Showertime with Daddy

All performers are consenting adults over 18 years of age. All characters in sexual situations are fictional and 18 years of age and older.

**Showertime with Daddy**

[CW: DDLG dynamic] [roleplay between two adults] [female narration] [Loving Daddy Dom][Undressing] [Slow build up] [Praise] [Clitoral stimulation] [Countdown] [Orgasm control] [Simultaneous orgasm]

Even more than bubble baths, even more than hot morning showers, I like showertime with Daddy.

I sit on the bathstool as Daddy unbuttons each tiny ivory button on my pretty dress.

“Let me see all of my pretty girl,” Daddy whispers, behind me now. My dress slips off my shoulders, the fabric grazing my sensitive skin. “So beautiful,” Daddy murmurs, his lips finding the small dip between my neck and my left shoulder. I lean to give him more of me, because all of this neck, all of this shoulder belongs to Daddy.

A small noise escapes, not a whimper precisely, but the sound of a small animal surrendering itself to superior force.

Daddy sees this, sees my surrender, like he sees all. All of my tiny movements, the smallest noises, the way I change my breathing, all intimately familiar to him.

“Shh,” he murmurs, “relax, my special girl, Daddy’s got you now. There’s nothing to do, nothing to think about. Daddy will take care of everything.” Daddy’s voice is almost hypnotic. I let my mind rest on the sound of that voice, let it rock me like a soft lullaby, telling all the thoughts and all the worries to go to sleep in Daddy’s soothing sounds. Daddy’s gentle touch bids me to rise and the fabric of the dress pools around my feet.

“Now it’s Daddy’s turn,” he whispers, taking me gently by the shoulders and turning me towards him. “Show Daddy how well you can undress him.”

My hands tremble as I find Daddy’s shirt buttons. I feel suddenly shy, not quite daring to meet his eyes as I unbutton his shirt from the collar down. Daddy raises his hand and holds my chin between his fingers. “Look at me, beautiful.”

“Yes, Daddy,” I whisper, hesitantly looking up at him.

“I want to see my special girl's pretty eyes.”

Daddy holds me in his gaze, as I open the last few buttons of his shirt.

“Good girl,” he purrs. “Now the belt.”

My fingers feel their way, my eyes still lost in Daddy’s. The clanking of the belt buckle almost like a Pavlovian trigger. Then the button of his suit pants. At last the zipper. The pool of Daddy’s pants joins my pretty dress, our clothes finding each other before our bodies do. Daddy’s shrugged off shirt joins them, until there is little between but our underclothes.

“Bend forward over the stool,” Daddy whispers.

I sense the heat of his body behind me, his lips tracing a line of kisses down my spine, as if he’s counting every single vertebra. Daddy is good at counting - and I am good at being counted.

His fingers hook under the elastic of my panties, gently rolling them over my pale, white globes. I don’t know if I should expect the sharp sting of Daddy’s hand, even though I don’t recall having failed Daddy. And I know he is always just.

My panties fall to the floor, ensnaring me like harmless pink tripwire. It is Daddy’s mind that holds me fixed in place, nothing as banal as a common snare. His body envelops me for a moment. The tiniest quickening in his breath tells me that he is not entirely unaffected. He wraps himself around me for just a moment, his warm breath tickling my skin.

“Straighten up, sweet girl,”

He turns me in his arms and pulls me into his embrace, resting his chin on my head. A little part of me understands that I soothe Daddy almost as much as he soothes me. He places my hands on the elastic of his briefs and together we set Daddy free.

Daddy’s cock loves me almost as much as Daddy does. Daddy’s meaty flesh presses gently into the soft flesh of my belly and I can feel my body tingling in response.

“Let’s get Daddy’s special girl nice and clean for Daddy,” he whispers, pressing a kiss to my forehead before stepping away to turn on the warm water. My body feels instantly bereft, as if reminded that it is a cool world outside Daddy’s embrace. Time stretches always too long out here, my skin forming goosebumps of protest. Yet I stand patiently, like I have been taught. I know Daddy’s touch will return to me. Always. He has never left me in any doubt of that. That I am his to care for, his special girl.

