Being Her Daddy by Korey Mae and James Johnson – Short Story

Half an hour early, thought Mike, smiling to himself as he heard the garage door open. In reality Kristen was two hours late, but he had expected his wife to be two-and-half-hours late and had therefore adjusted his mindset to reflect the usual reality. Pleasant surprises were always nice, and in any case he wasn’t worried about it. One way or another, tonight things were going to change.

Striding to the front door, he greeted his wife as she entered. The look on her face told him instantly that she was, as usual, stressed, sad, and most of all, ready to fight. He didn’t give her the chance, instead placing his hand gently on the back of her neck and drawing her in for a quick kiss on the lips. Her expression wavered. The stress and sadness remained, but the anger morphed into confusion. Mike could almost hear Kristen asking herself what game he was playing and why he wasn’t angry.

After a moment, she spoke quietly, but still defensively. “I know I said I would be home by 5:30 so we could go out tonight, but I just couldn’t get out of the office…” Kristen began, but trailed off when he showed no signs of arguing. “I really needed to get some bugs worked out before the assholes at the computing center left for the weekend.”

Mike knew full-well that ‘the assholes at the computing center’ left at 4:00 PM sharp on a regular day, and God only knew how early they cut out on Fridays. He had no doubt Kristen had been trying to dig out another bug in one of her simulation codes—that was her job, after all, and she was very good at it—but she had almost certainly been doing it in an office by herself, banging her head against the proverbial wall rather than waiting until the supercomputer-babysitters came back on Monday morning, got their coffee, and got a nice early start around 11:30 AM. This wasn’t the time to argue about that, however.

In fact, it was rarely a good time to argue with Kristen. She looked weary and exhausted far too often, almost like she had come back from work in the mines rather than what was supposed to be a white-collar nine-to-five office job. “It’s ok, sweetie,” he said gently. “I planned on dinner and a movie here at home tonight anyway.”

She eyed him suspiciously, as if searching for potential sarcasm in his words. When she clearly found none, she visibly relaxed. She obviously had not been looking forward to going back out that evening, as he had expected. “What did you want to have for dinner, then?” she asked, sounding a little happier.

“I’ll worry about that in a little while,” he answered.

It was time for the next step—the step from which there was no turning back—and he paused for a moment before he spoke again.

“But first, little girl, your daddy needs to take care of you for a little while.” He said it slowly and gently, yet as firmly as he could manage.

Kristen had obviously been about to press him further on his plans for dinner, but those words stopped her cold. She stared at him, apparently again searching for sarcasm and again finding none. Then she simply stood there for another moment, obviously unsure how to respond.

He didn’t leave her waiting. “No arguments, little girl,” he told her, putting one hand on her shoulder and pulling her close while running the other through her long, brown hair. “Tonight your daddy is going to take care of you, and you are not going to argue with him unless you want to start the evening with a bright red, well-spanked bottom.”

The look on her face made it clear that she remembered the discussion that had taken place mere weeks ago—the fateful conversation during which, her tongue loosened by a fourth glass of wine after a particularly hard week, she had asked for him to give her exactly what she was about to get tonight. But he could sense that now, sober, with her high-stress job still at the forefront of her mind, she was no longer sure she was ready for what she needed. Fortunately, it wasn’t up to her.

Not giving her time to argue or even give his warning much consideration, he kissed her again, on the forehead this time. Then he led her toward the stairs, guiding her with a hand on her upper arm. Though it was not overly tight, he made sure his grip was strong enough that it should leave no illusions as to whether she could escape it.

“Where are we going?” she tentatively asked when they reached the top of the stairs.

“Your daddy is going to give you a bath, little one,” he answered simply. Mike wondered if this would be the point at which she decided to resist. He knew that point would come before the night was over, and he knew he had to be ready to break through her resistance in just the right way, but he wasn’t sure what would trigger it.

It hadn’t been triggered yet, apparently, since Kristen simply nodded, looking almost dazed, and passively allowed him to guide her through their bedroom and into the master bathroom. She waited quietly as he turned on the water and waited for it to heat up. Once the water reached the desired temperature he plugged the drain to let the bath start filling, then sat down on the edge of the large-but-not-pretentiously-huge tub.

