Posted by: littlegirlyone | July 12, 2010

Our Morning One Morning

This is the first part of a story my Daddy and I have been writing together. We like to tell eachother stories a lot, but most of the time, the story stays ours. I’m thrilled that my Daddy had me write this one out to share with you.

Even better, he edited and added parts to the story! And he asked me to illustrate it with pictures, and helped me choose them. What you’re about to read is our first truly collaborative post, and I’m just bursting with happiness about it. I hope you like it, too.

I got up late. Stumbling down the hall, I looked for Daddy in his office. He was on the phone when I came in, so I dragged my sleepy self to sit at his feet quietly while he finished. He placed a hand on my hair, petting me while he wrapped up talking to someone about something that didn’t even register. I was still warm from bed, and my eyes were still heavy. I lay my head back against his knee, closed my eyes, and waited. Daddy’s hands made me feel drifty, and I was already only halfway aware.

When he said goodbye, I opened my eyes slowly. He looked like he’d been up for a while. He was awake and that whole concept felt far away.

“How’s my little girl this morning?” he asked, bending toward me.

I nodded with a soft smile. Words weren’t coming to me yet. I just wanted to stay warm and safe at his feet right then.

“Look at you. Sleepy girl.”

I nodded again. Slowly, almost like a sigh.

“Well, sleepy. I need you to get moving. I want you to go to the store for me. I made a list. Do you have anything you need to get done today?”

I shook my head. Nothing came to mind.

“Good girl. Then you’ll be on call for me today? Get me what I ask for, take care of things?”

I smiled lazily again and noddednoddednodded. I like to take care of him so much.

“Alright, piglet. Daddy’s gotta work a lot today. You sitting here, all warm and sleepy is just distracting. Go get yourself ready, then come by before you leave so I can have a look at you.”

“Yes, Daddy.” I sighed. I scooted away from him on my knees, then stood up. I watched him typing, leaning against the door jamb for a moment. I just wanted to stay in the same room.

“Piglet…” his voice had a warning in it.

I scooted down the hall toward the kitchen.

I was happy to see there was still coffee in the pot. And that it was still warm. That was lucky. I poured some coffee, making sure there was enough left for Daddy if he wanted another cup, then sat slowly at the kitchen table. My head grew less cottony as I sat, sipping the coffee and looking at the morning. It was a gray, cold summer morning. I would have to layer up when I got dressed.

After I checked my computer, drank some water, and ate a bowl of cereal, I scampered off to get ready. I walked by Daddy’s office again on my way to the bathroom. He was bent over something, looking busy. I still wanted to touch him. It was torturous to just walk by. But I knew that if I kept poking in there, he’d lose patience with me. Today was about being good. I wanted to do a good job so Daddy would keep asking me to do that kind of stuff. I loved being helpful to him.

Flicking on the light in the bathroom, I looked in the mirror. My hair was messy, and hung in tangled waves around my face. I tossed it over my shoulders and began brushing. If I shower when it’s tangled, it just gets more tangled. I thought about how much I liked it when Daddy brushed my hair for me. Or when he’d come and wash my hair in the bath. Not that I had any illusions that was going to happen this morning, but my mind was wandering to all kinds of things. Things Daddy does that made me happy, things I hoped he’d do.

I snapped out of my daydream, and began my daily routine. Daddy liked me pretty and clean everywhere. Available to him always. My getting ready was focused on that. First, I’d use the bathroom. Then I’d fill the little bulb enema with water, and empty it inside me. It was a small amount of water, just enough to rinse, not a whole lot going deep inside like a big enema bag. That made it easy to do alone, and gentle enough to use every day. That was important, since this was something Daddy expected of me. Clean inside, clean outside. Soft. Girl. I would use the bulb until what came out was clear water. That meant, usually, 2-3 times.

When I’d finished, I turned on the shower. I kicked my panties off, and pulled my sleep shirt over my head. I tossed both in the laundry basket, and drew back the shower curtain. The water felt soothing and warm, but it also helped me to wake up. I shaved my legs and my pussy. I washed and conditioned my hair. I exfoliated everywhere else. By the time I turned the water off, the bathroom had become thick with steam, and my head was on straight. I dried myself off, brushed my teeth, put on lotion and wrapped my towel around me. After I combed my hair, and twisted the wet strands up and off my neck, I walked back to the bedroom to get dressed.

