Becoming Daddys Bitch

Thanks again to all my readers and your comments. I really appreciate them.

Please remember to donate to Nifty at: http://donate.nifty.org/

Becoming Daddy's Bitch -- Chapter 7

I was just a slave. A naked slave.

My tiny penis rose between my legs, and I squirmed with desire, wanting nothing more than to crawl between his legs and suck his cock. But I was kissing my Masters feet, and as I licked and sucked, I realized how beautiful his feet were, with their short, thick toes sporting light tufts of hair, their sculpted form, their soft, warm firmness. I felt lucky to be licking and kissing them, my cock responding by throbbing even harder. Master. My Master. I had had another life, and perhaps I missed a little bit of it, but that life had become a world away, and I felt no desire to return to it. This was my place. I was a slave. Scooting my knees beneath me, I took his feet in my hands, rubbing my cheeks against them and pushing my nose beneath his toes, smelling them as I licked. There was a scent. Light. Leather, cotton, detergent. And him. His sweat. His scent. I squirmed as my cock throbbed. I licked and kissed his feet for nearly an hour, on my knees, on all fours, and back again, never wavering from my devotion. It was only when he spoke again that I started to come down from my euphoria. Chasing me into the kitchen, he sat in his chair and instructed me on preparing his supper, cheeseburgers with raw fried potatoes, and sauteed green beans with garlic powder, and as the food cooked, I was taught how I was to set the table; the precise placement of the forks and spoons and knives and salt and pepper and butter and water pitcher, the pickles and ketchup and mustard and onion slices, and I was told to remember it and set it that way every time, regardless of what was being served. "Yes, Master." I set the food on the table, and was about to sit down when he stopped me. "Stand there," he pointed to a spot on the floor just behind his right shoulder. "Hands behind your back, eyes on the floor. When my water glass is half empty, you will refill it." "Yes, Master."

I was hungry, and I wanted to eat, but I was glad that he wasn't letting me. He was training me, and treating me like a slave should be treated. I looked down at my tiny cock and watched as it started to grow.

"When I'm finished eating, you will clear my place, and then you can sit and eat."

"Yes, Master!" "And what are you to do once you've finished the dishes?"

I had to think a little bit, but suddenly came up with the answer.

"Clean out my...my..." I didn't know if I was allowed to say it, but I didn't have any other word. "...my asshole, Master."

"Yes, but it isn't yours. It's mine! And it isn't an asshole, it's my pussy."

He was silent for bit a while he ate, and when he drank his glass half empty, I filled it for him.

"So, what are you going to do when you've finished eating?"

"Clean out m...your pussy, Master."

"And when you're finished?" He stuffed his mouth with a forkful of potatoes.

I started shaking, unable to remember, then blurted it out of my mouth.

"You need to inspect it, Master!"

I was so proud of myself for remembering, but he didn't acknowledge my accomplishment, his back turned to me while he leisurely ate his supper. I filled his glass one more time before he threw his napkin on his plate and wordlessly left the table.

All of my food was cold, but I didn't care. I didn't even really think about the food. I had to do the dishes and clean my pussy, which meant that I might get fucked. My cock hardened again, just thinking about it, and I squirmed in my chair. I wanted to get fucked.

I hurried through the dishes and wiped down the table and was kneeling in front of him thirty minutes later with a clean pussy.

"I can't inspect it from there."

He positioned me next to his chair, my face on the floor and my back arched, and my ass pushed high into the air. Turning a page of his newspaper, he wet one of his fingers and pushed it up inside of me, making me grunt.

"Bring me a beer, then resume this position."

I cracked it open and set it next to him, eager to feel his finger again as I pushed my ass into the air. Sucking two fingers, he spread his pussy open further, my hips rocking against them to drive them in further as he twisted them around. My cock was so hard it hurt.

He pulled them out again and took a drink of his beer, then settled on his newspaper, reaching out now and then to stroke his finger over the hole or push one or two in as I knelt there in anticipation. I was his whore, I was his slave, I was his pussy. I wanted to be fucked so badly.

"Alright, bitch. You can lick my balls now."

