tagMind ControlDaddy's Little Girl Ch. 01

Daddy's Little Girl Ch. 01


Authors Note: This is not a story about incest so if that's what you are expecting you will be disappointed!


I'm used to control, I work in a controlled environment, you see. Well, as controlled as a college can be!

I'm a good actress, you need to be. Strip teaching back and that's all it is - the façade, the emperor's clothes. And I've never let my teaching mask slip. So many years of reserve, truth be told, and it has bled into my whole life.

When I was younger I had hot thoughts like, I guess, any other young woman. I was a late developer in many ways. I was certainly very shy. But at the age of 18 I remember walking by the river and seeing a rower climb out of his boat. His black all-in-one was wet, his dark hair ruffled, his chest muscular and glistening. I must confess, my jaw dropped open and I suddenly felt a little prickling of moisture between my legs. It was such an uncontrolled feeling, I wasn't sure if I liked it. But it was there, demanding to be fed. That night I did feed it, imagining his body on mine, his hands pressing me down. And not sure where this bit came from but I could imagine him forcing me, disciplining me until I had control back again.

So it went on for the next couple of months, whenever I saw a good looking man, and I would spend the night touching myself, my bed sweat-soaked and my pillow chewed through.

For a time I had a boyfriend. Still only 19, I was a good girl, I was really was. But one night he got pushy and then aggressive. I can't, or won't even put into words exactly what happened, but at the time I thrilled to feel his hand on my head, forcing me down onto him. The strength of my response scared me, and I felt dirty even as I touched myself afterwards and through the rest of that long night. It doesn't really matter now, because after many years of practice I have my self-control back. And that's how it will stay. Over the years, I've cultivated an effective mix of formality and lightness in my dealings with men that protects me, and I guess has helped me act in my role as a teacher.

I really should describe myself. Forgive me, this doesn't come easily. I have girlish looks, long blonde hair, a slim frame and firm breasts. Yes, I know those words sound odd coming from my mouth but enough men have attempted to get past my reserve for me to know what they like what they see.

Now, my husband, he is good to me. He is steady, reliable and, my friends tell me, sexy. He is good with the kids too. Sounds pretty fine, eh? Well, it is, I'm very fortunate. He used to be bothered that we had such a quiet sex life but he adjusted. Putting it like that sounds really cold doesn't it? But you have to understand, I've had no choice. Something deep down tells me to hold something back for fear I'll become that 13 year old all over again, all compulsive desires and needs. Unable to stand the thought I've now pushed sex as far away as I can.

So this guy I've been talking to, he intrigues me. When I say 'talking', I mean chatting online. Strange really, I can't remember how we started. He just seemed to be...there one day. But it is so easy to talk to him, he understands me, all my issues at work, my need to be in control of my life.

In fact, much to my surprise I've come to lean on him just a little. Late at night, when my husband is asleep in the other room, I find myself turning on my computer with almost indecent haste. And he is always there, waiting for me. I love that, his reliability, his attentiveness. And I always feel better after talking to him. Oddly, there are moments every evening when time just seems to disappear - I don't know where it goes! But I feel so relaxed after talking to him, so...me. Unusually for me I get anxious sometimes - what if he gets bored of me? What is he finds someone else to talk to?

Then I log on again and all my worries fade away. He is still there, listening to me, prompting me to laugh. But where the heck does the time go? __________________________________________________

I log on. My Sarah is already there, waiting for me as I knew she would be. After all, she may not realise it but she needs me. I've been talking to her for several weeks now, sinking my messages deeper, through her surface needs, into her primal, unconscious self. Nothing sinister of course, just rewarding the time she is spending with me with all the feel-good chemicals her body can offer. But that is just the start...

"Hi Sarah", I type.

"Hi" she replies.

"How are you tonight?"

"Better now you're with me x"

"I can make you feel even better, honey"

There is a pause. She has picked up the innuendo, her defences sharp again. "Oh?"

"For that you need to go to sleep." The words appear on both my screen and hers. I don't need to say it again; she will be more receptive already.

