Smutty, humiliating, blushy... it's all here. Pet play, age play, ABDL, and punishments are just a few of my kinks -- basically anything that makes me blush.
All of this is fantasy. My kinks are not my politics. I believe in women's rights, trans rights, queer rights.
Adults only. All my characters are adults.
He knows that when she's wearing thigh highs, he's in trouble.
He sleeps late on Sunday and when he stumbles into the kitchen, following the smell of fresh coffee, the first thing he sees is her perched on the kitchen counter, wearing one of his sweatshirts and a pair of thigh-high pink socks. Her legs are crossed daintily, she's cradling a mug of coffee in both hands, and the sweater is almost comically big on her, the sleeves hanging past her hands. She smiles when she sees him and he doesn't trust her at all.
"Morning Daddy," she says sweetly. She hops off the counter and stands on tiptoes to kiss his cheek. "You sit down, I'll fetch you some coffee."
She makes it exactly the way he likes it -- strong, lots of milk, lots of sugar. He takes it, murmuring his thanks. The first sip is heaven and he squints at her with suspicion over the rim of the mug.
"What?" she says, all big eyes and soft lips. She tugs at the hem of his sweatshirt. "Why are you looking at me like that?"
"I don't trust you," he says bluntly, and she has the audacity to look hurt.
"That's not very nice," she says. "I should take the coffee back."
He holds his mug with both hands. "Don't you dare." He considers her for a moment, trying to read her expression, work out what's lurking underneath that good little girl facade.
She sighs, as though she's so hard done by. "So many trust issues," she says. "You just sit there and have your coffee, and let me know when you're ready for breakfast. I'll make you eggs, toast, whatever you want."
She's good. She's sweet and patient enough that he starts to doubt himself, starts to feel bad for being suspicious of her. He sips his coffee and she sits at the table beside him, feet on the chair and knees pulled up to her chest. He can see her lacy pink panties. She scrolls on her phone and occasionally shows him the screen if she thinks he'll find something interesting or amusing.
He gets up to pour himself another cup of coffee. He drops a kiss on top of her head as he passes her on his way to the counter and she hums happily. "Oh," she says, and she sounds so casual and he's so relaxed that he doesn't even think to suspect her. "By the way... my kitty felt all weird and tingly this morning."
He almost drops the coffee pot. "Is that so," he says, fighting to keep his voice steady, refusing to let her realise how that went straight to his cock.
"Uh-huh," she says. He can hear the little smirk in her voice even though she's trying to sound innocent. "I woke up and I felt all strange and squirmy. And I know this was bad, I know, Daddy, but I... I put my hand between my legs to touch myself and see if I could make it feel better. And do you know what I felt, Daddy?"
He almost doesn't respond, almost makes a point that she can't get him involved in her little games. Isn't he meant to be the Dom? Isn't he meant to be the one who initiates play and makes her squirm?
"What did you feel?" he asks and hates himself a little even as his cock stiffens in anticipation of her answer.
"It was all wet," she says, somehow managing to make herself sound genuinely shocked. "Like I'd wet myself, but I hadn't, Daddy, I swear. It was all wet and slippery, and I tried to wipe it away, but that just made it wetter."
He schools his expression into something that is hopefully a bit neutral, then turns to face her. "Did it now?" he says, trying to sound bored.
She wasn't even trying to hide her delighted smile. "It did," she said. She spreads her legs. "Want to feel, Daddy?"
He walks over to her and kneels in front of her because of course he does. He slides his fingers into the leg of her panties and feels how hot and slick she is. With his free hand, he squeezes his cock through his pyjama pants. "That is very wet," he says.
"I kept touching myself," she says, and he's gratified to realise her voice is a little breathier, her words coming a little quicker than usual. "I thought if I kept touching, it would go away, but it just got worse and worse and worse."
He doesn't know if she's telling the truth or making up a story to get him hot, but either way, it's working, the idea of her frantically rubbing at her cunt while he slept next to her. "So you decided you'd ask Daddy to help," he says.
"We-ell..." she hedges. "Every time I stopped, it got worse. So I kept going until..."
His mouth is dry and he swallows hard. "Until?"
"Until it got really, really tingly, Daddy," she says, and when he looks up at her, she's staring back down at him with her dark eyes wide, looking every part the innocent who has no idea what an orgasm is, has never even heard the word. "And my kitty got even wetter." Her voice catches. "It's happening again. You're making it get tingly again, Daddy."
He knows he's playing right into her hands, that this is exactly what she had planned when he walked into the kitchen this morning. It somehow makes it even hotter, the fact that she was playing these filthy scenarios over in her head while she sat there like butter wouldn't melt in her mouth.
"Maybe I know a way to make it better," he says. He wants to throw her onto the kitchen floor or onto the table, force her legs open, get his cock inside her and thrust until she's coming, until he loses control and comes inside her, leaving her wet and used, leaking his come for the rest of the day. He's about to stand, about to yank her panties down, when --
"Daddy," she says. "Maybe kisses will make it feel better."
He inhales slowly, exhales even slower. He squeezes his cock harder and closes his eyes. He has to legitimately count to ten to keep himself from coming, from fucking her, from screaming.