He dropped the footrest and opened his robe as I crawled around and between his legs. This was what a slave was for, licking his Masters balls and sucking his Masters cock and getting fucked by his Master. The scent of his crotch filled my nose, and I dove in eagerly, swearing that I was going to cum at any moment. He paid no attention to me as he read his paper and drank his beer, as though he should expect nothing less from his slave, and saw no need to acknowledge that I was even there, which made me lick and suck even more eagerly, hoping to earn his praise.

I nosed his cock, wanting to suck it, my eyes admiring it as I sucked his left ball into my mouth. It was huge and beautiful. He was soft, but it was still bigger than mine was when I was hard, with a gorgeous, mushroom shaped head and a thick, veined shaft. Unable to help myself, I licked its head, then licked down the shaft, then took it into my mouth and started sucking, pushing myself down onto it until I buried my nose in his pubic hair, just holding it as I stroked it with my tongue. It started to grow, spreading my jaw and pushing deeper into my throat, forcing me to draw back and suck at the drool that had started to leak from my lips.

I loved my Masters beautiful cock, and wand my Master to love having me suck it.

"Lay over the stool, whore."

He folded his paper and took a drink as I crawled to the stool, then was kneeling behind me, his cock spreading my hole as he slid it smoothly in, working his way deeper and deeper with gentle thrusts.

"Auuuugh! Auuuugh!"

I couldn't believe how good his cock felt.

He pushed my head down with his hand, then started to fuck, long, slow strokes as he pulled almost all the way out, then plunged back in deep, pressing his powerful thighs against the backs of my legs, his balls slapping against my taint. It was all I could think about, his big cock filling me and filling me, over and over and over again.

"See, bitch, this is what you are. You're a cunt and a whore."

I hated to admit it to myself, but it was true.

"Yes, Master!"

He continued to fuck, one hand pressed on the small of my back, until his breaths deepened and he started to moan. Slamming in harder, he grunted and groaned, then growled as he shot his load deep inside of me, his cock pulsing in my tender pussy. He knelt there, grinding gently against me as he emptied and started to soften. Then he was up and sitting back in his chair, his legs spread as he snapped his fingers and pointed at his slick, shiny cock.

"Clean it."

I rushed to obey, regardless that I was afraid of what his cock would taste like fresh out of my pussy. The smell was musky, and the taste slightly sour, but it was nowhere near disgusting, and after a few licks it became unimportant. I was licking and sucking my Masters cock.

"Down. Face on the floor."

I planted my face on the carpet, then felt his feet rest lightly on my back as he retrieved his newspaper and sat back to read. My pussy still pulsed from his fucking, and I could feel his cum leaking from it and running down my leg, but I knew that I wasn't to move. I was his footstool now, and I found that I was happy to have the warmth and the weight of his feet on my back, still panting and moaning in sexual euphoria.

By the time Master lifted his feet, my legs were cramped and my back was stiff and my knees hurt.

"Get me another beer."

I set it at his side, then hurried to the bathroom, both to empty my bladder and to clean myself up, then made my way quickly to the kitchen to get a drink of water.

"Bring your water in here!" he called.

His feet were up and the television was tuned to a football game when I returned. Reaching to his side, he casually dropped a coaster on the floor next to his chair.

"You can keep a glass of water there."

"Thank you, Master!"

"Now thank me for fucking you," he motioned to his feet.

"Yes, Master," I replied excitedly, glad to have been given his direction. My cock started to stiffen as soon as I lay my tongue on the ball of his foot.

"Thank you for fucking me, Master."

I was so horny, and I wanted to cum so badly, and I needed to please my Master so that he would let me, engulfing his toes with my mouth and wriggling my tongue between them. I loved my Masters feet. I loved my Master.

I didn't know how or why I had come to this place, I just knew that it was where I belonged. Beneath my Masters feet. Worshipping his feet. Worshipping him. I had never been so happy in all my life, gasping and moaning as licked and sucked.

"Thank you, Master. I'm so happy to be your slave, Master."

I wanted his acknowledgement. I wanted his praise.

"I know. And that's why I will always expect the best from you, and why you will be punished if I don't receive it."

