Daddy's Little Girlbymind_sex©
Any sexual involvement in this story was involved with people over 18 only.
"Well that was the head master," my petite wife said as she entered the dining room with the phone in her hand and her lips pursed. Her pretty latina face looked expectantly at our daughter who sat across the table from me, a worried look on her face. My wife didn't have to say anything, but just gave her daughter that parental stare, flicking her eyes towards me to tell her to fess up to her father. I turned my head to my daughter, concerned over what had happened.
"Daddy, I was caught kissing a boy in the principle's office today," my daughter said, her face awash with shame. I was shocked. Emily was almost eighteen now, but she was still my little girl, and a no-good boy was trying to take her innocence away from her. My daughter hung her head with guilt, before looking up to me, "I'm so sorry daddy, I don't know what I was thinking I'm far too young for that."
I couldn't sense any cynicism in her voice, and had never had a reason to mistrust her word. I took my time before saying seriously, "That was a very inappropriate thing for a young lady to be doing... but at least you can admit that you were wrong." I was relieved. I reminded myself that we had brought her up well.
After my wife joined us at the table, the topic of boys came up again, and from what my daughter was saying, it became clear to both myself and my wife that she was growing a little interest in boys, and looking at her changing body, it was understandable that boys might also be interested in her. "Emsie, you know that boys will only hurt you. They have bad minds, and after all, you are only 17!"
She replied with a bit of frustration, "dad, I'm about to turn 18, and you know I'm not interested in boys right now. You and mom told me that I should stay away from them until after school, and that is what I am going to do!" There was that teenage attitude again.
But despite her innocent façade, my wife agreed with me that her attitude was changing, and we thought of ways which we could help her retain her respectability. Throughout her childhood, we had protected her from the whole idea of sex, but we were not so naïve as to think she knew nothing about sex. But we looked back with pride of how we kept her away from the evils of modern teenage society and the sexuality that surrounds it.
For the next week, I looked through the newspapers and visited different centres, looking for ways to help my daughter. In my profession as a landscaper, I have no use for a computer at home, so the internet could not help me in my search. This was also an important part of protecting our daughter from the evils of society. One day when I was on the job, looking through a brochure on different psychology treatments for children, three of the young builders walked past. Even though I was their superior, they gave me no respect, and hated me for constantly checking on them and giving them orders, but that's what a boss is for right?
They stopped by their cars nearby to where I was sitting, pulling out their lunch and some water. One of the surfer-looking guys asked what I was reading and I explained to him. I heard one mutter something to the other, and he suggested to just lock my daughter in the house. It was a joke and I laughed with them.
But just as they were leaving, one of them, a sturdy, young black boy who was usually the quietest of the three, turned back to me. He was very serious when he said, "forget the jokes boss, but my uncle was having similar problems and they got great results from this clinic just out of town. Now my cousin is completing her degree in medicine and has barely even been interested in boys. It would be worth taking a visit."
I asked him if I had a number to call, and he told me he would bring it the next day. I went home optimistic that my daughter would stay my little girl, if not in the way she looked or acted, then in her sexual experiences.
The next day my employee forgot to bring the number (young people these days!), but the day after he had it for me. I thanked him very much, and I was so eager to get into it that I called the number and asked when I could go in and find out more. They told me I should try to come that afternoon, and to bring my daughter as well, so I made it a plan, scribbling down the address.
I met Emsie out the front gates of her school, and she hopped in the car. I was not impressed at the clothes she was wearing, not realising it was a no-uniform day that day for charity. She had on her old daisy dukes, which did not fit her anymore. They were far too high, with a little bit of her bum poking out beneath the hem, and were also far too tight, hugging her bottom extremely closely. Her button-up blouse was a little tight, too, but not as bad. When I scolded her for her choice in clothes, she told me that neither my wife or me would take her shopping for new clothes, which was true. We detested some of the clothes worn by teenagers these days, but I made a mental note to get my wife to go shopping for some new, more appropriate clothes for our daughter. We really should have gone home for her to change, but I had booked the appointment with no time to spare, and we also had to find the place, so I drove straight to the outskirts of town.
We pulled up at the address, and I was a bit put off by the building that we found. It was a bit industrial, not very professional, and could easily have been mistaken for a block of apartments. But going inside and up to the second floor, there was a clean white door with a professional-looking plaque saying, Dr. Ray, clinical psychologist, and beneath that the name of the company, "Daddy's Little Girl".
We walked in to find a young secretary who told us to go straight through the waiting room, as Dr Ray was waiting for us. The waiting room and corridors were well done up, and I realised that in saving money on location, this small business was able to splash out on the interior decorations. Down the hall past several doors, we walked in to meet Dr Ray. I wasn't sure what I was expecting, but he was a tall black man with big muscles, towering over myself and my daughter, as we were both fairly short. He wore a lab coat and was warm in his greeting. Both Emily and I were feeling a bit more comfortable when he had us sit down and exchanged a few pleasantries.