Without saying a word, Mike guided Kristen to stand in front of him, then placed her hand on his shoulder to steady her as he lifted first one foot, then the other, removing her shoes and socks. She didn’t protest, but instead merely stared at him as he continued undressing her, unbuttoning her blouse and lifting it from her shoulders, then slipping free the button of her black business slacks. He pulled the zipper down, enjoying himself more and more each second as he slid the pants slowly down to her ankles, admiring the view of her bare, well-toned legs. He guided her to step out of the pants before casting them aside to join her previously removed clothing in a pile in the corner. With a small grin, he reminded himself that he’d have to put those in the hamper later. A daddy should set a good example for his little girl, after all.

As he looked at Kristen, who now stood in front of him wearing nothing but a white bra and simple, white bikini panties, his plan encountered an unexpected obstacle. He was hard—painfully, almost disturbingly hard, in fact—and his member was making one simple demand, namely that he forget about this silly bath, rip his wife’s panties off (the bra would have to stay on, there wasn’t enough time), bend her over the tub, and fuck her, now!

He struggled with himself for a moment, ran his eyes up and down Kristen’s beautiful figure, struggled for another second, and then forced into his head the image of his beautiful wife as she had come in the door, stressed and sad. She needed this, and his cock was going to have to wait. But it was not going to get any easier once those panties were down and her bare little pussy was inches from his face, nor when it came time to run rinse the soap from her perfect, pink nipples.

“Turn around, little girl,” he said. He had been aiming for gentleness, but his voice ended up sounding much huskier than he had intended.

She obediently turned, and with her looking away he adjusted his pants in a mostly futile effort to improve his situation. Then, slowly and carefully, he unclasped her bra and eased it from her shoulders before removing it completely and sending it flying to join the pile of her garments. He steeled himself, and then turned her to face him again.

As her bare breasts entered his view, now it was his mouth making demands. He wanted nothing more than to take those nipples between his lips, one at a time, and suck on them, then nibble them, just hard enough to make her moan…

Actually that wasn’t true. He still wanted nothing more than to bend her over the tub and drive his cock into her little kitty, but sucking on those nipples was a close second. Somehow, this felt different from when he’d stripped her down for sex so many times in the past. He knew what was coming and was excited yet cautious. He wanted—needed—to make all the right moves tonight, for her sake.

Mike quickly stood up and pulled Kristen into a tight hug, snuggling her face against his chest, then took the opportunity to bite his tongue, not hard enough to bleed—hopefully—but hard enough to jar his mind back into focusing on the task at hand. That task, of course, was pulling down his wife’s panties… He finished the impromptu hug as smoothly as possible, then sat back down. He took Kristen’s hands in his and looked her in the eye.

“Daddy is going to take these cute panties down now, little one, and then he is going to give you a nice bath. Are you going to be a good little girl during your bath?”

This was the first time he had asked for her to participate verbally. How would she respond?

She blushed, just a little at first, but then it spread quickly. She opened her mouth as if to speak, then closed it, and then blinked wordlessly at him for a moment as a pink hue began to spread over her cheeks. At last, she appeared to make a decision.

“Yes, daddy,” she said, slowly, hesitantly. “I’ll be a good little girl for you.”

She was still playing along, at least for now. He was a little surprised, to be honest. He had expected her to balk at this treatment sooner, despite her deep-seated need for it.

He held her gaze, then said gently, “Good girl.”

Without further delay, he guided her hands to her sides and released them from his own, then slipped his fingers into the waistband of her panties. Slowly, inch by inch, he slipped them down, gazing at her the entire time. She broke eye contact for a split second once or twice, but she seemed unable to keep her gaze from snapping right back to his own.

At last he let her panties fall to her ankles. He bent down, carefully lifting each of her feet to slip the garment off, and then tossed them onto the pile. He met her eyes again, and then, making sure she could tell exactly what he was doing, he looked her entire body up and down, taking his time to enjoy every curve.

Last of all, his gaze found her womanhood. It was a simple fact that Kristen had an absolutely perfect little pussy, and right now it was dripping wet. He considered running a finger along her slit, perhaps giving the gentlest of flicks to her little nub, but he resisted. There would be time for that later. His little girl needed to know that when daddy told her that she was going to get a bath, she was at least going to at least be in the tub before he started doing naughty things to her.

Mike stood up, gave Kristen a quick kiss—not on the mouth but on the tip of her nose—and then lifted her easily into the tub. He guided her into a sitting position, watching the pleasure on her face as the warm water enveloped her. Then he kissed her again, on the cheek this time.

“Let’s start with your hair, little one. Duck your head under the water to get it wet for me.”

Suddenly his little girl was gone, and stressed, unhappy Kristen was back. He had no idea whatsoever why getting her hair wet, of all things, had triggered this reaction, but the look on her face told him she was done cooperating. He had been expecting resistance at some point, just not over wet hair… Nonetheless, he knew what he had to do.