"Of course, sweetheart," he says, when he can finally speak calmly again. "Let's try."
His girl somehow always ends up getting exactly what she wants.
Sunday challenge with @VictoriaJohnsonErotica - Innocent
*
He knows that when she's wearing thigh highs, he's in trouble.
He sleeps late on Sunday and when he stumbles into the kitchen, following the smell of fresh coffee, the first thing he sees is her perched on the kitchen counter, wearing one of his sweatshirts and a pair of thigh-high pink socks. Her legs are crossed daintily, she's cradling a mug of coffee in both hands, and the sweater is almost comically big on her, the sleeves hanging past her hands. She smiles when she sees him and he doesn't trust her at all.
"Morning Daddy," she says sweetly. She hops off the counter and stands on tiptoes to kiss his cheek. "You sit down, I'll fetch you some coffee."
She makes it exactly the way he likes it -- strong, lots of milk, lots of sugar. He takes it, murmuring his thanks. The first sip is heaven and he squints at her with suspicion over the rim of the mug.
"What?" she says, all big eyes and soft lips. She tugs at the hem of his sweatshirt. "Why are you looking at me like that?"
"I don't trust you," he says bluntly, and she has the audacity to look hurt.
"That's not very nice," she says. "I should take the coffee back."
He holds his mug with both hands. "Don't you dare." He considers her for a moment, trying to read her expression, work out what's lurking underneath that good little girl facade.
She sighs, as though she's so hard done by. "So many trust issues," she says. "You just sit there and have your coffee, and let me know when you're ready for breakfast. I'll make you eggs, toast, whatever you want."
She's good. She's sweet and patient enough that he starts to doubt himself, starts to feel bad for being suspicious of her. He sips his coffee and she sits at the table beside him, feet on the chair and knees pulled up to her chest. He can see her lacy pink panties. She scrolls on her phone and occasionally shows him the screen if she thinks he'll find something interesting or amusing.
He gets up to pour himself another cup of coffee. He drops a kiss on top of her head as he passes her on his way to the counter and she hums happily. "Oh," she says, and she sounds so casual and he's so relaxed that he doesn't even think to suspect her. "By the way... my kitty felt all weird and tingly this morning."
He almost drops the coffee pot. "Is that so," he says, fighting to keep his voice steady, refusing to let her realise how that went straight to his cock.
"Uh-huh," she says. He can hear the little smirk in her voice even though she's trying to sound innocent. "I woke up and I felt all strange and squirmy. And I know this was bad, I know, Daddy, but I... I put my hand between my legs to touch myself and see if I could make it feel better. And do you know what I felt, Daddy?"
He almost doesn't respond, almost makes a point that she can't get him involved in her little games. Isn't he meant to be the Dom? Isn't he meant to be the one who initiates play and makes her squirm?
"What did you feel?" he asks and hates himself a little even as his cock stiffens in anticipation of her answer.
"It was all wet," she says, somehow managing to make herself sound genuinely shocked. "Like I'd wet myself, but I hadn't, Daddy, I swear. It was all wet and slippery, and I tried to wipe it away, but that just made it wetter."
He schools his expression into something that is hopefully a bit neutral, then turns to face her. "Did it now?" he says, trying to sound bored.
She wasn't even trying to hide her delighted smile. "It did," she said. She spreads her legs. "Want to feel, Daddy?"
He walks over to her and kneels in front of her because of course he does. He slides his fingers into the leg of her panties and feels how hot and slick she is. With his free hand, he squeezes his cock through his pyjama pants. "That is very wet," he says.
"I kept touching myself," she says, and he's gratified to realise her voice is a little breathier, her words coming a little quicker than usual. "I thought if I kept touching, it would go away, but it just got worse and worse and worse."
He doesn't know if she's telling the truth or making up a story to get him hot, but either way, it's working, the idea of her frantically rubbing at her cunt while he slept next to her. "So you decided you'd ask Daddy to help," he says.
"We-ell..." she hedges. "Every time I stopped, it got worse. So I kept going until..."
His mouth is dry and he swallows hard. "Until?"
"Until it got really, really tingly, Daddy," she says, and when he looks up at her, she's staring back down at him with her dark eyes wide, looking every part the innocent who has no idea what an orgasm is, has never even heard the word. "And my kitty got even wetter." Her voice catches. "It's happening again. You're making it get tingly again, Daddy."
He knows he's playing right into her hands, that this is exactly what she had planned when he walked into the kitchen this morning. It somehow makes it even hotter, the fact that she was playing these filthy scenarios over in her head while she sat there like butter wouldn't melt in her mouth.
"Maybe I know a way to make it better," he says. He wants to throw her onto the kitchen floor or onto the table, force her legs open, get his cock inside her and thrust until she's coming, until he loses control and comes inside her, leaving her wet and used, leaking his come for the rest of the day. He's about to stand, about to yank her panties down, when --
"Daddy," she says. "Maybe kisses will make it feel better."
He inhales slowly, exhales even slower. He squeezes his cock harder and closes his eyes. He has to legitimately count to ten to keep himself from coming, from fucking her, from screaming.
"Of course, sweetheart," he says, when he can finally speak calmly again. "Let's try."
His girl somehow always ends up getting exactly what she wants.
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