Accustomed to Her Face

Lovely Little Secret

The house was quiet but no longer silent. Beyond the ticking of the clock here in the library where you sat at your desk — beyond the sound of your pencil's graphite point gently scratching your notebook paper — there was the distant sound of movement in this old Victorian manse.

It hadn't been this way last year when you arrived. Then there was just me roaming about — and you occupying the room you had rented in the servant's wing. Then we had fallen in love and you had moved into your own room adjoining mine. But as of the holidays, Margaret and Louise arrived to help get the house ready for that magical night — your mind drifted back to Christmas eve.

You envisioned my cock and how it grew hard in my sleep as you watched, guzzling from your champagne glass before the fire. We had already eaten and given gifts and made love. You were thinking about how hard my cock had grown. It had seemed particularly big.

You grinned, scribbling:

"

Big Hard Cock

+ tiny little pussy = max. Pleasure..."

You giggled and then wrote:

"actually a derivation —

"Also related to:

"1. The naughtiness factor (F-naughty)

"2. Degrees of submissiveness (O)

"3. Wetness quotient (x * 10^4)

"4. Orgasmic logarithm (log org)"

You removed your silver glasses and rubbed your nose. You thought again about Christmas eve — about how I woke as you sucked me.

You squirmed in your cherry wood desk chair recalling the flavor of my hot come as I pumped it down your greedy throat, groaning as you frigged my ass hole. Then I had taken you again holding you down so hard you had wondered if you'd break. But you hadn't broken, of course. I had held your legs over my shoulders as I fucked you. You had come so hard you screamed — not for the first time that wonderful night — nor for the last... you smiled to yourself and whispered, "I love you Daddy."

Today you were feeling particularly naughty. You had a secret. It was fun to know that. You wondered about how and when to tell me.

You tapped your pencil on your pad looking up at the panels of the ceiling. Incongruously, you recited to the beat...

"My name is...

"Shake zoola

"The mic rula

"The old schoolah

"You wanna trip?..."

You closed your math book with a thump. You giggled.

"I'll bring it to ya"

You stood and danced to the door... an adorable little two-step

"Cause we are the Aqua Teens,

"Make the homies say ho,

"And the girlies wanna scream!"

And, opening the door, out into the hall...

"Cause we are the Aqua Teens,

"Make the homies say ho,

"And the girlies wanna scream!"

"Where's Daddy?" you spoke to the empty living room. You skipped around the corner and through the butler's pantry — opening the double-swinging door. Louise was washing the stove. Margaret was reading the town newspaper and cutting out coupons. She glanced up and smiled. "Looking for Him, Little Miss?"

"Yes, please."

"Haven't seen."

"Hmmm" Your brow furrowed. You frowned.

You retreated to the living room — to my piano. Pages of lyrics in my scrawl were strewn around. For a long minute, you read the lyrics on top, but turned away across the room, through the heavy door and down the hall to my recording studio. The outer door was closed... the inner one was open. The room was dark. You took a few steps inside — maybe I was in my chair, but as your eyes adjusted to the dim light — no, not there.

You turned back to leave, and there on the wall, dimly lit by its picture lamp, was the glass case with the three flutes. Silver, gold, platinum. The little padlock on the case was open. You smiled. "Daddy." You knew it had been locked last time you saw it. You knew I had unlocked it in the event you should venture here sometime.

You lifted the little lock through the cabinet door's loop. You opened the glass. You reached for the gold instrument and carefully took it out.

It felt heavy. You fitted your fingers to the engraved keys, your lip to the embouchure hole. Its voice was sweet and rich. It was responsive and it delighted you.

Slow Boat to China.

Then

Chances Are.

Then you began

Bach's Sonata in E Minor...

you began to giggle with the sheer delight of playing but you were soon out of breath and a little light-headed — "I've got to practice — I'm horribly out of shape."

You carefully put the flute back in the cabinet — purposely backward from the way you found it so I would know you tried it. You replaced the padlock — just so.

"Where's Daddy?"

You made your way back through the old house — back to the stairway that went up to where your old apartment used to be, now occupied by Margaret and Louise. And as you passed the doorway — the doorway that lead down the dark stairs — down to... you shivered. The door was the slightest bit ajar. Cool air was blowing gently from the opening. It smelled like the basement — and there was a barely perceptible hint of a fragrance you knew. It was incense; sandalwood, frankincense, myrrh — distant — almost sub-conscious — the atmosphere of your playroom. Your body responded to the smell.