“Little one,” he scolded firmly, “what has gotten into you? Be good and let daddy wash your hair.” She needed to understand that this was happening, one way or the other.

“Mike, stop it, I’m tired and I’m not in the mood!” she snapped, quick and harsh.

The moment at the door when he had first called her ‘little girl’ had been important, but he knew this was the real moment of truth. He knew what he had to do, and he did it.

“Little girl, you will not speak to your daddy that way,” he stated in a calm, steady voice. He stood, pulling her by the upper arm to stand as well. Placing his hands under each armpit, he lifted her out of the tub again. She didn’t struggle yet, which he had to admit made things easier. Then, in one fluid motion, he took a seat on the tub’s edge and pulled her over his knee.

It happened quickly enough that, before she had a chance to react, her bare bottom was perfectly positioned over his lap. She obviously knew what was coming, because her struggles now more than made up for her earlier compliance. Calmly, he caught first one flailing arm, then the other, and pinned them behind her back with his left hand.

He left her legs to kick for a moment or two, enjoying the view it afforded him. He had been so focused on getting her in the tub earlier that he had not really given her backside the same thorough visual attention he had given the rest of her, and he made up for that now. It was a beautiful bottom, firm and round yet soft and smooth. Her kicking gave him a view between her legs which rivalled—and perhaps bested—the view he’d had earlier from the front. Even her cute little rosebud was exposed from time to time as her fruitless writhing continued.

As much as he was enjoying himself, though, it was time to show this feisty little girl that her daddy was in control. Catching both her legs in his right hand and lifting them just for a moment, he moved his right leg from under her, using his control of her legs to shift her weight fully onto his left thigh. Finally, he brought his right leg to rest on top of hers, pinning them in place. She kept struggling for another few seconds but gave up quickly, apparently accepting, for the moment at least, that she was over his lap until he decided otherwise.

Clearly, however, she was not ready to give up the verbal struggle so easily. “God-damn it Michael, let me go this fucking instant!” she shouted.

She continued her tirade, but he stopped listening. He thought about warning her that little girls who use that language get their mouths washed out with soap, but he would save that for another day. For now, he simply waited for her tantrum to die down. In the meantime, he took stock of the situation. With her hands held in his, her legs pinned by his, and her bare bottom resting over his lap, she was positioned perfectly for what she had coming.

She had needed this for a long time, but he had to stay absolutely focused. This spanking couldn’t be about her perpetual late evenings at the office ruining their last half-dozen date nights. It couldn’t be about her endless broken promises to set aside some time for a short getaway together, nor could it be about how her half of the chore list went undone most weeks. Kristen was over his knee right now for one reason and one reason only: she had been disobedient and sassy during her bath, and now she was going to get her bare bottom spanked by her daddy.

Sensing that her rant had wound down, he spoke, not angrily, not even sternly, just matter-of-factly. “Little girls do not decide if their hair needs to be washed, their daddies decide that, and little girls who disobey their daddies get their bare little bottoms spanked.”

He didn’t wait for her to answer, and before she could say a word in response the first hard smack landed across the middle of her wet, bare bottom. It must have stung, because almost instantly she was struggling again, much more fiercely than before. The first smack seemed to have taken her breath away, since no yelp or cry was forthcoming, but when the second fell she cried out. A third smack fell, this one landing fully on her right cheek, followed by another on the left.

He quickly found a rhythm, alternating between cheeks and moving from the middle of her bottom down to her sit spot then back up to the middle again. Both her struggling and her cries grew more desperate, but he continued to ignore them. He spanked methodically, turning her bottom bright red from just below the top of the cleft all the way to sensitive spot where her cheeks met her thighs.

At last her writhing lessened and her yelps turned to sobs. He slowed, then stopped the punishment. After a few moments, he knew it was time to speak.

“Little girl, do you know why I spanked you?”

No answer, just sniffling.

He rubbed her bottom gently as he spoke again. “Answer your daddy properly, little one, unless you want your bottom to end up stinging more than it is already.”

At first no answer came, and he raised his hand to spank again, but just in time Kristen cried out.

“No more, please! No more spanking! I’ll be good!”

Mike resumed his gentle rubbing of her burning backside, then asked again, “Do you know why I spanked you, little one?”

“Yes, daddy…” Kristen said in small voice. “You spanked me because I was disobedient during my bath.” After a long pause, she added in an even softer voice, “I’m sorry I was naughty.”

