littlelaneykink: kinkycasey: Daddy keeps his favorite girls. (photo source) “It’s not fa

littlelaneykink: kinkycasey: Daddy keeps his favorite girls. (photo source) “It’s not fair,” she sniffled. “I’m a big girl.” He almost believed the distress in her voice, except he had two fingers knuckle deep inside her and she was clenching and dripping in a way that betrayed her real thoughts on the matter. Crooking his fingers, he pressed in just the right spot before he asked, “So it doesn’t turn you on to know that in just a few minutes I’m going to wrap you up in the crinkliest of all crinkly diapers and make you wear it all night?” “No,” she said automatically, but it lost some of its effect when it turned into a moan. “Good girls don’t lie, pumpkin. You want to be a good girl, don’t you? Tell me the truth.” His fingers continued their steady ministrations, plucking at her like strings on an instrument. “Yes,” she murmured. Her hips rocked back against his hand. “But it’s not fair!” A grin curled on his lips, but she couldn’t see it with her face pushed into the floor. She looked so cute when she tried to hide. ”It’s not supposed to be fair. You wouldn’t be drooling like this if it was fair,” he said, drawing his wet fingers across her thigh. He savored the embarrassed whimper he heard from underneath the mask of hair. ”Now tell me the truth, pumpkin. Be a good girl. Why are you so wet down here?” He continued with his fingers’ slow exploration, delving in and out and around, patiently waiting as she huffed and whimpered and clenched and unclenched her hands. ”Because,” she began, and then paused. ”Because you said I couldn’t use the potty all night, and you’re gonna make me wear that thing.” “Good girl,” he cooed, rewarding her with a few careful strokes of that one spot inside. “And why does that make you wet?” “I don’t wanna say. I plead the fifth amendment,” she said brattishly. He chuckled. ”I don’t think the fifth amendment applies in this context, pumpkin.” “Hmph. Those are my constitutional rights you’re talking about.” “Maybe so, but I want you to tell me anyway. Why does it make you so wet to know you’re going to spend all night in a wet, squishy diaper so thick you’ll have to waddle?” She whimpered and sighed and wiggled against his hand, wordlessly pleading for more, but he kept stroking his fingers in and out at the same agonizingly slow pace. ”I don’t wanna say it,” she insisted, but he waited patiently knowing she would. ”Because I like it when you’re mean to me,” she finally confessed, almost whispering. “Good baby,” he encouraged. “You’re such a good little baby.” Withdrawing his fingers, he pulled over the diaper he’d laid nearby. Taking care to rustle the plastic loudly for her benefit, he unfolded it and said, “Alright, pumpkin. Let’s get you wrapped up before you have any accidents on the bed.” “What…? But…? But what about…?” She stuttered in horror. She sounded so desperate, he almost would have felt bad, if it weren’t for the sadist in him which swelled, literally, at the sound. He gave her a patronizing smile. ”Well, if you’re a really good girl, maybe I’ll let you play horsey on my knee. How about that?” “You’re so mean,” she cried, but for all her whimpering, she laid down peacefully enough and he taped her right up. -- source link
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