Note: This story was dynamically reformatted for online reading convenience.
 
 Mf Inc fDom Cons

   This story is heavy on flirtation and build up- Light on hard sex

   This story contains Adult content and is restricted to viewers over the
age of eighteen

   Precocious Daughter - Part One

   -By Daddy Issues

   At an age when most children are learning their first word, Devon was
able to speak in full sentences.  When she entered school, she maintained
'A' grades in an accelerated academic program.  She was an avid reader and
self-teacher.  By age 10 she had accumulated knowledge in subjects like
math, science and technology that surpassed most adults.

   Among her most potent gifts were intuition and an understanding of
psychology which bordered on supernatural.  Her instincts empowered her to
manipulate the world to her advantage, which she did without reservation or
apology.  Long before she reached puberty, she could flip her hair and
giggle and get almost anything she wanted.  She wielded flirtatiousness
like a weapon and enjoyed the power it gave her.

   I was working at my computer when an all-too-familiar scent began to
tickle my nostrils.  It was the scent of my daughters skin mixed with her
expensive perfume.  It made my heart rate rise a bit, though in my mind I
denied it any significance.  Devon, now 15 years old, sashayed into my den.


   From her pretty bare feet and pink polished toenails, my eyes raked
upward over her long legs, hourglass curves, and beautiful face.  She wore
tiny denim shorts and a tightly fitting, semi-transparent white tank top.
Under her top she wore a white push-up bra that looked two sizes too small.
Her rounded boobs swelled upward, the soft skin yielding slightly where the
top seams of the bra cups pressed into her.  The garment was stopped from
pressing further inward by the firm breasts lying just beneath her skin. 
It made me think of the lingerie indentations on the naked body of a young
girl who has just removed her tight clothing.

   Devon placed her hands on her hips, pushed her shoulders back, tossed
her dark hair to the side and struck a bold model's pose; "Daddy I think I
need new bras.  My boobs are getting too big for the ones I have.  What do
you think?" Holding the pose with her breasts thrust obscenely forward, she
paused and allowed the awkward silence hang in the air while she awaited my
response.  In hindsight, it may have been awkward only for me.  She showed
nothing but confidence.  Maybe too much confidence.

   I stared at the silhouette of my daughter's young body.  Her torso to
leg-length ratio made her look like she was wearing high heels, even when
she barefoot.  I observed her smooth pale complexion, dark eyes and the
sheen of her hair.  I had for some time been well aware of her blossoming
womanhood, but the brazenness with which she presented her female power
gave me some surprise.

   I don't know how long I had been studying her when she spoke and awoke
me from my trance; "Daddy?" "Oh...um...yes sweetie...sure." She spoke with
icy calm and a smile, "Will you take me shopping tomorrow?  Devon had
regular contact with her mother, my ex-wife; but I knew why she was asking
me.  Doing anything is more pleasant with me than with my ex; but that is a
story for another time.

   As I was distractedly appreciating her flawlessly applied pink lip gloss
and thick lips, she spun around and flashed me a glimpse of her heart
shaped butt.  Her size zero shorts gripped her curves tightly and left the
bottom third of her cheeks exposed and curving gracefully into rounded
thighs and freshly shaven legs.  The taught-ness of the skin on the back of
her thighs suggested that her body was swelling into feminine proportions
slightly faster than her skin was accomodating.

   She did not wait for me to reply.  With an exaggerated hip wiggle, she
skipped out of my den saying, "Cool!  Thank you Daddy, we'll have fun
tomorrow".

   I was fortunate to have the financial means to indulge her limitless
appetite for fashion, manicures and makeup and I enjoyed spoiling her.  I
also appreciated the aesthetics of her attention to detail, and her mastery
of the art of feminine fashion.  From her nail polish and makeup to her
shoes and accessories, she always looked finished and put together with the
flavor of classy, cool, relaxed or sexy that was right for the occasion.

   It was a warm summer day and she wore a form fitting pink baby-T, a
casual white mini-skirt and beige wedge-heel sandals which tied around her
ankles.  As my eyes raked over her, I took in the overall effect, accented
by an ankle bracelet, armlet, hoop earrings and wide brown leather belt
draped on her hips.  She was braless with her gravity-defying breasts
straining against her t-shirt.

   We chatted and laughed as we walked arm in arm through the mall.  We
were having fun together like always.  Except on this day she had my arm
trapped tightly under her armpit and pressed into her breast.  When she
first pressed her body against my arm I was caught by surprise, and I
immediately felt an involuntary twinge in my groin.

