Sweet Girl

Author's note: This is a fictional DDlg series involving consenting partners in their thirties. CWs for the entire series include spanking, humiliation, anal play, ginger play, enema play, nipple play, pussy spanking, belting, and orgasm denial (plus lots of love along the way).

PART 5

The first time Mark called me 'little girl,' I think my body went into shock. I was frozen, part of me wondering if I'd even heard that right. Or maybe he was fucking with me, ready to laugh in my face the moment I responded.

"Would you prefer Princess? Babygirl? Kitten?"

Wow. I shifted. "I like little girl," I said, mainly because he clearly did, or he wouldn't have picked it.

"Right here then, little girl," he said. "On my lap. Don't make me repeat myself again."

I blew out a nervous breath. Then I walked slowly toward him. I stood there awkwardly when I reached him, and he leaned forward to pull me the rest of the way, wrapping me in his arms as he set me on his thigh.

I buried my face in his chest, the tears I'd fought back all day finally bubbling over. "I'm so sorry I'm so fucked up--"

"Hey," he chided. "I don't ever want to hear you talking about my perfect girl like that again. And I never want you to be sorry for who you are, either. I'll always love you, Sades. If you want to be someone's little girl, then obviously you're going to be mine. Frankly, I'm a little offended that you assumed I'd be so close minded. Do I seem like a prude to you?"

I swallowed, looking down at my lap. "No."

He lifted my chin with his finger. "No

what,

little girl?"

I shifted, his words swirling dangerously in my core.

"I've already warned you once about repeating myself, little girl."

I squirmed harder, pussy fully awake and listening, now. But saying that word, calling him that, felt like it would be the final nail in my coffin. The irony, of course, being that my coffin was already constructed and I was laying in it.

He leaned forward, running a reassuring hand over my back as he brought his lips to my ear. "Bend over my lap, little girl."

I jerked back. "What?"

"We'll talk about it when you're in position."

My pussy was absolutely throbbing as I crawled off his lap that first time, standing nervously in front of him.

"My, my little girl, the infractions are adding up. Did I tell you to stand in front of me or to bend over my lap?"

I swallowed, shakily moving forward. As my belly curled around his knee he reached for my waist, pulling me back until I was comfortably centered across his thighs.

Then, like the flip of a switch, his voice changed. "Wait," he whispered. "We need a safe word."

Right. I knew that. Was I the kinky one or was he?

Both our eyes moved around the room--landing, at the same time, on that bottle of whiskey on the table next to his chair.

Then we grinned at each other, like we'd just come up with the dirtiest inside joke known to man.

"Glencliff," he said, referencing the brand displayed on the label, bringing our special word into existence. The word that, on our first anniversary, we'd have engraved inside our wedding bands.

"Glencliff," I agreed.

And just like that, his face flipped back to stone-cold-stern dom, and my pussy wept at the sight of him.

"Why are you bent over my lap, little girl?"

I squirmed, body achy with anticipation. "Because you told me to."

"And why did I tell you to?"

"B-because I made you repeat yourself."

He stared at me with such seriousness I genuinely did begin to feel like an admonished little girl. "Anything else?"

"Um..." I was buzzing with nerves and arousal, not thinking clearly. Had I done something else?

"Do you need some help, little girl?"

I nodded, face turning bright red. "Yes," I said nervously, and he waited. "Please?"

His nostrils flared as he stared down at me, like this wasn't the right answer. Then he reached out to my ass, tapping a menacing finger on my cheek. "Little girl, I'm not sure where to even begin. First, you called out sick from work when you weren't sick. Then, you moped around all day, telling yourself lies about my state of mind instead of asking me directly what I thought about our conversation--like an adult. Then, you arrived home hours later than usual, without so much as a text to let me know. You said horrible, nasty things about my perfect little girl. Called her messed up and fucked up. Unacceptable. Then you made me repeat myself. Then, of course, there's the fact that you intentionally kept who you were from me for nearly six years, imagining me some kind of prude, but don't worry, I'm setting aside all of this Saturday evening to deal with that matter. And lastly, you're refusing--whether intentionally or subconsciously--to call me what we both know you want to call me."

