Daddy’s Little Girl
By Tanke Bransdottir
Little girls who don’t take care of their Daddy’s presents, get punished.
“But I don’t want to!”
Daddy sighed heavily as he watched his little girl stomp her high-heeled foot and put on her pouty face. His intellect saw a beautiful, elegantly dressed 22-year-old woman – though she could easily pass for years younger – with flawless pale skin and midnight-black hair tumbling in soft waves to her slim shoulders. Yet, in his heart, she would always be his little girl.
“Sweetie,” he said, trying reason, “Daddy spent a lot of money to buy it for you, now you have to take care of it, maintain it. Remember how all through high school you cried that you were the only girl who didn’t have one? I know you remember when I told you if you were good, kept your grades up, and graduated, I’d buy you one. But it seems you forgot how you swore – by everything sacred –you would cherish it and do everything to take care of it and keep it healthy and clean. Yet here you are, throwing a tantrum to avoid a simple little task.”
Changing tactics, she put on her sad puppy dog eyes as she slinked toward the large imposing figure of her daddy, “It makes me feel… yucky… dirty.” She laid her head and chest against his massive chest as she cooed, “You’ve done it ever since I got it. You never seemed to mind before… and you’ve done it sooo well… couldn’t you pleeeease do it again?”
He sighed again; he seemed to be doing that a lot lately. He wrapped his lovely little girl in his arms as he said in exasperation, “What am I going to do with you?”
Suppressing a giggle, she replied, “Just love me!”
“You know I do,” he said, kissing the top of her head. Then, steeling himself, he broke the embrace, held her at arm’s length by her shoulders and put on his most serious Daddy face as he locked eyes with her.
“Now kitten, I know you think sometimes I’m just a big softy because I love you so much. It makes it so easy at times for you to wrap me around your little finger to get what you want. I don’t mind; if I could, I’d give you everything.
“But you also know that when I do put my foot down, I can be quite stern… and while you know it doesn’t happen very often, I’m about to be cross with you. Very cross. You know I don’t mind doing this for you – as you’ve guessed, I rather enjoy it. But within a few weeks, you will finally – FINALLY – be heading away to college. Daddy simply won’t be there to do it for you; you will just have to do it yourself… everyday… religiously! And to ensure you do it properly, you might as well start doing it for yourself now so Daddy can watch you and make sure you do it correctly.”
All other tactics having failed, she reverted to her spoiled brat mode, crossing her arms, and declaring in a surly huff, “I’m a grown woman… and, and, and… I won’t do it! You can’t make me!”
She instantly saw what a mistake her rash, impulsive statement was, as she watched the immediate change of expression on Daddy’s face.
“Can’t I?” he growled. In two strides he was on her, grabbing a handful of that luxurious hair in his fist as he continued on, driving her back against the wall.
She squealed, “I’m sorry, Daddy! I’m sorry, I’m sorry…” until he banged her head against the wall – not hard, but enough to silence her.
“Too late!” he said menacingly, “It seem a certain little girl needs a reminder about who I am and who… and what… she is!”
It took him just a moment or two to tear her haute couture dress from her shapely frame with his powerful hands. He took a moment to admire her state of undress.
Along with her graduation present, his pet was now allowed to wear fashions suitable to her new status as a full-fledged adult. He encouraged her to dress in the style of all the other women of her age and social set, if slightly more conservative, i.e., no pants, no hemlines above the knee.
However, he had very strict guidelines as to her lingerie. Pantihose were forbidden except under the most unusual of circumstances. Garterbelts and retro-style girdles and firm control panties with hose were the rule. Another apparent rule was that all items of her intimate apparel were white, ivory or nude in color. When she had asked why, Daddy would only say it was part of the “look” he was going for and would say no more. His little girl knew better than to question father further.
And now he drank in The Look he had so lovingly created. From her petite feet, shod in black three-inch Cuban-heeled pumps with ankle-straps, his eyes followed the length of her shapely leg, up its cinnamon-colored, fully fashioned stocking-clad length, to the ivory colored garter strap, that disappeared under kitten’s snug, French-cut, ivory panties. He noted with pleasure the outlines of the stout garterbelt, of a matching hue, beneath those clinging knickers. With satisfaction, he noted that the very respectable hips and derriere straining her panties’ seams, were all natural.
