Daddy's Little Girl

I stirred to consciousness slowly as the early morning sun began to flood into my room, with mixes of dreams and memory intertwined together in a delicious myriad of sexual pleasure and ecstasy. I could scarcely believe what happened last night. My own daddy had fucked me! But he not only fucked me, he had made me a slave and I love it! It was almost too good to believe, to exquisite to even contemplate. I have always looked up to my daddy, so handsome and strong; he could do anything and I had always admired him. That he had taken me and done with me what he had was a dream come true; it only made him more handsome and strong to me.

My name is Keri and twenty-two years-old. I’m a junior at the local university but living at home because of financial reason. Ever since mom had died my father had been the only guiding force in my life. He did my homework with me. He took me shopping for my prom dress. He did everything for me. It was only natural for me to look up to him so much. I admired him and loved him with everything that I have.

Ever since I was a young girl, I would always look at strong men and relish their strength and their rugged bodies. And when I first discovered myself sexually, growing breasts and hair around my little cunny, I always imagined being dominated by a man and forced to do nasty things, under his complete control. Oh, how many times I had rubbed my cunny raw, cumming countless times with the desire to be under the complete domination of a cruel and demanding man

And it happened! That is was my father did not matter to me. I loved him and being his slave only made me love him more. It was almost too good to be true. It must be a dream! But as I lazily trailed my fingers from my thigh over my hip to my cunny, I knew it was not a dream. My thighs were sticky with the mix of cunny juice and his cum and my cunny was still spasming from his use of me. I had been a virgin last night and now I was a little sex-starved slave to my daddy. I smiled half asleep at the thought, the memory of last night arousing me and making my little cunny tighten and my hips squirm wishing for it to happen again.

Not wanting to, I looked over at the clock and saw it was 7:00am. I knew I had to get up soon though I would rather stay in bed and play with my little cunny until I came over and over again, pushing his seed deeper into my recesses and relishing the memory of what my daddy did to me. I felt a twinge of fear, wondering if he would want to do it to me again. I hoped so! I wanted nothing more than to lick his feet and taste his wonderfully huge cock and lay on my back and please him with my body. I wanted to be daddy’s little sex slut. But what if he did not want that? What if he was shamed and did not want me anymore? My heart fell and I lost my breath in fear. He needs to want me. I would make him want me, I told myself. I would see that he would want me. I smiled at the thought of what I would do make sure he wanted me.

With a groan I slipped out of the covered and felt the aches and pains from my daddy taking me the night before and walked to the long mirror that hung on the door in my bedroom. My knees ached slightly from kneeling for so long before him in my position of submission. My cheeks still burned from the way that he have slapped me, so hard and vicious, totally dominating me, controlling what was his. Not one, but twice! Oh, how he disciplined me and oh how I loved it! Even through the pain, I felt the heat of desire and arousal from the memory of being so dominated, so owned. I could a slight ache in my arms from being bound behind my back but was happy to see that they weren’t red from the bonds cutting into my skin. It would have detracted from my beauty and I did not want that; I wanted to be beautiful for my daddy. I could feel a sweet tight pain in my thighs and pelvis from the force of him fucking me, but it only reminded me how strong my daddy was. I smiled at that. I loved it when he was strong with me. Just thinking of it made my little cunny quiver with desire. I hoped he would take me again soon.

Looking in the mirror, I stood and appraised myself, to see how beautiful I was for my daddy, my master. I turned slightly, flexing my left knee and put my weight on the ball of my right foot. This presented a good view of my hip and my legs, I thought delightedly. I sucked my belly in and arched my back slightly, setting my left hand on my thigh, just below my hip, with my right hand hanging loosely at my side. It seemed a natural way to stand. It made me feel sexual.

Not too bad, I thought to myself. Daddy would find me beautiful I was sure. Who wouldn’t? Standing at five foot-two inches and 120 pounds I thought I had a nice curvy body, rounded hips but nice long legs. My breasts were pert, only a C-cup but the firmness and the size and shape of my nipples made up for that. No sagging at all, I thought with a smile. My body was nice and tight from cheerleading and working out. I ran track in school so I was in good shape, not an ounce of fat on me. I wasn’t muscular, but my body was toned just right. I thought it went nicely with the tan that I had, too. I liked tanning in the sun, but I didn’t like tan lines so I went to the tanning booths to even it out. I thought it would make me sexier for the boys. I giggled to myself, how little I knew it would. My long black hair was thrown over my right shoulder and fell over my breast, tickling it nicely, sending shivers down my back.