“I forgive you, my sweet little girl,” Mike said, his heart filling with joy and relief. It had worked, as far as he could tell. He had given his wife the spanking she needed. “Now it is time to finish your bath,” he informed her gently.

After guiding her carefully to her feet, he lifted her up and set her back in the tub. She flinched as the still-warm water covered her fire-red bottom, but did not resist him. This time, when he asked her to slide her head under the water to wet her hair, she obeyed. Then, with a good squirt of her favorite shampoo in his hand, he began to wash her hair. He took his time, massaging her scalp thoroughly until he felt her relax under his hands. A rinse and then a repeat with conditioner followed, and by the time the second scalp massage was done she was putty in his hands.

“Close your eyes, sweet one,” he instructed as he rinsed her hair one final time, then washed her face with her favorite girlish concoction. Her shoulders followed, with him now using body wash—also of the appropriately feminine variety–and a loufa. He washed down her chest to just above the point at which the water covered her breasts, then did the same for her back.

“Stand up, little one,” he directed, taking her arm and helping her obey him. He paused, watching the water drip down her naked body and admiring the sight before him. There would be time for that later, though, so he went back to the task at hand. He passed over her breasts, electing instead to wash her tummy and then her lower back. Had she noticed the omission? A very slight whimper suggested that she had. He glanced at her pussy and found it glistening in a way that was definitely not due to the bathwater. But he wasn’t done teasing her yet.

Skipping ahead again, he moved down her body to wash her legs starting at mid-thigh and progressing down to the knees. Placing her arm on his shoulder to steady her, he lifted first her right foot, then her left, washing each leg in turn from calf to toes.

He had wondered beforehand if he would find bathing her less-intimate areas relatively boring, but he had actually enjoyed it quite a bit. Based on her reactions, she had as well. But now it was time for really hot part, and his cock was rock hard again, fighting to tear free of his jeans. He thought about taking them off. After all, they were soaked anyway thanks to having to drag a dripping wet Kristen over his lap for a spanking. And surely Kristen knew just as well as he did which spots still needed to be washed, so perhaps it was time to switch back to husband-mode.

But as he thought back to what she had told him those weeks ago with her inhibitions loosened by alcohol, he changed his mind. Even tipsy—drunk, really—she had blushed crimson to admit it, but what she had asked for had been clear. She needed him—her husband, her daddy—to make her feel like a naughty little girl as he fucked her. That had given him pause then, and it gave him pause again for a moment now as he considered what others—friends, family, coworkers—would think about all of this if they ever found out. But she was his wife, the love of his life, the greatest gift he had ever been given, and if someone else wanted to judge her for what she needed from her husband… well then they could go ahead and kiss his ass.

“Daddy is going to make sure every inch of you is clean, little one,” he told her, barely keeping the arousal from his voice. He took her arms and lifted them over her head, then taking a washcloth in his right hand—he was way too aroused to be fucking around with a loufa right now—he squirted some of her scented body wash into the cloth and lathered it. Slowly, very slowly, he brought the cloth to her right breast and washed it, avoiding the stiff, pink nipple. He did the same to her left breast. Then, at last, he washed her nipples with the cloth, one at time, not hard, but not so gently that Kristen didn’t whimper a little bit. He took his time, and they were much stiffer when he was done. Her breath was coming in ragged gasps now.

“Part your legs for me, little one,” he ordered. Lathering the washcloth again, he washed her mound, starting at the belly button and moving to just above the top of her slit. He switched to her upper thighs, lightly scrubbing both sides and up to her bikini line, still avoiding her womanhood itself. Then, finally, he lathered up one last time and ran the cloth over her smooth, bare pussy. He moved slowly, not parting her lips or touching her clit just yet. She whimpered, but he just lathered up the cloth and repeated the process. Then he drew back his hand and rinsed the cloth.

“Daddy!” she cried, “Please! Please don’t stop, daddy!”

“There is one spot left, little one,” he responded, “then your bath will be over. Now turn around for me.” She was going to have to wait a little longer for release.

“Daddy, please!”

Taking her by the waist, he turned her to face the other side of the tub, then gave her a hard, stinging spank on each of her wet bottom cheeks. “Do you remember what happens to little girls who disobey their daddies?” he asked, sternly.

“Yes…” she whispered, “They get spanked… but please, daddy, I was so close!”

“I know, little one, we are very close to having you all nice and clean, don’t worry.” He was having too much fun with this. She made an unhappy noise, but didn’t argue further, so he went on, “Now, spread your legs for daddy, then bend over and hold on to the edge of the tub.”

