Daddy appeared extremely tired as soon as he entered the room. All the intricacies were absorbed by my gaze. He kissed my forehead good-bye this morning, and it's been over 11 hours. I've been missing him a lot. His gaudy orange shirt had sweat-darkened sleeves and mud on it, and even his "walking about" shoes had some sort of dust on them. He must have cut himself again because I saw a ring of black tape on one of his fingers. He would only say it wasn't a big deal and not to bother myself if I were to inquire. If the finger was gone, he would probably say the same thing. Even after all these years, even in my oldest pair of yoga pants and a sweatshirt 2 sizes too big, he makes me feel his desire with a glance. Stubborn! If he would accept the existence of his minor pains, it would be so much simpler to care for him and be of assistance, but his soft control extends deep even within himself. I make an effort to constantly pay attention and provide comfort when he has turned even his own consciousness away from any discomfort or suffering. When I rub the tightness out of the muscles he favors, he always acts astonished and acts so delighted with me. His rewards are always worth the effort. He glances at me as he takes off his shoes, some of the weariness leaving him, and a half-smile appears on his lips as his eyes scan my body. He still makes me feel his desire with just a glance, even after all these years and while wearing my oldest pair of yoga pants and a sweater that is two sizes too big.
Have you behaved well today, girl? He asks, commanding my focus and attention just loud enough to be heard above the table fan. Even though this is essentially a ritual, he occasionally switches up the wording or the questions he asks to see if I'll be caught. I had been excellent; I had organized a strategy for some of my workers, completed a whole yoga practice, and gone to get our groceries.
"Yes, sir, all day I've been a good girl." I answered.
And has the world treated my young daughter well in return? Always really curious, and woe to any region of the world that wasn't. Every time he refers to me as his "little girl," my heart skips a beat. Every single part of me belongs to him, and everything he owns is protected, cared for, and served by him. He doesn't have time or energy for anything he considers to be frivolous or of low value, regardless of whether it is useful, decorative, or fulfilling in some other way. His love for me is a cocoon of warmth and contentment, and it makes me feel privileged to be a part of what is his.
"Yes, sir, today was a success. Even steaks were on sale at the grocery this morning, I discovered!"
"Oh, that's awesome! While I finish out my day, why don't you start those? I'll be right with you."
Would you like to be washed by me? I enquired, looking for any justification to examine him completely with my hands. As he thought, my heart fluttered once more as anticipation grew for 3 seconds, 4... 5... 6... He undoubtedly noticed that I was flinching and delayed saying anything to me for a further period of time "Love, not this time. Make dinner now."
Thus, I acted. But I couldn't help but picture the action taking place in the other room, the rapid sounds of fabric striking plastic as he stripped and then tossed his clothes into the hamper. The thought of his nudity being so close by made me sexy as I mentally pictured his almost silent trip to the shower, even that being done with his head up and posture straight. A brief delay while he tested the temperature was followed by the sound of the shower coming on. I pictured applying shampoo to my hands, running my fingers through his hair, and giving his scalp a long, relaxing massage.
As I massaged a lather into my hands and caressed his back and ass while kneeling to get his thighs and calves, I imagined the aroma of his bar soap striking my nose. Before I got up, I saw him turning around with his erect cock directly in front of me. He constantly claims that shower time is just for the tease, so no touching just yet. And he teases "always." I got up and walked up to him, going up to his neck and shoulders before moving my hands down his arms and back up to his chest and belly. I have his fully developed cock in my palm, ready for the best cleaning ever. As my hand examines him, I picture my nipples rubbing across his skin. His response comes to mind as his thigh forces its way between my knees as he lifts my face for a kiss and places one finger under my chin. I envision slowly ramming into him while synchronizing my hip and hand motions. And...
I feel his hand in my hair as he presses his cheek against mine and looks down my front at where my hand is hidden inside my jeans while keeping my head motionless. I didn't even get his conclusion!
"Are you having fun without me?" He growls as I notice that the excitement has made my face even more crimson. I swiftly removed my hand from my pants after realizing that I had just about finished eating. Oh no.
"Naughty." He speaks out. "Wash your hands," he adds as he motions for me to move my head to the sink.
He then releases my hair and turns me to face him while holding my shoulders. It's hard to resist his enormous, powerful hands, but it's crystal clear to me right now that I would be more likely to break the bed shackles we occasionally employ than his hold. Intrusively, I see that he's removed the black tape and replaced it with a decent bandage. I assume he did this to prevent me from fretting or fussing too much.