He explained in a fair amount of detail his theory of sexual tension in teenagers, and how to best relieve this without the need for the rather "sexually advanced" method of a girl and boy exploring each other. His therapy involved part psychological treatment, with discussions of feelings, and part medical treatment. The second part he explained could only be undertaken if the patient was over eighteen. Emma was eager to tell him that she turned eighteen in two days, and Dr Ray suggested we come in for the first session after then. Going back to his treatment, he got my daughter to stand up and indicated different regions where sexual tension was held, and explained that with a liquid formula developed relatively recently, this tension could be released. Here he went more serious, bringing out a device about six inches long and as thick as my finger, and told us that the only way for the liquid to be effective was to deploy it inside the vagina. I tried to remain calm as I thought of this treatment being used on my daughter, and Emma, standing next to Dr Ray had a smirk of nervous thoughts at the strange idea.
When no verbal reaction came, he went on, saying that the deployment took some time, anywhere between half an hour to two hours depending on the amount and strength required. He let us take that in, organising a few papers before he said there was one more thing on the agenda of the initial meeting -- a discussion of clothing.
He got my daughter to stand closer to him in the open, and looked over her clothing. She was not much taller than him when he was sitting. He got her to turn around and his eyes lingered on her bubble butt through her shorts (with a barbie batch on the right cheek, how embarrassing for me!) and her bare legs. Her skin was a golden tan colour given to her from her mother's Spanish decent. His eyes travelled up over her skinny waist and tummy, and her small breasts. Finally he smiled and looked up at her cute, innocent face, deep brown eyes, and her straight dark hair.
I expected him to tell me it was horrendous, encouraging sexual thoughts, but he surprised me again. He stated, "I understand why you are worried about your little girl's innocence, but... this type of clothing can be beneficial for a teenager to wear. By wearing such body-hugging attire, this will result in her resilience to males not being damaged, but rather strengthened. She will be more able to deter guys from her, and this is an important life lesson for any young girl. Men can be animals, especially when in the presence of such a beautiful young woman."
I found myself nodding to his final line as Emily smiled at the doctor in mild embarrassment. So we took in his suggestion for her to wear her skimpy clothes to all her future sessions.
We left in good spirits, and were informed that the initial consultation was free. In the car, I scolded myself for not asking the costs involved for next time; if there was to be a next time.
I consulted with the wife at home, and she too was a little concerned about the medical deployment in our daughters' vagina. But when I told her of the story of the young builder's cousin, she was optimistic that our daughter should be given the same opportunity. We talked, too, to Emma, and she was willing but not too keen to undertake the treatment. But the pro's outweighed the cons and by the end of the night we had decided to book in another trip to Daddy's Little Girl therapy. I also liked the name of the clinic, it reminded me that she was MY daughter and I had responsibility for her well-being. I loved my daughter, and wanted to give her the best chance in life.
After a day out at the beach with the family and some of Emma's close friends to celebrate her 18th birthday, I felt closer to my family than ever before. We gave her an expensive gold pendant that she now wore around her neck with a photo of her two parents. We also invested some money in a five year term deposit which, when the term finished would have grown substantially and would be hers to take. But I felt we hadn't given her enough. When we got home, I rang up and booked her in for her first appointment with Dr Ray the next day. I think that could have been the best present for my girl.
The following day, I went home a little early and picked up Emma who had gotten home from school and changed clothes to the same daisy dukes, and a tight white tank top. It made her skin look even more tanned, and there was lots of skin to see. I asked her if she was comfortable in those clothes, and decided it wasn't a good idea to wear such revealing clothes. This started a minor argument, as she told me she wanted to do it right if she was going ahead with this "treatment" (she was clearly now mocking the fact that I thought she needed help). As is always the case, she won the argument, and I gave in to her point of view.
We arrived early and waited in the waiting room. There were two black men sitting in the waiting room also, who I assumed where the fathers of daughters with similar problems, but one especially looked a little young. I smiled at them knowing what they felt.
We were called by the receptionist to go into Dr Ray's office, and found him waiting for us - again in his white lab coat. He firstly examined Emsie's clothing, smiling in approval, before he got into business. He held a clipboard and asked her different questions about her age, interests, schooling, relationships, knowledge about sex, what made her feel good and many more. I was also asked different questions, but for the most part sitting listening. Dr Ray sounded like he knew what he was doing, examining and taking notes about all the responses we gave. I noticed that there were a few security cameras in the room, and when he announced that his questions were done, I asked him about it. He explained that they were required so that we are credible for everything we do in the room, especially while making the insertions.
The pre-consultation only took five minutes, before Dr Ray asked Emma to make her way over to a strange-looking operating chair. Its' back was slightly inclined, and there were two padded loops hanging above it on either side. I was quite interested in how this would take place, but was surprised when Dr Ray asked me to please leave the room. I asked if I could stay to observe what was happening, but he replied that most teenagers feel uncomfortable with their parents watching, and that there was a case where it resulted in serious psychological damage. Emma looked undisturbed by the fact I was leaving, obviously feeling I should not see such an insertion. I decided that yes, she was a woman now and it was definitely inappropriate for me to even consider watching.
The doctor told me that the first insertion takes some time, so I was welcomed to either stay in the waiting room, or they would call me to come pick her up. I said a quick few words to my daughter, "be calm and just remember, I wouldn't want this for you if it wasn't the best thing for you. I will be just outside the door." I left and went to sit in the waiting room. There was no way I was leaving on the first try of such a medical treatment.
