I'm getting ready for work, leaning over the bathroom counter in nothing but a thong. My music is playing, and I'm dancing along. A slow Ozuna song that makes me roll and rock my hips while I'm putting on my makeup.
Daddy is watching me.
I know what I'm doing.
I'm just finishing up my mascara when he walks into the bathroom and stands behind me, hands resting on my hips.
"You sure make yourself pretty for work," he observes, hands stroking my hips lightly.
I lean back into him, letting my head roll back onto his shoulder. I like seeing us in the mirror together — especially me standing undressed in front of him. His height compared to mine, and how possessive his hands look on my body.
"Think so, Daddy?"
"I do," he says, his arms coming up to wrap around my bare stomach.
"Make you jealous?" I rock my hips against him for a moment, to the beat of the music.
"No," he says, "I know what's mine." One hand moves to rest lightly on my throat.
That's all it takes for my body to turn to liquid fire. I make a small noise in my throat that I refuse to classify as a whimper.
"But reminders never hurt," he says lowly in my ear, his eyes intent on mine in the mirror. "Take it off."
I bite my lip and push my thong down over my hips, widening my stance so that it can fall to the floor at my feet.
"Watch."
My cheeks are already flushed and my breathing so heavy that I feel like I'm panting.
One hand is still at my throat and the other moves down between my thighs. He cups me and asks me whose it is.
"Yours, Daddy. All yours."
"Good girl," he praises, and my breath catches in my throat.
He starts stroking my clit. I know he wants me to keep my eyes open. I try, but it's so hard when I'm already feeling overwhelmed by him and the pleasure he's giving me. My eyes drift shut.
"I said, watch." Sharp. Stern. I'm in trouble.
Instead of his fingers lightly caressing my throat, now it's his arm pressing against it. He's forceful but careful, holding me tight against him but not impending my breathing.
He knows what he's doing.
His fingers are pressing inside me now, and I hear his own breathing catch when he feels how wet and tight I am around his fingers. He curls them inside me and I gasp. He starts fucking me with his fingers, hard. My legs are already shaky and I know it won't take long. I'm watching his fingers moving in and out of me so fast that his hand is almost a blur. I can hear myself, the wet sucking noises of my cunt and my whimpers and gasps. It doesn't do any good to be self-conscious, I know he loves what he does to me. My eyes move to his face in the reflection.
"Watch, baby," he reminds me, giving an extra hard thrust of his fingers to emphasize his words.
"Daddy." Definitely a whimper this time. So close now, I can't help it.
"Do it."
As if I had any choice in the matter, when his fingers are playing me like a finely tuned instrument. It's a Herculean effort to keep my eyes open as I'm crying out his name but I manage it. I watch in the mirror as I gush around his hand, squirting until there's a puddle on the floor at our feet.
"Mmmm," he rumbles in my ear. "Such a good little slut for Daddy."
I can only murmur my assent as I lean back against him, finally closing my eyes.
"How much time do you have?" It's so unfair how casual he can sound when I'm a boneless, breathless wreck.
Even so, I manage a smirk.
"Oh. I'm off today, actually."
