(dd/lg, sweet)
“Come sit on Daddy’s knee, baby.”
He always knew when I was feeling little. Of course today it wasn’t hard to guess. I was sucking my thumb while watching a Disney.
I paused it and went to sit on Daddy’s lap. I lifted my skirt up before sitting. Daddy said it was more intimate that way. I nestled in his arm. He felt strong around me. His free hand went up to cup my boobies. That was good. That’s what they’re for. Daddy likes them a lot.
“Dumb little baby. I said sit on Daddy’s knee, not in Daddy’s lap.”
Oh.
I was confused, but he nudged me around until I was sitting the way he liked: facing him, my legs straddling his thigh. He started unbuttoning my blouse. I didn’t know what to do with my arms but I knew better than to get in Daddy’s way when he was busy, so I folded my hands behind my back.
He pushed his knee up and I gasped. I was wearing what Daddy liked best: long socks, a short skirt, the blouse he was opening, and absolutely nothing underneath. So I was sitting directly on his trousers, and the feel of the rough fabric pressing into my sensitive parts made me blush.
It made me nervous, too. He’d unbuttoned my blouse most of the way and he was rubbing my boobies with both hands, stroking and tugging at my nipples as well, the way he knew I liked. I could feel my wetness starting. “Daddy, please…”
“Please what, sweetie?”
His words were kind but I knew what he meant: use your words. Don’t make Daddy guess. Don’t hide anything from Daddy. I blushed more. “Daddy, I – I don’t want to make a mess on your trousers.”
“Then you’d better control yourself, sweetie.” He didn’t stop what he was doing. I started squirming, and that just made it worse because I was rubbing against his thigh. Then, sternly: “You know the rules, baby. Girls who make messes get spanked. Control yourself.”
I nodded and I tried, I really did. I tried to keep my hips still, I tried not to think about what his hands were doing, or what I wanted them to do. But the constant stimulation, and Daddy being all stern and my fear all mixed up, and the way I felt him between my legs every time his thigh tensed… I couldn’t help it. I kept squirming and it felt so good. I arched my back, pressing Daddy’s boobs into his hands, rocking my weight back and forth on his leg.
He grabbed my chin, fingers digging into my cheeks. “I told you to control yourself, baby. Did you hear me?”
He didn’t wait for an answer. He pulled my face toward his, to look in my eyes. “Don’t move. Don’t distract Daddy while he enjoys himself.”
I nodded as best I could. He started playing with my boobies again, sometimes stroking around my chest and up to my throat and face too. He shifted position a few times, his knee pressing against my soft parts. I moaned, and he put his finger on my lips. I kissed it. He put his finger in my mouth and I sucked it eagerly, while he held the back of my head with his other hand, his fingers twisting into my hair. I loved the control he had over me that way. I sucked on him and let him hold my head and let the rest of my body go. I moved my hips and pressed myself into him, rubbing against the fabric covering his leg.
I started moving faster and I think I was lost in the pleasure because I don’t know how long it took. I felt it building up in my tummy, the tingly feeling, and I was rubbing hard now while he pressed back with his leg. His hands were wandering again, touching me everywhere, holding me and squeezing me and stroking me.
I started shuddering, it felt so good and so strong, and I loved being Daddy’s toy like this, having him enjoy me while I was all sensitive everywhere, being a frantic little girl rubbing her cunny on his leg while he was above me and in control. My breath came in gasps and I tried to go faster, though it was also starting to hurt a bit, but it was the good kind of pain, and
“Stop!”
His hands held me, powerfully, one at the back of my neck. He’d leaned forward, pulling me off balance but not letting me fall, holding me tight against him with his other hand. “Stop!”
I was panting, a bit dizzy, my eyes unfocused. But I’d stopped. Daddy’s voice always cuts through whatever I’m feeling. Daddy says stop, I stop. He watched me patiently while I collected myself. Then he made me look down. “Look what you’ve done. Look at the mess you’ve made.”
I gulped. There was a big wet spot above his knee, and long streaks from his thigh to his shin. Streaks of my juices, my slimy wetness. I’d made such a big mess of his clothes. And he’d told me not to. I flushed with shame.
“What are we doing to do about this?”
I just looked at him blankly. I didn’t know.
He smiled, indulgently. He knew what to do. Daddy always takes care of me. “Well, I guess you’re going over Daddy’s knee the other way now.”
I nodded and scrambled around, putting my tummy over his lap, flipping my skirt up for him. He rubbed my bum, preparing it for what was to come.
I still felt guilty, and I still tingled down in my tummy and between my legs, but Daddy would make it all better.
my corner 