"Sarah, from now on when you hear or read the words 'daddy's little girl' I want you to be very aware of your body. Feel the air around you as it strokes your skin. Feel your nipples prickle as they rub against your clothes. You feel so feminine and alive...but that's not enough, Sarah. After all, what is your body for? You will sit up straight, push your breasts out for any man that says those words. It will feel so good to be around him. Just, you know, generally. No expectations, nothing heavy, no harm done. It's not as if you're going to suck his cock is it?" "All you need to do is feel those hormones flooding your body, that sweet spot in the month when you want the attention of your special man, feeling all hot and bothered. Imagine just how good it would feel to give into that feeling..." __________________________________________________

It is almost time for lunch. I've felt so fresh this morning, so relaxed and unusually for a Monday morning, ready for the new week of teaching. Some of the students even seem interested, especially some of the worst-behaved lads. That's kind of unexpected; perhaps it is to do with the sense of poise and confidence feel standing in front of the class. Unusually for me I decide to leave the college to get my lunch, almost compelled by an inner voice. After all, it is a lovely warm sunny day.

A few minutes later I'm walking along the alley opposite the college and see a man lounging against the wooden fence. He looks at me, his eyes following me intently. For some reason I notice his eyes, the few stray hairs where his shirt is undone at the neck. I walk past him, suddenly self-conscious in my soft summer blouse, until he opens his mouth.

"Come here, daddy's little girl."

"Sorry?" My breath catches in my throat and my body starts to tingle. Adrenalin courses through me -- the adrenalin must be the reason my nipples feel suddenly hard, I tell myself.

Alarmed, I slow down but do not stop.

"I said, come here."

I turn halfway to face him.

"Who are you?"

"Oh, you know me, but I know you better."

I didn't like the rather salacious tone of his voice.

"I don't think so" I say coldly, passing my hand through my hair, unable to resist an unexpected attraction to this man.

"That's it, present yourself to me baby."

"I snatch my fingers away from my head guiltily, realising he was right.

I look at him again.

He is good-looking, no doubt. His eyes are piercing and his jaw strong. And his voice is deep and dare I say it, sexy.

"Tell me about yourself, Sarah. Tell me about your body."

"What?" I murmur, transfixed by his eyes, his voice. Fighting off the urge to move closer I stand there, helplessly aware not just of my body but his too. I can tell he is in good shape under his casual blue shirt.

"I don't...know...what do you want from me?"

"I told you, describe your body. Let's start with the basics. What do you look like under that pretty blouse?"

His voice was deep, persistent. I just didn't feel like arguing with him.

"Your tits, Sarah, your tits. Say it."

"No" I say with some force. I won't even let my husband call them that...what right do you have..." As I say this I'm aware of my ti, I mean, breasts heavy under my blouse, my nipples puckered and hard inside my bra.

"Thank you. You can go now, Sarah," he said coldly.

"Wha...t?" I say, snapping out of my dream world.

"I said you can go. I will see you tomorrow."

I stand there, my nipples forming sharp bumps on my blouse, suddenly bereft.

But I obey. Tearing my eyes away from his I turned and walked away, rolling my hips as I went. If I must go I want him left watching me. At least this way I retain some sense of control... __________________________________________________

"Good evening, my Sarah. How are you?"

"I'm a little bothered tonight." I type.

"Oh. How so?"

"Well...you will keep what I say to yourself won't you?"

"Of course my dear, you know I will."

I feel a warm flush of pleasure. I can trust this man, I know I can.

"OK...while at work today I...was confronted by a man outside the school. I don't know what he did but I became a little...aroused."

"Hmmm...tell me more...did he make you wet?"

What a crude question!

I pause before typing "yes." With those three letters I immediately feel myself moisten again. What is happening to me?

"Did you feel the juices leaking through your panties my darling?"

"What the hell do you mean?"I type, my anger flaring even as my stomach lurches with excitement and my nipples start to tingle at the words on the screen. "You don't talk to me like that."

"Hmmm...time for a little more training... go to sleep."

My fingers hover over the keyboard before falling down limply, my long nails resting on the keys. I feel so relaxed, unable to stir myself despite a quiet voice in my head telling me to escape, get away as far as possible.

"When you hear the words 'daddy's little girl', my dear, you won't have such a prudish attitude to dirty words will you?"

Pause, then "I don't know. I'm confused..."

