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Just a fantasy


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 Pammy got spanked an awful lot, but she knew how lucky she was. She only really had to follow one rule: she could do almost anything she wished as long as she got permission. It might come with stipulations and limitations, mostly to keep her safe, but permission was usually given. Her Daddy was cool like that. Every other rule stemmed from the stipulations. For example, she was allowed to drink in the house with her girlfriends, as long as they all agreed to stay the night. No driving or getting into trouble. She was allowed to watch porn but had to occasionally listen to her Daddy’s speech about how badly women were depicted. She wasn’t allowed to spend alone time with boys yet, but she was learning all about her own body. She could masturbate whenever, wherever and however she liked, but, just like everything else, she had to ask Daddy first. He always said yes, but he always wanted to watch her do it. This was sometimes embarrassing for Pammy, but other times she liked it very much.

One night she was snug in her bed but not particularly tired. Daddy had just read her two whole chapters from her favorite book, “the one where the villagers have been turned into ***s and can’t remember their names and the little girl in the book is named Pammy and she’s the only human and the only one with a name, but she’s been there since she was a baby and it’s a mystery where she came from or why they are all ***s with amnesia.”

She wished her Daddy would come back up and read one more chapter to her. She wasn’t tired at all. She flopped and fidgeted, quite bored. Without warning, she felt the familiar tingle. She quickly slid her hand down to make sure she wasn’t imagining it. She wasn’t. The tingle grew into a delicious itch. She began to scratch. Then she remembered. “Oh, no! I have to ask Daddy first.” But she was all tucked in and comfortable. She would have to run all the way downstairs and find him. He might want her to do it there on the couch where she might be cold and not nearly as comfortable as she was right now.

She made an executive decision to skip permission and just go ahead and play the funny game with herself. She slid down under her covers, cooing like a dove and working her fingers feverishly. It never took long. She thought about naughty things. She thought about Daddy, even though he wasn’t watching her this time. He wouldn’t be angry, would he? She felt a slight twinge of guilt as she slipped off into a satisfied slumber.

The next morning, Pammy remembered what she had done. Her face flushed with shame. Her panties were still damp, the scent wafting off them a reminder of her naughtiness. She peeled off the incriminating undergarment and pushed it down deep in the laundry.

While she was eating her breakfast, Daddy walked into the kitchen with the guilty panties hanging on his finger. The smell of her musk filled the air. “And what is this young lady? Did you think I wouldn’t find this?”

She shrunk in her seat and put on a pleading smile. “I’m sorry Daddy, I was just so comfy. You always get me in the mood when you read to me. I was too lazy to come get you. Are you going to spank me?”

“No, Baby girl, I hardly think this rises to that level, but let’s say for the rest of the day, you’ll have to ask permission for a few other things.”

Pammy knew what this meant. She squirmed in her seat. She had just guzzled a tall glass of orange juice. Daddy walked over to the sink and turned on the water. She suddenly felt like she would burst.

“We might as well get started, young lady.”

Pammy stood up, squeezing her legs together. “Please may I go pee, Sir?”

“Yes you may, but in the tub.”

Pammy was mortified. It would have been bad enough being watched while sitting on the toilet. This was the most humiliating punishment of all for her. She stripped bare from the waist down and stepped into the tub. She faced the wall, spread her legs and pushed her bottom out slightly. She would have to stay like this until she went, Daddy watching her the whole time. She held it for awhile, just to be obstinate, until she could hold it no longer. The warm liquid ran down her legs and splashed onto her feet. She looked back over her shoulder at him. “Please may I take a shower now, Sir?”

“I’m going to wash you, Princess.”

Her mood softened. She never tired of being called “Princess”. Then she saw what was coming. He pulled a long-handled, stiff-bristled brush from the closet. He squirted her backside with shampoo as he turned on the shower. Pammy shrieked under the cold spray. Daddy worked the shampoo into a lather with the brush. He scrubbed her most delicate areas with the scratchy bristles, making her howl in protest. He made sure to scrub between her cheeks as well. When she was all rinsed and dried, he worked a plug into her behind with no lube. She had to put on a pair of tight yoga shorts to hold it in. She knew that later, she would have to ask him to take it out when she needed it out. She ran upstairs to her room and flung herself on her bed, red faced. She reached back and felt the bump protruding from between her cheeks. Without warning, she felt the familiar tingle.


  • 3 months later...
Holy hell. That was so hot, especially the part about watching her pee in the bathtub! Being turned on being humiliated is something I'm definitely into.
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