Daddy said to stop by when I was done, which meant I got to pick my clothes today. That’s the general rule: I pick my outfits, but Daddy has veto power. Sometimes he’ll send me to get dressed in something specifically, but this morning he hadn’t said anything like that. I was on my own.

Since I was going to the store, and since it looked cold and nasty outside, I decided on jeans. I grabbed the gray pair of skinny jeans that I’ve been wearing lately, and set them on the bed. Then I pulled on pink cotton panties with little hearts on them, and a pair of long socks with pink stripes at the top. No one would see them under my jeans, but I liked wearing them anyway. They kept my legs warm, and they looked cute when I got undressed. I put on a thin, white bra. It was a stretchy mesh you could see my nipples through. It did the job of being a bra, while not feeling too much like one when Daddy grabbed me. We’d bought that bra together for exactly that reason.

I paired my jeans with some flashy pink and purple sneakers. Then I started layering on top. I started with a white tank top, then I pulled a pink t-shirt over that. I picked a dark blue hoodie out from the closet, and I decided to wear a purple scarf, too, just in case it was really windy. I looked in the mirror: cute, comfy, warm. That seemed good for a trip to the store.

I walked down the hall to Daddy’s office again. I could hear he was on the phone, so I stood in the doorway and waited. Sensing me there, he turned around. He took one look at my outfit and shook his head no. Then he turned back the other way. That was all the feedback I was going to get.

Irritated, I stomped back down the hall. I hate when he makes me change my outfit, especially when he doesn’t even tell me why, or what he wants instead. It’s so frustrating! I pushed my closet open again. What would I change into?

I thought about how much Daddy prefers skirts and dresses to pants. I realized the jeans would have to go. Which meant I was going to be cold, and made me feel grumpier still. I kicked my shoes off, and tugged the jeans back down over my ass. They dragged the panties with them, and I pulled them back up, stepping out of the jeans.

I decided on a little denim skirt. It was full, with little pleats around the top. This way, I could keep everything else about my outfit the same, and just swap the skirt for the jeans. That seemed easy, and since Daddy couldn’t be bothered to tell me what he wanted, I felt like I should pick what was easy. I zipped the skirt, straightened my socks, and pushed my feet back into the sneakers. Then, I walked back down to Daddy’s office.

He was off the phone, or at least I couldn’t hear him talking to anyone. I stopped short in the doorway, startled to see him facing the door, waiting.

“I don’t like those shoes with that skirt,” Daddy started.

I huffed softly, rolling my eyes toward the ceiling. It was habit, really. I didn’t even think about it when I did it. But before I could even apologize, Daddy’s hands were on me. He grabbed me by the arm, and marched me back down the hall. He tossed me over the edge of the bed, flipped the little skirt up, and tore my panties down.

Then, he began slamming his hand into my ass so hard and so fast, it was all I could do to keep from yelling. I hoped he’d get tired, and start hitting me softer, but the blows just kept landing over and over, in what felt like the same place. My ass stung, and it ached.

God, it ached.


Responses

  1. I love the detail in all of this…the fuzziness of waking, the slow trek through your morning preps and the tacit dynamic between you. And I love what a wonderful writer you are… the pictures you paint are so clear both visually and viscerally. Can’t wait for the next chapter!

  2. What a lovely collaboration! I know the excitement you must feel about him participating in this with you and it shows. I especially like the minimal affection he gives you, even though he’s busy – only Daddys do that. That’s the stuff that gets my heart racing, the pleasure from those little gestures and terms of endearment. And of course, the spanking has me throbbing. 😉
    I hope we get to see many more collaborative efforts between the lovely you and your Daddy.

  3. Fantastic as usual, little one. I cannot wait for the next installment.

  4. LOVE this. I can’t wait to read more. 🙂

  5. Mention of the enema is a masterly touch; it both anchors the tale in a realistic context of d/s practice, and at the same time it’s such a very submissive thing that is required of her. And of course priming us with thoughts of what Daddy eventually wants to do with her cute bottom.

  6. Mmmmm, off to a wonderful start. Can’t wait for more!!

  7. ooh – i liked this! can’t wait to read more.

  8. […] This is the second part of the story my Daddy and I are writing together. Part one is here. Please note: this section contains descriptions of non-consensual sex, and verbal and physical […]

  9. […] is the third part of the story Daddy and I wrote together. Here’s where you can read parts one and […]


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