Chapter 1: The beginning

I met Mark at my local Munch close to ten years ago now. Mark was fifty to my twenty, but I’d always had a thing for tall, stocky, older men, and Mark fit the bill perfectly. At the time, I wasn’t a Bdsm ‘little’, although, with my voluptuous figure and angelic, youthful looks, I’d toyed with that genre when live-streaming on VIP Cams.

Although I didn’t know that was his name yet, I watched Mark come in and say hello to the members he knew. They seemed to know him well, even though this was my sixth visit to this Munch, and I had never seen him here before.

Mark made his way around the room, introducing himself to the members he didn’t know. It seemed like he was ignoring me, and I worried that he thought I was too young to be of any interest to him. It didn’t help that he was popular with the female members, with each of them hugging him as well as casually groping his clearly lengthy cock. I felt almost teary by the time he turned toward me.

Finally paying me attention, Mark held my hands and pulled me out of my chair. “My goodness, you’re one sweet little thing, aren’t you?” He said as he twisted my hands so I’d turn around. “Now, I know you must be at least eighteen to be in this pub, but are you sure you’re not twelve?”

That was my first inkling that Mark liked playing DaddyDom/babygirl games. Now, again, before you all get your panties wadded, my man has never shown any interest in underaged girls in the entire ten years we’ve been together. He, as I came to, enjoys DDLG age play. I act sweet, young and innocent, and he acts as he is: Older, suave, controlled and Dominant. If I act bratty, as I’m wont to do, he disciplines my large, rounded bottom. Of course, that makes us horny, and we fuck like rabbits.

I was delighted by his intense interest in me and assured him that I was twenty and not twelve. Mark chuckled and said, “Just as well because I’m having some very inappropriate thoughts about what I’d like to do to you, and if you were twelve, I’m sure those thoughts alone would have me in jail!”

I felt a delicious shudder travel down my spine until it settled as warm, wet arousal on my tiny little clitty. I tried to respond, but my tongue was tied, and all I could do was interlace my fingers at my waist, swing a knee back and forth like a naughty schoolgirl under her teacher’s gaze, and blush.

Mark laughed delightedly and said, “Cat got your tongue? Let’s take this to the dining area, get a coffee, and we’ll get to know each other.”

I was in his bed being fucked as well as I ever had been less than an hour later.

Mark is a consummate lover who bears a slight resemblance to Brian Dennehy, especially in his staunch stature. He instinctively responds to what a woman’s body shows him she needs and gives me more orgasms in a single session than any of my previous lovers did combined.

Mark fucked me so well that day that I passed out from the many orgasms he gave me.

There was a nightlight on when I woke up, and it showed that I was alone in the bed. I could hear Mark singing and smell something delicious cooking, so I guessed he was in the kitchen. I looked around for my jeans and T-shirt, but instead of them, I saw a fetish schoolgirl outfit laid out. I giggled because it seemed outrageously naughty, but then I worried what I’d gotten myself into.

However, when I turned on the light, I saw a tidily written note attached to the outfit. It read, “Hey, gorgeous girl. Your jeans and T-shirt are hanging in the closet with your bra and knickers hooked over them. But, if you dare to play sex games, dress in the fetish outfit and join me in the kitchen.

I thought briefly but decided I’d play along and dress in the outfit because I didn’t feel any bad vibes from the handsome older man. Now, my fellow perves, I am a curvy girl. My big ass is a size eighteen (14 American), and I, at the time, had giant twenty Double-D tits (I’ll explain how my GGs came about later. Needless to say, they’re not wholly natural!). I pulled the blue plaid, pleated school skirt up my thighs and onto my bot, expecting not to fit into it. Surprisingly, it fitted perfectly.

Next, there were some white ruffled knickers that were a size too small but squeezed over my fat ass. There wasn’t a bra, but the blouse was made from a stretch fabric that squeezed my big tits together and forced them up and out. My nipples were visible and lewdly pushing against the material.

For my feet, Mark had left lace-topped, white bobby socks and a pair of white ballet flats. The shoes were a little large but close enough for wearing around the house. When I picked up the shoes, a pair of hair ties dropped out of them. I looked at them wonderingly before guessing from the outfit and tied my medium-length hair into a pair of tight pigtails above my ears. I checked myself in the full-length mirror and, liking what I saw, walked towards the sounds and smells.

Mark was singing Neil Diamond’s Cracklin’ Rosie’ as he danced back and forth, occasionally inspecting the contents of a large wok and stirring them. His voice stumbled to a stop when I walked sedately into the room. For some reason, his startled, appreciative grin stirred a yearning deep inside me, and I demurely placed my index finger into my mouth’s corner and twisted it back and forth. Blushing, I lowered my head and looked shyly up at Mark through my lashes.

“Does Daddy like how his baby girl looks?” I asked plaintively.

Well, my pervy homies, I knew he did because his enormous cock grew out of his stubbies’ leg hole and down his thigh. Soon, it was straining against his shorts as it tried to rise to its full glory.

Mark pretended to look disappointed in me and said, “Babygirl didn’t put her bra on. It’s naughty to display your tits to anyone who may have been in here, isn’t it? Daddy needs to punish his baby girl for being bad. Go back to your room and fetch the paddle on the dresser beside the bed.”

I protested in a small, whining voice, “But, Daddyyyy. You didn’t put a bra out for me!”

“Then you should have put your T-shirt on and come out to remind me,” Daddy Mark said sadly.

“Why are you sad, Daddy?” I said forlornly. “I don’t want you to be sad.”

Mark sighed deeply before saying, “Because my baby girl has been naughty, and now I have to paddle her bottom. It makes me sad when my baby girl has been bad.”

Hooking into his game and ignoring his edict to get the paddle, I cupped my lushly mounded breasts and held them out to him. “Doesn’t Daddy like my titties? The boys at school stare at them all the time. Why don’t you like them, Daddy?” Then I pretended to sniff and actually managed to tear up a little. “You think they’re fat and ugly because they’re not tiny like the other girls.”

“Aww,” Mark said, holding out his arms. “Come here, baby girl. Daddy doesn’t think his baby girl’s titties are fat and ugly. In fact, I think they’re just about perfect!”

“So you like them?” I asked coquettishly as we chastely hugged. “Would you like to see them?”

“Yes, I would, my darling girl,” Mark told me. “But after dinner, okay?”

“Okayyyy,” I said doubtfully, in my whining, little girl’s voice, my bottom lip pouting out. “But if you really liked them, you would want to see them now. The boys at school always ask to see them.”

“Has my girl been bad and shown the boys her tits?” Mark asked threateningly. “If she has, her punishment will be doubled.”

I giggled and replied, “Daddyyyy, don’t be silly. Of course, I haven’t shown the boys my titties. I’m your good girl. Not your bad one.”

“Still,” Mark sighed sadly. “You came into the kitchen in a top that clearly showed your nipples—something only a bad girl does. Go to your bedroom and fetch the paddle. Daddy needs to punish you so that you remember not to do it again.”