She obeyed, and he dropped to one knee to look at everything that was now revealed. The sight was even better than he had hoped. Her backside itself was gorgeous, of course, and the position left her still pink bottom cheeks spread and her little rosebud fully on display. Her labia were slightly parted as well, giving him a peek at all of her most intimate charms.

“Daddy is going to wash your bottom now, and then your little kitty.” Her breath quickened again as he lathered up the cloth one more time and she flinched as he scrubbed both bottom cheeks. He took his time with her cleft, even pressing the cloth right against her little hole. She squirmed at that, but when he ran the cloth gently down her slit, directly over her little nub, she moaned loudly. Holding her in place with his left hand at her waist, he slowly, gently washed every fold of her pussy, returning again and again to tease her clit.

Her moans grew more frantic, but he had one more thing in store for her. He dropped the washcloth and rinsed the soap from her pussy, ignoring her protests at the pause in the stimulation of her clit. Standing quickly, he grabbed a jar of Vaseline from the cabinet, opened it, and dipped his left index finger in.

Dropping to one knee again, he asked, “Little girl, do you want daddy to make you cum for him?”

“Yes, daddy, please!” she almost shouted.

“You want to cum for your daddy right here in the tub, like a naughty little girl?”

“Oh God, yes!”

Without waiting any longer, he pulled her closer to him, leaving her bent almost ninety degrees with her hands still gripping the opposite side of the tub. He parted her bottom cheeks and then slipped his Vaseline-coated digit into her bottom hole. She had never had his finger there—or anything else as far as he knew—but his finger was well-lubed and it slid in easily.

“My naughty little girl is going to cum with daddy’s finger in her little bottom.” Following those words, he moved his right thumb directly to her clit and began to circle it, gradually increasing the speed and pressure. Any concern she may have had about the invasion of her most private hole seemed to be quickly forgotten, and within moments she was clenching her thighs, stamping her feet, and bucking wildly.

“God, oh God, daddy I’m coming!” she cried out at last, spasming so hard she almost fought free of him. He held her in place, though, keeping his finger in her bottom and his thumb rubbing her clit until at last her orgasm subsided completely.

He knew he should probably take his time with the next part, perhaps say something more about her having cum for her daddy like a good girl, but that just wasn’t in the cards. His penis had waited long enough, and it was making the decisions now. Sex in the bathtub could be fun, but he wasn’t going to mess with that right now. He simply picked up Kristen and carried her out of the bathroom and to the bedroom, where he set her down on the bed as gently as he could.

“Daddy is going to fuck your tight, wet kitty now, little girl!” he all but growled. “Get that bottom up in the air for daddy!”

Kristen got into position, elbows on the bed, legs parted, bottom up. She wiggled her behind and he slapped it hard, leaving a fresh red handprint.

“You are a naughty little girl, aren’t you? Do you need to be fucked hard?”

“Yes, daddy, fuck me hard!” she begged.

He stripped out of his clothes and then climbed onto the bed behind her. After giving her bottom one last hard slap, he entered her waiting pussy. The time for gentleness was over. She’d had her bath, and later he would dress her in pajamas and watch cartoons with her, but right now she was going to be fucked and fucked hard. Her cries of pleasure left no doubt she was of the same mind. He leaned over her, stabilizing himself with his left hand and roughly fondling her breasts each in turn with his right. She yelped when he pinched each nipple roughly, but her pussy clenched in what he deemed to be appreciation.

Feeling himself about to lose control, he brought his right thumb to her clit again. He knew it would be tender, but she was going to cum for him.

“Cum for your daddy while he fucks your little kitty!” he ordered fiercely, and moments later she obeyed. As he felt her pussy spasm powerfully, he quit holding back his own release, and after one last deep, powerful thrust, his stilled and then shot his seed deep into her.

They lay on the bed for a while afterwards, snuggling and whispering sweet nothings, before at last he stood. He went to his closet, dressed in his own flannel pajamas—apparently they looked hot on him, according to Kristen at least—and then rummaged around looking for the outfit he had bought for Kristen the other day. He found it eventually and brought it to her as she sat on the side of the bed, stretching and yawning. What he held out to her was the cutest set of pajamas he had ever seen, and based on her squeal of delight she clearly agreed.

“Put those on, little one, and then we’ll go downstairs, order pizza, and watch some Teenage Mutant Ninja Turtles,” he told her with a smile, and she scurried to obey.

The End

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