You shivered again. You felt your pussy moisten involuntarily. "Oh — Oh, Daddy!" you whispered.

You hesitated. It was delicious. You knew you would go down. Was I there? Was I waiting for you? You knew you couldn't resist. But just for a moment you stood, riveted in place by the sensation of your own responses. Your heart beat faster. You could feel your face flush. You gasped. You reached up slowly, placing your hand on the heavy brass door knob.

You pushed. The door swung back on its hinges, creaking. The cool air blew into your face and ruffled your skirt, caressing your legs. You were trembling.

Margaret came around the corner. You glanced at her. She stopped and gazed at you.

"I have to do down now," you stammered shyly, almost whispering.

Margaret smiled slightly with an expression that surprised you. You felt exposed. Your knees were shaking. "Yes, Little Miss."

You felt like you were about to come. It was powerful. You were suddenly at sea, vulnerable, at the mercy of this tide of desire that compelled you to obey. It was frightening, but in just the right, exciting way. You were starkly aware that you were my submissive and that you always would be. You knew you belonged to me and it simultaneously gave you a sense of place and security. And you were in love. You gasped.

You turned and started down, holding onto the railing in the gloom. The movement of your legs was exciting. Your pussy was drenched. Your panties were becoming wet.

With each step, the movement of your legs, the slight sway of your hips — these things you were intensely aware of. And as your legs moved and your lovely hips swayed, you could feel your pussy lips moving too. Your clitoris was erect. Your panties were gently stimulating it. And your nipples were stiff, being tickled by the soft cotton of your dress.

You thought back to when you were little and you played "round-up." The boys would be the cowboys and the girls would be the horsies and the boys would catch the girls, rounding them up" and put them in the stable. You were so good at running you could almost never be caught, but you would let yourself come so close and then dash away and then so close again. And finally, you'd let yourself be caught and you'd make the boy tie you up extra well so you couldn't get away.

Truth is, your favorite part was being caught and tied up. You loved the way it felt — it was so exciting.

The door was creaking. You turned, looking back up, and saw Margaret slowly closing it behind you at the top of the stairs. She was smiling openly.

"I have to go..." you began.

She nodded - then the door closed heavily.

It was suddenly dark. You began to shake. You turned. You slowly walked down the remaining stairs. The movement of your legs was incendiary, you were so excited. You were breathing hard. The prospect that Margaret and Louise somehow knew about your playroom excited you all the more — it seemed so very, very naughty.

The incense was slightly stronger and there was another scent. A slight ripple in the air brushed your cheek and slightly stirred the strand of your curly hair that hung down over your cheek. What was that scent? You knew it. Just out of reach.

The air shifted, ruffling your dress again. Now you could smell your own excitement — the perfume of your heated pussy — musky, fresh. But that other scent...

Another step down. And another. Slowly. Your pussy responding. Your clitoris being stroked by your panties. Another gentle breath of air against your face — and you then knew that smell. It was the mysterious oil that had been in that locket you wore that wonderful, naughty night you rode your sex-machine toy. That oil had been intoxicating and exciting — intensifying your sexual response until you had screamed in pleasure, coming over and over.

The memory was potent. You licked and bit your upper lip. You had become extremely aroused. "My God," you thought, "This is my training. My Daddy is training me so well. I can't resist him. I can't help myself. And I love it. I love him."

You reached the bottom stair and you felt it start — a lovely, hot wave of pleasure radiating from your pussy up your spine and down your legs. You squealed as you came hard, grabbing onto the railing in the dim, musty stairwell with the cool stone on either side of you, the openness of the basement around the corner.

"Oh, Daddy," you whimpered as you came. You knew this is what I wanted. You knew you were responding as I had planned and it added to your thrill. "Thank you, Sir," you whispered and, a little wobbly, you stepped down the last stair and turned the corner into the darkness.

You steadied yourself. Your pussy lips were slick. Your clitoris was fully erect now. As you walked, you felt your panties — wet and sticky. You lifted your dress and slid them down and off your legs, dropping them on the floor. You knew this is what I'd want.

