A Day With My Princess

He stepped into the bedroom, dark but for the filtered sunlight making the curtains glow. She was still asleep, on her side with one knee drawn up to her chest. On the floor, a pair of torn panties -- "I'll have to replace those for her," he thought, barely remembering tearing them off of her the night prior. He walked around to her side of the bed and looked at her. So innocent when she slept, so quiet and calm -- a perfect dichotomy from who he turned her into last night. Nothing about her was innocent or quiet when he was inside of her. He reached down to her, letting his fingers brush her cheek as he gently pushed an errant strand of hair from her face. "Wake up, little one," he murmured, his voice a low, soothing purr. "We have a big day planned."

He watched as her eyes fluttered open, slowly and sleepily trying to focus on where the sound came from. Her sweet little smile finally appeared and she reached her arms up over her head and stretched. "Like a kitten," he thought, "so small and so sweet, my little kitten." He fully brushed her hair back, gently cradling her head as she sleepily mumbled, "Good morning, Daddy."

It was a constant struggle for him. Every second spent looking at her, he had to restrain himself. He needed her, every bit of her, all the time. Sometimes he let himself indulge; most times, like this morning, he held back. "Good morning, princess. Now, get ready and extra cute for me today ok? We have a lot to do," he told her after satiating himself with just a kiss on the forehead.

He saw the blood rush to her face and wondered if she fought the same battle -- if she needed him inside her always, just like he needed her. Her cheeks were almost glowing at his touch, but she managed to pull back the quilt and slink out of the bed. It took every last bit of willpower for him not to grab her, pin her down, fill her up -- he had to bite his finger to contain himself -- as she walked off to the washroom. "She's doing that on purpose," he thought, as her hips swayed back and forth, taunting him. "I own her, and I get to have her whenever I want -- patience," he told himself. Today will be a good day -- he was going to take her out, spoil her a bit, remind her why he calls her princess.

The "big girl store," as she liked to call it -- and he loved it when she did, it helped him to see her as his innocent little fucktoy -- was a little more crowded than usual. He hated being in a crowd like this. He hated when he didn't have control over a situation, when he had to be on high alert, head on a swivel, watching in case anything went wrong. He'd never let anyone hurt her -- "Anyone but me, anyways" he chuckled to himself. He had his hand on the small of her back -- this brought him comfort. If he couldn't control his surroundings, at least he could guide her, control her, protect her. Just her presence, feeling her tangible in his hand helped to ease his anxiety. "Everything about her calms me," he thought to himself. Guiding her towards the lingerie section, he slid his hand up her back to rest on the back of her neck and pulled her in for a whisper. "Pick something sexy, princess," he growled into her ear. He knew that she wanted to impress him; he knew that she would do her best, do anything for him, and he would do the same for her.

He watched her from a short distance -- only a few feet away, he couldn't stand to be further. She looked like a fantasy -- HIS fantasy -- as she wove in and out of the racks, her small, languid hands flowing over the various materials. "Like gentle water flowing over and around rocks," he thought. She slowed as something caught her eye. He saw her cheeks flush, like she was glowing, as she pulled something off the rack. "This one, Daddy?" She knew him so well, his heart skipped a beat as she held up a baby pink garment -- he had no idea what it was called -- but it was exactly what he wanted to see her in.

"Perfect." The corners of her eyes crinkled just a tiny bit as she smiled, knowing what she did to him; seeing his eyes darken like a hunter first spotting his prey. "Now let's find something special for later."

"This will be fun," he chuckled to himself as he picked up a sleek, silver toy that was just enough to cause her -- he knew -- the perfect balance of pain and pleasure.

At lunch, he could feel the last strings of his restraint starting to strain. He couldn't keep his hands off of her, even here in public. He couldn't help himself, his fingers trailing up and down her thighs. To distract himself, he would take her tiny hand in his and trace little patterns on her arm. Up and down the front and back of her forearm, tracing the lines on her hands, imagining how amazing they look when tied together up above her head... helpless, but still begging him. He knew how badly she needed him to hurt her, to fuck her, to use her little body.

Finally, as they walked through the door to the apartment, he grabbed her firmly by her throat and pushed her against the wall. "Go put it on under something comfortable, then meet me on the couch," he commanded before kissing her as deeply as he possibly could, finishing with a bit to her lip. He wanted her to remember who owned her, who owned her little pussy -- which he knew was slick and aching for him.

As she came back out in a pair of sweatpants and one of his hoodies -- how many of his hoodies has she claimed as her own at this point? Did he care? He liked it -- it meant she owned him just as much as he owned her. Grabbing her around the waist, he pulled her into his lap, almost cradling her as she giggled. He grabbed her chin and looked deep into her eyes before he let himself have a taste of her and leaned in for a kiss. "You put on the baggiest clothes you could find, didn't you, you little brat?" She giggled, knowing how frustrated she was making him. "Show me want you picked out," his voice a low, commanding rumble.

He watched her stand, facing away from him as she unzipped the hoodie. She then turned to face him, hints of pink peeking out, her tattoo framing her perfect tits -- god he loved her tattoos. She slid the hoodie off completely, letting it drop to the floor, before turning back around and slowly, painfully slowly, pulling down her sweatpants. The only thing he could manage to say, "My beautiful princess," mumbled out of his mouth as he felt himself losing control. He couldn't hold on any longer. He had to have her -- but slowly. He wanted to savor it. He reached out his hand touching, squeezing, feeling her.

He grabbed her waist and pulled her back into his lap, his free hand reaching for the toy he bought. "Now let me show you how I want to used this," he whispered in her ear as he slowly teased her little cunt with it. He could feel her tensing in his arms as he played with her -- speeding up, slowing down, stopping until she whimpered, and starting again. "Good girl keep it up for Daddy," he growled in her ear. "That's right, that's a good girl... you're going to cum for Daddy like a good little princess, okay? Daddy's going to help you, you just focus on my voice." He stopped teasing and started picking up his pace, hitting all of her spots at the perfect time, like a master playing an instrument.

"You're going to cum for Daddy when I tell you, understand? You're Daddy's toy, and you're going to cum for him when I tell you. Get ready, little one. Get ready... 5... 4... 3... 2... 1... NOW!"

He had no idea what was on the TV. His entire world was in her eyes right now, and she was everything he needed. She was everything that healed him and made him whole, and, because of that, he wouldn't dare to commit a sin so vile as not using every little bit she had to give. It was his job to find every little bit of her, to consume everything she had. He was lost to her, lost for the rest of the night. The last thing he remembers thinking before letting himself fully succumb to his temptation...

"I hope I don't rip this new set, too."