Daddy and I met through work seven years ago. Daddy is a police officer and I used to work in a civilian role before leaving to stay home, looking after the home we had built together. Daddy likes my time to be spent fully focused on him and his needs.
Daddy and I are in a loving and consensual dynamic. We adore each other, we have a deep understanding of each other and safe respectful boundaries in place.
Today, Daddy had instructed me not to go outside. I was told, quite clearly, to stay inside the house, confined to my doll house, safe and protected, awaiting his return.
“You’re to stay in today, baby girl, I want you to focus at home, I want you to read, to colour, to write, to bake and to be calm and relaxed, Daddy will be home later little one.”
It’s hard being confined sometimes. I want to please Daddy, I never want to disappoint him but sometimes, in the silence, a loneliness engulfs my soul and the walls close in. It can feel suffocating.
I want to be a good girl. I am a good girl really. I am a little imperfect but I do try. I am a little messy but I am kind. Daddy says I am the fantasy! This always makes me giggle because I am really so very ordinary.
Today I have tried to stay inside, I have read some of my book; an exciting story about a little red fox. I have coloured a beautiful picture; penguins in the snow – Daddy loves penguins! I have written a little story; a naughty story about being bent over the sofa by an intruder! I have baked cupcakes; raspberry and coconut. I chose the flavour because we don’t like traditional vanilla here! I’ve tidied and cleaned the house, barefoot; it’s sparkling – just like me.
But, it’s only 11 am. Daddy won’t be home until after 6 pm. I can feel a restlessness rising within me.
“Daddy said stay inside today,” I remind myself.
I switch on some music and twirl happily in the kitchen to pass the time. I feel pretty, I am dressed in a pink dress, my hair is tied in two low braids, secured with pink ribbons. My legs are bare. It is what Daddy chose for me today. I can lose myself in music, the lyrics reaching parts of my soul that are inaccessible to most people around me. Daddy loves it when I twirl. I love to twirl.
It’s now 12 noon. I gaze out of the window. The sun is shining and it’s a beautiful day. “Some exercise will be ok,” I tell myself. “Daddy won’t mind me taking a little walk.”
I skip upstairs and change into my black walking leggings and little pink sports top. Daddy loves me in baby pink. He says I look beautiful, baby colours suit me. It’s a warm, sunny day so I wrap a light jumper around my waist just in case it gets a bit chilly in the shade.
I grab my earphones, a bottle of water and step out of the house. My phone is in my hand and I look down at it to choose some music to listen to. I have playlists set up for different moods. Today the sun is shining, I choose an upbeat playlist and the beat of the music begins to fill my head and soothe my senses. I hit start on my activity watch and start walking. The fresh air fills my lungs and the sun feels warm against my skin.
I choose to walk the lanes today, they are single-track lanes surrounded by fields and livestock. They are quiet, often deserted. The views are sublime, it’s impossible to feel anything but privileged and happy to be surrounded by such beauty. My mind wanders to my Daddy, hard at work, I smile and flush thinking about his return home later.
I continue walking, suddenly my watch vibrates on my wrist. I look down to see a message notification, “Baby girl, should I be worried?”
My heart skips a beat as I see “Daddy” flash up on the screen and immediately I know I’ve made a bad decision. A sense of shame washes over me, I know Daddy keeps a close check on my location. What was I thinking?! He will be unhappy with me.
I take my phone from my leggings and stop walking to concentrate and compose a reply. I don’t want to delay, Daddy doesn’t like to be kept waiting, making him wait will only make things worse.
“Daddy, hello! It’s so lovely to hear from you and I hope you are having a good day at work. Daddy, I am so sorry, the day is so beautiful and I had completed all the tasks given and thought some exercise and fresh air would be lovely. I should have asked permission, I am so sorry, I was climbing the walls a little bit. Love you, Daddy, I’ll be back in the house very soon I promise.”
I hit send and my pace quickens as I start to loop back towards home. My head is swirling, I know Daddy is going to punish me for not following his instructions. I should know better. I should have stayed inside. Daddy doesn’t like me wandering.
I continue on a little further, the conflict in my mind is real and visceral. It is such a beautiful day, it is impossible to not be happy about the beautiful walk I’m enjoying, but that joy is marred knowing I have shown disobedience and defied a clear instruction.