I looked up at him, wincing. "Is that all?"

"And now you're making jokes about it."

My playful smile faded.

"If you were counting, little girl, which I'm guessing you were not, that was seven infractions. And because the last one is so serious, we're going to round things up to ten."

I pressed my legs together, pussy pulsing and he smacked at one of my thighs, snapping at me to be still.

Then he hooked his fingers in the band of my leggings, peeling them down my thighs. Next came the cheeky panties, bunching with the spandex around my knees.

"Kick them off," he said, and I hurried to do what I was told, using my legs to shimmy them down to my ankles, where I eventually kicked free.

He ran his large hand in circles over my ass, first one cheek, then the other.

"What do you think I should do about these infractions, little girl?"

I pressed my legs together again and he slapped hard at the back of my thigh.

"Open, now. You've been squirming like a worm on a fucking hook all evening. Why is that, little girl?"

He reached a hand between my legs, fingers finding my soaking pussy and he tisked. "Well now I think I understand. I'd be uncomfortable, too, if I had such a desperate little mess between my legs."

I moaned--the touch, the humiliating words, the shame of being bent over his lap--

"But that's why little girls need a strong, male figure in their life. Someone who can teach them how to control their dirty little impulses. Someone who can correct them when they misbehave. Someone who can quiet the terrible thoughts always running through their mind, and make them confront who they really are. Who are you Sadie?"

My heart pounded painfully in my chest. "Your little girl," I whispered and he nodded.

"And who am I?"

I knew what he wanted me to say. I knew what I wanted to say. But I was so curious how far he'd actually go. "My husban--?"

He slapped my ass hard. "Do little girls have husbands?"

I moaned, the sting fading into pleasant warmth. "Mark?"

"You're doing this on purpose, little girl," he'd said then, slipping a finger into my pussy. I moaned, riding him for several minutes. Then he pulled it out. "You're testing boundaries. It's a perfectly healthy activity for a developing little girl. Do you know what else is healthy for a developing little girl?" He pressed his slicked finger against my asshole and I squirmed harder. He'd put his finger in my ass before but it was under entirely different circumstances. I felt myself clenching to keep him out but he ignored my efforts, wedging his way in. "Discipline," he said calmly. "Lots of it."

"Daddy!" I shouted as he seated his finger all the way in and I could hear the smile in his voice.

"That's my sweet girl." He withdrew then, and redrew, and withdrew. Over and over. I was panting, and trembling, shamelessly riding his long finger. "Who's fingering your ass right now, little girl?"

"You, Daddy."

"Whose lap are you laying over right now, little girl?"

"Your's, Daddy!"

"Who is going to spank your naughty little ass ten times once he gets bored of fingering your dirty hole?"

"Oh god," I moaned, curling around him at his choice of words.

"Close," he said, smacking one of my ass cheeks with his free hand.

"Daddy!" I corrected and he wedged that free hand beneath me, finding my pulsing clit. I cried out as he played with my ass and clit simultaneously, causing me to spasm and moan and puddle on his lap.

"My naughty little girl," he'd chided. "Riding Daddy's fingers like she's never been touched in her life. You're going to tell me when you're close, little girl. And then I'm going to stop, because naughty girls don't get to come, and then you're going to tell me what you think I should do with this bare ass bouncing on my lap."

"Yes, Daddy."

He softly groaned at my words--his first slip in character. I felt his cock then--hard and bouncing, just beneath my stomach. "Sweet girl. Say it again."

"Yes, Daddy," I whimpered and his cock bounced even harder.

"Someday soon I'm going to take this ass with my cock, little girl, but until then it's mine to tease with my fingers whenever I please. Do you understand me? Spankings apparently don't scare you, and your pussy clearly gets wet enough on her own. It's your little asshole here that seems to have the most opportunity for growth, so that's where Daddy's going to focus his efforts. Do you understand, little girl?"