The basement was dark, but your eyes adjusted to it and you could make out your way past the stone pillars that held up the house, past the old furnaces, back deeper and deeper — your excitement growing again — back to your play room.

You slowed. You could see the outline of its door - it must have been slightly open. The outline was in gentle, flickering candle-light. The smell of incense and the magic oil wafted through the gap. You gasped slightly. Your pussy flooded. "Daddy?" you whispered.

You took slow steps toward the door. "Daddy?" you said softly. You were trembling again. Your pussy flooded.

"Daddy?" your hand was on the doorknob. You pushed the door open.

The room was lit by candles. There were bouquets of red roses. The love-seat behind the mirror was covered with blankets and pillows. The rug on the floor before the mirror was covered with sheepskins. There were two bolsters and there were pillows. There was a wash stand with a basin and pitcher.

There were three large screens and they were showing videos of you riding your machine and montages of photographs of you in various states of undress and exposure. You could hear a recording of your voice during our love making; cooing, whispering my name, moaning softly.

The videos of you riding your machine were being played in very slow motion. It was extremely erotic to watch and you could see the locket on its chain around your neck and the oil dribbling down your belly.

One of the videos was of the same event, only taken from behind you. Your hips were flexing, pushing and pulling as you rode the machine with its two dildos screwing your cunny and ass. The memory was potent. The image was lascivious and you were becoming very excited.

You could smell the oil. There was a small bowl over a candle — it was steaming — the smell was coming from there. Wisps of incense smoke curled in the room. You felt a little dizzy.

You saw your special locket on one of the bolsters. You crossed the room and stood on the sheepskins, thick and inviting. You turned and saw yourself in the mirror. You were surrounded by images of yourself.

You noticed that there was soft, rhythmic music playing — becoming slowly louder.

Hands shaking, you lifted off your dress and stood naked. You were lovely. Your smooth, young skin — your curly hair. You were struck again by how you had become a beautiful young woman. Without thinking, you slipped your hands up you belly, cupping your breasts in your hands, gently pinching your nipples.

You remembered the locket. You turned, picked it up and hung it around your neck. Heavy and cool against your flesh.

You squirmed in your excitement. It was a perfectly feline movement. You were watching yourself in the mirror, but you realized that one of the video screens was now showing a live image of you as you stood there.

Instinctively, you swayed your hips in rhythm to the music. It was irresistible. You felt mildly intoxicated. You lifted your arms and began to dance. Your images were spurring you on. Now you were downright horny as your inhibitions melted away.

And the locket — magic, warming, swaying on its chain as you danced — began to leak the mysterious oil through its perforations. Its fragrance was intense now and it hit your head. You were losing yourself in your dance. The music seemed to throb and pulse between your temples.

Then you saw me.

"Daddy!" you said and smiled and danced toward me.

I smiled adoringly, closing the door behind me, stepping toward you. And that obvious adoration made your heart explode. You were filled with love. You slowed your movement and then stood. Tears sprung to your eyes.

I came to you and slowly took you in my arms. I was wearing my forest green bathrobe and grey silk pajamas. The thick fabric of my robe enveloped your nakedness. The warmth of my mouth found yours. You felt me suck your breath away. Your knees gave way for a split second, but you were safe in my arms. In my strong grasp. My little girl.

"I missed you so much," you whispered.

"I missed you too, darling." I smiled. "I love you so much."

"I'm your little girl, right Daddy?"

"Always. You will always be my little girl."

You gasped that way you do. "Yes, Sir."

I guided you backward as you kissed me furiously. We were standing on the sheepskin. I gently wove my fingers through you thick, curly hair and grasped; now pushing you down to your knees. You opened my robe, untied my pajamas and, with the fingers of my left hand still firmly grasping your hair, you began to caress my hard cock, my tight, soft balls.

You gently massaged my sack, feeling the nuts inside. The sensation was wonderful. You began to kiss the silky tip of my priapus, tasting the earthy, salty drops of pre-come.

"Oh yesss. My baby girl."

The music was still filling your head. The oil had found its way down your belly. You unconsciously slid your left hand down, spreading the oil to your pussy lips and between them, across your clitoris. Dipping your fingers just inside you brought some of the oil into the opening of your cunny.

