Please Daddy(4)

By: Maggie Ryan



Hearing he wasn’t planning on canceling their trip was so much of a relief that it took a moment to understand what he was talking about wanting changed. Another pat against her behind and his pulling an item from his coat pocket was all it took for comprehension to flood through her. Tearing her eyes from the item, she met his gaze.

“Why does Daddy help you dress every morning?”

She knew he wasn’t talking about choosing any one of the professional pieces of clothing she’d pull from her “big girl” closet. He allowed her to choose her daily wear when going to the office. No, what he was talking about was the only garment that he alone decided upon every morning. Looking back at the item dangling from his fingers, she gave him the answer he was seeking.

“Because you want to remind me that even though I’m a professional to the outside world, I’m always your special little girl.”

“That’s right. Daddy chooses your panties so that no matter how stressful your job is, no matter how frustrated you become with your heavy workload, no matter how your colleagues see you, you know that your daddy is just waiting to hold you in his arms and remind you of how very special you are.”

A rush of pleasure ran through her at the daily ritual they shared. It was a little thing, and yet he never rushed through it no matter how busy their schedules were. He’d make his choice and turn to her with a smile on his face. That smile never failed to make her feel loved and, yes, special to this incredible man and the dynamic they shared. He’d kneel before her, holding the panties for her to step into, never hurrying as he pulled them up her legs and never once failing to give her mons a kiss and her bottom a pat before drawing the chosen pair up to completely cover her. And he was right. She couldn’t count the number of times when she’d felt overwhelmed during her day only to close her eyes for the briefest moment, picturing the ritual and relaxing, knowing that in just a few hours she’d shed her worries and responsibilities, trusting her daddy to take care of her.

“Evidently Daddy picked the wrong pair this morning, didn’t he?”

His question had guilt flowing through her as she remembered the panties he’d helped her into that morning. “I really didn’t mean to be naughty, Daddy. I-I wanted to be your angel.”

Not responding verbally, he gently helped her from his lap. While Harrison expertly maneuvered the car through the congested streets of Manhattan, her daddy pushed both her coat and skirt up to rest at her waist. “Hold your clothing up.” She couldn’t help but glance out the window, praying the tinted glass would keep what was happening inside the car private. “Eyes on me, young lady.” Swallowing hard, she looked down and then watched as he hooked his fingers into the waistband of her underwear.

The pair of panties decorated with golden halos and inscribed with “Daddy’s Angel” across the rear were drawn down her legs, and she obeyed when instructed to step out.

“All right, sit down.” Coco shuddered as the cool leather of the seat met her flesh. Now seated directly across from her daddy, she felt another shiver that couldn’t be blamed on the temperature run through her as she recognized the incongruity of seeing her black Jimmy Choo stiletto heels being guided through the openings of the pair he’d pulled from his pocket. A grown woman, in designer heels, seated in a limo shared with an incredibly handsome and successful man…now looking down at the small scrap of fabric in the hands of her stern daddy.

“What happens when my girl is put into these panties?” he asked, slowly drawing them up her legs.

“You…you sp…spank me,” she whispered, her eyes on the white panties that also had words across the rear. Red words. Words that repeated what she’d just said. Bright crimson lettering that would remind her daddy that he needed to punish his little girl. Beautifully scripted letters on cotton that would mold to the curves of her buttocks and make their request known to anyone who saw the words “Spank Me” displayed across her plump globes.

“That’s right,” Dalton said, leaning over, pushing her thighs a bit further apart in order to place a kiss on her pussy. She felt a sense of remorse at her behavior mixed with the utter assurance that despite his disappointment in his little one, it didn’t keep him from completing the ritual or assuring her that, though she was in trouble, her daddy loved her. The warmth of the press of his lips against her chilled skin caused her insides to quicken instantly, and had her wishing the lovely kissing would continue. Instead, her eyes widened as he pulled back, settling again in his seat.

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