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.
