Daddy,
i don’t know what’s wrong with me . . . . i don’t know where she comes from. i shouldn’t even call it “she”, for it’s not worthy. . . . you know of whom i speak, Daddy. . . . . . that naughty little demon that hides inside me. i can’t control it.
it sneaks up on me at the worst times! . . . we had had such a wonderful day, Daddy. just you and i . . . . . . . no one else . . . .
the two of us, walking hand in hand, you in your polo and cargo shorts, me in my favorite skirt, the tiny pleated one with the brown and pink plaid pattern. . . . (what a perfect choice you made for our outing, Daddy). the weather was perfect, despite the thick, almost damp feel to the air. mmmm. . . .naked weather, Daddy . . . comfortable warm, with a nice breeze. . . *sigh*. . . . . . .
i was so nervous being out for the first time dressed as your babygirl and embarrassed that my palms were smoking. i could feel the breeze find the spaces between our entwined fingers and palms. . . . but you didn’t let go, Daddy. . . . how good you are at taking care of me.
my skirt was super short and my heels, which made my legs seem even longer, shorted it even more. every so often, once while crossing that busy street, the breeze would turn into short gust of wind, tossing my skirt around my ass. . . . . but i was determined not to figet. . . no adjusting. . . . . i wanted to be good for you.
do you remember when we came upon those pseudo yuppie shops, Daddy? there were so many people sitting there. i could see them staring at our slut parade. . . the women with desert. . . . the men with envy. my stomach clenched when we drew near the large group of black guys sitting at the sidewalk tables. i knew we would not go unnoticed . . . . how could they miss us, darling Daddy. . . . a barely 20-something white man walking hand in hand with a 30 something year old black woman, dressed in adorably slutty clothes. . . . a sight i’m sure!
did youhear the comments?. . . . . the whistles? . . . . . . see the lesers? did you hear the shocked profanity when they saw the back of my little skirt? . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . YOUR pussy swells just thinking about it.
i was relieved when we finally made it to Your favorite little greek restaurant. it was small and i figured since it was a Tuesday night, i’d have the place and you all to myself. . . mmmmmm. . . . even before you opened the door, i could smell the earthy aromas coming from inside. . . . the rich savory smell of garlic, olive oil, and lamb . . . the light sweetness of honey, yogurt and pastries. . . you always choose the perfect things, Daddy.
i was floored when we entered and it was PACKED! full tables everywhere! no dark seductive corner in which to seduce my Daddy. no relief from the stars of people when my brief little skirt flicked by. .. . and the silence. . . . the silence, Daddy , when we approached the dining area. all i could hear was the clip. . . clip. . . . clip. . . of my heels on the hard floor. (they couldn’t fucking splurge on a rug here or there!?)
i tried to appear calm. . . . but inside, Daddy . . . . i was FREAKING OUT!!
no booth?!?
just a tiny table with two tiny chairs?!?
chairs with no substance. . . no shielding arms or sides?!?
nothing to hide that my skirt was so short, my bare ass rested against the seat?!?
you, however, did not seem effected. you stood until i was seated . . . . settled yourself. . . and looked pleased. where you pleased, sweet Daddy? did your babyslut do well?
i was surprised when you let me look over the menu. i was over whelmed. don’t misunderstand me, Daddy. i was eating at wonderfully unique greek restaurants before you’d even thought to try spanakopita or loukoumades. but with you, i seem to have forgotten how to decide for myself. everything on the surprisingly extensive menu looked and sounded wonderful. . .but i started feeling anxious. . .
do i want this to eat?
what about that?
oh! that one seems good!
what do i want?
what do i want?
what if i chose the wrong thing and miss out on something great?!?
i have to chose!
