Being A Daddy’s Girl



I thought that I meant nothing to him. And told him I didn’t. I spoke when I should have just said what hurt me. I should have allowed the love that we have, the affinity tear born to sustain me. But I didn’t.

I doubted. I ran. Yet, by this magic, he pulled me back to him.

I felt his hands on me the night of this great pulling away. I heard his voice in my head. “Come back to me. Come back to me.” My rage unbudging, I would not return to him. I willed my body to stop responding to him. I willed my inner self to forget his touch. Forget his voice. Forget the wonder and power of the coming together of male and female form.

I couldn’t forget how complete I felt when he pushed and inside me, telling me to open. Willing the quiet parts that shouted for him, to rise from my belly. From that rising, this fire becomes vocal–shaping to my mouth into his name. “Daddy.”

After our reconnecting, the reclaiming of my body as his and his as mine, I put my head on his lap. The warmth of his heavy hand on my slick face, damp from my tears, and his cum, soothes me. When he tucks my hair behind my ear, its the same gentleness that moved my thighs apart to welcome him home. I hang on the warmth of his thighs, closing my eyes as I feel his manhood throb behind my head. “Daddy.”

Deeper than any apology I could give him. Sweeter than any ‘I love you.’ His fingers along my bare back and shoulder coaxing a quiet growl from him. “You belong to me, Kitten.” More tears fall from my eyes, closing the memories of my body contorted to fit his. Blindfolded and on my knees to be spanked to remember my place. Closed remembering how he pulled my hair and kissed under my left ear, the tangle to braids n his fist as he told me how I hurt him. How crazy he was about me.

How insane I made him when I shut off to him. “All of you is mine, little one.” His hands were how and insistent. My body empty from his cock, watering as any mouth would be before being fed. “Don’t you dare try to do this again, Kitten. You are home.” Harder swat and I screamed more from need than pain. He was breaking me to fit me again. He growled in my ear, nuzzling along the right side of my jaw. “You are home. My home.”

I lay there, happy and sated. I was safe. I was home. I was with my Daddy.

Nothing bad could ever happen to me. Even if I did it myself.

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Love & Possession: The Dark Set (Week 4)-Under Lock & Key



I touch my neck more now that I have a collar. I touch it more when there’s nothing on it, when it’s naked. Just as I was when it was given to me. When I gave myself to him.

I’d be lying to say that I was shocked or didn’t expect it. It would be a further lie to say that I didn’t want it. I did. It was a need to be his at this point. It is a funny thing that women do when we find a satisfaction in things the world around us finds devious. We are taught to be ashamed, we shouldn’t like it. We shouldn’t like it, let alone enjoy it or want it as often as possible.

I sat at my desk, my inner thighs becoming slick thinking of Baron. I thought of our past weekend together. I held my head in my hands, letting my hair spill on the nape of my neck. I had never been so grateful for a door to my office. I ran my hand through the thick dark curls. I heard his voice in my ear. “You can never belong to anyone like you belong to me.” I felt the flush come over me again. This rightness that let me know he wasn’t lying, couldn’t be lying to me.

I remembered how he had told me to sit in this chair, in this room lit only by candles. Baron was always romantic, in a gothic way. I adored that about him. There were always grand gestures of love, and acknowledgement since we started dating two years ago. As he held my hand down this hallway of his house. My pulse quickened next to his. This buzzing kismet energy passed between us.

This room off his library he had never hidden from me, but he never spoke about it. The house was a century old when he bought it with his first check. A late gift from his grandfather after graduating law school. “I hide nothing from you, Ariel.” My breath caught in my chest. “You are all I want, and a ring,” he snorted as if something bitter passed by him. “A ring can’t covey that.”

He had asked me to marry him, but then he had asked if I was open for more. Could I ‘give’ him more. Last week, this past Wednesday, he told me to leave work early. He left a note on the door, with a key. I was supposed to go in and change into the outfit on the four-poster bed. It was this simple white gown. The note on the gown specified to keep my hair down. I looked in the mirror, the late sunset spilling into the room. I’m sure that, for other women, the suspense would have been too much. But I did as the note instructed. I lay on the bed. And waited.

After waking me with a kiss, his eyes fierce and brown in his walnut colored face, he spoke. “Delicious.” he said. I smiled as he helped me up. Taking his hand, we went towards our destination.

Amongst the candles and the velvet chair I sat in with its high-back, I closed my eyes. I heard him breathing, ragged then smooth. There was rustling of a package, and I fought the instinct to open my eyes. There were footsteps around me, hands touching. The backs of my ears. My lips. Cheeks. The nape of my neck. “Of all you are, wife will be the smallest of these things.” My breathing caught, mind racing to process what he meant. “You and all this marvelous drive and fire,” he kissed my cheek. “I want to guide. To rule.” I held my breath, wondering. “I want you to be mine. Totally. Always.”

I swallowed. Was this the more? What  he wanted of me? I fluttered my eyes to the black box he held. “You can open them, Ariel.” I sat, looking at his face, before looking back at the box he held before his white starched shirt. “I want you to truly be mine, Ariel.” I looked at him, through him almost. I turned my head, tilting my chin. He stroked my chin, softly. “I want you to be mine.” he said again, definite and forceful. It was the tone he used when he was with clients or wanted me to be submissive. It always worked-in both cases.

I sat silent. Thrilled and scared. We had talked about this. We toyed with the idea of him owning me, of me being a wife and possession. Baron had talked about collaring me. I knew this because he left his iPad open once after we dated for six months. I remembered how–settled I felt. I wanted that from him. I wanted that depth, that intimacy–that assurance that I was what he wanted. I knew he loved me. But I wanted him to see what that meant.

“Ari?” he said, he held my gaze. “I want you to be mine. All mine. Bound to me.” The box opened, his eyes focused. “This is yours.” It was this thin gold collar with a lock. “It is no coincidence that I call you Kitten.” I felt my eyes water and my inner walls clench. I froze, thinking all I wanted was this around my neck. I wanted the weight. I wanted the proof. I wanted this with him. I trusted him, beyond a husband, and only slightly less than God.

I wanted this. I needed that anchor that a mere ring couldn’t give me.

This was the more.

“Answer me, Kitten. Now.” I took a deep breath, swallowed before I answered. I opened my eyes. “Yes. I can give you this. I can give you the more.” With the same icy focus, he unclasped the collar, setting the box on my lap. “When I need you to be subdued, I’ll put this on you. When I need you to be my relief and toy, you will keep this on.” He kissed me as the clasp set. His hands were in my hair, love powering the tugs he gave. “This is irrevocable.” He kissed me again. “You are mine. Heart and body. Do you understand?” My eyes opened to meet his. “Yes, sir.” He kissed the bridge of my nose. “My gorgeous kitten. You have made me so happy.”  He pulled me to my feet, turned me to the mirror he was in front of. He unzipped the dress and let it become a puddle around my feet. Kisses traced my shoulders and upper back, while his hands cupped my breasts. “I am going to have so much fun with you.” He nipped the back of my left ear before he growled into it.

The phone rang, snapping me back to the present. “Riggins Law Office.” There was silence before a voice answered. “Yeah, I gotta flower delivery here.” The voice was puzzled and irritated. “Okay, for who and of what?” I thought that perhaps my boss ordered flowers for his wife again. “Four dozen roses. For someone named,” there was paper rattling. “for Kitten.” My mouth was dry. “From Daddy.” I closed my eyes, licking my lips. “Someone will be down to get them.”