Mind-Control Panties 01

Daddy's Little Girl

In a certain mall, in a clothing store frequented by the local college girls, a figure wandered.

Nondescript. The type of person no one would ever look at twice. The figure drifted through the store, browsing the shelves, glancing at the wares. Trendy clothing. Flashy and bright, full of pastel colors. The figure paused at one display with a selection of panties covered in salacious slogans printed across the rear, designed to hug the firm, toned rump of a girl budding into her sexuality. The figure, with a casual gesture, added its own panties to the stack. One with its own special phrase written upon it.

Daddy's Girl.

The figure continued on. An observer would have hardly noticed that anything had happened. The light-blue panties with the pink lettering didn't stand out at amid the others.

It wasn't long before a gaggle of young women, eighteen or nineteen, entered the store. Their bright laughter echoed through the retail space as they attacked the clothing racks like a flock of hungry vultures. Only, no vulture was ever as succulent of these nubile, young things.

One of them, a eighteen-year-old sophomore named Brittany Smith, was looking for the perfect outfit. Her blonde hair fell loose about her round face, her lips plump and covered in a shiny, pink lip gloss. She had a beauty mark on her upper lip, her blue eyes bright as she stumbled with her friends, gossiping, enjoying the vitality of youth.

The laughter increased when they reached the display with the panties. They giggled in embarrassed delight at the naughty phrases. They joked about accidentally flashing their panties and letting this or that cute guy see the enticing phrases printed in garish letters across their rumps.

Brittany's gaze fell on the light-blue panties with the pink lettering. She touched the cotton/poly blend and felt a strange tingle race through her. She was most certainly not a daddy's girl. She hated how restrictive her father was. Robert Smith was a man with strong opinions about how his daughter should act. Opinions Brittany most definitely did not share.

However, there was something so titillating about the phrase.

Something naughty.

"Oh, Brittany, you just have to buy those," said Miranda Brenner. "Those are wild."

Buzzing with a euphoric high as Brittany imagined wearing these for her new boyfriend, Stephen, she snagged them up and rushed to the cash register.

By the time she finally wore them, nearly two months had passed. But the figure was patient while waiting for the fun to begin.

* * *

Brittany Smith

A nervous flutter ran through me. I had my first date with George Harvey tonight. I was giddy with excitement. He was such a stud. So much better than Brad, whom I'd dumped last week when I caught him texting that skank Miranda Brenner. George was definitely better than that lame Stephen. Why did I ever think dating him would be fun? He had become way too much like my father, wanting to control me.

"F that," I muttered to myself as I capped my Passion Fruit Maroon lipstick. My lips were a shiny, vibrant red. It set off the blue of my eyes and made me look deliciously irresistible.

My hips swayed in a new skirt I'd bought earlier at the mall, my small breasts bouncing in the negligee-like top I wore. The thin fabric dangled from spaghetti straps that molded to my torso and gave ample proof I wasn't wearing a bra. My firm, young nipples pressed hard against the material.

George would be here soon. I was so eager to be picked up. The older boy was exciting. I couldn't wait to show him just how grown-up I could be. It was finally time for me to lose my virginity.

"That's right, you're going to pop my V-card," I muttered to myself, cheeks going scarlet at saying those words aloud.

The doorbell rang.

I gasped, a jolt of shock running through me. George was early. I was supposed to have another thirty minutes to make sure I was perfect. That my blonde hair was falling in perfect waves around my face, that my makeup was sultry and exciting, and that my outfit fit me perfectly. I was wearing my new thong, the thin strap of material buried between the peachy curves of my bubbly ass.

"Well, I'm as ready as I'll ever be," I muttered as I heard my mother moving through the house.

I darted downstairs, my feet slapping on the steps, my youthful breasts jiggling in my top. The fabric rubbed against my nubs, sending excited tingles down to my pussy. I was ready for this night. I was eager--

"I can't believe I locked the blasted keys in the car," my father growled.

I let out a squeak of fright. Why was my father home early? He didn't get off work for an hour. I arranged things so he couldn't see what I was wearing. At least, not before I got back from my date.

His brown eyes flicked up to me, his back straightening as he witnessed my cute outfit, disapproval crossing his stuffy face. Color spotted his cheeks as his nostrils flared. I froze on the steps, clutching the polished banister, my heart thundering beneath my breasts.

Then I lifted my head. Maybe I could get out of this if I bluffed. "Hey, Dad. How was work?"

"You see what our daughter's wearing?" he said, ignoring my words entirely.