You squirmed on your knees as I looked down at you. You began to sway to the music, lost in you reverie again. You were playing with your pussy as you kissed my cock. You sucked its tip. I pushed your head toward my abdomen, grasping you by your hair. You took my cock all the way in and down your throat, your nose nestled against my pubic hair. You sucked.

I worked my cock deep in your throat. You sucked me, squeezing me with your tongue and treating me to gentle bites as you danced and swayed on your knees.

I knew you were ready. I slowly drew my cock out of your mouth, still holding you firmly by your hair.

I pushed you down, bending you over one of the bolsters. You were exposed and at my disposal. I spread your legs. You pussy was wet and glistening and shiny with the magic oil that had dripped down and you had worked into your sweet young cunt.

I guided my cock to its mark. You turned your head to look up at me. The music stopped. It was as if time stood still.

Now you are ready. You can see the love and lust in my expression. You are on fire. Your heart is pounding. Your pussy is aching. You are bent over the bolster and you can feel how exposed you are. You know you are completely at my mercy.

You feel that thrill — the little sense of danger — you know that even if you wanted to, you could not get away from me now if I wanted to hold you. But you are also dreamy and happy and you can feel how much I love you. You know I am your Master. You know you are safe.

You smile. I smile.

And I push. You open your mouth involuntarily. Your relaxed body yields. My rigid cock stretches you open as you give yourself to me, and you nearly come, groaning, squirming with the slutty, naughty sensation — one long push — you are taking my cock deep into your ass.

I am pushing my cock at it's full depth as you squirm, moaning, enjoying your impalement. Your body shudders. I know you are near coming.

"Do not come." I say sharply. I know the effect it will have — it pushes you closer. "Do not come."

"Oh God," you moan.

"You must wait." and I begin to slowly fuck you.

"Oh, God! Oh, Daddy!"

"Do not come." I bark.

You squeal, "But, Daddy!"

"You will wait." And I pick up the pace.

You groan. Your legs are shaking. You are desperately trying to control yourself. I feel your sphincter tighten.

"Daddy! Daddy! I neeeeeed to coooome!"

"No! You will wait!"

"Daddy, pleeease, pleeease, may I pleeease come?"

Now I fuck your relentlessly. Hard. Deep. A minute passes — or two. An ecstatic time of being fucked.

Then you scream. "Daddy, pleeease."

I wait — just a few seconds more. I feel you beginning — I know you can't hold it any longer.

"Now. Come now. Come for me, Konekochan."

And you do — explosively. You scream. Your whole body convulses. I am driving you right through your orgasm — driving you to your next. My cock is sliding in and out of your ass — thrusting deep and hard.

It feels wonderful to be taken and controlled. You are about to come again.

"Daddy, may I please come now?"

My voice is warm and excited. "Good girl. Yes. Come now."

It rises from your loins — from your ass and pussy. Luxurious now. So, so naughty. You spread your legs and undulate as I fuck you. You moan. And the moan turns into a long wail.

"Good girl. Good girl."

I hold my cock deep inside you as you writhe in your pleasure. "Good little girl. That's my baby."

You are gasping. You are crying. You are spent and fulfilled, saying softly, shakily, "Oh, my God — Oh, my God — Oh, my God."

My hands are on your hips. "I love you, little girl."

You suddenly sob, "Oh, Daddy — Oh, I love you sooooo much."

You cover your face with your hands. You cry with abandon. You are thinking of your secret.

I slide my cock out of your hot, young body. I quickly move around you and take you in my arms, lifting you. Your wrap your arms around my neck and hold me tightly.

I know you are crying in release. All your worries, all the tension — anxieties about school, worry about your friends — melting away. I don't know that you are also deciding to tell me. You are letting go of your secret and it suddenly feels much bigger than you thought.

You are filled with emotion — pure emotion boiling in your wild heart — and you are filled with joy. You nuzzle me and you sob — an even deeper wave or release overcoming you.

You are safe in my arms. "Oh, Daddy! Oh, I love you so. I didn't know I needed to cry."

"My little baby girl. My sweet, little pet."

Your face is buried in my neck. Your naked body is held tightly in my arms. My thick robe is around you. You are warm. You know you are cherished. "Oh, Daddy. My Daddy," you sigh.