Yes, I thought. I would be beautiful enough for my master. I smiled a little and was pleased to see the white teeth, which I took perfect care of in the reflection, and my high cheek bones, which I got from my mother who was Spanish, not Mexican, not Puerto Rican; Spanish. Trailing my eyes over my body in the mirror, I could feel the twinge of desire in my body, the kind that ends in a tight little ball deep in my belly, burning like a fire deep inside. What a sweet feeling that is, how delicious it is. I could still see my thighs were sticky and shiny from the cum and cunny juice that was run out of me like a river last night. I flexed my thighs and could still be the cum inside my cunny. I closed my eyes and thought I could still his hot cum in my belly from the way that he fed me. What a delicious feeling that is.

Another throng of fear shot through me as I looked at myself in the morning. What if he did not want me? What if he felt guilt and shame and would not touch me again? I had to feel his hands on me again. I must feel his big fat cock filling me up, I told myself. What a sweet ecstatic feeling that was. I quivered and shook just thinking about it. I wondered how I could seem more submissive to my daddy. How could I make him not be able to control himself and seize me up and use me like a slave girl. Like his little slut. Looking in the mirror I saw myself flush at using the words and I could not help but feel my cunny moisten. I couldn’t control the tiny ball in my belly that was burning fire out of control. I was a slave. He made me a slave last night. He had to keep me as a slave!

Without even thinking about it, I fell down to my knees and knelt before the mirror, looking at myself, wondering how I could appear more submissive, more pleasing to him. I would have to work hard at this, I thought. Finally, I parted my knees wide, and gasped when I saw my glistening wet cunny looking back at me. It looked like a little flower, the lips were swollen and red, partly from the arousal, I am sure, but also from the way my daddy used me too. Oh, how he had used me. My thighs shined from the cum and cunny juice and I could see more juices running down between my cunny lips and wriggled feeling it at my ass cheeks.

I closed my eyes and remembered how after he was done fucking me, he kissed me so tenderly, lovingly. I melted in his arms and raised myself to him. I had to feel his lips on me. I had to feel his touch. I whimpered and cried out for it. I had yielded to him! I had proclaimed myself slave! And so deliciously, too, I thought. After pulling his cock out of my cunny, he picked me up and carried me to bed, so gentle in his touch, how weak I felt in his arms. He was so strong and muscular, he was all man. He was my daddy, but I couldn’t help myself but to think of him as a man. How could I anything else? And being so small, only five foot-two, how could I feel anything but weak and small compared to him.

I smiled inwardly and felt the heat in my cheeks, travel to my belly and then to my cunny. My clit was throbbing so badly, it ached. I needed to be touched, to be used. I shook my head at that thought. My daddy was my master and I wasn’t sure if he would let me touch myself. I wanted to please him and I didn’t want him disappointed in me. Surely, I didn’t want to feel him punish me again, but it was something more. I wanted to serve him. I proclaimed myself slave! Of course I wanted to serve him! That was what slaves did. Just thinking about that, serving him, not just the sex, but everything, made me whimper and writhe on my knees. It was so sweet a feeling to have. I could smell my sex in the air without even touching myself!

Finally, I decided on the position to take to please daddy, my master. I looked at myself in the mirror and smiled at my reflection. He had to find this pleasing, I told myself. I knelt back on my heels, with my knees parted wide, exposing my little flower of a cunny that he had fucked so well for him to see and to smell at his pleasure. I rocked back on my heels so that if he should tell me what to do I could more easily move quickly to obey and to please him. My back was straight and slightly arched, showing the nice curve of my back and my hips and sides that he loved to tease so much last night. This also thrust my breasts that he had pinched and played with last night out for him to see, almost like I was offering them up to him. I was of course! I placed my hands on my thighs and looked in the mirror. I tried palms down to my thighs, and palms up to the ceiling and finally decided to keep them up. It seemed more sensual, more submissive.