My mother glanced at me, biting her lower lip. "Well, I'll admit it's a little much, but she's growing up."

"Growing up into what?" he demanded.

Anger shot through me. He thought that I was a whore.

"I'm dressed for my date, Father," I said with a frosty tone to my voice. "He's going to be here any minute."

"Not dressed like that," Daddy growled. He glanced at my mother. "Talk to your daughter. She is not going out of this house dressed like that."

I stamped my foot. "Oh, yes I am!"

"Now, honey," Mom said, her voice soft. "That skirt is a little short. I mean... What is your date going to think?"

"That I'm fine! Cute! Sexy!"

"Sexy?" Daddy growled. "Sexy?"

His withering glare fell upon me. I trembled, swallowing. I wanted to melt away. It was an unflinching gaze. His brown eyes were intense. He may look mild-mannered in his beige slacks and sweater, but he still had that military bearing. He worked in an office now, but...

"This is what all the girls wear," I said.

"You're not all girls. You're my little girl."

"I am not!" I glared at him. "I'm eighteen. An adult!"

"You're barley an adult," he growled. "So long as you live under my roof, so long as I pay your bills, including that damn phone you spend all your time messing around on, then you're going to dress how I say!"

The bottom fell out of my stomach. That was no empty threat. "I need my phone. I have to stay in contact with my friends."

He arched an eyebrow at me.

"If I don't have it, how am I supposed to be connected to the world? How will I know what's going on?"

"By all means, go out there dressed like that and see how great your life is without that little box." He stood aside, sweeping his arm. "After all, you're an adult. There is an entire world out there waiting for you. Jobs. Bills."

"But..." my lower lip quivered.

"What about that pink skirt you have?" Mom chimed in, trembling beside dad. "You always look cute in that."

"It falls down to my knees!" I hissed.

"Good," Dad said, nodding.

"Why don't you just make me wear a habit!" I snarled. "Just me make into a nun or something! Or you can shove me into a burqa!"

"If that's what you want to wear," he said. "I can go buy one."

I stared into his eyes, refusing to look away. Fury boiled through me. He looked so calm. A rock. It shook me up, my anger faltering. I trembled, swallowing. Was he serious? Would he really stuff my cute body into a shapeless burqa? My eyes watered as I forced them to stay open. My feet squirmed.

He was relentless. Unfeeling.

"I hate you!" I snarled as I whirled around. "I hate you so much!"

"That's fine," he growled. "When you're older, you'll look back at this and laugh."

I screeched as I stomped to my bedroom. I threw myself through the door and slammed it behind me.

"Want to make me dress like a little girl?" I hissed in annoyance.

Then I remembered the perfect pair of panties. That would show him.

I whirled around and darted for my dresser. I grabbed the polished, white knobs and yanked it open. My panties and bras shifted around inside from the violence of my action. My gaze darted around the dainty garments. Then, I spotted what I was looking for. Light-blue fabric. Some of the pink letters showing. I grinned. I shoved my hands beneath my skirt, hooking the waistband of my new thong, and ripped it down my thighs. My skirt swayed. I could feel it dancing over the cheeks of my plump ass. I stepped out of the dainty panties, my blood boiling.

"Expect me to be his little girl," I muttered. "Eff that!"

I unfolded the special panties, nodding in satisfaction at the sight of the pink letters. "Daddy's Girl." They made me tingle just thinking about wearing them. I would lose my virginity tonight wearing these panties. I would throw myself at George.

"Ooh, you're going to get pussy tonight! Even if you're an asshole, I'm so angry, I'll just mount you in the middle of the theater!"

My blonde hair danced about my face as I shoved my right foot through the leg hole. Then I thrust my left leg through the other. I worked that blue, cotton/poly blended material up my thighs. It whisked against my skin, caressing me. A naughty tingle raced up to my vulva, electrifying my clit. I shuddered as I wiggled it up my thighs. I pulled it over my rump, the crotch settling against my shaved, virgin pussy.

I groaned, my eyes fluttering as this lightning zapped through me.

I stared at myself in the mirror, my skirt half-bunched around my waist, my hair swaying loose about my shoulders. My lips were just glossy maroon. This vivacious, bold color. It was so... adult.

That wouldn't do at all. I didn't have much time to change and fix my makeup. I had to move fast. What was up with this skirt I was wearing? Daddy wouldn't like how short it was. The hemline barely covered anything.