Heading north, he took in the way his pet filled out the C-cups of the ivory half-cup demi bra, the final piece of her matched lingerie ensemble. He smiled with pride recalling that her cleavage, like her other feminine curves, were produced by nature… with a little help.
The crowning glory of The Look was not his girl’s cascade of wavy, sable hair – though that was nearly indispensable. No, the final piece of his master work was the look of mock contrition and fear, hiding a voluptuous longing for submission. Even with her face cast downward in humility, he swore he could see her struggle to suppress a smirk.
She was generally a well-behaved girl; joyfully submissive, eager to please, eager to obey. Yet, at the oddest points, she would be petulant and bratty, and would need punishment and discipline to correct her ways. For a while, he was puzzled by her seeming rebellion – for he was very certain he had broken her good and proper right at the start.
Soon however…he came to understand; she enjoyed forced submission.
She was his creation and, molded over years by his strict and sensual hand, she had learned to revel in the more bestial demonstrations of his total dominion over her. These were meted out to correct poor behavior or improve performance.
His princess always strove for perfection and took pride in pleasing her Daddy. Which left her with a dilemma; how can she partake in the extreme rites of submission…
…If she doesn’t rebel?
The little minx had his hands tied; he couldn’t let such insubordination stand uncorrected, but it somehow reduced his enthusiasm for the exercise – granted, by only a small degree – knowing that punishment was exactly what she had planned.
“Anyway,” he thought to himself, “on with the show.”
“Stay!” he commanded his nearly naked and fidgeting charge, as he dragged a straight back chair from her dressing table to the center of her bedroom. Carefully draping his jacket over the back of the chair, he methodically removed his tie and folded it before placing it in his jacket pocket. In the same unhurried pace, he proceeded to remove his cufflinks and roll his shirt sleeves up, revealing mighty forearms, furred in the same shade of obsidian as the mane on the tremulous girl, shivering in her scandalous skivvies, just a few feet away.
When his pantomime of preparation was complete, he ceremoniously seated himself and faced forward, leaning forward, arms outstretched and braced on knees. This placed the penitent princess to his right, staring at her Daddy’s profile with mounting anxiety. After a suitable period of discomforting silence and stillness, Daddy turned toward his little hugabug, and locked eyes with her.
She stared into her Master’s ice-blue eyes with her own emerald ones… and was lost… as she always was. She thought of herself as prey, caught in the predator’s spotlight; can’t fight, no flight. All that remains… is surrender.
The man’s rugged features cracked a shadow of a smile as his girl’s captivating eyes fluttered their long lashes closed, and her face tilted down in graceful defeat. As she did so, most of her trembling subsided.
Facing forward again as he leaned back in the chair, Daddy slapped his right thigh and, without looking at her, he barked, “Come. Now.”
The shakes resurfaced as she took careful steps toward her doom at the hands of her Daddy, her master… her god. From painful experience, she came to rest with both her legs touching his right leg, standing at rigid – if somewhat unsteady – attention, facing off into the unfocused distance.
“Drop ‘em.”
The terse command made the girl visibly flinch, but she recovered quickly and, without breaking her stand, she reached back, grabbed the waistband of her panties, and slowly lowered them until they rested below the swell of her delectable derriere.
“Bend.”
With practiced ease, she made a slow, controlled bend from the waist, until her back was parallel to the floor, her arms straight, her hands on Daddy’s left thigh for support.
Satisfied at last that her form was acceptable, he ordered, “Down.”
First, in one smooth motion, she bent further at the waist, even as she bent arms until she was resting on her forearms on his lap. In a separate move, she pushed her forearms out in front of her, letting gravity lower her slowly, ending up with her hips resting dead center of her Daddy’s lap, her bare beautiful buns facing up.
What followed were several minutes of the large man adjusting his legs, adjusting his grip on the girl’s midsection, followed by a leisurely inspection – visual and manual – of his kitten’s bottom and environs. He could guess at how much restraint she must be exerting to stay still and not curse him aloud for the cruelty of his tenderness before the pain. But she endured. It’s what she did. As he had taught her, that was one of her strengths; a skill possessed by few.
“Twenty,” he declared, “It should be forty, but I have things to do.”
The first blow came immediately. Her shriek was more of surprise than pain.
“Count!”
Smack!
“One, sir. Thank you, sir.”
Smack!
“Two, sir. Thank you, sir.”
He was not using his full force. He would build to that.
Smack!
“Th,three, sir. Th,thank you, sir.”
