Characters depicted are of legal age and consenting in their activities. This is purely fictional and meant to convey acts between consenting adults.

They stood there, looking at the tree. They'd worked the better part of the afternoon and evening to get it all unpacked, unfold the branches JUST right, and hang all the ornaments. He even put her up on his shoulders so she could put on the tree topper -- a little silver star. Granted, he didn't NEED to put her on his shoulders, but he wanted to all the same.

"Why don't we take a shower, then we'll get you into your little pink pajamas. I'll make us some hot cocoa and we'll relax listening to some Christmas music. Does that sound good, princess?"

"Yes, Daddy!" she said with a twinkle in her eye.

After a nice, warm shower -- and some unnecessarily long lingering just to make sure all of her was nice and squeaky clean -- they retired to the couch. He walked towards her with two mugs, both steaming a bit, and set them down on the little coffee table next to the couch.

"It's very hot, little one. Come sit in Daddy's lap while you let it cool just a bit. Tell me about your favorite part of today."

She babbled on like an excited little monkey for a while -- about shopping, about how silly Daddy looked when she hung ornaments from his ear piercings and made him a garland hat. At some point during her excited retelling of the day, he reached over and checked her mug, found it to be sufficiently cooled off, and handed it to her.

"I put extra whipped cream on yours, princess!"

"I see, thank you Daddy!"

"And I made it with a special ingredient, too!"

"Was it love, Dada?"

"Something like that, princess," he smirked.

She continued talking all about her day as he entertained her with the occasional head nod and vocalized astonishments. As they finished their cocoa, she yawned a big yawn and laid her head on his shoulder.

"Daddy, I'm sleepy all of a sudden. It's not even 8:00!" she protested.

"You've had a big day for a little girl. Why don't you close your eyes." Amidst her grouchy little grumbles, he started playing with her hair, tracing his fingers gently down her arm. Before long, she was out cold.

A bit quicker than I expected, he thought to himself bemusedly as he carried her to the bedroom for the next part of his plan.

When she woke, she couldn't see. Something was over her head. There was something in her mouth, too. Something cotton. And was there tape over her mouth, too? Her wrists were bound behind her, behind some sort of furniture. Daddy's workout bench? she thought to herself. Her legs were stretched wide, and she could feel something inside of her. And, as she continued to take stock of her situation, she felt headphones on her head. Very quiet Christmas music was playing in them -- but almost as soon as she noticed, the music grew louder. Not loud enough to hurt her ears, she noted, but loud enough that she couldn't even hear herself trying to talk... not that she could even if she wanted to. Her mouth was definitely taped shut. She moved her head around, this way and that way, trying to catch even the faintest glimpse of light, anything to tell her where she was and what was going on.

SNAP

A sharp pain on the inside of her thigh.

SNAP

Another on her other thigh.

SNAP SNAP SNAP SNAP

Back and forth, the stinging starting to burn her thighs a bit. She couldn't hear the snap of the toy, but she knew the feeling all too well. What had she done to deserve this?

SNAP SNAP SNAP SNAP

Her eyesight and sound taken from her, her voice quieted, all she could do was feel the sting of the flogger up and down her thighs. And yet, just as she could feel the tears forming in the corners of her eyes, she could feel herself moistening between her legs.

I want my Daddy, she thought to herself pathetically as she bit down on whatever was shoved in her mouth and held her eyes shut as tight as she could.

He didn't expect her to be so difficult to tie to the bench while she was passed out, but the complete limpness of her body actually made it a bit tricky. It's going to be worth it in the end, he reminded himself. As he picked her panties up from the pile of discarded clothes he smiled as he gently packed them into her mouth, taking special care to not stuff them too far inside. He even made sure to fix a part of them to the tape before putting it over her mouth, just as an extra precaution to avoid an accident.

He wondered what she would think when she finally came to. He had gagged her, blindfolded her, put his noise-cancelling headphones on her, tied her to his old workout bench (which was leaned back to about 60 degrees), and put one of her remote-controlled toys inside of her. She would be completely blind, deaf, and mute -- unable to see, hear, or speak. She would be forced to just take it all. Combined with the small dose of drugs he slipped into her cocoa, she'd still be just a little out of it, but conscious enough to feel everything.

He stood back and admired his work, then snapped a few pictures. He wanted her to see everything he'd done to her. She deserved to enjoy it later. Once he was satisfied she was secure and everything was in place, he wafted some smelling salts just under her nose until she started to stir. And as her head began to move -- no doubt trying to find any glimmer of light -- he reached for his phone and turned up the volume. He had picked some Christmas music for her -- he knew how much she adored Christmas time, and wanted it to at least be a small bit of comfort for her. He decided she was ready and reached for his flogger.