As I turn the corner, I see a police car ahead and my heart jumps. It always does when I see the police. A burly police officer steps out of the car and stands imposingly ahead of me. My head starts to spin and the beat of my heart feels strong against my sternum. An uneasy feeling pulses through my veins.
“Young lady, good afternoon,” the officer says clearly.
“Good afternoon Officer,” I reply shyly and continue to walk past slowly.
“Stop!” he booms, I come to a halt and root to the spot. I realise, instantly, that Daddy has sent him to take me home. There is an understanding between police officers that they look out for each other and each other’s precious possessions.
Running, resisting and remonstrating will be futile. I surrender to the inevitability of the situation. I’m going to be escorted home. I am not supposed to be wandering today.
“Rosie, I have been told that you are under a curfew, is that correct?” the officer asks.
My eyes lower and I mumble a reply, “Yes Sir, that’s correct, I should be at home.”
The officer smirks knowingly and gestures to the back of the police car, “Hop in, Rosie.”
I sigh deeply and climb in the back seat. The realisation hits me that Daddy must be absolutely furious to have sent his colleague to escort me back home. I blink furiously as I consider the ramifications that may await me later in the day.
The car starts and I hear the officer speak over his radio, “The stray has been collected Sir.” I sigh again and a small tear of regret forms in my eye. I close my eyes to let it wash away and steady my thoughts. As I open them, I see us drive past the turning to home. A sense of panic starts to rise within me and I sit up and ask frantically, “Officer, home is just back there, where are you taking me? I need to get home.”
“Sit back and relax, Rosie,” the officer replies in a flat and commanding tone. “You are required to be presented at the police station for breaching your curfew,” he continues.
My head starts to spin and my stomach churns in knots. I start a conversation in my mind. I don’t understand, this seems so serious, so extreme. Why do I need to go to the police station? What does he mean by “be presented at the police station?” What is going to happen to me? I only went for a walk. This is so unfair.
Another voice inside my head joins the conversation. You were given an instruction. You defied that instruction. There are always consequences, you know this. You made a choice. Now you must accept the outcome of that choice humbly and gratefully. You need to learn. You need to be taught. You need to be shown.
My breath feels raspy as the anticipation and fear of the unknown consume my mind. I’m in conflict, one part of me telling me to stay calm and comply, the other telling me to resist and rebel.
The car pulls up outside the police station. The officer steps outside of the car and opens the door, “Step outside, Rosie,” he barks.
Compliantly, I step outside and stand before him. He leads me into the station to the custody suite. Fear starts to engulf me, why am I here, surely Daddy isn’t going to lock me away here? My eyes scan for Daddy, he is nowhere to be seen.
I am led to a room, inside there are two officers before me. The door closes behind me. My heart is pounding through my sternum.
“Strip Rosie,” the officer instructs, “Place all your clothes and belongings in this paper bag.”
My eyes fill with tears. “Officer, there must be some mistake…” I plead. He holds up his hand signalling for me to stop talking.
“Rosie, you will not be asked again. Remove all your clothes and place all your belongings in the paper bag.”
Slowly, I remove my clothes and place them in the bag, my phone, earphones and watch also placed in the bag. My body shivers as I stand bare and exposed in front of the two officers. I try to cover myself with my hands.
The officers grin and one says, “We need to search you, Rosie. Place your arms out to the side and place your legs apart. Do you consent?”
I know that Daddy will want me to comply, part of me wants to scream no but I meekly nod to give my consent, my shame at my disobedience prevents me from uttering another word while in this condition. Daddy will expect me to behave.
The officer comes towards me and his gloved hands run slowly over my body, feeling and searching over it. He is slow, deliberate and thorough. His hands probe between my legs and a finger is inserted inside my pussy, “Cavity one, clear,” he remarks before his hand moves to my bottom and pushes a finger inside, “Cavity two clear,” he confirms.
A tear falls down my cheek and I tremble. My nipples are erect with the cold. I feel violated and defiled. Degraded. A white prison coverall is handed to me, “Put this on, Rosie,” the officer instructs.
I pull on the coverall and cover my naked body. I am led, barefoot, to a cell and pushed inside. The door slams shut behind me and I stand alone in the small square space with nothing more than a bed with a mattress and a small toilet inside. The small barred window a visual reminder that I find myself caged.