Yes. I needed to be taught to be a good slave.

He dropped his feet and spread his legs, my mouth following his feet to the floor.

"On my cock now, bitch."

I lifted my head and crawled between his legs, open my mouth so he could guide his soft cock into it. Placing his hand on the back of my head, he held me in place.

"I'm gonna piss now, bitch, and you'd better not spill a drop."

I was surprised, but I was ready, and started swallowing as soon as I felt it, my lips wrapped tightly around his shaft. It was hot and salty and sour, and I didn't like the taste, but I understood that I had no choice in the matter.

"That's a good bitch. This is where I'll be pissing from now on."

It was a statement of fact. I swallowed another mouthful, and another, and simply accepted that this was how it was going to be. He was my Master, and had every right to use me however he desired.

His cock drained, he pushed me away, and I dropped to the floor to return to his feet.

"Thank you, Master. Thank you for your piss, Master," I uttered between licks. I was grateful for his power over me, for the humiliation of being made to drink is piss.

"Go get my belt."

I cringed between my shoulders, but obeyed, crawling away to leap to my feet, hurrying down the hallway to his bedroom. I had been told that I had a punishment coming, and knew that I needed to receive it. Like drinking his piss, I knew I had no choice, and Master could punish me h chose. He draped me over the footstool again, and I clenched my jaw against the first strike. I jumped at the loud smack of leather and the sharp flash of pain across my ass cheeks, steeling myself for the next strike. He didn't speak, but laid the belt across my ass nine more times, tears streaming down my cheeks as I fought to hold back my cries.

"Now put the belt away, then you can lick my balls to thank me," he held the belt out before him.

Taking it, I clutched it to my chest and scampered down the hallway, happy to have been whipped and happy that it was over with.

"Thank you, Master," I whined as I licked his balls, wetting them with both my tongue and my tears. "Thank you for punishing me, Master." I wanted to tell him how grateful I was to be his slave, how grateful I was that he had raised me for this purpose, how grateful I was that he had known that this was what I was meant to be. I drew in a deep breath as his scent filled my nostrils, his thick patch of pubic hair tickling my nose. I loved his beautiful pubic hair, the coarse swirls of it across my tongue as I licked and sucked his nuts. Even though I had just been punished, I knew that this was my reward for being my Masters good little slave.

Then my eyes found his cock, and I yearned to kiss it and suck it.

"May I suck your cock, Master?"

He took a sip of his beer, then replied.

"Not until you hear the clock chime."

The clock chime. The clock chimed every fifteen minutes, so it wouldn't be very long before I'd be allowed to suck his big, beautiful cock.

I squirmed between his legs, my own cock at a full, raging hard on. I could see him above me, his eyes fixed on the television as he sipped at his beer. It was clear by his facial expressions that all of his attention was on the football game.

Which was only right, wasn't it? Why should he pay even the slightest amount of attention to the pathetic little slave crouched between his legs and licking his balls?

My cock throbbed even harder, and I whimpered with ecstatic frustration.

It may only have been a few minutes, but it seemed to take forever for the clock to chime, and as soon as I heard the first `bong' my lips were wrapped around the head of his cock.

His cunt and his whore.

I cupped his balls with one hand and grabbed the base of his shaft with the other, my every thought focused on his beautiful cock; how it felt between my lips, how it felt on my tongue, how it felt filling my mouth and poking the back of my throat, how best to please it, how best to please Him.

He. Him. My Master.

My mouth was just a hole for his gorgeous cock, and his cock was in its rightful place.

Thank you, Master. Thank you, thank you, thank you.

"Enough, whore. On your feet."

I whimpered with disappointment. I had only sucked a minute or two, and I wanted more, but I couldn't disobey. I climbed to my feet and stood in front of him, my cock sticking straight out in front of me. Belatedly, I remembered to put my hands behind my back, my eyes on the floor at my feet. Reaching out, he grabbed my cock between his thumb and his forefinger and gave it squeeze, then slid his hand down to cup my balls, pulling them forward.

"Turn around. Bend over."

I bent at the waist and felt as he pulled my cheeks apart, his finger tracing around my asshole.