"But you won't, baby. Every word you once blushed at will make you horny. Blushingly horny, that will be allowed. But blushes aside your body will tingle at every 'forbidden' word, you will feel your thighs twitch, your pussy moisten. How does it feel to see the words 'fuck me'?

I gasp, my eyes fixed on the screen. God, that is hot. 'Fuck me...' I whisper, my hand running across my stomach and upwards. My breasts feel heavy, my nipples ache to be milked by a hot mouth, that mouth telling what to do, what to think.

"It feels so naughty but so right doesn't it? Why not, it's entirely natural to enjoy your body, your tits, and your cunt. Just reading these words makes all your holes ache to be filled. Why don't you just give in?"

I'm drowning in the words as my fingers pluck on my nipples and I squirm on the chair, my pussy lips sticking to my panties. Even as I gasp and touch myself my voice of self-control won't be silent, admonishing me for even thinking in this way, shocked at what is happening. Shocked but unable to stop my fingers sliding deep into my swamp of a pussy...

"When you wake up in the morning this won't even be a dream, baby, it simply won't exist to you. Now go to bed and gather your strength, you will need it tomorrow." __________________________________________________

The next day is sunny once again. I selected a little tight skirt this morning and I'm feeling good about myself. The male tutors and even some of the students have been flirting with me and I've responded once or twice, surprising myself at how it feels. Still, all this attention has all given me the confidence to tell that sleazy guy in the alley to get lost. What was I thinking yesterday?

Lunch comes and I stride purposefully out of the college building, feeling my body strong, my bare breasts moving against my tight white shirt. I had felt slightly disconcerted earlier when I arrived at work to find I had forgotten to put a bra on. How the hell did that happen?

There he is. Lounging against the fence, radiating masculine confidence. 'God, but he is good looking', I think to myself with a surprised shiver.

"Hello Sarah."

"I don't know who you are but as soon as I get back to work I'm reporting for loitering outside the college."

"Now Ms Williams, why would you want to do that?"

My heart stops. He even knew my full name. Has he been stalking me?

"Sarah Williams, you are just a daddy's little girl aren't you? Such a sweet body. Raise your dress; I want to see your pussy. You're dripping wet aren't you baby?"

I gasp, puzzled why I feel so hot for him. How dare he? Not quite understanding why, I start to hitch my skirt up, above my knees, and over my thighs. The cool air hits my skin. Why am I doing this? My previously defiant inner voice now whispers 'because you want to...'

"That's it honey, show me your cunt. Here in the alleyway, I want to see you wet like the bitch in heat you are."

I hear his voice through a haze. It seems so distant, I can hear the words echoing through my head and they send a stabbing need through me. God I want him. My skirt hitched above my waist I slowly pull aside my damp white panties and look down at myself, my pussy on display.

"Your cunt Sarah, finger your cunt for me, my baby."

His words...they pierce me to my wet core. Gathering the last of my resolve I whisper "no..."

He smiles. "I see."

"Sarah, you are being disobedient. Turn around and put your hands on the fence."

I turn around in slow motion, unable to control what feels like a natural response to an overpowering will and lean against a rough wooden fence, blushing and shaking at the humiliation. I pray that nobody will see me here, offering myself up for a punishment that I don't even understand. Then I feel him lift my skirt surprisingly gently. I can't help myself from being thrilled as he gasps and murmurs "baby, your ass is so sweet."

God, this feels naughty. I push myself out meet his touch as he slips his fingers under my panties and runs them over my ass. Then -- smack! He spanks me hard and sharp, letting his hand linger for just a second.

"That was for saying 'no', Sarah...you will learn that is not acceptable."

My ass the air, my breasts hanging and pressed against my tight shirt, I feel numb to everything but the hot burning sensation on my ass and between my legs, my nipples hard and long.

I whimper as his fingers slide from my smarting ass, tickling my asshole as they leave my skin. I sob and attempt to slide my finger slowly along into my puffy pussy lips.


"That's for touching yourself without permission. Ask nicely and I may even say yes..."

"Please...let me..."

Smack! That one really hurt. I feel my skin stinging and reddening.

Shaking my head I mumble "why...?"

"It wasn't good enough, Sarah. Try again."

"Please sir...can I finger myself?" I hate myself even as I say it.


"Not now, Sarah, you're going to learn your lesson first. Besides, if I want to finger fuck you myself, I will, whenever I please."