As I took my seat, I noticed the same two black men sitting in the waiting room. I found a magazine and started reading it. About ten minutes passed when the receptionist called one man's name and he went down the hallway. I thought that there was another doctor treating patients, and went back to reading the magazine. About another fifteen minutes later, the man walked from the hall and straight out the door. The receptionist called the other man's name and he swaggered down the hallway. As he left, the door opened an in walked two more men, who came to sit in the waiting room. They too were black, and were about my age, but both were big muscular men.
I flicked through all the different magazines, not realising that this part of town was so popular with black people. I had thought it was a predominantly white community. But the black men kept turning up and about 6 had gone into treatment after a bit over an hour. One man was still waiting, and sat nearby. I couldn't help but ask about why he came here.
He was about my age, and said that he was trained by Dr Ray in the insertion of the medical fluid, and it was "required as part of my job that I come here to pick up the fluid before taking it to patient's homes." He explained that Dr Ray had many people helping him with the insertions, as the business had recently grown very large.
After about an hour and forty-five minutes, I was summoned into Dr Ray's room, where my daughter smiled and gave me a hug. Dr Ray commended Emsie's patience, and said the insertion was a great success. There should be results within days, but nonetheless, you should come back for an appointment in three days time. He added, "remember that if at any time there is an urgent need for some tension release, call the clinic and we can have some fluid sent to your home."
I asked about the payment, and he said most customers bulk-bill, and the receptionist will have the payment details. It was also 15% discount for cash payments. I decided I would save the payment for another week, sick of staying in the waiting room, and while we walked to the car, noticed my baby girl walking a little funny.
At home my wife and I asked Emily what happened in the doctor's room. She explained that she had to take her clothes off while Dr Ray looked the other way, preparing the fluids. She then lay down on the chair, and Ray helped her lift her legs into the hoops. "He adjusted it because I'm smaller than most of his other patients. My legs were pushed right back and my vagina, well he said to call it a pussy, was all exposed. He then made some more adjustments and gave me something to put over my eyes. It was like goggles that were completely black. When I asked why I had to wear them he said if I didn't, I would be distracted and the treatment was likely to take four times as long. And if they were taken off at any time during the insertion, the whole session was wasted."
My wife and I listened intently as Emily gave a description of the first time something moved inside her pussy. "It felt warm and a bit weird, and it was kinda'-"
"Speak properly, Emma, what does 'kinda' mean?"
Emma gave an annoyed glance at me before continuing, "it was a little bit painful for a while, but something was tingly and eventually I felt quite good down there. Ray said this would usually happen and the object continued moving in. This was then taken out and something slightly larger was put in. It felt really tight, and Ray was really good. He went nice and slowly. I'm sure his other patients wouldn't be as small so he took his time. Again it went in about this much," (she held her hands apart about ten centimetres), "and then he pulled it out very quickly. It was so strange, I felt empty, but then there was another object put in. It was wider again, and he said this was the actual insertion device. It took a while to go in. This device was used for the rest of the time, and Ray seemed to be very practiced in everything that he was doing. It was a very complicated procedure, and I could literally feel the tension being released. It felt reallllly good a lot of times. Then several times throughout the insertion, I could feel the fluid being injected really deep, and he said the deeper it's inserted, the more effective it is. I think it has started to help me already," my daughter smiled at me and thanked me for signing her up for it.
My wife seemed contempt with what she had heard. It was nothing too unexpected. We knew our Emsie was a small girl and it was going to be difficult. We told Emsie to go finish her homework before going to bed. Later that night I was surprised when my wife asked me if I wanted to have sex. This usually happened about once a month, but I was feeling ready, so I allowed her to make use of my mini man.
Three days later I picked up an excited Emily from home wearing a dress that came down to the top of her thighs. It was tight all over and very revealing. Just what the doctor ordered.
We went through another five-minute consultation before I was once again kicked out of the room. I had asked if I could leave her alone but Emily had said she preferred that I was just outside. Dr Ray, or as Emily had become know to call him, Ray, smiled at that. I think he understood the innocence of the eighteen year old.
I came prepared with a book this time as I watched about ten black men go in and out of the clinic before the 90 minute insertion was complete. This time I paid the bill, amounting to far more than I had first thought. But it was worth it. In fact, I realised we may have to cut back on some of the other spending in order to continue the sessions. Dr Ray suggested that Emily come again in a few days and then twice a week on Mondays and Thursdays. He also suggested that we should start in-home insertions. They would not take as long, and would be performed by one of his trained practitioners.
After consulting with the wife, we decided we'd give it a try, as the more fluid entering our girl, the sooner she would be free of the worry of boys. So the routine started, with Mondays and Thursdays becoming the days Emily looked forward to. She said Ray made her feel so good, it felt like a burden being lifted, all her pent up stress being released. And after the clinic she would be in a state of tired bliss. I loved to see my girl happy, and that is what she was. Often she would come home from school the next day and say she still felt the fluids inside her, making myself and my wife happy with the treatment we were paying for.