getting a handle on the little girl

“Do you have anything long and cylindrical?” Daddy asked me last night. I scanned the room quickly.

“I have a brush; the handle’s kind of long and cylindrical,” I responded. It was laying in front of my mirror, its crimson hue flashing me a pretty smile.

“How big is it, do you think?”

“Um, roughly.. four inches long, and an inch in diameter.”

“That’ll do.”

“What do you mean?” Of course I knew what he meant, but I was already blushing and didn’t want to think about what he was implying. The brush laid idly in my hands.

“Do you have the brush?”

“Yes, Daddy.”

“Alright, go to your bed and lay down. Are you laying? Good girl. Okay. Now, I want you to rub yourself and suck on the handle of that brush- get it wet, baby.”

I did as I was told, letting my tongue run the length of the handle, imagining that it was Daddy that I was licking so thoroughly. My pussy started to throb in time with the motions of my tongue; I’d missed those motions terribly.

“Is it nice and wet?” Daddy asked.

“Yes, Daddy.”

“Alright, now I want you to put the brush handle right outside of your pussy, right there on the edge, and when I count to three, you’re going to fuck yourself as deep and as fast as you can, okay?”

“Okay, Daddy.” I was a deep shade of pink by then. I felt so much like a little girl- having to fuck myself with a brush handle just to get off because I didn’t have anything else- I felt shamed and humiliated. This was beneficial, of course. After swallowing back my embarrassment, Daddy began to direct me, counting.

“One..”

I tensed.

“Two..”

I closed my eyes and inhaled, gathering all of the air I could into my quivering lungs.

“Three!” he commanded.

My mind was far behind my hand at that point, and I, having responded immediatly, was gasping and clawing at my bedding as I milked my throbbing pussy with the handle of the brush. My body began to react in ways that I wasn’t used to experiencing without Daddy; that handle was the first thing that my body had had inside of it, aside from my fingers, since the last time I saw him (two and a half months ago). Despite its small size, I was almost immediatley ready to cum, and was at the pretty brush’s complete mercy.

“Don’t cum yet, alright? I want you to keep fucking yourself, but DO NOT CUM. Do you understand me?”

I wasn’t coherent enough to respond, so I settled for making what I thought sounded like a particularly agreeable whine. Daddy crooned to me, his voice soft and steady through my frantic moans.

After a particularly violent gasp from me, he asked, very seriously: “Did you cum?”

“No, no!” I managed.

“Good girl.”

My body succumbed to the motion of its own little dance– tensing and relaxing as I tore myself repeatedly way from the cusp of climax. Finally, I simply couldn’t take it any longer, and withdrew the brush from my slick pussy. Tears sparng to my eyes immediatley; I always involuntarily cry when my body is dangerously close to climax and fighting through multiple waves of pleasure. I breathed raggedly and Daddy asked me once again if I’d disobeyed his command.

“No, I just pulled myself back from it. Oh, God, I’m crying. I’m sorry, I was just too close,” I apologized, now crying because I’d been disobedient.

Daddy praised me for being good and not cumming while I wiped my eyes and got my composure. The lower half of my body was still tightened, begging me for attention. I ignored it and listened as Daddy told me about what he was doing and how things went over the course of his day.  A few minutes after he’d finished his recounting and chatting, he asked me softly,

“Do you want to cum?”

The edge in his voice, the one that means he may be about to be very mean, made me pause and think for a moment. Finally, my arousal answered for me.

“Yes, Daddy.” Quiet. Timid. Waiting to be denied.

“Alright, sweetheart, put the brush back right outside of your pussy.” I almost came just hearing those words. Eagerly, I placed the brush where he’d instructed and waited happily for directions.

“I want you to go slowly, okay? Push it in hard, but go slow.” His voice was liquid silk, pushing me even further toward the swirling bliss that I was to soon experience. I fucked myself, slowly, deliberately, until the rear ends of my moans turned into mewls for relief.

“Fast, now. I want you to cum. Faster!”

I let myself get lost in the bitter tone of his voice, the hard cut to the words, and felt my pleasure rising to a heart-stopping crescendo. My legs trembled, my back arched, and I smashed my face into my pillow to smother a near-scream.

“Good girl. Good girl, baby,” Daddy whispered to me. There was fire in my veins; I was burning between my legs and my face was magnificently hot. After cooling down, Daddy asked me, “What do you say?”

“Thank you so much, Daddy.”

“You’re welcome, babygirl.”

Then I let my heavy lids hang at half mast and listened contentedly as Daddy told me about his plans and thoughts and just chatted with me, reminding me that I’m his good little girl whom he loves very much. The bottoms of my feet tingle when I think about things like this– so pristinely perfect I almost can’t stand it.

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~ by daddyslittlegirll on September 18, 2010.

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