I’ve been playing around with this idea for the last few weeks, because it’s something that I find very hot. This story does explore the dynamic between a Daddy Dom and his little girl, so please don’t read on if that’s not your thing. I still haven’t quite worked out how I feel about the word ‘Daddy’, but I’m definitely enjoying working through my thoughts…
“Daddy, come and help me with my butt plug!”
“What’s the magic word, little one?”
I bite my tongue to hold back my brattish response, because after our scene with the flogger last night, I have no wish to go over his knee for a hairbrush spanking this morning. With writing deadlines coming up for me, we’d agreed that I would go into town today and sit in a coffee shop to write, while Daddy had my phone so I didn’t get distracted by pretty people on the internet. It wasn’t an uncommon ritual, as I enjoyed spending a day unplugged so I could focus on my work and secretly thought that I did some of my best writing while drinking tea in quirky coffee shops.
I’d picked out an outfit that made me feel powerful and productive; I’d packed my laptop and pretty notebook; and I’d taken a deep breath as I shut the tab with my inbox in my web browser, shuddering with relief as I realised I didn’t have to stress about the unanswered emails today. I’d almost got out of the house before Daddy had remembered the essential part of my unplugged writing days: I had to be plugged.
When I first was commissioned to write regularly for this publication, Daddy had brought me a present. Or more accurately, he bought a present for him to use on me. It was a metal butt plug, in a metallic purple colour marbled with gold swirls, and it was so pretty. It was small, and I love the weight and feel of the metal inside me. Ever since then, I’ve worn it when I’ve been working on big articles or projects, because we agree that it helps me stay calm and focussed.
Daddy admits that he gets off on seeing me blush and squirm, and we’ve recently been playing with new ways he can reduce me to a cute puddle of embarrassment. His favourite way to do this is make me ask for what I want. Being forced to say the filthy things I want out loud turns me on in ways I never expected in ways I never expect to, in part because there’s no way for me to act like I don’t really want said filthy thing.
So now I duck my head and say words that I know will make me wet:
“Please Daddy, will you come and put a butt plug in your little girl’s ass?”
“Of course, pet, why didn’t you just say that before?”
He bends me over my bed, the firm push of his hands on my back forcing me down until I reach the point where I relax and sink into my mattress. My legs are spread, because I know that Daddy should always have access to my cunt, but he ignores my dripping hole and instead spreads my butt-cheeks. I’m glad that my face is buried in a pillow because the act of him inspecting my arse in such an intimate experience that it makes me moan a little with vulnerability and arousal.
“Yes, little one?” I can hear the teasing smile in his voice, and I shake my head without lifting it, wiggling my arse to encourage him to return to it.
He takes my encouragement a little too enthusiastically, delivering several sharp spanks that make me yelp. He then returns to the business of inspecting me, and then I hear the schloosh of lube and feel his finger gently circling my puckered arsehole. I squeak as he slips it inside me and try to relax and breathe into the sensations as he reminds me to. I enjoy butt-play, but I’ve only been exploring it since I’ve been with him so I need to take things slow.
“One day,” he says, as he pushes his lubed-up finger further inside me, “I’m going to fuck this pretty little arse.”
I inhale sharply, arousal flooding through me, and he chuckles softly as he removes his finger and begins to lube up the butt plug. One of his hands is still strong on the small of my back, pinning me down, while the other works the plug inside of me with lube and murmured encouragement.
“Good girl,” he says. “You’re going to be a good girl and take this for your Daddy, aren’t you?”
I nod into the pillow, and a minute later he’s rubbing gentle circles on my arse, giving me time to adjust to the sensations. He helps me stand up, and I pull up my jeans and take my first few steps with the plug inside me, getting used to feeling full. It feels good, and I start to relax more – until Daddy slaps my arse, and I clench around the butt plug. I turn around and look up at him pleadingly.
“Hey, no fair!”
“Why isn’t it fair, little one?”
I can tell he’s amused, and he always wins these arguments. The go for it, I’d love nothing more than for you to talk yourself into a beating look in his eyes makes lustful butterflies flutter inside me, and I know better than to say anything more.
“Nothing! Sorry sir.”
“You’re learning, little one. Now you’re going to go and be a good girl, aren’t you?”
I nod, the desire to make him proud of me growing, and stand up on tip-toe to kiss him. He does kiss me back, and then squeezes my arse and pushes me gently towards the door. I sway my hips a little, knowing his eyes will be on my butt as I let myself out. I grin to myself as I step out into the sunshine.
I’m wearing my Daddy’s little butt-plug, and as well as helping me focus it reminds me that he believes in me.
Image sourced through Pixabay.
Quinn Rhodes (he/him) is a queer, trans, disabled sex writer with vaginismus. He’s a slut and a sex nerd who writes about his adventures in trying to fuck without fucking up. Quinn can usually be found wearing stomp-on-the-patriarchy boots while falling in love every time he fucks.