Mary couldn’t stop thinking about Daddy all day.
At 21, she spent the entire afternoon at university classes squirming in her seat, her tiny pink skirt riding up her thighs and her lacy white thong already damp. She kept picturing Luke — her 42-year-old Daddy, the powerful man who had claimed her completely three months ago — and the way his deep voice sounded when he called her his “good little princess.”
She knew she was being naughty. She had sent him three teasing photos during the day: one of her cleavage in the low-cut top she wore, one of her bare thighs under the desk, and one of her biting her lip with the caption “Miss you, Daddy ”.
When she finally got home to their beautiful high-rise apartment, the sun was setting, painting the living room in soft golden light. Luke was alr
