A Princess Minds Her Manners

***All characters are over the age of 18.***

"Dearest," Daddy cooed in my ear as I attempted to remain still. We were at dinner, and I was making every effort to be as graceful and ladylike as he desired.

"Yes Daddy?" I responded coolly, as though I could not feel his hand slipping beneath the high slit of the dress I wore. His hands brushed against the pink lace panties I wore, and he grew bold, cupping my sex. The feet of his chair screeched painfully against the Cherrywood floor as he inched closer, positioning himself to more comfortably touch me.

"Daddy," I breathed, unsure.

"Eat your dinner, Princess," he demanded coldly, his grip bruising and tight between my legs, as though issuing a threat. "I expect you to eat quietly, with all the manners becoming a young and -- "his fingers nudged at my thighs, a silent command to open for him "-- well-groomed lady."

"Thank you Daddy," I whispered as I opened my legs, repressing a shiver of perverse delight as he stroked the strained fabric above my clitoris.

I whimpered quietly as Daddy looked away, stroking me firmly with his left hand and stabbing his fork into a roasted potato with his right. I could feel his gaze on me nevertheless, and so cut into my medium rare steak, placing a bite-sized morsel -- sopping with juice -- into my mouth.

"You have the most delightful pink lips, Princess," Daddy groaned, pushing the frilly seam of my panties aside and prodding a finger into my pussy. He leaned forward and ran his tongue across my lower lip, and I shuddered involuntarily as he pushed his middle finger as deep as it would go. I reminded myself to keep my posture straight as he curled his finger inside of me and demanded I eat another, bigger bite of the steak.

"So big you have no choice but to chew with your mouth open," he ordered, dragging his finger down over my g-spot and eliciting an unbidden moan from me.

"Yes Daddy," I whispered, still ensuring that our eyes did not meet. I cut again into my steak, slowly, watching the bloody mess spill out onto my plate as Daddy began pistoning one and then two fingers into me, his own meal forgotten.

Amidst my several concerns -- keep my posture straight, hands placed daintily on my silverware, eyes demurely focused away from Daddy's wanton gaze, don't fucking cum -- I managed to stab the large, dripping morsel and place it into my open mouth.

"Now... chew," he growled, sucking at my neck as the juices from the meat inevitably flowed out of my mouth and down onto his waiting tongue. A perilous heat danced in my chest and between my legs, and I was at once thankful that Daddy had allowed me to chew with my mouth open. As humiliating as it was to watch him eagerly lap up the mix of steak juice and saliva running down my face, it was one less thing to maintain strict control over. In spite of my desire to be the noblewoman my Daddy desired, I chewed openly and loudly, slurping when I thought Daddy might appreciate it.

The lack of control was, in that moment, a welcome relief.

"Swallow baby, all of it at once if you can," Daddy implored, placing his cheek against the curve of my throat. His left hand, while still nestled possessively in the folds of my pussy, had stilled as he watched my mouth open and close. His right hand was now in his pants and stroking his large erection furiously.

I attempted to do as he asked, the messy wad of meat curling down my throat with three hard swallows, as I gently rolled my hips against his fingers, imploring him to remember my pleasure too.

He groaned as my throat expanded once, twice, and thrice against his cheek; the slick sounds of his hand servicing his cock coming back into the fore as I reminded myself to breathe.

All at once, Daddy stood up, his chair scratching angrily against the wooden floorboards as he cast long ropes of cum on the remainder of my food. As he spent himself on my plate and part of the table, I could hear him muttering in between gasps and moans: "You're not a lady, you're nothing but my sugar baby slut," and "Fucking whore, I'll make you earn my money you little bitch."

It shouldn't have made me wetter. It shouldn't have made my already dripping cunt eager for whatever else he desired of me. But in this large empty room with vaulted ceilings, an imposing crystal chandelier, an artfully designed, Victorian-era dinner table made to seat at least a two dozen people, and walls that dripped with expensive art and gold-leaf trim, it did.

And who could blame me? As he reminded me none too subtly of our true arrangement, my sex cried for his attention and his praise.

Daddy sat back down and smiled sweetly at me, the sentiment he conveyed marred only by the smell of sex and an unstable glint in his eye. He rustled my neatly coiffed hair and kissed my forehead as though his hand was not covered in pre-cum and sweat.

I frowned at the look in his eye however, wondering that I had not chosen the proper actions, that I should have defended my honor as a lady more assertively. He noticed the indecisiveness in my body language and tutted, raising my face to meet the uneven smile in his eyes.

"You did marvelously Princess," he cooed, "except that you ground your pretty cunt into my hand like a drugged whore." The gleam in his eye grew brighter as he uttered the last few words, and I flinched, but his sure hold on my hair and face kept me in place.

"A good, well-groomed lady does all that her betters tell her, and you performed well," he added, smiling and releasing me as he turned back to his own plate.

"Now eat up," Daddy grinned a little too wide, motioning to my cum-soaked meat and potatoes, "before your dinner gets cold."

Daddy's fingers snaked back into my lace panties, and two dove into my pussy without preamble, moving leisurely inside me as we both tucked into our food.

I remembered myself and turned my mind away from his delicious ministrations, letting the building pleasure become a part of me rather than letting it drown me. Drifting in my silenced mind, I endeavored to remain his perfectly mannered princess. I chose instead to listen for his soft sighs of "Princess" and "Little Lady" and the occasional "Fuck", only allowing myself a brief indulgence in pleasure upon hearing them. My Daddy prized my self-control almost above all else, after all.

Chew quietly, swallow with my head held high, watch Daddy watch from the corner of my eye, repeat until done.