Monica closed the door behind her and let out a sigh, that familiar feeling of relief that she gets weekly taking hold. Some people see a therapist to unload their baggage. Their therapist knowing more about them than their most intimate friends and family. Not Monica. Monica has been giving confession right here since she was a kid. She was baptized, confirmed, and married, all in the same church. There sitting next to the confessional kneeler was Father Egan. He sat in his robes waiting patiently for Monica to approach the kneeler and give her confession like she had for hundreds of Sundays in the past. Father Egan knew everything about Monica. He knew her parents. He knew her husband. He knew her kids. He knew the first lie she ever told. Well, not the first, but the one she told him at her first confession. That she lied about where she had gone one day to her mother, telling her that she had gone to the park on her bicycle, but that in actuality she ridden into town, which she wasn’t supposed to do because there were no sidewalks to ride on and it was much too dangerous.
Author: BonedAway
Say it… I like to hear you say it. (Dd/lg)
I was hesitant at first. I was just looking for a sub when I initially got on fetlife. I barely knew what I even wanted. “What are your kinks?”, I asked.
Ding. “Anything you want, Daddy.”
Daddy?… “Anything?”
Ding. “That’s right, Daddy. Anything… you… want.”
Ding. A picture appeared on my text. I tapped it to load. It popped open and filled the screen. There you were, standing, legs shoulder width apart. Gray thigh high socks leading up to pink panties. One hand down by your side, a teddy bear hanging from it by the arm. Hair done up in pigtails with big doe eyes looking downward, first over a devious little smile, then down to breast covered in a matching pink spaghetti strap shirt that read, “Daddy’s Girl”. Finally over the slightest hint of a tummy, to your other hand, slipped beneath your panties. Ding. “Daddy, come fuck your princess.”
She gives me everything I want. Even when I don’t know that I want it. I might be the DD in DDlg, but she has me wrapped around her finger. The way she gets me to do things to her. The way she knows that I want to do them before even I do. Sometimes it makes me wonder… who’s being trained.