His words were too deliciously perfect--more perfect than I could take.

"I'm close, Daddy!"

"How close?"

"So close, Daddy!"

He ripped his fingers from me then, leaning down close to my ear, whispering that if I came, it would be the last time for a week, and that threat was enough to tame my wild clit who had been writhing with need, ready to make my first little girl orgasm hers.

Then, as if reading my mind: "For now on, little girl, your pleasure, your orgasms, your punishments are mine. Now, what does my naughty little girl want me to do to her ass?"

"Punish me, Daddy," I'd whispered. "Please."

He rubbed a hand lovingly over my cheeks, poking playfully at my hole. Then he lifted his hand and I clenched, bracing for the pain, whimpering in anticipation, feeling suddenly emotional--like everything was about to change. After this, our relationship would never be the same.

"Will you still love me after this, Mark?" I blurted, in desperate need of reassurance. "No matter what I ask you to do to me? Will you still be glad you married me?"

Mark seemed taken aback by the question. "Of course, Sadie-girl. I'll love every part of you, always." He brought his hand back down to graze my ass with his fingers as he spoke. "The silliest parts. The darkest parts. I'm going to make every inch of your complicated little mind mine," he said, stroking my hair from my face. "Sometimes you'll be my sweet girl, sometimes you'll be my naughty girl, but no matter what, for as long as you want, you'll always be my little girl. The little girl I intend to do unspeakable things to, for the rest of our lives."

His words nearly made me come on the spot, leaving me overwhelmed by his acceptance of me--of his ability to slip into this role so naturally.

Then, after giving me a healthy several seconds to use our new special word--which I declined--he raised his hand and gave me my first toe curling, gasp inducing, pussy soaking spank.

"Do you remember?" Daddy asks again, bringing me back to my current predicament, still stroking the back of my thighs as I lay with all my holes exposed to the night. "You were so nervous and eager to please when we started this little game. You took every punishment I ever gave you without question. And now, with every correction I try to give you, you act like it's horribly undeserved. Like it will be too much for you to handle. What changed, little girl? Do you not trust me anymore?"

I drop my eyes, pretty sure I know exactly why. "I don't have a good reason, Daddy."

"Good or bad, there's a reason and I want to hear it."

I take a deep breath, knowing I'll regret this. Hoping, anyway. "Because when I push back on things, it makes me feel...naughtier. And sometimes...it makes you punish me even harder."

He's quiet for a moment, thinking as he looks down at me. Then he nods. "Thank you for telling me, little girl. I can tell that was the last of it--you've bared the last of your naughtiness, and now, with the belt you got me for this very purpose, we're going to spank it out of you. Tomorrow, I will think about how to increase the severity of your punishments so that they better meet your expectations--"

"Daddy! I didn't mean it like that--that's no what I want--"

"I don't think you fully know what you want, little girl. Just like you didn't fully know when you first came to me with your kinky confession. Just like you didn't fully know when you came to me with the idea to rename your little body parts, and begin the training plugs, and the ginger play, and that filthy enema that makes you so wet. But that's not your job," he says, softening his tone then. "It's your job to tell me what you think you want, and I take it from there. I do the research, watch the videos, purchase the implements, consult the forums. And then I make informed decisions about what you need. Don't I?"

I nod, sniffling, feeling small and like a truly ridiculous little girl. Grown women should know what they want. Grown women should--

"Enough of that," he says, pressing a kiss to the top of my head, like he can read my mind. "There's nothing to overthink or to even think about at all, little girl. You simply be the best, sweetest girl you can be with her big imagination and her dirty curiosity, and Daddy will take care of you. Okay?"

I nod, sniffling. "Okay, Daddy."

"Now," he says, lifting the belt. I fist my hands in his sweats as I look down at my helpless kitten, already quivering and spasming, anticipating the impact. At this angle, my little star is sure to get a taste of the belt, as well, and I feel her clenching in fear, so used to having something in her during kitten spankings. It helps enormously with the pain--having another distraction to bear down on.