He then lets go of my hair and holds my shoulders as I turn to face him. Even though it's difficult to resist his strong hands, I know right now that I have a better chance of breaking the bed shackles we occasionally use than he does. I snoop around and discover that he has replaced the black tape with a respectable bandage after removing it. He probably took this action to stop me from worrying or fussing excessively.
"In my hand, fast, pants and shirt." He continues to stand exactly where he is, leaving me with very little space between us and the countertop as he says. I feel restricted and constrained as I quickly comply, yet he isn't even touching me; no ropes have emerged. My shirt falls off, exposing my comfortable sports bra, and is placed in his extended hand. Next, I remove my yoga pants while bending forward and pressing my head against his firm chest like a wall. I'm naked underneath, so I'm not too shocked to see that my masturbation-related moisture has nearly reached my knees. I start to get goosebumps, and I can't help but shiver a little.
It is like it is because he prefers his realm to be much chillier than I would like. My arm is slowly massaged by his free hand, which is deliciously warm but makes the rest of me feel even chilly in comparison. I pushed into his touch and body to feel more of the lovely heat he gives off when he shifted a little and firmly slapped my bare behind, giving me a totally different feeling of warmth. Put on the apron if you feel the need to, but it doesn't leave the kitchen, understood?" he said as he took a step back.
Indeed, sir. I responded with my meekest voice I could muster, my eyes lowered.
My head was lifted up to face him as his thumb supported the side of my neck with fingers extending all the way around the back. He gave me two fast kisses on the lips and forehead. "adore you the next time, improve." He spoke, and then he vanished.
I put on the apron and got to work since I wanted to give him a wonderful lunch. As I worked, I made an effort to ignore how it felt to be both covered in the front and exposed to the sides and rear. While I was slicing up some sweet potatoes and the steaks were nicely sizzling beside me, I felt his eyes on me. I threw all of my attention into making the lunch because I dared not let myself be sidetracked once more. After a little while, he approached me from behind, buried his face in my hair, and softly rubbed his hand against my bottom, where I'm sure his hand print shone red.
"a beautiful scent. Your health is good." He spoke softly just inches from my ear before he once again disappeared.
I remembered to take off my apron as I delivered our food to the living room, and everything was perfectly arranged. Even though his servings were larger, everything on the platters was set out exactly the same. Just above the silverware, on the right, a glass of one of our favorite red wines. We talked the details of our days and our feelings while eating, with me still wearing only a bra and him still wearing his robe. Even though my cheeks turned hot, I admitted what I was thinking when he caught me earlier.
We consider mealtime to be sacred; there is hardly any conversation when we eat, and the only rule that applies to both of us is complete honesty. We get the ability to enjoy one other's company without being held to any standards, obligations, or obligations of fear or favor.
He cleared the plates when we were done eating while I read through some emails for work. While he appears to get some sort of satisfaction in hand washing everything before setting it perfectly in the dishwasher, cleaning up is one of my least favorite duties.
He is adamant that some of the chores be split. I can still recall that discussion. "You serving me doesn't entitle you to treat me like a disabled person. Furthermore, if I demonstrate what I demand of myself on a daily basis, you will better comprehend what I expect of you." "Come here kitty, you can watch your shows for a little," he remarked after everything was finished.
He claims to find it "adorable," but I've never fully overcame my embarrassment at watching trashy reality shows in front of him.
Despite being a lovely pet name, he uses the word kitten as a command. With my shows on, that probably means he wants to read for a while. He wants me to curl up on the couch with him, my head in his lap, so he can absently play with my hair and pet my head. He divides his reading time fairly evenly between large sci-fi/fantasy epics and d/s guidebooks and erotica. I once questioned him about the d/s and erotica novels since I thought he was a fantastic owner and lover, and he answered, "And how do you think I got that way? by incorporating the lessons acquired from the mistakes of others.And choosing some enjoyable extras to try. From ear to ear beaming.
I curled up beneath a blanket in the exact position he loved, turned on the TV, and delicately stroked his bare leg with one of my hands as he slowly and consistently stroked my hair back. It was almost mesmerizing. He stiffened beneath my head as I began the second episode since I was becoming tired of the review and had been lulled by his comforting touch. I attempted to suppress a brief moment of jealousy.
- How could he be aroused by someone else's writing! When I raised my head to see his face, he gave me a quick glance with his eyebrows arched in a confused manner, as if he didn't fully understand what had happened. He patiently cupped my cheek, gave me a small grin, and then resumed reading when I kept quiet. Well, that's... I'll remind him of how well I've learned everything he's taught me and we'll see how long he can continue playing that little game. I re-tied my hair and tried to make eye contact, but he steadfastly didn't glance up at all. He was sneaking a glimpse at me as I knelt in front of him, a ghostly smile on his face. Play continues.
to be continued