Father’s Day: A Night In

Erotic short story about orgasm denial and DD/lg romance.

A concept:

I tell you to go get dressed up like we’re going out. I tell you to pick out that one black dress you know I like, along with those heels you feel so pretty in… and yes, of course, that choker collar you adore wearing. I wait in the living room while you get yourself nice and pretty for me, doing your hair and makeup just so with painstaking care and attention to detail.

Such a pretty girl. Always so devoted to looking her best for Daddy.

I watch as you come down and let me look you over. I cup you chin and voice my approval. I kiss your forehead and tell you that you look wonderful tonight, like that old Eric Clapton song.

Then, I tell you to put your arms behind your back.

You obey… because of course you do. You’re a good little girl who gets wet from the sound of my voice giving you orders to follow. And once you do obey, like my good little girl… I slowly walk behind you, take out my handcuffs, and begin securing your wrists behind your back.
Once the cuffs are tightly applied to your wrists, I come slowly back around in front of you… eyeing you up and down and circling you like the wolf seeking whom he may devour. I keep telling you how pretty you are… just adorable, so precious… how smooth your rich brown skin looks… how hungry it makes me. Then I cup your chin in my left hand, bring yours face up to meet my gaze.

“Spread your legs for Daddy, Babydoll,” I instruct.

And you obey… because of course you do.

I slide my right hand up your dress, pressing my fingers against your pretty pussy through your panties. I growl the order into your ear, for you to fuck yourself against my digits until told to stop. As you buck your hips against my fingertips, I tell you what a good little slut you are for me. I praise you for being such a needy little fuckdoll she gets wet from being ordered around… I tell you how pretty you are as you try not to cum… and I squeeze your beautiful neck, my hand over the choker collar, as I remind you that you still do not have permission to cum yet.

I instruct you on what to say as you hump hungrily against my hand. I give you phrases to repeat: “I’m your little slut, Daddy”; “Please use me, Daddy”; and of course, the inevitable “Daddy can I cum?”

I kiss your cheek as you beg for the third time. And for the third time I growl out “no.”

“You’re always so pretty, Babydoll…” I say, my voice a low lust-laden rumble against your ear. “But you’re the prettiest when you’re suffering for me. You look so beautiful when you ache for me, when you hurt for me… when you’re desperate for me. Don’t you wanna be pretty for Daddy?”

You nod, whimpering as you do so.

“Good girl.”

I take your panties off, slowly. I see the excitement on your face… then with a grin, I stuff those panties, still slick and sticky with your own juices, into your mouth. You’ve done enough talking. Now, I just want you to throb with need for me. Your input is no longer required; you’re just my little fucktoy, here to languish until I say otherwise.

I tell you this as I touch your uncovered pussy for the first time all night. I feel your walls contract around my finger as I slip it slowly inside you and I tell you that you’re just my little plaything. I feel you getting wetter, and listen to you groan in need and pleasure.

Then I put you through the ringer.
I rub your clit with my thumb as my middle finger curls against your g-spot. Soon that finger is joined by my ring finger, my hands playing your pussy like the fine-tuned instrument it is. The moment you seem close to an orgasm, I pull my hand away. The smile on my face is ear to ear as you thrash and whine out muffled groans of angst and despair.

I spin you around and slap your pretty ass when the thrashing lasts too long. I grip your throat and remind you that you’re mine, and at my mercy. Eventually, you stare deep into my eyes and go still, breathing slowing down as you steel yourself against your basic instincts and desperation for orgasm.
I kiss your forehead and tell you I’m proud of you. I call you a good girl.
Then I torment you again; another orgasm snatched away just at the finish line.

I stop at 10 denied orgasms. Your makeup is runny and smeared from the bitter, desperate tears you couldn’t hold back as your need to cum became maddening. Your lipstick is dripping down your chin, as you drooled around the panties in your mouth. Your thighs quiver and shake against my hand, and if it weren’t for your body basically resting against mine you’d be on the ground.

“Does Babydoll wanna do her makeup again and go out?” I ask.

You shake your head, weakly.

“Does Babydoll wanna earn an orgasm by pleasing Daddy’s dick?”

Your eyes light up. You nod vigorously.

You’ve been teetering on the edge so long you’d do anything to cum.


And that’s exactly where I want you.
I stroke your face and call you a good girl… and as I guide you to your knees, I cancel our Uber and our reservations.

Sometimes a night in is just far more fun, isn’t it?


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