Nor was he spacing out his blows with intervals of tender caresses. She was a big girl now; she got a big girl’s punishment.
Smack!
“F,f,four, sir! Th,thank you SIR!”
The cane next time, he idly thought. He noted that he needed to advance her bondage and discipline training. She might be less frivolous with her disobedience after a good flogging session on the Saint Andrews cross.
Smack!
“Fffff-aaah…Five, sir! Yes, sir! Thank you, sir!”
***
“Twenty, twenty, twenty! Sir! Thank you! Sir!”
Inspecting his little girl’s blazing bum, he was certain that once the red faded, there would be a few bruises. He always regretted anything that marred his princess’ beauty… but damnit, dealing with all this recent misbehavior was tiresome. Despite his previous resolve to be totally clinical in this correction, he could not help but let his hand wander over the bright crimson landscape of her flawless behind, beautifully framed by her garterbelt and its straps. He may have to take time later and massage lotion into her wounded butt.
In response, his precious girl sighed heavily, and even though she knew not to speak unless called on to do so, she nevertheless blurted out, “I’m so sorry, Daddy.”
Smack!
“Shut up!” He then sighed and said flatly, “And no… you’re not sorry… and that’s the problem.”
He gently stroked her plump and glowing bottom for a few more moments before reluctantly sitting upright in the chair and issuing his next command.
“Kneel.”
She slid limply off his lap into a pile of boneless, breathless, sweating flesh to his right.
“Here,” he directed, pointing at the space directly in front of his chair. With some effort, his pet crawled unsteadily to the designated spot, and once there, knelt, spread her knees wide, sat back on her heels and interlocked her fingers, placing her hands behind her head. Her back straight, her elbows thrown wide, and her head erect, she dropped her gaze submissively and awaited his next command.
“I must tell you, kitten,” he began, calmly, “I fully expected and was prepared to deal with rebelliousness when you were younger. I was pleasantly surprised by what a good little girl you were and how well you behaved. But here you are – as you say, ‘a grown woman,’ – and you give me more trouble now than you ever did! Especially since you’ve gotten your graduation present, you’ve been acting out more and more. What is it? Now you’re refusing to do basic daily maintenance on that very expensive and precious gift…as you swore you would do a thousand times? I don’t get it. What do you have to say for yourself?”
She began quietly sobbing, and he was silent while she gathered her words. At last she squeaked out a few words.
“You don’t love me anymore,” she whined pitifully.
“What?” He hoped he had heard her wrong.
“You don’t love me anymore,” she spat with more venom, “You never want to spend time with me!”
He wanted to laugh, but then saw how deeply she felt it to be true. He was truly confused.
“Princess,” he said softly, “I spend more time with you now than ever before.”
“No you don’t!” she shouted bitterly, “you spend time with… ‘it’!”
Even if he could have thought of a response, she didn’t allow him time to say it.
“I see you four times a day and all you want to talk about is ‘it’. And once you’ve taken care of ‘it’, you’re gone… and I’m alone. You love ‘it’ more than you love me! You say it’s mine, but I think you got it just for yourself. It’s your new toy. And now you want me to take care of it for you… so you’re not forced to spend so much time with me!”
Her anger spent, she began to weep in anguish. The discipline of her position forgotten, she covered her tear-stained face with both her hands as her body shook with pitiable sobs.
While her logic was faulty and he bristled at the accusation, from her point of view, he could easily see where she could feel that way… which she obviously did; she felt it deeply. Although she had a woman’s body, so much of her is still an insecure little girl. He knew he would need to reassure her of his love and desire for her.
“Here,” he said, pulling a handkerchief out of his pocket and offering it to her saying, “It breaks Daddy’s heart to hear my little girl say she thinks he doesn’t love her. That’s just not true. That said, I can see how you might feel that way.
“I could tell you that although I love our time together, it takes me away from many important matters; business that allows me to provide for my little girl in the style that she deserves. I could also say that because of that, sometimes my mind may wander back to that business when we’re together.
“But no more excuses; my little girl is sad and hurt and I intend to do something about that. But first…” he said, then added more sternly, “you still have something to answer for, Missy!”
A wave of instinctual fear passed through the kneeling – and now trembling – girl as she watched her Daddy stand up and unbuckle his belt. Was he going to beat her with it? He hadn’t done that in years! What offense of hers was so heinous that it justified such brutality?