Through the tears, she was able to sink into her situation. She knew better than to fight or struggle. She had to accept her predicament, lay back into it the way you'd lay back into a warm, soft bed. She knew that, soon enough, the endorphins would wash over her, and it would be like she was floating through the clouds.

Just then, the Christmas music stopped. She thought it was ridiculous that her first thought was disappointment -- she rather enjoyed that song. And then a voice. It was a voice that was using one of those modulators, those things that mask the person's actual voice and makes it sound all deep.

"Hello, little girl. You're in quite the predicament, aren't you? You've been kidnapped. Your sweet, caring, loving Daddy was behind on bills for the holidays, so he decided to make some extra cash. We told him to slip a little something in your drink, and then call me to come get you.

Your eyesight has been taken from you. Your hearing has been taken from you. Even your voice has been taken from you. The only thing you've been allowed to retain is your sense of feeling. And that's how you'll be tortured... for how long? I'm not sure yet. A few hours. A few days. We'll see how it goes.

I'll let you in on a little secret, though... something that you can't see in your current state. I'm in show business. A particular niche, let's say. My... we'll call them 'fans'... pay very good money to see me perform my art. And tonight, you are my canvas. You are currently surrounded by an audience, all of them ready to watch me play with you. Hurt you. Torture you. A theater in the round, of sorts. And I told your Daddy he could have 25% of the house; judging by tonight's turnout, he should be able to buy you some very nice Christmas gifts.

So do me a favor, little girl. Why don't you just lie back and relax. Tonight is going to be a very, very, very long night for you."

And with that, the Christmas music came back on -- mockingly cheery after what she just heard. There's no way Daddy would have done that... would he? She told him it was just a fantasy, he wouldn't have actually done it, would he? She suddenly felt eyes burning into her naked flesh -- 10? 50? 100? How many people were watching her? Could they see how wet she was? She could feel her face flushing with embarrassment.

And then pain.

He had spent about half an hour stringing together the clothespins and practicing how to tug on them to zipper them off. He figured at this point, there was only one more thing to do -- put them on her. He started with one on each nipple, and then three more on the flesh of each of her breasts. He ran them in a small S-curve back and forth over her tummy and ribs, pinching a small bit of skin and them clipping the clothespin on. The row of clothespins then found their way to her labia -- he was able to fit three on each side, with the final one resting directly on her clit.

She was whimpering while he worked away, decorating her body, stopping every so often to take a picture. He knew she must be in such a state in that little mind of hers -- confused, worried, aroused, embarrassed, maybe even a little terrified. He smiled. His little girl was doing such a good job. Once the clothespins were covering her, he ran the backs of his fingertips up and down her inner thighs, gently brushing them back and forth. He could see her little pussy glistening by this point, with a small pool of wetness forming on the fake leather of the bench. He snuck a small taste -- she was always so sweet with a hint of salty. And then he reached between her legs, pushing the button that would turn on the toy deeply lodged inside of her.

He held the remote in his hand and started it on low, brushing his hands up and down her thighs, her sides, her collarbones and arms. Every so often, he would stop to squeeze her. He had to keep control of himself -- if this was his fantasy, he would have torn into her by now, ravaging her little body until she was a shaking mess of cum, sweat, and tears. But this wasn't for him, it was for her. So he breathed deeply and gathered his composure, focusing instead on the soft feel of her skin, the little goosebumps popping up, the tiny little involuntary shakes her body made. Gradually, he ramped up the intensity of the toy. He watched her chest rise and fall, deep at first, and then more shallow and rapid. Her muffled moans, groans, and whimpers grew more and more insistent. He reached for the end of the string holding all the clothespins together and wait for just the right moment -- any second now -- and...

This was cruel. It was embarrassing. It was humiliating. And it was so incredibly arousing. She hated herself for how wet she was. She could feel it pooling between her legs -- with each clothespin clamping on her, it felt like a flood between her thighs. She was so angry -- at Daddy, at herself. Was he playing a cruel trick on her? Or did he invite people over to watch? Or... could it actually be true? No. There's no way it could actually be true, right?

The toy started buzzing inside of her and she was determined not to let him get the best of her. She took deep breathes in through her nose and blew them back out. In and out, slow and deep. She would get the better of him. She'll show him! She can control her body just fine, he doesn't get to decide everything. But it felt good. It felt really good. The pain, mixing with the pleasure. Wondering if anyone was watching. Hoping that somebody was watching. Her breath started to speed up. Her mind wandered to a thousand possibilities. Her legs started to tremble. Why did his hands have to feel so good. She was practically panting now.

She felt it deep in her belly, deep inside of her. That familiar feeling, like a wave beginning to swell. Before she knew it, the wave was right at its peak, about to crash...