"Daddy!" I say, feeling his body rock with impatience.

"What now, little girl?"

"Can I have something in my bottom while you do it?" I ask shyly. Normally I'd be mortified by such a question, but the fear of having my pussy whipped with a belt far outweighs that at the moment.

"Sure," he says brightly. "I've got a second ginger plug right here in the minifridge--"

"Daddy, no--"

"Is this more fishing for a harsher punishment? Because so help me god, little girl, I will turn this belt on your bottom and little buds if you keep this up."

"I'm sorry, Daddy," I say somberly and he lifts the belt back up.

"I know that you wish you had something in your bottom to distract you from the pain, little one, but that would take away from the punishment, wouldn't it? You need to feel this pain. Every stinging, shocking, burning ounce of it. Okay?"

I inhale a shaky breath, body resuming its anxious squirming. "Okay, Daddy."

I squeeze my eyes shut and he jostles me. "Open them, naughty girl. Watch Daddy hurt your little kitten."

His words bolt right to my button, the cruelty of them sending a shameful wave of arousal through me. Then I feel him lift the belt once more--watching helplessly as the leather snaps through the air, finally cracking down across my button, my kitten--curling around my star. Pain shoots through every hole, then bursts up my stomach, the backs of my legs--blooming through my entire pelvic area, making everything contract with need for pleasure, for comfort, for relief from the horrid sting.

I sob as Daddy keeps me pinned down, whispering that I need to feel the pain. Telling me to picture each of my holes and how hurt they feel. To picture my kitten, and how much she must be weeping for attention even as she shakes in fear.

After what feels like forever, my sobs subside and I open my eyes, relieved to still be safe in Daddy's arms.

"There's my sweet girl," he says, like he was waiting for me. "My pretty, perfect girl. You came back to me. All is forgiven."

He taps my aching bottom--my signal to turn around and hug him, and I quickly do, burying my face in his neck.

He hugs me back, reaching into the little table next to the chair. He pulls free a soothing lotion, rubbing it generously on my bottom and star.

"My beautiful little girl," he says, lifting me up and carrying me to my little girl bed, where he lays me down and methodically rubs more lotion on my trembling pussy, my sore buds. As I lay there, basking in the buzz of everything that's just been done to me, still feeling like a live wire, Daddy lifts his belt, which I hadn't realized he brought into the room. He hangs it on the hook above my toy box.

"For tomorrow morning," he says with a mischievous smile, and I whimper, bottom clenching at the thought of it.

Daddy chuckles, slipping onto the bed beside me, running his hands all over my naked body as he watches me. "Glencliff," he whispers, pausing the scene, and I smile up at him. "That was so fucking hot Sadie," he says, brushing my hair from my forehead. "I want to lick your pussy so bad, babe. I won't make you come, I promise. Unless you want to."

"Mmh," I say, nuzzling into him. "Not yet. I think I can hold off a little longer." My swollen clit hisses at me, begging to differ, and I moan, arching back. "Can I stay little just a bit longer?" I ask him, pressing my legs together, the aftereffects of the intense stimulation making me feel heavy and limp.

He wraps his arms around me, pulling me close. "Of course, sweet girl," he says. "Daddy's got you. But don't make Mark wait too long. He loves the taste of Sadie's pussy, even if she's a dirty little masochist who likes not being allowed to come."

I hum, feeling like Daddy and I are hiding out in our secret world. The other realm that's all around us, everywhere we go--except nobody knows about it--nobody but us. And you can only enter if you know the special word--the one we chose three years ago, the first time he bent me over his lap.

Out there in the real world, he's Mark and I'm Sadie. But here, in our secret world, I'm lying in my Daddy's big arms. Sometimes they comfort me, sometimes they punish me, but they never leave me. And I'm his little girl. His naughty girl. His dirty girl. And now, after one of the most erotic punishments of my life, once again, his sweet girl.

THE END