Share Your Fantasy Fiction...Here's mine!

[littlegirl4DDaddy]

  From my imagination... this is a fantasy I’ve been working on. I’m going to try and continue adding to it so check back for updates!

 

The first time I went to Daddy’s house I had to learn a lot of rules. On the ride there He gave me a small pink notebook and told me I should write down anything I might not remember because anytime he has to repeat himself I’ll be in trouble. His car had a smell like fancy leather it made my tummy a little uneasy but the drive from the airport was over before I knew it. 

 

First I had to take off my shoes at the door. Once we were inside he looked me over and told me to strip. My shoes, purse and all my clothes he put into bag and slung it over his shoulder. 

 

“From now on you will only wear what I provide and allow you to wear and that will depend on your behavior.  you haven’t earned the privilege of having any clothing in this house yet. You will work hard to earn everything here. While you’re in this house you will refer to me only has Daddy and you will always speak in your best little girl voice. You will learn to adapt your speech and behavior to the age I set for you. If you are a good girl for Daddy I can let your age be older, maybe as high as 16. Then you would be allowed to dress and behave like a sixteen year old. Perhaps one day even drive but that’s a long ways off  for you little girl.” 

 

He was right, I hadn’t told him yet but I’ve actually never gotten my drivers license.

 

 “If you disappoint Daddy I will reduce your age and you will lose those privileges. To be clear, if I set your age at 4 you will be expected to dress, act and speak like a four year old. If you’re too pitiful even for that and fail you will wear a pacifier for as long as it takes you to learn to speak appropriately as a four-year-old girl.”

 

• “Now let’s have a better look here” he said. He walked around me in a circle. Hold still now! He said in a stern voice. I was shivering. From behind me He grabbed my ass hard And gave it a slap. I let out a squeak. “Quiet little girl.” He said. As He came back around the other side he grabbed each of my breasts, felt my tummy then ordered me to spread my legs further apart. 

 

I got nervous at this point because I knew he would see that...”You have a tampon in, are you on your period? ...Little girl?” He asked. 

 

“Yes Daddy.” I said

 

“OK little girl in that case I’ve got something special for you.” He left the room for a for moment And returned With a large pink Disposable diaper. 

 

“From now on whenever you’re on your period you are required to wear one of these at all times. There is a supply of them in your bathroom it’s your responsibility to take care This on your own. This way Daddy will always know.”

 

I tried to remain calm but I could feel the blood rushing to my face. 

 

He handed me the diaper and for a moment I stood frozen.

 

“Go to your bathroom, throw away your tampon and put this on now or I’m going to do it for you and then you’re going to be in trouble.”

 

He took me by the arm and lead me down the hallway. Once we got to the bathroom I did as he said.

 

When I walked out of the bathroom he was waiting dangling a pacifier from a ring on his finger.

 

“Come here” he said he reached out and put the pacifier in my mouth. 

 

“This stays in until I say you can take it out understand?” 

 

“Mmm hmm.” I nodded.

 

He came and stood very close to me, he’s so tall I thought. 

 

“So far your performance hasn’t been the best little girl. I expect complete obedience without hesitation. I’m setting your age at 2 which means not talking or walking for you.”

 

He gently put his hands on my shoulders and slowly guided me down to my knees and then on to all fours. 

 

You’ll stay like this until I feel you’ve earned to be the age of four. At four we can try taking the pacifier out and start working on appropriate speech for a four-year-old girl.

“Now follow me.” he said and started off down the hallway. 

i tried my best to keep up but Daddy was well ahead of me when he reached the room at the end of the hall. When I finally caught up he told me “This is daddy’s room little girls aren’t allowed in here without Daddy’s permission is that understood?” 

I did my best to nod and show that I understood.  I was already sick of the pacifier in my mouth.

It was a very large room with a very large bed. He walked into the connected bathroom.

“Your first chore today is going to be to clean Daddy’s bathroom. Normally you would use gloves, rags and cleaning supplies but you haven’t shown Daddy you’re responsible enough for those yet.  All you get today is this old toothbrush and soap. I expect you to make the toilet, sink, tiles and everything else sparkle.“

as i crawled into the bathroom I immediately became aware the carpet had been much easier on my knees than crawling on a tile floor.

After about an hour Daddy returned to check up on me. 

 

“You’re too slow little girl, you need to learn to do better” He said.

 

I was biting down hard on my Pacifier as i looked up and nodded.

 

“Now wash your hands in the sink and follow me.”

 

I crawled after Daddy back down the hallway. He opened a door and guided me inside. 

 

“This will be your room.” he said.