My cheeks blushed a bright scarlet. My virgin pussy tingled as I quickly ripped off the skimpy skirt. As I did, movement caught my gaze. I gasped at the sight of my top in my mirror. I could see my nipples through the cloth. Why wasn't I wearing a bra? The material clung to my small breasts. It was disgraceful.

After I stepped out of my skirt, I ripped off the top. I was just in my panties. I paused, turning my hips, studying my figure. The light-blue fabric of the panties molded to my rump, the letters, showing up in a perverse text across my ass, looked so cute. I giggled, wiggling my hips. The panties were so true.

I was a daddy's girl.

Humming, I found that pink skirt Mom recommended. It was perfect. So cute. Daddy would love it. I stepped into it and worked it up my legs quickly. I didn't have much time. My firm, young titties jiggled. I zipped up the skirt.

My hips shook as my hands slid over my flat stomach. I considered what to wear with the skirt. I needed a perfect top for my date. I didn't have time to find a bra, but I remembered the exact blouse I needed. It was a white blouse, something a schoolgirl would wear.

Perfect.

I fetched the white blouse out of my closet while bubbling with excitement. My nipples tingled, just aching to be tweaked. I knew he would love how I was dressed. He would absolutely approve. There would be no anger from him.

Why had I even wanted to disappoint him?

I couldn't believe I thought of dressing like such a whore. That wasn't me. It was like I had gone insane or something. But now... now, thanks to that tingle racing through me, I understood who I was. I was just what my panties said.

A daddy's girl.

I buttoned up the blouse, feeling it fit snugly about my torso. It was a little old, something I hadn't worn in a few years, but it still fit. Barely. The fabric molded to me. I groaned, seeing my nipples poking at the cloth. I bit my lip, wondering if I had time to put on a bra.

No, I didn't. I would have to go without it.

I darted to my makeup table, needing to take off this garish lipstick. Whatever possessed me to purchase this whorish hue? I grabbed a sponge and the rubbing alcohol then quickly wiped off the hue. I worked fast, knowing that George would be here at any time. If I wore lipstick like this, he might think I'd want to have... sex with him.

I wouldn't do that. I was a good girl.

My heart racing, my blonde hair dancing, I worked fast. I was so aware of the time. Not much time was left. George should be here by now. Was he running late? For once, I wouldn't be mad.

My lipstick smeared off, I found a more appropriate shade. A nice, soft pink. Bubblicious Delight. I uncapped it, applying the paler shade on my lips. It brought out my natural color, making my lips seem a little plumper. A little cuter. The chair creaked beneath me as I applied it too fast. I winced at the pink smeared across my upper lip. I grabbed a tissue and quickly scrubbed it away. I touched up my lips, then smacked them against the tissue to get off the excess.

I ran my tongue over my lips, feeling the waxy texture. I nodded in delight. I stood up, ready for my date and...

There was something missing. Something more that I needed to do. What was it? I stared at myself, seeing that my cute blouse's hem came just to the top of my pink skirt, its fabric flowing in pleated folds down to my lower thighs. I cocked my head, my loose, blonde curls sliding around my face and...

"That's it!" I gasped.

I pulled open the drawer of my makeup table and snagged the first two pink scrunches I could find. I grabbed my hair, gathering half of it up into a pigtail, and wrapped it up with the stretchy band. In moments, my locks tumbled down to my shoulder in a fall of golden delight. I grabbed the other scrunchy and made my other tail. I loved how it transformed my face. It made me look more like a cute, little girl. Just the way Daddy liked to see me.

Wholesome.

Innocent.

Not the sort who would surrender her virginity on a date with a boy.

I was perfect. With a giddy giggle, I darted to the door. I threw it open, my sock-covered feet whisking on the carpet. I scampered down the stairs, my skirt flying about my thighs. My pigtails bounced with such playful delight. I reached the bottom of the stairs and burst into the living room. Daddy was already sitting on his recliner, his legs thrown out before him. He glanced at me and blinked.

"What do you think?" I asked. "Is this more appropriate? Huh, Daddy?"

He nodded his head. "There's my daughter," he said. "My little girl."

Mom peeked her head out from the kitchen. "Oh, you just look so darling," she said. "Brittany, I'm so glad that you're listening to your father."

"He does know best," I said.

My father blinked at that. My mother's head cocked to the side. Then she shrugged and vanished back into the kitchen.

I flounced to my father, my skirt swirling about my thighs. With boisterous energy, I threw myself onto his lap and straddled him. He groaned, his eyes flicking up and down my body. My nipples tingled, this naughty thrill dancing through me. I resisted the urge to giggle. I felt so wicked right now. I leaned in and gave my dad a quick kiss on the lips.