A gasp escaped my throat and I caught my breathe when I looked in the mirror and saw my reflection. I looked so submissive! So beautiful! My head was held high but I would be sure to lower my eyes out of respect for him. Just looking at myself in the mirror, so kneeling, I could not help but feel hot in my sex; my muscles in my cunny were tightening, begging for something to clamp down on, hopefully it would be my daddy’s fat cock. I had to smile at myself. My cunny lips were open and waiting, begging to be pierced and it was already slick with my juices dripping out. I have never felt so sexual, so charged, so passionate. I couldn’t believe it! I could smell the distinct scent of my sex. I had masturbated enough under the covers to know the smell. And here I was smelling it as I looked at myself in the mirror. That seemed to drive my senses higher, my need higher. I just had to be fucked! I had to have my daddy fuck me again!

On shaky knees, I stood and smiled in the mirror one last time before walking toward the door, grabbing my short kimono robe that I wore around the house. It was red with a dragon on the back and went to mid-thigh. It seemed perfect to show off my legs and my manicured toes to my daddy. Plus it clung nicely to my hips, surely to tantalize him all the more, I grinned and giggled to myself. This would have to do the trick. I felt so sensual slipping the silk kimono on. I loved the way it felt on my body, so soft and feminine. It always made me hot just putting it on.

I found my daddy in the kitchen sitting down at the table eating his breakfast. The way that our kitchen is set up, he couldn’t see me for his back was at an angle to me. I stopped and gasped for a moment seeing him there, his broad shoulders and tapered haircut. He exuded confidence and strength. I wondered what woman would not be on her knees before him. Surely only the stupid girls who did not understand his strength would try to resist him.

“Good morning,” he said without looking up, startling me. I thought he could see me, but how stupid that thought was. Daddy was in the military and seemed to have a sixth sense about him; of course he could sense me there.

“Good morning, daddy,” I said, taking a deep breath, knowing this was my moment, my chance. I walked lightly, my feet conscious of the cool hard wood floor of the kitchen, feeling vulnerable simply from being barefoot; how things had changed. Before I would not even think of going barefoot around the house, and now it seemed so different after he had taken me and made me his slave. It made me feel wonderfully submissive and weak before him.

I walk up to his left side, slightly behind and kneel the way that I had practiced up in my room. Though I did not know it would happen, but was delighted in it, the kimono parted slightly, showing just a hint of my sex and the lovely tan and curvature of my thighs. I hadn’t cleaned myself up as part of the plan. I wanted the scent and the view of my slick thighs to remind him of what had happened the night before. I couldn’t help but blush slightly being so close to my daddy, my master, and kneeling the way that I was, like a laviscious little slut. It was a good feeling, the little ball in my belly burning hot. I need to be fucked!

He seemed like he was ignoring me, continuing to eat his breakfast. I was famished and could feel my stomach starting to growl, begging for food, but I did not dare ask him for some food right now. I had a feeling that I was in position and could not move without his permission. Kind of silly, but I could not help it. Shy, timidly, I moved closer to him and cringed waiting for the backhand across my face but it did not come. Feeling slightly empowered by this, I inched closer this time, close enough to smell his aftershave, Old Spice, and see the curvature of his muscles, sinewy and hard, like a man’s muscles should be.

I don’t know what got into me, but I leaned in and bit his lower sleeve, near his elbow. I felt like such a lowly slut, such a slave doing that, but what else could I do? I bit and pulled in it a little, then I bent lower and took a piece of his jeans into my mouth between my teeth and tugged and pulled at it in silent please. Something in me told me I was begging for his touch, but I did not know where it came from. I have never been a slave before. It just seemed natural. It seemed like what a slave would do, so I went for it. And I loved it. I absolutely loved feeling like a slut! My little cunny was sopping wet now and I was so flushed with need and with desire and with passion. I needed him to fuck me!

