After the staff meeting (open to submissive female, and domme female if she wants)

I nod and give my usual soft, "Yes, Daddy."

I lay in the tub for a little bit longer, before getting out and getting dressed, opting for the quarter bra in pink and a pair of the black silk shorts I bought and go downstairs. I heat up some spaghetti and keep the sauce separate and make some peas. I open a bottle of white wine and I bring it up to you in the bedroom, and serve us. I eat very little.
 
I groan as I see what you are wearing. "Oh, Baby Girl … How am I meant to leave you alone if you are going to dress like that?"
 
I blush softly. "I had not wanted to put too much pressure on my breasts so soon Daddy," I explain softly, picking at my food.
 
After dinner, we cuddle up in bed, the TV on. I stroke your hair and kiss you tenderly.

"Are you enjoying this lifestyle, Baby Girl?"
 
I had to think on that one and snuggled closer to you. "I learned. . . that when I feel really horny, I don't care about who sees me, I want to get off. . . That I can take more than I thought. . . That I can be very open about my desires and not be as. . . embarrassed."
 
"You've done things I never imagined you would, Baby Girl," I say. "It's less than a fortnight since I first ordered you to your knees in my office. Think of what you've done since then. It's not so much that I opened a door with you, more that I triggered a landslide. I think you would have gone this way, whether or not I'd been here. I'm just glad I was here –*it's been so exciting to abuse you, and to see you respond with such excitement …

"You must have thought about other things you want to experience. Tell me about them, Baby Girl."
 
I smile and shake my head. "Not really Daddy. I don't like to think things out, I just want to. . . move with the avalanche," I explain. "Just simply because there's so much out there. . . I do like the idea of bondage, though, Daddy."
 
I wonder if you've ever had such a stressful day. You drift off to sleep, still in bra and shorts. I have to restrain myself from fucking you while you sleep, because you look so sexy. The bra pushes your tits up and out, and your nipples are hard. I watch you while you sleep, sure you're dreaming of sex. Your hips thrust, your hand glides down across your sex, you moan and writhe.

Eventually I sleep, too. But I wake long before you. Quietly I pad downstairs, where I load the many new photos of you on to my laptop, then save them to a private website, where I keep all the photos and all the film I have taken of the young women I have used. I gaze at the photos of you – whipped, stretched, open, with me, with my secretary –*and feel such love for you.

I go out, into the fresh, cool morning, and head to the deli, where I buy fresh juice and pastries. At home I make coffee, and go back upstairs with breakfast for you, my laptop under my arm, ready for you as you begin to stir.

Again I watch, your back arching and pushing your tits out, your hips upwards. And again I have to restrain myself from entering you.
 
I wake up to the smell of pastries and see you with juice, pastries, and your laptop. I blush as I wake up. "Good morning, Daddy," I say softly.
 
"Hi Baby Girl. How do you feel this morning?" I wait for you to sit up, then put the breakfast try on your lap. I take my clothes off and climb back into bed with you.
 
I smile and begin eating. "Sore, Daddy," I confess. "Everything's sore. . . or hurting." I smile shyly at you. "Why do you have your laptop, Daddy?"
 
I lay it on top of the duvet. "I have a site, I keep Baby Girl. It has all the pictures and videos of the women who have let me use them and abuse them. I've been uploading all the pictures of you."

I click on a link, and up comes a gallery of you. You in my office, being whipped and used. You in the toilet at work, your pussy filled with a vibrator. You being fucked in the ass by Tony, and your gaping hole after. Your whipped tits, your swollen cunt, your clamped nipples. Video of you licking cum from the floor, video I have taken from the net of you in the restaurant.

"This is who you are, Baby Girl. Do you like it?"
 
"Only me and my secretary and the women in the galleries have access to this site, Baby Girl. I'll send you the URL and the passwords, and you can upload anything you like, anything you do on your own. Do you want to see some of the other girls?"
 
"Why not, Baby Girl?" I am desperate to show you some of the other girls. Girls you know from work. To show you the things they had done to please me.
 
"Because I want to look at them when I get home and get ideas on how to please you and surprise you with it," I admit with a giggle.
 
As usual, you have made me hard.

"There's another thing, Baby Girl. I've set up an email account for you. The address is babywhippedtits@gmail.com and the password is daddyswhore. And I've set up an account at a picture website. Do you want to see your profile?"
 
I go to the site. At the moment there are no pictures in your profile. It's one of the sites where people can leave comments or send private messages. Most of the pictures are the usual kind: a pair of naked tits, a spread cunt, women in lingerie. Your pictures will be at the extreme end. Your profile reads:

"Daddy's Little Girl. 23. I am owned and abused by Daddy. Please tell me what you think of me and what you want to do to me. Please email me at babywhippedtits@gmail.com."

I turn to you. "Baby Girl, why don't you choose some pictures to fill out your profile?"
 
I smile and nod. "Yes Daddy," I say with a soft smile and get straight to work. I find pictures of me at every angle and am pleased with what I chose. "There you go Daddy," I say sweetly.
 
"Are you sure you want to show your face, Baby Girl?" I ask. I'm pleased if you do, but it must be your choice.
 
"Yes Daddy," I say happily. Its one of me in mid orgasm and its incredibly erotic. I smile at you and lean up on you. "Does it please you?"
 
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