Page 30 of Papa's Captive
Papa sat upon the seat at Rosie’s dressing table and positioned her on his lap so they were both facing the mirror and Rosie went crimson at the sight of her own nudity so blatantly displayed. When she reached to cover herself, Papa stopped her with a “tsk”.
“You are never to hide from me, Rosie. Not your body, not your deepest thoughts or fears. Do you understand? I wish to know everything about you, to provide for all of your needs, replace all of your cares with joy.”
“Yes, Papa,” she said. Despite the intimacy of the act they had just shared, and the many times they had made love, such exposure made Rosie quite uncomfortable.
“I want you to see what Papa sees when he looks at your lovely body and why it gives him such pleasure. Will you allow me to do that?”
“Yes, Papa.”
“Good girl.” His hands slid in from behind her and cupped her breasts, holding them from beneath so the hard ninnies poked between his fingers.
She knew she ought to object or at least look away. ‘Twas utterly scandalous for her to examine her own body in such a way, let alone with Papa. And in broad daylight. What would Miss Wickersham say? Or Nurse Lister?
Chilled coils of panic formed in her belly and went to war against the heated tendrils of desire which were already snaking through her body.
Papa leaned down and whispered in her ear, “Where are you always safe, Rosie?”
After a deep steadying breath, she replied, “In Papa’s arms.”
“That’s right.” Papa tightened his arms around her, while still maintaining his touch on her ninnies. “Papa will always protect you and keep you safe. So do you have any reason to feel anxious right now?”
“N-no, Papa. I do not.”
“Papa is very proud of you, Rosie dear.”
The anxious feelings dissipated and as Rosie focused her attention on the mirror and what Papa’s hands were doing, heated longing replaced any resistance she might have had.
“Do you see how hard your ninnies are, Rosie? I love to touch and squeeze them. You like that too, do you not?” As if to refresh her recollection, Papa set about taunting the hard peaks of her breasts, pinching and tugging until Rosie tipped her head back and moaned. “Look in the mirror,” Papa admonished. “Watch yourself enjoy my touch. See what I see when we make love.”
Reminding herself of Papa’s words, that she was always safe in his arms, Rosie forced her eyelids open and watched the spectacle of Papa teasing her breasts until they were heavy with need and Rosie herself squirmed against Papa’s chest, her eyes bright with desire and guttural moans emanating from her mouth.
The growing hardness of Papa’s cock pressed against her backside, telling her he was not unaffected either.
Before she reached her completion, Papa dropped his hands to her thighs and gently pulled them apart, exposing the pink folds of Rosie’s privates in the mirror. Truly, she ought to object. No proper lady would permit such a thing. And yet, Rosie was mesmerized and told the objecting voice in her head to shut up. Papa dipped his finger between her gleaming pink nether lips. “Oh, Rosie, you are very wet down here.”
The heat of her humiliation surged through her body. What would Papa think?
He withdrew his fingers and placed them to her lips. “Taste,” he said and she hesitantly touched the tip of her tongue to her own essence. “This is what Papa tastes when he feasts upon your sweet little cunny.”
Yesterday before bedtime, Papa had given her a bath and shaved her kitty smooth again. The lack of any hair left her feeling especially vulnerable and exposed. She couldn’t hide anything from Papa, not even the smallest glimmer of moisture. All her intimate secrets were bared to him as he held her privates spread wide open. “Do you see this little nubbin here?” he asked before stroking his finger across the hard button at the top of her womanhood.
“Y-yes,” she gasped. His touch made it hard for her to formulate words.
“This is your clitty. Have you ever looked at it before?”
“No, Papa! ‘Twould be scandalous.” She had touched it before, of course, under the cover of darkness while not quite understanding what it was or why it made her feel so good.
“I have touched your clitty many times, have I not? Did you find that scandalous?”
“N-no, Papa. I e-enjoyed it. B-but, ‘tis not proper for us to talk about it.”
Papa continued to finger her clitty, rubbing and pinching until Rosie’s breath came in short gasps and her bottom wiggled almost uncontrollably.
“Then I shall stop talking,” Papa said, dipping the length of one finger into the wet sheath of her womanhood while his other hand continued to stroke her clitty. The repeated strokes sent shivers of need and tingles of desire running rampant in her veins. In mere moments, Rosie’s vision blurred as waves of desire washed over her and sent her into the throes of her climax.
When it was over, Papa turned her to face him, resting her head against his strong chest where she could hear the rapid pace of his heart.
She was always safe in Papa’s arms.
