Daddy's Princess Learns Her Place
or
Why Respect For One's Elders Isn't Always The Best Policy
She was daddy's princess. She graduated from a very exclusive private school, and had been accepted into an Ivy League college. Her clothes, the ones she bought anyway, came from Rodeo Drive, courtesy of Daddy's American Express. Her hair stylist's client list boasted several A-list celebrities; you had to be someone and you had to be invited. Her perfect body was toned by the advice of a private trainer, and tanned by the best technology available. Her car was imported from Italy, though she was no longer licensed to drive it. Nothing on the road flew smoother or faster. She was about to turn 19, and had everything going for her.
She was 5'2" and 105 well-toned pounds. Her breasts were 32B. She had thought about augmentation, but decided against it. It left subtle scars, and she would have to wear a bra. She only wore underwear when Daddy would request it. She didn't mind his request; Daddy only bought the best for her. She had hazel eyes, and had no idea what her natural hair colour was. Except for the hair on her head, every inch of her perfect body was waxed. This week her hair was honey blonde, and the evening had started with it in pigtails, Daddy's favorite. It was now bunched up in Daddy's hand, while he used the other to smack her perfect little bottom.
At present, she was naked and bent over the dining table, smearing Japanese make-up and hormone-laden sweat all over her mother's place at the table. The cock that was working its way in and out of her expertly waxed and very tight 18-year-old pussy was that of her Daddy, fucking his little princess where her mother eats her food.
Daddy was 40 this year, but nobody would know it to look at him. Trim, toned, well groomed. A sophisticated man, a man of taste, and a man of the world. Aggressive, which certainly contributed to his success, and the lifestyle his princess enjoyed.