 

It was an average size bedroom with pink walls. It had a small twin size bed on one side and on the other there was an oversized baby crib. The crib had tall bars on all sides and over the top. The top had a latch with a padlock on it! On another wall there is a large dresser. each dresser drawer has a number on it. The bottom drawer was labeled 2. the next one had a 4 then 6, 8, 10, 12, 14, 16. 

 

“This is your dresser” he said. “All your clothes are kept in here. You will only be allowed to wear clothing from the drawer that corresponds to the age that I have set for you. So today you can use the drawer numbered 2. If I say you’re 10 you dress from the drawer with the 10 on it. Do you understand?”

 

I nodded.

 

“Good. Now go ahead and put on an outfit from the 2 year old drawer.”

 

I crawled over to the dresser and slid open the bottom drawer. Inside it has several baby doll type dresses, all white or pink. I took the white one from the top and put it on. It was white with pink frills. Each shoulder strap connected by large pink buttons in front and a pink bow that tied in back. There were white knee high stockings with little pink bows and a matching baby bonnet. Daddy explained that I must always wear the complete outfit and never improvise.

 

Then Daddy ordered me to stand and put both palms on the wall. I could hear him open the closet and take something off a hanger. 

 

“I like my little girl skinny so from now on you’ll wear a corset at all times, except during the 2 hours of aerobics you’ll do every morning.”

 

He started fastening the corset around my body. 

 

“I measured your waist at 28, with corset training I’ll have you down to a 22” in no time”. Daddy said.

 

I let out a squeak when daddy cinched up the laces. He tied them in a bow and then put a small lock on a strap in the back.

 

“There we go.” he said. “looking thinner already. From now on Daddy will lock you up in your corset each morning after your workout and take it off at night before bedtime” 

 

It was really tight.  It restricted my movements, keeping my back perfectly straight. it also restricted my breathing a little bit. 

 

The next thing that he wanted to show me was the kitchen. Again me crawling behind Him, trying to keep up. By the time we got there I was out of breath as result of the corset. 

 

In the kitchen I took notes on all the particulars of where everything was supposed to go and how he likes things to be arranged.

 

“ normally you’ll be doing all the kitchen work but tonight I have ordered out for food.”

 

He picked me up and put me into a high chair on one side of the table. Pushed the high chair tray in locking me in place.

 

“Now let me see those little hands”

 

I held out my hands And he placed these weird padded mittens, sort of like pink fuzzy round boxing gloves But with no fingers or thumbs, over both hands then locked them at the wrists.

 

“These are sensory deprivation mittens.”he said. “They’ll keep your little fingers from getting too busy.”

 

He opened the bag of takeout food placed a portion from each box on his plate. Then he took a few of the boxes over to the counter and took scoops from each one and put them in the blender. He ran the blender for a while, until all the food was Liquefied into a Murky Looking slime. Then he Went over to another cupboard and took out a baby bottle. He filled The bottle with the liquefied food, Came back to the table and set it in front of me. He took the pacifier out of my mouth and said” here’s baby’s bottle. Now be a good little girl and drink it all up” 

 

 I was holding back tears and blushing so hard my whole face was red. I wanted to be a little girl, but not this little! This wasn’t what I’ve had in my mind but I didn’t dare say anything. The bottle was really hard to handle with the weird gloves on. Using both hands I could barely keep it in place. He sat quietly and ate his food slowly while I tried to suck down my dinner.

 

“I’m going to put you in your crib for a bit while daddy takes a shower and reads the paper. After that I’ll take you out and you’ll have your first lesson on how to please daddy”. he said. 

 

He put the pacifier back in my mouth and Took me out of the highchair I crawled after him back to my new room. 

 

When we get inside He picks me up and puts me in a crib like I weighed nothing at all. Then he closed the top and put the lock on. I was trapped!

 

I was almost dozing off when Daddy came back in. His hair was still a little wet and he was in his bathrobe. 

 

In a deep and authoritative tone he said. “OK little girl I want to talk with you.”

 

He came close to the crib and made strong Eye contact.

 

You’re here because you’re just a little girl who needs a Daddy. Look at you, you’re not woman. Not even! You’ve tried to be an independent adult and you failed of course because you’re not mature enough. You’re not mentally, emotionally or physically mature enough to be on your own. Now I’m your Daddy and you’re going to learn to be my obedient daughter. You have no choices now. You will learn that it’s always going to be easier for you to do as you’re told and in time you’re going to learn to enjoy doing as you’re told. You can’t leave  so don’t even try. you’re here until you’ve been shaped into a proper young lady. The only way out is through obedience.