When he unzipped his fly and pushed his pants and undershorts down, allowing them to fall to his ankles, relief washed over her features as she gazed longingly at his massive, rampant manhood, bouncing inches from her face.
“Do you see what you’ve done?” he asked, “You’ve made Daddy all hard. What do you have to say for yourself?”
“I’m so sorry I made your big… fat… cock… so hard… and sore,” she said, lust dripping from every syllable, “Is there anything… anything at all… I could do to make it feel better?”
“I believe so…but, right now,” he said as he began to unbutton his shirt, “you can take my shoes and socks off.”
When she had done as commanded, he stepped out of his pants and underwear, kicking them to the side. Only then did she dare look up, and as she did, she suppressed a gasp; she thought him a magnificent specimen, yet it always took her breath away every time she first viewed his perfection in person.
At six feet, three inches, broad of shoulders and chest and tightly muscled from head to foot, she often thought he would make a perfect artist’s model for a superhero, though, as he had a dark pelt of fur on arms, chest and legs, maybe more Wolverine than Superman. He kept his black hair short – just long enough for it to lie flat against his skull… mostly. A touch of grey hair graced his temples as well as being sprinkled lightly throughout his dense chest hair. His hard features, marked with a few minor scars, were yet handsome, if decidedly intimidating.
The rest of his body sported scars as well – some immediately noticeable, others obscure by the thick carpeting of hair on his torso. In times past, as he laid with her in the afterglow of either punishment or reward (so difficult to know the difference), he would allow his little girl to trace the outlines of this residue of trauma with her delicate fingers and permit her to ask their origin. He would then regale her with tales of high adventure and reckless youth.
At first, she thought he was inventing stories to entertain his little princess, but something in the manner in which he relayed these exploits, quickly made her change her mind. Besides; for better or ill, he had never lied to her. Sometimes, she prayed he would… but no, she had learned to trust his word implicitly.
“Bare your breasts, pumpkin,” he directed, “show Daddy your perfect nipples.”
Her training ensured that she understood this code phrase to mean that without removing any clothes, she was to promptly expose her pert little mounds to his inspection. Had he wanted her to remove her bra, he would have said so plainly. He had once shared a well-known secret with her; that partial nudity is more erotic than complete nudity. This thought ran through her mind as she made a show of slowly pushing down the shoulder straps of her bra, then peeling the half cups down, releasing her perky bosoms… all while maintaining eye contact and a lascivious grin.
‘Perfect’ was the correct word for the teats that surmounted his charge’s well-formed mounds. Her silver-dollar sized areola were dark rose-colored, puffy little domes supporting fat, turgid, burgundy nubs that rose three quarters of an inch from their base.
He reached out and took hold of a breast with each hand, gently twisting, tweaking, and stroking her hyper sensitive nipples. She quickly threw her head back and closing her eyes, began to moan and gasp. The sensations he engendered soon became so intense they threatened to overwhelm her. It was as if she were drowning in pleasure and feared she might die. Her instincts told her to pull away – make it stop! Yet her training told she would endure.
He saw his pet’s clenched fists, tight-shut eyes and the tremors taking hold of her body and knew she was reaching her limits. A minute later, he released her beautiful buds, but not before making a note to have her nipples pierced and ringed for her college graduation.
Coming down from that high, she eventually opened her eyes and focused her attention on the central truth of her existence, bobbing there inches from her plump, sensual lips; her Daddy’s cock.
At nine or ten inched long when erect (she’d never measured it, though often she was tempted), and easily seven inches around at the base, she thought his instrument huge. She understood, intellectually, that there were larger tools out there – she’d seen some in the pornography Daddy shared with her – but knowing how much effort it took to take Daddy’s full length and girth, how much he stretched her out, she fervently hoped never to meet a larger implement in real life.
But she sincerely loved her Daddy, loved his attentions, loved being the sheath for his magnificent blade. If she was honest with herself, she even loved the initial pain of his entry, knowing the intensity of the pleasure that always followed.
“Wet it down good, kitten. Daddy doesn’t want to hurt his precious girl.”
She took his member in both her hands and lovingly, reverently began sucking and licking the head as he placed a gentle, guiding hand at the base of her skull. Early on, she had tearfully accepted that she would never be able to take much more than half his length in her mouth and throat, and so she had focused on developing other oral techniques with lips, tongue, and cheeks in order to properly worship her master’s cock.