I try to stay calm, but I can feel an anger rising within me. I don’t want to be here. This isn’t a lesson I want to be taught.
Submissively, I wait patiently, I’ve been taught to wait like a good girl, I can do this, even though it doesn’t always come naturally or easily to me. That only makes the gift of my submission more precious.
With each passing moment, the walls seem to close in further and further. Claustrophobia starts to set in and I feel a primal energy rising from within me. Rising up from my stomach, into my chest and energising my mind, it is preparing me for flight, or fight. I frantically start clawing at the walls like a feral stray. I want to get out. I want to run away. I want to go home.
The duty officer peeks through the metal window on the door and my rage builds, I lunge at the door, spit at him through the window and hiss, “Let me out, now!” I glare at him, my eyes burning ferociously. He wipes the spit from his face and I hear him say, “Watch that one, she’s a wild one!”
I hear the keys turn in the door and I rush forward towards it, this is my chance to escape the cell. I stop abruptly as I recognise my Daddy entering the small room. He catches me in his arms and pushes me to the floor. I look up at him, a little
breathless, a little stunned but also immediately calmed by his presence.
Towering above me, I see my Daddy. He is holding his baton. There is a complex duality to my emotions. I am reassured he is here, he will keep me safe, he will make it all better. But, perversely, he put me here, he just pushed me down, he is punishing me.
He shakes his head and circles above me, softly he whispers, “Princess, Princess, you look so beautiful at my feet, but what have you done?”
I look up at him, my strength and breath slowly returning to normal, but I stay still, motionless under his invasive gaze.
His eyes darken slightly and I see him scan over my body, examining every inch of his treasured possession, surveying the situation presented before him. I witness him turn and push the door closed with the baton in his hand.
He runs the baton over my coveralls, and his hand gently strokes my hair, pushing back the sweat-soaked strands from my forehead. My body convulses at his touch, my back arching involuntarily and my nipples pushing through the flimsy material covering me.
“You look like a grubby feral little baby girl, let’s get you some new coveralls,” Daddy growls.
His hands reach down and rip the coveralls from my body. His black boots kick my legs apart. I am exposed before him. My legs splayed open, my holes exposed before him.
Calmly, he stands above me and starts to speak, “I asked you to stay at home today baby doll, safe and warm, but you chose to stray, you chose to wander. Out in the wild, without permission.”
“Yes, Daddy, I’m so sorry, Daddy,” I whisper quietly.
You inhale deeply and continue, “You don’t look so wild now, little one. You look so tiny.”
I shiver beneath you, my eyes fixed on you in a hypnotic trance.
“You look helpless… feeble… vulnerable…” Daddy continues while slowly shaking his head.
He whispers, “Rosie, do you remember your safe word?”
“Yes Daddy,” I reply.
“Good girl,” he says. His eyes soften briefly.
He extends his baton and rubs it lightly against my splayed pussy. It is cold and the sensation causes my body to shudder. He spits on my pussy from above and spreads my lips apart with the end of the baton. I remain still, frozen.
He begins to stroke the cold hard baton over my clitoris. I start to wriggle and writhe at the touch.
Daddy smiles knowingly, “Needy little stray aren’t you, my poppet?”
My senses are heightened. I look up at my Daddy from the cold, hard cell floor. A sly smile forms over my lips and I feel my mind start to slip away into a darker space.
The words form and escape from my lips without restraint, the darkness that exists within me, hidden behind my adorable cuteness, now dominating my actions, taking over. Daddy has unlocked this, he is the custodian of the key to this part of me. He knows exactly what he is doing. He will not relent.
My eyes fix on him. I whisper, “Fuck you, Daddy, get off me. Do not fucking touch me. You cannot have me!”
As my words land, his eyes darken in fury, he lifts a heavy boot and rests it on my sternum applying pressure causing my breath to become laboured. He leans over me looking down menacingly.
“You are MINE! I can have you however I want, whenever I want, for as long as I want.”
He drops to one knee, takes his hand and grips my neck tightly, “Don’t you fucking dare tell me what I can and can’t have.”
My eyes widen as he raises his baton and places it on my lips, it is coated in my juices, my body betrayed me, exposing my insatiable need for him.
Daddy grins and whispers, “Look, little feeble one, look at the mess you made on my baton, clean it like the needy slut you are. What are you?”