"Spot," he pointed to the floor next to his chair.

I scurried to my spot and knelt, my heart racing as I spread my legs and tucked my hands behind me, trying not to look at my erect little cock sticking out between my legs and eager for what might happen next.

"Pay attention, bitch, because this is going to be your routine every night."

He paused a moment, then continued.

"When I say bed, bitch,' you will go turn down my bed, and then you will set my toothbrush and toothpaste to the left of my sink, and fill the glass there with water. Then you will prep my coffee, and after that you can brush your teeth and go to the bathroom and get a final drink of water. Once that's done, you will return to me, kiss my feet, and say good night, Master.' Is all of that clear?"

"Yes, Master."

"Bed, bitch."

Turn down his bed. Toothbrush and toothpaste. Fill Masters water. I had to remember all of it, though it was simple enough. Didn't matter. I had to remember. I almost walked right past the kitchen before remembering his coffee. I brushed and peed and went back to his feet, slamming back the last of the water in my glass next to his chair before kissing his feet, giving each one a lick.

"Good night, Master."

I waited for a moment to see if there was more, then hurried off to my mattress, closing the door behind me. It had been an exciting day, and I was still horny as hell, trying to relive the last few hours in my mind; my nose tucked under his ball sac as I licked at his taint, his big balls rolling in my mouth and his thick shaft sliding between my lips, his big cock as it plunged deep inside my asshole. My hand slid to my cock and I started stroking it, running my fingertip up and down the length of it. Even though I knew I shouldn't, I took it between my thumb and two fingers, beating gently on it with short little strokes. I hadn't meant to cum. I only wanted to bring myself to the edge, but even though I stopped when I felt the pressure building, I couldn't hold it back, and I fought back a moan as warm drops spattered on my chin and across my chest. I whimpered quietly and had just started rubbing it into my skin when Master opened the door.

The room was dark, but there was still enough light for him to see what I had done.

He heaved a heavy sigh, and I could hear the anger that was in it.

I knew I was in for it. Shaking like crazy and near to tears, I crawled to kneel at his feet, my head dropped between my shoulders. Grabbing my hair, he yanked my head up and slapped my face, nearly sending me across the room.

"That is the very last time that will happen!"

I was sobbing.

"Yes, Master!"

"And doors stay open. You never close a door!"

"Yes, Master!"

He stormed off, leaving me kneeling there, shaking. When at last he turned into his bedroom, I crawled back to my mattress, my cheek still burning as I pulled my blanket up close. I wanted to please him, I wanted to be his slave, but I didn't want it all the time. I didn't like school, but I still wanted to go. I wanted to see Collin, and my other friends, and I wanted to be able to ride my bike down by the river, and go walking in the woods, and go sledding, and go to the arcade.

Master had slapped me. He had never slapped me before, even if I had done something really bad.

I started to cry.

I wasn't going to ride my bike, or go sledding or anything else.

I was just a slave.

That one thought just echoed in my head, all of my other thoughts scattering.

"I own you. That's my pussy. You're a cunt and a whore."

I could feel the belt across my ass, smell the scent of his crotch, feel his cock as it filled my asshole.

I fell asleep.

The alarm startled me awake, and it took me a few moments to remember my situation. Crawling from my mattress, I crept down the hall to peek into the kitchen, hoping that my dad wasn't sitting there waiting for me, then hurried to go to the bathroom. I could hear the coffee pot brewing, and I shook nervously as I tried to pull my thoughts together as best I could. I remembered that he had given me instructions, I just had to remember what they were.

I didn't want to get him mad. I didn't want to be punished again. I wanted to put on my clothes and run away.

I had to wait until I heard him, then I had to pour his coffee and kneel by his chair and wait for him.

I stood by the table, then knelt, then stood again, waiting to hear even the faintest sound. As soon as I did, I hurried to the counter to pour his coffee, shakily setting the cup on a saucer before placing it in front of his chair. He strolled in a few moments later, his robe open in front and his cock swinging back and forth as he yawned and ran a hand through his hair. Pulling his chair back, he sat, stretching out his arms and yawning again before reaching for his coffee. He took a sip and sighed.