He turned the toy to its highest setting and pulled the string. He pulled and pulled and pulled until each clothespin, one right after the other, zippered off of her body. One by one they snapped off of her. First her nipples, her breasts, her tummy, and finally her little pussy. He laughed with glee as she actually started shaking from the overwhelming feeling. He watched her, his hand on the toy, pushing it deeper into her to match the rhythm of her bucking hips. He could tell it was building again and he was curious how many times he could force her to cum tonight.

He stood and dropped the string of clothespins and looked at his pile of tools, thoughtfully considering which to use next as she trembled and screamed (as much as she could) behind him. With a devious grin, he reached for the candle and the lighter. After the intensity of his last little trick, this would really make her squirm. He turned the toy back down to a low buzz and then lit the candle. He watched as the wick smoked and sputtered for a few seconds as it caught, and then watched as the wax began to heat and liquefy. Standing above her, he let a few drops fall on her tummy. He was aiming to draw a little circle around her belly button, but was content to let the wax fall wherever it pleased. With each drop, her body jumped and she let out a tiny yelp.

He worked his way all around her tummy, then the bottom of her tits, and finally to her nipples. Then he made his way down to her thighs, down to her tender little pussy, dripping little droplets on either side. He was almost mesmerized, entranced by the flickering flame and the dripping wax, watching as each little drop formed and then fell, splattering the tiniest bit on impact. He was so enthralled that he almost forgot -- he reached over to the remote and slowly began ramping the toy up again.

She couldn't form a coherent thought by this point. All she could do was lose herself in the airy lightheadedness of euphoria. After that last series of intense orgasms, she was relatively certain her brain was mush -- if she even had one left. She felt like she was floating. Each drop of wax at this point was like watching a bright white light flash into millions of colors. And it felt like each of those colors reached out and touched every nerve in her body simultaneously. She was overloaded. Her body didn't know what to do anymore. All it could process was pain, pleasure, fear, and anger, all balled up into one giant ball of -- emotion?

The pulsing and vibrating inside of her didn't even feel like a separate thing anymore. It felt like it was part of her. No longer were they individual waves, but a vast ocean of feelings, ebbing and flowing. She was floating on top, watching the colors burst, feeling her stomach fall out from under her before tensing back up again, only to release once more. She wasn't in control of anything anymore; just a bottle floating in an ocean of whatever feelings her Daddy decided to let her have.

But then the vibrating stopped. The toy was pulled out of her. The little bursts of light stopped. She felt empty. She felt so empty she could cry. Her eyes began welling up, the corners stinging. She felt lost, all alone in a dark room. All she wanted was Daddy.

He ran his hands up her thighs, stopping to squeeze here and there, where he knew a mark would form. He didn't squeeze hard, just enough. They were all little love marks he had given her, and he wanted to make sure he knew where every one of them was so that he could kiss them later. He reached up and gently, tenderly pulled the toy out of her, holding down the button to shut it off. He kept checking her all over, inspecting every inch of her tiny body. He had memorized it a long time ago, so he knew every spot that would need attention later. He gently cupped and squeezed each breast -- they felt so familiar to him -- and he knew they were probably aching.

Finally, he reached his hand down and behind the bench. He tugged at the quick-release knot he had tied her in. He was sure her shoulders must be aching as her arms laid there limp. He actually gulped in a quick breath of air and looked at her chest to make sure it was still moving -- it was shaking. She was crying. He gently pulled the hood off of her head and her eyes darted around in the dim light for a few seconds -- first looking at the beautiful tree they had decorated earlier, and then frantically searching for him.

"I'm here, babydoll. Shhh, I'm right here. You're safe. You're with Daddy. Hold still for just a few moments longer, sweetheart."

He gently peeled the tape off, pulling her panties out of her mouth as he did so. His hand cradled her face. He tried to muster the softest face he could manage, the quietest voice he could muster.

"I'm right here babydoll. You're safe. You're with me, you're with Daddy. I'm right here babydoll."

She all but leapt off the bench at him, both of them tumbling to the floor. She was sobbing, and she buried her head in his chest. She was grabbing at his chest so frantically that her nails were digging into him, and all she could manage to choke out were little gasps that sounded like, "Daddy!"

He gripped her hard in his arms, squeezing her, and whispering, "you're okay, little one. You're safe. Daddy's got you. Feel my chest, sweetie. Feel my chest rising and falling. I want you to focus on matching my breath, okay?"

Her breath finally slowed, her sobs finally subsided. She finally relaxed in his arms.

"Daddy... I thought it was real for a second. But I know you'd never actually do that. But it felt so real."

"You were such a good girl. You did such a good job, little one. I'm so proud of you."

He held her there for what seemed like half an hour before saying, "let's get you into a nice warm bath, babydoll. Daddy will wash you all over -- we have to get that wax off of you before bed. And I want to make sure you're not hurt anywhere, okay?"

"Okay Daddy. But one more thing?"

"Yes babydoll? Anything."

"Um... after my bath..."

She hesitated.

"Can I have more hot chocolate?"