“Daddy!” I cried out, feeling his hand in my hair, pulling my head up, my head burning in pain from it. “Daddy!” My cunny was spasming and tightening just from the feeling. Only a slut and a slave would get sexually excited form having her hair pulled. The next thing I knew, his left hand was slapping my face, open handed. My eyes went back and it hurt so much. I was laying on the ground, looking up at him, pawing at my reddened face, feeling the sting and the burning there. My eyes were wild as he loomed over me. As much as it hurt, I was in awe of him. My cunny was tightening, searching for something to latch onto, just looking at him. He had disciplined me, setting my limits. How could I not be in awe of him?

“Did I give permission for you to touch me?” He asked. Daddy didn’t seem upset, he just looked at me.

“No, daddy. No Master,” I said meekly, suddenly unsure of what to do. Slowly, my faced reddening from embarrassment and from the sting of the slap, I went back to my knees and resumed my position, as he had called it.

He looked down at me and I could feel his eyes burning into my skin, appraising me. My robe had fallen open and my pert breasts were sticking out of the silk. I felt naked; I felt more naked than naked! But I did not dare try to close the robe or he would slap my again, I was sure. And I was also sure that he could smell the scent from my cunny. It was heavy in the air.

“I am your Master,” He said to me simply and my heart jumped just hearing the words. He acknowledged that he was my master. That must also mean that he acknowledged that I was his slave. “When I touch you, if I touch you, it will be at my bidding, when I saw. Likewise, when you touch me, if I let you touch me, it will be according to my desire, my rules and on my terms.”

“Yes,” I said. I didn’t know what else to say.

“Yes, what?” he asked, patiently, I thought.

“Yes, Master,” I breathed, shyly, speaking the words for the first time to him. I caught my breath and my heart jumped. My skin was so alive with sensation now that I felt the words roll off my tongue. Without even knowing it, I sat up straighter, spread my thighs wider and thrust my breasts forward to her more. Daddy would later tell me that it was a natural slave act, but I wasn’t sure at the time. I guess it makes sense, though.

“You may call me daddy or master, and nothing else, under threat of punishment, clear?”

“Yes, master,” I breathed, feeling wet between my thighs and tight in my belly. My master was commanding me. “Yes, daddy. I understand, master, my daddy.” I thought I saw a small smile on his face at the words that I spoke. He sat back down without a word and started to eat his meal again. I stared at him in wonder and awe from where I was, knowing that he truly was my master, but my stomach was growling something fierce now. I had not eaten anything in close to fourteen hours and I was starving. I hoped he would give me something to eat, but I knew it was up to him.

Almost as if he was reading my mind, he leaned over to me and held out a piece of bacon; it smelled so good. So that I would not break position, I scooted forward as much as I could closer to him, and lifted up off of my heels to reach the food with my mouth. He did not tell me to not use my hands, but I thought the submissiveness of my eating from his hand would please him. I was not disappointed because his eyes smiled at me as my full lush lips parted as I looked into his eyes and my tongue flicked out to take the bacon. Needless to say I devoured quickly and was waiting for more, hungrily and needily, kneeling next to him.

We continued the meal, with him hand feeding me my food while he ate at the table with fork and knife, not speaking. The only sound in the kitchen was his utensils on the plate and the sound of both of us chewing and swallowing. I was so hungry as he fed me a few times I growled low in my belly in wordless thanks for the food he was allowing me. I felt so submissive feeding from his hands! And I loved it! I wanted more. I wanted my daddy to master me. I wanted to be his little slut slave.

At the end of the meal I could not believe it when he reached for my hair and used my hair as a napkin cleaning his hands on me silently. I was so low and so abject a slave that he would wipe his hands on me. And I loved it! “From now on you will awaken at six in the morning and cook my breakfast. It will be cooked and warm before you come to wake me up.”

“Yes, master. Yes, daddy,” I said, acknowledging his command.

“You will sleep in my bed from now on, at my feet, unless you are being punished and you will obey all of my commands with your only reply being, ‘yes master.’ After last night there is no way that we could every go back to being father and daughter, so it seems only right that I train you completely as my slave.” He did not smile as he looked at me in the eyes. “My complete slave.” He paused again. “You will keep the house and you will cook the meals and you will do all the household duties as I direct, the way that I tell you to do them. You will be under my complete discipline and domination in all things. Am I clear?”