And worship it was for her. Using her lips to glide up and down the sensitive underside of his shaft, then repeating the process on the top side, she deliberately deposited excessive amounts of drool, liberally lubricating his pole both for her hand as she stroked his base… and future actions.
The taste, smell, and feel of him, the heat and pulsing of his flesh, was intoxicating for her. In that eternal moment, nothing existed for her but that tower of man-meat and demonstrating her deep understanding and appreciation for it. A distant part of her knew she should slow down, that this was but prelude to the main act, but, lost in the moment, all her efforts turned more and more toward feeling him explode in her mouth and swallowing his hot salty essence.
Suddenly she felt a slight tug on her hair.
“Woah, precious,” Daddy said as he eased his little cocksucker’s mouth off his glistening rod, “it takes Daddy a little longer to reboot these days… once you’ve rung his bell. Still,” he added, caressing her cheek as she gazed up at him with love, lust and devotion, “I’m so proud and happy to see that you continue to give nothing but your best to the task.”
He held out his hands and she placed hers in his as he assisted her to her feet. Once she was standing, he gestured for her to step back so he could take in all of her. He noted that her panties had fallen to her ankles, exposing her scruffy pubic hair still struggling to grow back. He sent himself a mental memo that he had to decide soon if she should trim it, shave it, wax it, or have all the hair permanently removed, but he couldn’t concern himself with that now.
“Kick those knickers to the side,” he said with a hint of impatience. She immediately complied, returning then to her place of inspection, though she could barely stand still, so excited was she.
Her master fought his impulses and took a leisurely minute to admire his pet’s overall perfection. With a gesture from Daddy, the girl stood straight and tall, fingers interlaced behind her head, elbows spread wide, breasts thrust forward, feet shoulder width apart, eyes straight ahead, fixed on some point in the unfocused distance.
Her perfectly sculpted, nylon-encased legs were a sublime vindication of his program of medication plus proper weight training, as were her slim but firm arms, and her washboard abs.
He took a moment to appreciate how her broad and sturdy garterbelt flatteringly framed her scruffy genitals in front and her heart-shaped buttocks in the back. He had her turn around so he could better examine her glorious glutes. They were still mostly red, and he could spot the places that would likely turn dark soon, but none of that diminished his delight at the sight of her paragon of posteriors.
He came up behind her, his hands cupping her breasts, pressing her back against his naked chest, his hips grinding the underside of his throbbing cock against her lower back. She gasped, then sighed, “Oh, Daddy!”
If he forced himself, he could drag this out for at least another hour, but he saw no need to torture himself and his little girl any further.
He growled in her ear, “On the bed. On your knees. Head down. Ass up. Offer yourself to me, baby girl… offer yourself…”
His words made her fight back a sob… this time, of joy. It was almost comical how quickly she scrambled into position at the foot of the bed, her ripe rump upthrust, wiggling in invitation.
“Take me, Daddy,” she moaned in desperation, “Take me, Daddy… make me your little girl… make me your little bitch… your slutty, slutty little bitch!”
No further entreaty was necessary. He stepped up and spread her ass cheeks even further and spat on her puckered little rosebud, then began to massage it with his thumb, coaxing it to open.
“We may have to start using the plugs again; you’ve gotten so tight.”
“Yes, Daddy! Whatever you say; I want to be good for you!”
A moment later, his thumb was fully implanted and began circling, stretching, demanding her sphincter remember its training and open, which it did before long. More spit, and the head of his truncheon was inside, reacquainting itself with her tunnel of dark desires. She tried to take more of him, but he firmly gripped her hips, controlling the pace of penetration. Slowly he fed her his tumescent tool, ignoring his girl’s impatient sobs, so eager was she for him to bottom out in her bottom. Nevertheless, because they had not shared this sacrament for so long, he entered her at a very deliberate pace, partly to avoid injuring his precious one… and partly to fully enjoy the reconquest of her rectum.
A little more spit, then a little more, and at last, he was balls deep in his beloved baby girl, and they both reveled in the bliss of knowing – beyond thought – that they were exactly where they should be; in perfect, wordless communion.
He began with slow, shallow thrusts; little more than a subtle rocking back and forth while firmly embedded. As he carefully increased the pace and depth, he began the familiar catechism.
“Who do you belong to, kitten?”
“You, Daddy, I belong to you!”
“Are you Daddy’s little girl?”