"Feet, bitch."

I jumped a little, then crawled beneath the table and started licking. I had to. I had to obey. I had to do everything right and everything perfect so that I wouldn't be punished again.

I was under the table and I was naked, my ass sticking in the air as I licked at my dad's feet. I was so ashamed of myself, for letting this happen, for wanting this to happen. But there was nothing I could do about it, now. I wasn't even sure that there ever was.

I was my dad's slave.

He was my Master!

I started sucking his toes, trying to remember how much I had loved it the night before, how it had felt to worship them, to worship him. I wanted to feel it again, to forget about all of the things that I would never have again, never do again. After all, I had wanted to be my dad's slave, so it was my own fault anyhow.

He pulled his feet back and pushed himself away from the table.

"On my cock, bitch. I'm gonna piss."

I looked at his cock, and my regret started slipping away. I was enthralled by his big, beautiful cock, amazed at its size and its girth. However much I didn't really want to drink his piss, I knew that I had to, and at least I'd have his cock in my mouth.

The taste was a lot stronger than it had been the night before; hot, sour, salty, bitter, shooting into the back of my throat with a blast before slowing to a constant, steady stream. I gulped and gulped on it, my eyes fix on his crotch, the long arc of his cock as it disappeared between my lips, his dark, thick patch of pubic hair, his big, low hanging balls. The smell of him was over powering, and in no time at all my cock rose to press against my abdomen.

Squeezing out the last few drops, he pushed my head away.

"Now what do you do, bitch?"

I crawled back to his feet and started kissing them.

"Thank you for your piss, Master."

I began to lick his feet passionately, suddenly eager to please him again. He only allowed me a few moments however, before he commanded me to make his breakfast.

I served him his pancakes and stood behind his chair, refilling his coffee until he finished his meal. I wasn't allowed to have any, but was allowed a bowl of cereal once I cleaned his place. They were just plain corn flakes, and when I went to put sugar on them, I was told that I couldn't. I had just started eating when I heard the back door open and close, and a moment later he appeared outside, walking down the long driveway and disappearing around the now leafless shrubs and trees on his way out to the road. The blacktop was wet, with a light dusting of snow still laying in patches here and there. He returned only a moment later, and it was then that I realize he had gone to check the mailbox. Thumping into the house, he strolled into the and pulled out his chair to sit.

"Lick them clean," he pointed to his boots.

I was shocked by the command. I hadn't known...hadn't realized...

Shaking, I nervously pushed myself from my chair, my eyes on the floor as I knelt at his feet. I didn't want to...I didn't want to...

My tongue caressed the tip of his boot.

"Bottoms first. And I want them clean!"

It was humiliating and degrading, and I could feel the tears welling up behind my eyes. There were bits of grit and dirt stuck to them, and pieces of grass and fallen leaves. I wanted to spit them out, and struggled to swallow them, licking and swallowing, and licking and swallowing.

"Can I get a drink of water, please, Master?"

He pushed his boot into my face.

"What did I tell you?"

I hurried away to the counter and filled a glass, washing the grit from my mouth before setting it on the floor next to me as I returned to licking his boot. I hadn't realized...I hadn't known...

I had wanted to be his slave. I had wanted his cock, had wanted his control. He had even asked me if I knew everything about being a proper slave. And I had said "no."

And now I was learning.

I finally got the bottoms cleaned and moved to the sides, my Master turning his feet back and forth until he was satisfied.

"Finish eating, do the dishes, make my bed, clean my room and clean my bathroom. Then I want the kitchen and the back hall swept and scrubbed."

"Yes, Master," I replied meekly as he hefted himself from his chair.

It was ten thirty by the time I finished, my Master out in the yard or in his shop somewhere. With no further direction, I knelt next to his leather recliner to wait as I had been told, trying to keep my thoughts away from all the things I didn't want to think about. I had to accept it, accept that I was just a slave. It was then that I noticed that things were missing from the living room, little things that had once been mine; the crummy little pot I had made in art class, the little modal car I had made, the pile of comic books I had had stashed under the table. Even all the pictures of me were gone.

I hung my head and looked down at my naked body.

I was just a slave.