 

I nodded.

 

He unlocked the crib and lifted me out. Setting me on my feet. He reached down and took the pacifier out of my mouth.

 

Now I want to hear you say yes daddy in the highest pitched baby girl voice you possibly can.

 

I brought the pitch of my voice up “Yes Daddy” 

 

He grabbed one of my breasts like a vice and said “ let’s hear a higher pitch”

 

“Yes Daddy” i said agin, finding a higher voice.

 

He squeezed even harder.

 

Yes Daddy! I squeaked like a mouse.

 

“That’s better little girl. Now let’s teach you some commands. I want you to bend over forward as far as you can, grab your feet and stick your little cunt as high in the air as you can. 

 

I did as he said. 

 

He gave a powerful slap across my well presented ass.

 

“Whenever I Speak to you I expect you to say, Yes Daddy”

 

“Yes Daddy” I cried.

 

“This is position number one. Whenever I say position number one no matter what you’re doing you’re to assume this pose immediately. Now get down on your knees with your hands behind your back.

 

“Yes Sir”

 

“This will be position number two. You’ll be doing this one a lot.”

 

He walked up very close and dropped his robe. His Cock was inches from my face. 

 

“whenever you’re in position number two and Daddy presents his cock you’re going to suck his cock do you understand little girl?

 

“Yes Daddy“

 

He leaned forward and I did as I was told. 

 

“Don’t worry little girl, he laughed, you’re going to get a lot of practice at this”

 

 

[MrJohnny]

Here is a story I wrote recently:

 

She had gotten the text an hour ago. “Go to our motel. Now.” Of course, she had come. She picked up her key at the office.and parked in front of the room where there was a space left for his car beside hers. She was briefly tempted to look around for him: she knew he was somewhere watching over her. But she knew not to look. Knowing he was there somewhere was enough.

 

Inside the room, she found the sheets turned down on the bed. Her outfit was laid out for her. She could smell his body spray on the sheets and pillows. She was getting wet already. She undressed and hung her clothes on the rack. She took a moment to look at herself naked in the mirror over the sink. The bite mark near her breast was nearly gone – faded since he had taken her last. There would be another fresh one marking her as his own before he was done with her today. She shivered.

 

She put on the panties. White bikinis of soft cotton that fit snugly. She knew without looking that a cameltoe was hugging her plump shaved pussy. Just the way he liked her. She then slipped the new men’s white cotton T-shirt over her head. As she smoothed it over her torso her fingers brushed her erect nipples making them tingle. She sprayed a tiny burst of her perfume on the front where her breasts tented the fabric. He would wear the shirt under his dress shirt when he left.

 

She knew she shouldn’t, but she could not resist sliding the drawer of the bedside table open. As usual, she saw an envelope with her name on it in his handwriting. She would read the letter after. As risky as it was she still had every one he had written. She read them again when she found herself missing him, wanting him near her. This one would be the best so far: each new one always was. There was also a vibrator and some lube in the drawer. Goosebumps came up on her arms from thinking how he would use that to play her body like an instrument in the hands of a master musician. He would bring her to the edge of orgasm in various creative ways and vulnerable positions before he granted her climax with himself deep inside her.

 

Draped across the lamps on either side of the bed were colorful scarves. She switched the lamps on and all other lights off. The scarves made the room glow in colors, but she knew that was not why they were there. He would tie her with them: he would bind her, control her. And why not? He owned her, body and soul.

 

No sooner did she remember and close the drawer when she heard his key card unlock the door. She stood at the side of the bed with her hands behind her back. He closed the door and turned the deadbolt. In three steps he was right in front of her looking deep into her eyes. He was smiling. He cradled her face in his hand and brushed his thumb across her lips.

 

“Hi Princess,” he said.

“Hi Daddy,” she replied.

“How is my little girl today?" he asked.

“I am good now Daddy.”

“Yes. Yes, you are,” he said as he kissed her.

 

(Should I continue? You tell me ...)

Edited February 19, 2018 by MrJohnny

[Panda God]

MrJohnny, you totally have to continue!! That was really hot...

[ThePoet]

I vote no to Mr Johnny Edited February 19, 2018 by papapresents

[Panda God]

I vote no to Mr Johnny

Meaniebutt.

[MrJohnny]

Another little story I wrote. A Metaphor.

 

 

Sitting at the table it is just me, the Dealer, two stacks of chips, and the deck. The game is 5 Card Stud. True Poker.