I sense the steam in the air. Imperceptible moisture settles on my skin.

“Come, sweet girl.”

His hand pulls me under the warm water. The stream hits my shoulders, cascading down my back and between my breasts like a flood between pointed peaks. Daddy’s big hands are filled with a lather of soap, which he spreads generously over my shoulders and down my back, his fingers finding the tiny, tight places, where I have been holding on to the tension accrued in my Daddy’s absence. His fingers find them all, ease them all. Once more I turn, being pulled against Daddy’s chest. I hear him release a tiny sigh, as his big hands hold my soft belly, sinking into the sweet swell below my belly button, then meandering their way further up, drawing infinity symbols onto my skin. Daddy’s hands enclose my breasts, which are feeling perfectly at home there, eager even, straining to meet him. A small moan escapes my throat and my hips grind backwards involuntarily, seeking relief in Daddy’s body.

“Stay still, sweet girl,” he murmurs hoarsely, as he uses his feet to open up my legs just a little, just enough to create some space between my legs, where his hardened cock can come to rest.

“Daddy,” I whimper now. I know the water will wash away the slickness of my pussy. No, not my pussy, Daddy’s pussy. But she will weep and drool her Pavlovian hunger onto Daddy’s cock again.

“Shh, baby, I’ve got you,” he breathes into my ear, bringing his fingers down onto my clit. My knees buckle, when he makes contact, but his arm around my belly holds me pinned to him. His calloused fingertips dance around my engorged clit, slowly first, then faster, the sensation of skin against skin creating electricity until my soft moans fill the entire room

“Please, Daddy,” I whine.

“Please what, sweet girl? I can’t hear you very well!” Daddy growls softly into my ear.

“Please, may I cum, Daddy?” I gasp.

“Such a good girl for asking. No, you may not. Only when Daddy tells you too.”

“Ok, Daddy,” I moan, my thighs twitching and jerking with the impending climax.

“I want you to rub yourself on Daddy’s cock now, slide Daddy’s sweet pussy over his length. You may cum, when Daddy cums. Daddy will count us down. Do you understand, sweet girl?”

My voice is shaking now, as I’m desperately trying to hold on, desperately trying not to cum. “Yes, Daddy, I understand,” I stammer.

I begin to tilt my pelvis to and fro rhythmically, dragging my clit over Daddy’s cock, my lips embracing his hot length. My hips get greedy, as I rub myself on Daddy like a feral cat, whimpering “Daddy” again and again, like a prayer of love, a prayer of desperate want.

“You can’t cum yet, baby, remember?” He grunts in my ear. “It’s Daddy’s orgasm, Daddy is in control.”

I’m almost sobbing now with need, torn between slowing down, so I don’t cum, and not slowing down, so I can get Daddy to the edge.

“Good girl. You are doing so well for me,” Daddy moans softly. “Daddy is close now. I am going to count you down now.”

I’m shaking hard in Daddy’s arms. “Thank you, Daddy,” my words a soft sob of gratitude.

“10… 9… 8… 7…,” He counts and I feel his cock getting even harder between my thighs.

“6… 5… 4…,” he is slowing down now even as his voice becomes a ragged moan.

“You are going to cum with Daddy now, sweetheart,” he gasps, “Because Daddy says so. Do you understand, sweet thing?”

“Yes, Daddy!” I cry out.

Daddy too is struggling to hold on to control now. “Good girl,” He moans. “Whose pussy is this?”

“It’s Daddy’s pussy,” I cry. “All yours, Daddy, please Daddy, I can’t hold it Daddy!”

“Good girl,” Daddy grunts. “You may cum for me now.”

“3… 2… 1…, now!”

Daddy’s body jerks against me, but he never lets go of me, holding me safely in his embrace, as i cum hard, gushing my sweet juice all over his cock, sobbing loudly with relief.

Daddy pulls me tight to him and buries his face in my neck. “Good girl,” he murmurs, “such a good girl.”

And that’s why showertime with Daddy is my favourite. Because I always want to be good for Daddy, always Daddy’s special girl.

Showertime with Daddy by GoodGirlTurnedSlut

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