Daddy's Here(62)

“Actually it’s a he.”

“Okay, what’s his name?”

“Abbey paused, frowning slightly. “I don’t know. I just call him by his nickname.”

“You don’t know his name but you’re going to his house for tea? I’m not sure I understand. Are you sure you’re all right?”

“Don’t worry, Father, I’m absolutely fine.”

She kissed his cheek and then headed out of the door, leaving him to watch her through the window whilst wondering what had happened to her. She was like a different person, skipping down the path like that.

Better not be late, Abbey thought. After all, Papa was waiting for her with the plug in one hand and his new cane in the other. Her whole body tingled at the thought of bending over whilst he brandished the cane behind her. She grinned as she turned the corner and vanished from her father’s sight, heading instead to the house of her Papa.

She knocked on the door, waiting nervously as she heard movement within the house. Papa was ready for her. “Come in,” he said as he opened the door. “I’ve laid things out for you upstairs.”

He followed her through the hallway, she could feel his looming presence behind her as she ascended the staircase to the first floor. Passing by a closed door, she entered the next room on her left. Inside the bed awaited her. On a table beside it was a cane, four lengths of black rope, a silver metal buttplug and an incongruous dummy, so out of place yet perfectly in keeping with the rest.

“On your front,” Papa said, pointing at the bed.

She picked up the dummy on the way, sucking rapidly upon it as she lay down and her wrists were bound to the corners of the bed. She attempted to tug at the bonds, testing their strength but the knots were too well done for her to move her hands more than a couple of inches in any direction.

He bound her ankles in silence, only speaking once she was tied down to the bed. “You’ve been a bad little girl,” he said, landing a light swat on her behind. “Haven’t you?”

“I had no choice,” she mumbled through the dummy. “I had to wait for him to get home.”

“No excuses. You left here without permission. You know that is forbidden.”

“I am sorry, Papa.”

“You will be,” he said, picking up the plug.

She watched as he reverently applied oil to every inch of the plug, carrying it behind her where she could not see what was happening. “I will ask permission next time,” she said. “Please, don’t punish me.”

“If I didn’t, you would not learn,” he replied.

She felt the plug sliding between her buttocks, nudging its way into her, stretching her entrance as her clit began to throb, filling with blood and desire for him. As the plug delved deeper, she moaned around the dummy, wanting something more, wanting him. Just as she began to wince with pain, thinking she could stretch no wider, it was in, held in place by her muscles as he crossed to the cane, whipping it through the air twice.

“This will hurt,” he said, moving back out of sight. “But I only do it because I care about you.”

“I know, Papa,” she replied. It had been the same every day until her father’s return. He had spanked her for some infraction or other, each time telling her it was because he cared. She had come to yearn for his hand on her behind, the closeness she felt, pain intensifying her desire for him, knowing he would soon be inside her.

She was brought out of her thoughts when the cane whipped down and lanced pain across her posterior. She screamed in agony and squirmed in place, her hips writhing as a second blow struck a moment later.

“That hurts so much,” she said, the movement of her body making the plug grind against her insides, reminding her of its presence despite the stinging pain taking all of her attention.

“I know,” he replied, striking her again. “You must learn to behave if you don’t want me to use it again.”

He landed a final blow with the cane before setting it aside, moving to sit on the bed next to her, rubbing her buttocks with his palms, soothing the burning sting that penetrated deep inside her.

“You are learning,” he said softly. “But it will be some time before I can call you a grown up.”

“I don’t want to grow up,” she replied, sucking on her dummy again. It was true, she didn’t. She had only just begun to become his little girl. She had a new Papa, so different to her father, so much stronger. He would never give in to her tantrums, he would not be swayed by her tears. He set her boundaries she hadn’t even realised she needed, he controlled her, he guided her, all from nothing but his compassion for her.