 

For Players, this is more than just a game, and it is something other than mere gambling. Any child can play games, and any fool can gamble. But for the Player, this is an engagement with fate; this is matching wits skillfully with Lady Luck, who couldn't care less if you are a child, or a fool, or a Player. She can tolerate being beaten, but you had better know what you are doing to even have a decent opportunity to try. There is definitely a significant degree of luck involved, and whether mine is good or bad depends not on the Deal, but on how I play what I am dealt.

 

As I drop the ante on the felt between the Dealer and myself I consider my stack of chips. I have held my own so far, and that feels good, but it is not the satisfaction I am looking for tonight. I enjoy this game, but I am getting tired of playing. I want better than to just hold my own. I want to win definitively. I have no concern for how high the Dealer's stacks may be, I have no need to take everything he has, that is not what constitutes winning for me.

 

I want the hand that cannot be beaten, the hand that makes every other hand I have ever played meaningful because they all led to one final victory. The hand that makes ever playing again meaningless because I could not possibly be dealt better. That is what winning looks like to me. And I will invest every chip I have to get there when the time is right. I will risk walking away from the table with nothing for the chance to win everything.

 

I cut the deck and the dealer expertly flicks his wrist sending my cards into a neat spread before me. Without expression, I consider his latest offering. A pair of Aces, with a King, Jack, and 10 same suited. One of the Aces is also of that same suit. The possibilities are interesting, to say the least. On the meager strength of the Aces, King-high that I hold I bet reasonably. The Dealer calls my bet, and then raises significantly, boldly, almost threateningly. The kind of raise that could mean one of only two things. Either he has something quite good that he is confident will win, or he has nothing at all and he is bluffing. He has been known to bluff, and sometimes spectacularly. He has also been known not to need to bluff.

 

So this is the essence of the game, what makes it worth playing, and sometimes even makes it worth losing. Challenge, risk, outcome, reward, loss, victory, stake: they all cost something. There are no free cards, no free seats at the table, no free pots to win, no free stacks of chips to lose. And the cost cannot be measured by counting chips. Anyone can stack chips on a table. Anyone can lose every single chip they have and simply return another time to stack more chips and try again. I know this from experience. The cost of the chance to win is Courage. Certainly, odds can be calculated and found relatively favorable, but there is no wager without courage because any hand can lose, save one. The odds that my odds will not favor me is about the only safe bet in the game.

 

I call his raise, placing the substantial wager with his on the table. An attractive pot this makes, one any Player would enjoy winning. But I am a critical decision away from any idea that I will prevail. The odds dictate that I keep the Aces and discard the rest. Many Players would do this without another thought, but I am not one of those Players. I see another possibility although I know the odds are the most daunting possible. To discard an Ace on the hope of drawing inside for an Ace-high straight is the epitome of a gamble. There are still better odds of drawing to an Ace-high Flush, however, so there is that. I discard the off-suited Ace and request one card. The dealer discards two, which virtually announces that he is holding 3 of-a-kind. This is interesting, to say the least.

 

As my card lands in front of me, I take a measured breath and exhale it slowly. I pick up the card. The color is right. As is the suit. I tuck the card into its place in my hand and set the cards face down on the table. As I look up I see the Dealer looking at my face with the barest hint of a smirk on his. I know that it is just as likely that he is purposely bluffing a tell. He is a capable enough Player to do so. There is also the not less likely possibility that the expression is genuine - an indicator that he has drawn to an even better hand than 3 of-a-kind, which would beat my Flush. Either way, it is time to place a bet, and I offer a substantial wager consisting of nearly half of my stake.

 

Without hesitation, he calls my bet and then raises to the limit of my stake. This is what it all comes to - I either go all-in or I fold. But to fold would be a pathetic lack of Courage, and I refuse to yield. I push the rest of my chips into the pot. He turns his cards over revealing a Full House - Eights over Fives. I turn over my cards with the 10 on the top and then slowly fan the hand across the felt. There in the center of my hand, right where she belongs, giving the ultimate value to the other cards in the hand, making my play unbeatable, is the Queen of Hearts. Royal Flush. Victory.

 

I stand up from the table and gather the pot to myself. I am done, at last. The Dealer asks me where I am going, and tells me I now have enough stake to possibly win all that he has left. I tell him that I have no interest in what he has and that to continue to play would be to disrespect Her as if She wasn't enough. I have all I want. I have the Queen of Hearts, and there will never be a better hand.

 

"Don't you draw the queen of diamonds, boy
She'll beat you if she's able.
The queen of hearts is always your best bet."

 

Desperado - The Eagles

[Guest JimJamsDD]

Littlegirl4ddaddy thanks for sharing. Im always curious to hear little’s fantasies!!

(Why did no one else mention her story, she started the thread?)