"I'm so sorry, Daddy," I purred. "Do you forgive me?"

"Yeah," he said, with a throaty strain in his voice. He looked stunned. Like someone had just walked up and cold-cocked him in the side of the head.

I wiggled, feeling naughty as I pressed my new panties into his crotch. I could feel the words on the rump almost burning me through the cloth. I wondered if Daddy wanted to see my underwear? To see that I was a good girl and wasn't wearing that nasty thong.

I bet he did. I bet he would love to see what a good girl I was now.

He groaned as I climbed off him. I gasped, almost falling over as I slipped off the recliner. His chair wobbled. It creaked as his legs pulled in the extended part. His cheeks were red, his chest rising and falling in his dark-brown sweater. I turned around, wiggling my cute rump at him.

"See, Daddy," I purred, flipping up my skirt. "I'm not wearing that nasty thong. I'm wearing a proper pair of panties."

"Daddy's girl," he groaned, now sounding like someone strangled him.

What was wrong with my daddy?

"Yep, I'm your good, little girl. I love being a daddy's girl."

"I can... see that." He cleared his throat. "I don't think you need to keep... showing me."

I threw a look over my shoulder, my lower lip padding. "Are you sure? Don't you like how I look in my panties?"

"Yeah," he growled. "Maybe a little... too much."

I squealed in delight at that. I spun around and bounced in place, my pigtails flying about my face. My nipples ached as my little titties jiggled in my tight, white blouse. I clapped my hands together as such delight squealed from my lips.

Mom thrust her head back into the living room. "What are you so excited about?"

"Daddy loves my new panties," I purred.

"No, I don't," Daddy quickly said. "I just... thought they were more appropriate for her to wear on a date than the last pair."

"That's nice," Mom said. She headed back into the kitchen, the clatter of pots and pans echoing.

I stopped bouncing in place, feeling Daddy's eyes on me. His cheeks were even redder now. He shifted on the chair as he adjusted his pants. My eyes notice the large bulge in the front of his khaki slacks. My cheeks blazed with heat as a molten lust formed deep inside of my virgin pussy. Daddy was hard. He looked so big, straining the front of his trousers. My tongue flicked across my glossy lips as a shiver ran through my body.

"Daddy," I said. "Did you really like my panties?"

He cleared his throat.

I sauntered to the chair, my hands clasped behind my back while my hips undulated side to side. This wicked thrill ran through me. His eyes were locked on me, drinking in my youthful charms. He was staring at me with such hungry eyes.

"I think you really, really like my panties." I purred. "I'm so sorry for making you uncomfortable. Let me help you out."

"What!" He gasped as I lunged forward, my hands darting out from behind my back as they dove at his bulging crotch.

Before Daddy could stop me, my hands reached his bulging crotch. I shuddered as I felt his girth through his khaki slacks. A tingle raced out of my panties, electrifying my virgin pussy. Jolts shot throughout my body, caressing me and making me tremble in ecstatic delight.

I would make Daddy so happy. Be such a good, little girl.

"Jesus, Brittany!" He growled, his hands fumbling to grab my wrist.

I don't know how his strong hands didn't seize me before I had his belt undone and his pants unfastened. His zipper rasped as I pulled open his fly, revealing his plaid boxers tented by his straining cock. His face was so red, his eyes bulging with alarm. He managed to snag my left wrist while my right hand darted into his underwear and pulled out his dick.

It was like the world froze as I saw my daddy's cock for the first time. It was so thick and long, his shaft warm in my hand, pulsing with a beat. His heart beat. The tip ended at a pink, mushroom-shaped crown, a little slit at the pinnacle beaded with a clear liquid. Precum.

My tongue slid over my pink, glossy lips. A hunger ran through me. This desire to be such a good, little girl for my daddy consumed me. My head darted down, my blonde pigtails flying. I opened wide to engulf his dick. My lips about his crown. I tasted salty precum.

I swallowed his dick.

"Jesus fucking Christ," he groaned. "Brittany, you can't do that."

His hand squeezed hard about my left wrist as my lips sealed tight around the tip of his dick. I sucked on my first cock, my cheeks hollowing. My tongue explored around the crown, feeling the spongy texture. His salty precum melted across my tongue, setting alive my taste buds. My virgin pussy clenched, my juices soaking my naughty panties. My nipples ached against my blouse as Daddy growled out his pleasure.