“Oh, yes, Daddy! Forever!”
“Do you like being Daddy’s little girl?”
“I love being Daddy’s little girl! I love you!”
“But when I told you I was going to make you my little girl, you said you didn’t want that.”
“I was a stupid, stupid little girl. Thank you, Daddy, for making me your girl!”
“Remember how you cried when I took your balls?”
“So stupid! How could I know…how could I have known how beautiful it would be? Please forgive my stupidity.”
“But then I would take you, so gently, and while I was inside you, I’d tenderly rub your empty sack until your pathetic little peepee dribbled some fluid… and you were so happy I took those nasty balls.”
“Yes, yes, Daddy! Thank you for taking my balls.”
“You like it that I made you a pretty little sissy girl, instead of a nasty, hairy, dirty little boy, don’t you?”
“Oh, Daddy, it would be horrible to be a boy. Thank you for making me your sissy girl.”
“I gave you a whole new identity, shaved years off your age, let you do high school over again.”
“I got to be a cheerleader… thanks to you, Daddy! I love you sooo much!”
“And with the hormones, the weights and your femininity training, you blossomed into the most perfect girl… the most perfect daughter… a man could ask for!”
“Because of you, Daddy! All because of you! I did it all for you!”
“And you remember how I promised that if you were a good little girl, I’d buy you the best, most beautiful vagina in the world, didn’t I?”
“Yes, Daddy. You’re so wonderful!”
“I can be,” he chuckled, “And didn’t I come through? Isn’t that the greatest vagina ever?”
“Oh it is, Daddy. Thank you!”
“But now,” he said harshly before slapping her rear, “I have to take time out of my busy day…”
Smack! Another attention-getting slap to the other cheek.
“…to dilate your new vagina for you! Didn’t…”
Smack!
“…You promise…
Smack!
“…You would…”
Smack!
“…take care of it?”
“Yes, Daddy! I’m sorry, Daddy! But it’s the only time I get to see you anymore! And, and… I love when you take control of me, of my body. I mean, it’s humiliating and uncomfortable, but when I’m all exposed… and you put your hands on me… it makes it bearable.”
“Oh, sweety,” he said, slowing the pace and gently caressing the new red handprints on her ass, “I have an idea; from now until you leave for school, you dilate yourself three times a day and I’ll do the fourth. I’ll watch you for a few days until I’m certain you’re doing it correctly, but after that I’ll trust you to do it right own your own.”
“But Daddy…” she whined.
“… And that way, when it’s my turn, because I was able to get shit done, I won’t be distracted and can focus on enjoying time with my little girl…” With that, he increased the pace and depth of his strokes.
“Oh! Oh, Daddy! Oh yes, yes, Daddy!”
“You like that?”
“Yes, Daddy! Fuck me deeper, Daddy”
He playfully slapped her upturned bottom and said, “I meant the idea, silly, not my cock! We know you like the cock!”
“Yes, Daddy… I love your cock! But why can’t you just dilate me with your… big… fat… cock? Wouldn’t that be better?” she giggled seductively.
“Oh, I will. Someday!” he said as his lunges and withdrawals became more extreme, “But exactly because my cock is so big…” he quickly thrust himself in to his root and back out until only the head kept the passage open, “…and fat…” again; all the way in and almost all the way out, “is the reason you need to prepare the way… by dilating religiously everyday… so that when I do ‘make you a woman’… I won’t destroy your womanhood.”
“Oh, God, Daddy!”
“Just like when we slowly stretched your little asshole with larger and larger butt plugs, so you could take all of me without any damage… Do you remember? Do you understand now?”
“Yes! Yessss! Yes, yes, YES!”
“Are you going to be a good girl and do what you’re told?”
“God! Yes! Anything! I’ll fuck my pretty little cunt with dildoes for you! I’ll suck your amazing cock in public, if you want. For you, Daddy! All for you, Daddy! I’ll be the best little girl in the whole world…but please….” She was now weeping in frustration, “Please, please, please… Fuck me! Fuck your little bitch! Claim me! Claim me like you used to… claim me with your cum! Let me be your little bitch again! Please make me your bitch!”
That was all it took; he slammed his full length into her as he flooded her rectum with his scalding seed, which in turn triggered the girl’s orgasm.
He rode out his climax buried in his little girl, telling her again and again, with tears in his eyes, “Daddy is so proud of his little girl… So proud…”