Still leaning into the fence, my body heaving with tension and need, I imagine his fingers violating me, sinking deep into me. "Fuck me with your fingers...sir..." I beg.

At that moment I hear a cough at the far end of the alley. The sharpness of the sound snaps me out of my delirium and I'm suddenly self-conscious and ashamed of myself. Oh my God. I'm bending over in public for this swine. What is happening to me? How could I let him...? I turn and see my tormentor walking casually away.

"You bastard, what have you done to me?" I shout, floundering and lost in confusion.

He stops for a moment, turns to face me and after a moment says "I'm only doing what you secretly want Sarah, my sweet piece of pussy, my baby.

As he disappears from view one thing I do know. This needs to end now. I call out "You're here tomorrow you bastard, you may be a little surprised. That's all."

Ignoring me he turns the corner and that am that, I suddenly feel like crying, my body feels violated and I feel angry at my sense of vulnerability. And yet my ass is stinging, my juices are running down my legs and I've asked for, needed all of it.

So conflicted I return to work, to my life. When I get back to the college I almost unthinkingly slip off my panties. As the bunched wet fabric slides down my legs I rationalise this as being the most practical thing to do. I really can't stand in front of the class with my juices still drying can me?

But forgive me, even as I resolve to go to the police and report the sleaze ball, I find myself standing in front of the class without my bra and panties, hoping the sunlight will show off the silhouette of my naked body under my shirt and skirt

After school I go to the police station. I had been worried they wouldn't listen to what I had to say but something about my intensity and distress must have registered because they agree for someone to shadow me the next day. I feel much safer for this; the man in the alley is dangerous I won't let him mess with my head any more, regardless of how he has done it.

I return home, shower and pick at my dinner, unable to concentrate, even when my husband tries to engage me in conversation. I'm irritated by him tonight. Why does he have to be so bloody nice? Why doesn't he ever challenge me?

Later that evening, as my husband sleeps I log on again, almost without thinking.

He is already there. "Good evening, Sarah, my favourite little slut. Did you enjoy showing off your body today?"

Wait...it's him, the man in the alley! It has been him all along! My mind races, I feel scared. Yet, why the hell do I feel so excited?

"I've got no idea what you've done or how you've done it to me but it ends now."

I reach to sign off and he says it.

"What, my daddy's little girl doesn't like being a whore? Don't you realise that's all you are? You may as well accept it honey."

I sit still. I know he is right. Why else would I have stood in a dirty alleyway trying to finger myself like that? How else would I stand in front of my class with no underwear on?

"Let's face it, Sarah; you're just a submissive slut aren't you? You might feel ashamed right now but that shame means you need to be punished. And that is such a turn on isn't it? It's so exciting to be used, to be dominated. Since you are learning to use your body you might as well be paid for it."

I sit there, his words circling round in my head. It makes such sense...I want to be desired, it's only natural. Why not be paid for it? My mind spins into a loop -- a slut like me needs to be punished, a slut like me enjoys her punishment, enjoying my punishment makes me a slut, meaning I need to be punished...

"When you wake up, Sarah, you won't remember our time together this evening. In fact you will feel empowered by a new-found sense of your sexuality, with what you deep down..."

"...a slut." I finish his sentence with an overpowering sense of liberation.

"Yes. Now go to sleep my slut. Your hot body needs rest. Goodnight." __________________________________________________

The next morning I dig around in my wardrobe for the mini dress I bought last summer and had never worn. The deep neckline and sequined halter neck strap had been just too much, even for a glam night out. Now it felt just right covering my otherwise naked body, as did the shiny dark high heels and silver ankle bracelet. Even for work. Especially for work I giggle to myself as I put on my makeup.

Spinning around in front of the mirror I admire my legs, my womanly shape.

"Hmmm...you're looking good today, Sarah. Time for some grrrl power...time to teach that sleaze ball a lesson."

At work that morning I catch the stares, the heated looks, and smile to myself. I'm the unobtainable woman and how delicious it feels. During class I imagine every pair of 18 year old male eyes gazing at my ass as I turn to make a point on the whiteboard. At one point I turn to open a window, feeling my dress ride up over my thighs. 'Oops,' I think to myself naughtily.

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