easily. I'm here to bring you three things, and three things only: Time away, tranquility, and my words. The first two you deserve so much, the last, I hope give you a little bit of joy.

I see you park your car, and you get out and wave to me.  I smile. You are one of the only people in the world that I would do anything for, and you know that. You are also one of the only people who understands who I am, and you know that also. We share a bond, and at the center of it is trust and love. You don't call me Daddy, but you think of me as Daddy. And for me, at this moment, that is enough.

I stand, you hug me, and I feel your hands squeeze tight against my back. My nose is buried in your hair, and while it smells like cotton candy, there is this little spot behind your ear that I selfishly inhale deeply each time I have the opportunity. You know why. You understand. You don't care that I do it, and that makes me both happy and incredibly aroused at the same time.

We sit, and I tell you to lie your head back on the bench. I've brought you a little pillow to lie your head on, and while I fantasize that you might push it away and choose my lap instead, I never ask, because I love you, and I don't want to risk losing the innocence that half of my heart has for you by perhaps seeing you look at me funny and say "It's ok. I'll use the pillow.".

You close your eyes, and I begin reading to you. The book itself is irrelevant. You didn't come here to be entertained. You came here to forget the world and close your eyes and be read to. The pages of the book fan to the first chapter, and I begin. The first words bring a smile to your lips. Not because they are interesting, but because Daddy is reading to you.

After a few minutes, I glance over and see your head has laid to the side. Your chest is rising and falling, and your lips are parted slightly. You've fallen asleep. I stop reading, and decide that for the next hour, nothing will disturb you. This is your time; nobody else's. I brush your hair away from your face, and for a few minutes allow my mind to wander. Allow it to journey to a place I know is deeply seated in your life. The only difference, is that this is the real world, you are owned, and not by me.

I imagine what it would be like if you WERE mine. What I would do to you, and do for you. I imagine picking you up from work. You've spent all day on your feet, and you just want to lie your head back and let go. You aren't sleepy, you are just tired, and cranky, and want to scream at the world. You've had an argument with someone that day, and you tell me that you are so angry that you could spit fire. I take your tiny little hand in mine, and hold it gently. "Shhh." I say, softly. We're going home now, and as soon as we get there, you will be MINE. Nobody else's. From the moment we get home until you fall asleep tonight, you belong to ME."

You scoff, and give me a look of coy amusement.

I bring your hand to my lips, kiss it, look deep into your eyes, and say with a growl "Whose are you?"

You gasp, a smile creeps across your lips, and you say with a sigh: "Daddy's."

We drive slowly, unrushed. You have nowhere to be tonight, and neither do I. I've prepared the house for your arrival, and the moment you step in, you let out a breath of relief. You kick off your shoes, reach under your shirt and unsnap your bra, and I take them off your hands, walking you around to the couch. You sit, and lie your head back. You drape your hands and wrists over the back of the couch, anticipating another boring night of TV. That thought is jarred from your mind, however, when I approach you from behind, and slip your wrists into a carefully tied noose made from an old scarf. The other end I quickly wind around one of the couch's rear legs, tying it tight. You protest "Hey, what the heck..." and I quickly move next to your ear...

"Whose are you?" I say.

You take a second to refocus. "Daddy's." you respond. And your shoulders relax.

"Good girl." I say.

Your tight little t-shirt is strained against your chest, thanks to the bonds I've made from behind. Your FULL breasts have always been a huge weakness of mine, and I have longed so many times to see them, touch them, taste them, and claim them. "These are MINE." I say as I gaze into your eyes. "Yes, Daddy." you reply. "Would Daddy want his girl to be on her knees for him?" you say with your eyes looking up. This question makes a shiver of electricity radiate all over me, but I calmly whisper back to you "No, little one. Daddy comes second. You know that. What is our rule #4? Say it for Daddy."

You smile again "Rule #4: I come first, always."

"Exactly, little one." I say. "Now, are you listening?"

You nod.

"Until I say otherwise, the only words you are allowed are "Yes, Daddy." do you understand?"

"Yes, Daddy." you say.

"Good girl." I say. "You will have no say whatsover in what Daddy will need from you, do to you, or take from you, you you understand?"

You nod.

"You can repeat rule number one now, and only rule number one. Then we go back to only "Yes, Daddy." so let me hear rule number one."

"Rule #1: Daddy wants equals Daddy takes. Daddy doesn't need permission."

In one smooth movement, I raise your shirt upward, your breasts are even MORE beautiful, full, and perfect than I imagined. The heat from your workday and the smell of your perfume and the scent of your body mix into the most amazing sexual scent I can describe. The slight coolness of the air causes your nipples to respond, and with absolutely no restraint on my part, I lean forweard and take your right nipple fully into my mouth. You moan slightly, and my cock strains against the confines of my jeans. My other hand finds your left nipple, and works it firmly between my fingers. You whimper at this touch, and before you can respond further, I move to it with my lips, swirling my tongue over it, tasting your skin and your salt your sex. I place a hand on your tummy, and feel it tembling under my touch. Your breath comes out in little gasps, and I know that what will happen next is going to make this moment pale in comparison.

I trail my kisses lower, allowing a line of caresses to run from your breastbone, to your belly, and down to the snap of your jeans. I press my nose deep into the little recess of your crotch, and inhale your scent greedily. I stand, my cock at full attention and betraying that to the amusement of your eyes. From the table nearby, I bring two more scarves. I unzip and remove your jeans, then your panties come down as well. Your carefully manicured little crotch makes my sex explode with need, but this will not be rushed. My little girl comes first. Always.

I take one scarf, tie it your right ankle and the other end tightly to the front leg of the sofa. The other scarf finds the other ankle and leg. Your are not fully spread apart, but neither are you able to deny Daddy full access. I kneel between your legs, and while you fully expect a very slow, teasing buildup, Daddy has other plans. With no hesitation or restraint, Daddy leans forward, parts your lips, finds your clit, and with one, full, slow motion, runs the flat of his tongue from the bottom of your pussy to the top, painting a wide path across your clit. Your hips buck upward, and your cry out "Ooooooh Daddy!!!"

Again, it requires every bit of patience and self control I can muster to keep from driving my cock into his little girl right then and there.

But I will not.

That is not Daddy's way.

Kitty comes first, always.

To be continued...again.

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