The Closet
Kendra awoke gradually, floating gently upward from sleep, cradled securely against her father's chest. It reminded her so much of how he used to hold her when she was a little girl, long before they ever became husband and wife. She became aware first of warmth--the soothing heat radiating from his skin, the rhythmic, comforting beat of his heart beneath her ear. Candlelight flickered gently around the room, soft amber glow casting warm shadows over their intertwined forms. Her father's fingers traced slow, tender patterns along her spine, each stroke a silent promise of devotion. He watched her with a quiet reverence, breath catching softly in his throat at the way her eyelashes fluttered, her lips parting in a dreamy sigh.
"Wake up, babygirl," he whispered, voice a velvet caress, lips brushing lightly over her forehead, then her temple, coaxing her gently from her dreams. Kendra stirred, stretching slowly, luxuriously against him, arching softly into his touch. Her eyes opened slowly, heavy with sleep and contentment, immediately finding his. The soft smile she gave him made his heart swell painfully with love and a fierce, protective tenderness. "Hi, Dad," she murmured softly, her voice thick and sweet as honey, her gaze trusting, open, utterly his.
Her Daddy kissed her softly, slowly, pouring all his love, gratitude, and quiet, relentless hunger for her into the meeting of their lips. His hand cupped her jaw gently, thumb stroking softly across her cheekbone. When the kiss finally broke, he helped her sit up carefully, guiding her with an attentive, gentle strength. Her body felt deliciously languid, muscles warm and loose from the earlier lovemaking. Hand in hand, they walked slowly to down the hallway to the bedroom and then into the special closet Daddy had built for her that housed Kendra's treasured collection of lingerie, each piece curated just for her; an expression of daddy's deep admiration for her beauty.
As Daddy opened the door to reveal the carefully organized collection of delicate garments, Kendra stepped inside, looking at the different sections for the closet. Treating Kendra like a princess was almost like a religion to her father,, and he took every aspect of her life, including selecting what she wore, especially intimate garments, as seriously as a surgeon takes washing his hands before operating. He designed the closet such that there was to be no lingerie simply shoved in drawers. He viewed them each as a work of art, just like his daughter, and they deserved to be displayed so they could be appreciated, just like his Princess.
The closet was divided into three sections, each one serving a different purpose. Once section was full of babydolls and silk and lace. Daddy would have his little girl wear these items when he felt like she needed to be made to feel Beautiful. Treasured. Admired. There was a section of more comfortable clothes. Matching bra and panty sets, sports bras, sweat pants. Clothing that allowed her to be comfortable and get things done around the house while still allowing her to easily fulfill her role as her father's freeuse wife by providing easy access to her body. And the last section...the sexiest section was reserved for when Daddy wanted to make her his little whore.
He let her walk in first, though he didn't stay behind for long. The glow of the closet lit her skin with something holy, something that made him pause in the doorway and breathe her in. She was still naked, her body bearing the softness of sleep and the marks of their earlier lovemaking. She moved confidently between rows of silk and lace, humming softly as her fingers skimmed the hangers, looking for something white and delicate and comfortable. Behind her, he couldn't stop staring. Technically, it was his job to pick an outfit out for his little girl, but he couldn't take his eyes off her. Every curve, every line, the tilt of her hip, the slow drag of her hair down her back--it lit him up all over again. His hand found her waist as naturally as a breath. "You're not making this easy," she said, teasing, a glimmer in her eye as she looked back at him. "I'm trying to get dressed, and your hands are already misbehaving." His palm slid down, lingering just enough to make her breath hitch. "That's not misbehaving," he murmured, voice low. "That's worship."
She rolled her eyes, but her smile betrayed her. There was nothing in her that didn't crave his hands on her, even when she playfully pushed back, those brat instincts in her going against her own best interests sometimes. She pulled a piece from the rack--a soft, white bralette edged in lace, paired with matching high-cut panties that hugged the hips just right--and held it up for his inspection. "This one?" she asked. He didn't answer with words. Instead, he stepped in closer, his hands gliding up her ribcage as he bent to kiss her shoulder. "Perfect," he murmured, his voice almost reverent. She turned to face him fully, fabric still in hand, and he let his palms trace down her sides, slow and deliberate. The way he looked at her made her feel like the only woman on earth. As she stepped into the panties, he knelt instinctively to guide them up her legs--his lips brushing her thigh along the way, not because he had to, but because he couldn't not. He inhaled the smell of her sex deeply before pulling the waistband over her hips.
When she straightened, the bralette dangling from her fingers, his hands were already at her back, guiding her arms gently into the straps. She let him dress her like a priceless doll, and he treated her like one--fingertips lingering at every clasp, every inch of skin he covered with soft lace. Once it was on, she smoothed it over her chest and looked up at him with that grin--the one that told him she knew exactly how gorgeous she was, especially in something he had chosen. "You like?" she teased, arching a brow. He didn't answer right away. He just looked at her, jaw slightly tense, eyes heavy with that slow, simmering need he never tried to hide. "You know I do," he said finally, voice low and sure. "You could bring me to my knees in a burlap sack, babygirl. But in this?" He leaned in, brushing his lips just below her ear. "You're devastating."
Primal impulses took him over and he reached up and wrapped his long fingers around her neck with one hand, his dark brown eyes blazing with need. She was precious treasure to him, and he knew how to handle her without hurting her, or at least how to only hurt her in ways she liked. He outstretched his arm, pinning her to the wall of the closet. "You're so fucking perfect. I need to be inside you again, little girl. Right now." To emphasize his need, he grabbed her hand and placed it on the bulge of his boxers. She could feel his engorged cock in her hand, pulsing for her. Knowing the way he craved her made her pussy flood, and she could feel her heartbeat in her clit. Kendra always wondered how he could get so hard for her so quickly after just cumming inside her.
But Kendra had another primal need. "Daddy, you promised me dinner." In an instant, daddy's entire demeanor changed. Did he need to be buried deep inside her? Yes, absolutely, but nothing was ever more important to him than taking care of his angel. His eyes softened from a moment earlier and a playful expression began to dance across his face.