He grips my neck tighter and his eyes bore into my soul, I murmur, “I am your slut, Daddy.”
I obediently lick the baton, tasting myself, my nectar feeding and fuelling my primal need, the intoxicating taste of my own carnal desire enrapturing my senses further.
Without breaking our gaze, he smiles, “Good girl, that’s better, it seems you do know how to behave after all.”
He releases his hand from my neck and replaces it with the baton, pinning me down. I am pushed into the unforgivingly hard floor. With his other hand, he roughly plunges two fingers inside my cunt. Opening me up, stretching my hole. It is needy and dripping, the noise of my arousal playing like an enchanting melody in such a dark and sterile space.
His eyes burn into me as his fingers continue their thrust into the cunt he owns. He mutters hungrily, “My skanky little reprobate.”
“Go. Get. Fucked!” I spit.
Enraged at my disrespect, he slaps my cheek and laughs, “No, my precious little munchkin, I will not get fucked but I am going to fucking teach you.”
Daddy removes his fingers and pushes the baton handle between my legs and inside my cunt. I groan and squeal, tears form in my eyes. My teeth are gritted, my cunt dripping. Moans of pleasure betraying my protestations of reluctance.
Daddy smiles wryly as he slowly fucks me with the baton, “Not so bold and brave now are you, Princess?”
Provoked by his challenge, I try to struggle, to push him off, but we both know it’s futile. He overpowers me, both mentally and physically. He is in full control, I have no choice but to yield. He simply pins me in position with his knee while continuing to relentlessly fuck my hungry little cunt with the baton.
My body continues to betray me. I start to build, my back arching, my legs tensing, my neck extended as the moans sing out from within me. I am close to the edge, Daddy watches me carefully, delighting in the view before him. He knows my body; he knows exactly how to control it; he knows exactly how to deny it; he knows exactly how to pleasure it; he knows exactly how to punish it.
As he sees me about to tip over he stops abruptly, he throws the baton to the ground and rags me over on to my tummy.
Grabbing my hips roughly, he pulls them up, kneading them, pawing at my skin leaving a trail of finger marks in his wake. My arse in the air, he spreads the cheeks of my bottom and spits on the tight opening to my arse. His favourite and most treasured hole.
Daddy unzips his black combats and pulls the belt off. His imposing dick springs free, rock solid and oozing pre-cum.
He loops the belt round my neck and pulls me up, my breath restricted slightly as I am held in the position he desires. He pushes one finger in my bottom, then another, stretching me. I squeal and beg, “Daddy, Daddy no, no.”
Ignoring my pleas, he knows I would use my safe word if I wanted him to stop, I feel him push his dick against my stretched hole, pushing slightly until I feel the pop as he pushes past the muscle, his dick fills me.
I let out a guttural groan, Daddy responds with a sharp and firm slap on my bottom and commands, “Shut the fuck up, Princess!”
He starts to thrust into my bottom, I bite my lip to silence the noises rising within me.
Daddy growls, “You are not allowed to fucking wander. You are mine to contain. Others will want you, others will try to tame you, but you BELONG TO ME!”
Daddy pushes his cock into my arse and starts to pound into me. I claw at the floor, trying to escape. He pulls me back using the belt.
He doesn’t stop, his pace rising. He pounds into my arse harder and deeper.
My struggle fades as I submit to my fate. Through dark and light times, I submit to my fate.
My body relaxes. I drift to that place, that place where my mind empties. All thoughts and pain fucked out of me.
I feel Daddy start to throb, I hear him grunt and growl, “My little fuck toy, who do you belong to, baby girl?”
I look over my shoulder, my eyes vacant and my energy depleted. Despite this, you see the glimmer of my undeniable spirit. The spirit of the girl you found wandering.
Your girl, the one you promised to protect, cherish and treasure forever. The girl you said you needed to be “your one.” The girl you promised to make it whole for.
I look at you, I muster a smile. My eyes lock on yours as you start to unload your come into my arse.
“I belong to you, Daddy, I am yours. Don’t you fucking ever let me down or let me go. Cherish me, nurture me, adore me, ruin me, destroy me.”
With that we explode in ecstasy, coming in unison, we collapse in a heap, your weight shielding my fragile little body, locked together. Bonded.
In the background, we hear a voice mutter.
“If she was mine, I would never let her go. She’s a gift. Never.”