. . . . so. . . . i made the only choice that felt right. . . i looked away from the menu to your smiling face asked you to decide for me.
i soon forget about the crowded dining room, the two little old ladies seated right next to us, the shortness of my skirt. our conversation ranged from the silly, to the everyday, to the philosophical, to subtle (and not so subtle) innuendos.
our meal took a while, but the wait was worth it. i loved sharing with you. . . . eating perfect little bites that you choose for me. . . . filling your mini pita triangle with savory food combinations that i thought you’d enjoy.
you were so sneaky, Daddy, with your gentle touches on my thighs from across the table. . . . . your hard, hot looks in the middle of seemingly innocent conversation. . . your fingers playing with along my fingers and palms. you keep me on the edge. until finally, i couldn’t take any more and blurted out of nowhere. . . . “i want to go home, Daddy.”
you smiled. “i know, babygirl.”
before i knew it, (you must have reached your limit as well) we were outside and on our quick walk back to your place.
the street had gotten even busier as the sun started to set. (there is a college campus situationed here , after all) and you took advantage of that, didn’t you, Daddy. . . stopping at busy corners to cares me . . . kiss me . . slip your hands under my skirt. by the time we got to your house, i was worked up enough that you could have taken me on the front lawn.
imagine my surprise when you had me lay on the bed not to save my need, but to cuddle as we watched a movie!
it was so hard to concentrate on “Hard Candy” with your hands slowly exploring my body. quite a few times, i turned in your arm to place kisses along your jaw and tease your lips with my tongue. you would let me play for a few seconds until my hands started to straight lower. . . then your eyes would get hard, your tone would get firm and you would order me to turn and pay attention like a good girl. DAMNIT!
finally it was over and you announced it was time to play. it started out so well, Daddy. you struggling me. . . teasing me. . . making me work on my orgasm control. . . . until she. . . it. . decided to join the party. . . . fucking demon whore! interrupting my play time with Daddy!
when you directed me to climb on top of you, it must have sensed an opportunity. “Put me in my pussy, babygirl.” you instructed. it took over and made me hesitate.
“I’m going to give you one chance, babygirl. I’m going to count to five. Put me in my pussy.”
but it had taken over my mind. . . . . my actions. . . . my thoughts. . . . . it made me smirk and count down with you. . . . as if i had a will of my own.
“One. . . . . Two. . . . Three. . . . Four. . . FIVE!”
in an instant, you had flipped me off of you (i didn’t realize you were so quick and strong, Daddy) and had me over Your knees. twenty-five swats. ten on each chef and five right in the middle along the break. (how precise you like to be, Daddy) no other pattern to them, no way of knowing which chef is next or how hard.
when you were finished, you shoved me on my back and spread my thighs apart. my ass burned so! the cooling of the sheets did nothing to alleviate the fire.
“Who’s pussy is this!?!” you shouted.
i whimpered, frightened and shamed. “yours, Daddy.”
“Right!”
SMACK!
i didn’t expect the hard punishing thwacks on my shaft and cunt. i also didn’t expect how sopping wet i would be after receiving them, when you shoved yourthickness inside of me.
“Ahhh. . . . . you’re so wet, slut!” you pulled of me and settle on the opposite side of the bed. “Suck it, baby! Suck your juices off Daddy’s cock!”
mmmm. . . . . . it was so sweet and salty, Daddy. . . . so perfect. i wanted to take my time and lick every drop up. . . . but you had other plans. . . .
you shoved your girl into the back of my throat. . . deeper and deeper. . . again and again. . . . making me gag, over and over . . . . until the demon who had had enough.
i don’t know why it decided to slurp all of the saliva, pussy juices and pre-cum off your cock and launch them at your face! your sweet babycumslut would never disrespect you like that, Daddy. . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . sorry!
i’m even sorrier that you were forced to punish me with your crop. (at least your cane stayed in the toy box) i thought i hurt before! oh, Daddy. . . the heat! . . . the fire! the seating sing that worsened when you put the crop aside, after i’m not sure how many strikes, and pounded me from behind. . . . could you feel the red hot flush against your thighs as you rode me? . . . . . the sweltering bite of your palm gripping my crisis cheeses?
i’m so grateful that i have you, Daddy. so thankful you are there to drive away the whore in me. so very grateful for the strength that controls what i cannot.
do you forgive me, Daddy? do you still care for me, even though i’m bad? will you show me how to be a good girl, Daddy?
i’m thankful that my bottom still throbs as i write this. thankful for the reminder to behave myself.
i will make it up to you, Daddy. i will show you that i can behave like your little princess should. . . . i will do better, Daddy. . . . . . . . . . . . . . .
. . . . next time . . . . . . .
always yours,
sweet babygirl
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