   The thin cotton of her t-shirt was the only thing between my bare arm
and her bosom.  I could feel everything including her hardened nipple, and
it was testing my ability to keep my cool.  I had already known that she
was well developed, but I was taken by how firm and swollen her breast
felt. I did my best to play it off but I knew that she was fully aware of
what she was doing, and that she knew I was only pretending not to notice.

   I tried with all my concentration to suppress an erection, but it was a
losing battle.  I finally had to reach down while we were walking and
adjust myself into a less uncomfortable position.  In my peripheral vision
I saw her glance at the bulge in my jeans and smile wickedly.

   Though my daughter had always been confident and playful, she was lately
growing ever more bold with me.  At first, it was "Daddy is my skirt too
short?" in a flirtatious voice.  Then, "Daddy, do you think anyone will
notice that I'm not wearing a bra under this?" Now she's massaging her
breasts with my arm.  I wasn't quite sure how I should be dealing with it
so for the moment I was trying to ignore it or pretend not to notice it. 
She was using an elusive combination of blatant sexual innuendo while
feigning innocence that kept me just a bit off balance; the little girl
combined with wicked seductress; the adoring daughter mixed with bitchy
cock tease.

   I pushed the shopping cart full of garments Devon had collected, and I
followed along as she browsed the most expensive department store in the
mall.  I felt a bit of apprehension as she lead us into the lingerie
section and I hesitated just a bit.  "Come on Daddy!  Stay with me", Devon
commanded in a playful but maternal tone.  She sounded like a mother
speaking to her child in an authoritative but loving way.  I found it to be
irresistibly cute.

   She was matter-of-factly browsing and inspecting labels and womanly
undergarments when she pulled from the rack and held up a black silk
bustier with exquisite fine detail and finish.  "Oh my god Daddy, this is
sooo hot!  Do you think this would look good on me?"

   "It's a beautiful corset dear, but where could you wear it?" "It's not a
corset Daddy, it's a bustier.  A corset cinches the waist.  A bustier lifts
your boobs." She demonstrated by pushing up her braless boobs with her
hands, acting as though it were the most normal thing in world for a
teenage girl to push her boobs out to show them to her father.  Maybe it
was, what do I know?  "You have to help me find this in my size!"

   Aware that she didn't answer my question, I was considering whether to
ask again or drop the matter.  She took a few steps towards me and paused
directly in front of me, her face a few inches from mine.  She parted her
lips slightly and looked straight into my eyes.

   Speaking a bit more slowly and softly than normal, she asked me, "Do you
know my size Daddy?" I was frozen and lost for words.  I could smell her
skin and shampoo and perfume.  I felt stray wisps of her hair tickling my
face.  Her lips were not touching mine, but were close enough that I could
feel their warmth.  I felt like I had been enveloped in the grip of some
overpowering energy which she controlled.  Looking back on that moment, I'm
quite sure that I was.

   She place her hands on her hips, tossed her hair aside with a gentle
head flip, canted her hips and pointed her chin slightly upward.  I found
myself marveling at the smoothness of her skin and yearning to press my
nose and lips into the soft feminine crevice where her neck curved into her
jaw line.  Moving slowly she shifted through a few poses, never breaking
eye contact and revealing no sign that she was aware that she was bumping
her pelvis into mine.

   "I'm a 34D."

   Then in an instant she broke character and resumed the role of
enthusiastic teen shopper.  She pulled the bustier in her size from the
rack and started toward the fitting rooms.  "Let's go try stuff on!"

   The fitting section had an open center area surrounded by doors to
changing stalls.  Devon was in a changing stall handing garments back and
forth with a helpful saleswomen and chattering away.  I sat on a
comfortable couch waiting and watching.

   The saleswomen was in her early twenties, charming, gorgeous and
fashionably dressed.  She had just the right amount of attitude and snob
appeal to fit the store's image.  Her name was Leah.  She and Devon made an
easy and authentic rapport, an infrequent circumstance in which Devon
wasn't "working" her; the two just connected.  As Devon tried on clothes,
the pair efficiently sorted the garments into items to buy, items not to
buy and items to get Daddy's opinion on.  The interaction was fascinating
to watch, in part because both seemed as if they'd done this a million
times before, and understood each other without need to explain.

   As Devon stepped from the stall wearing the first outfit, my pulse rate
involuntarily quickened.  In dark indigo jeans and the silk bustier, she
strode confidently and stepped onto the platform in front of the large
mirrors.  With her back facing me, she struck a few poses while checking
herself out in the mirror.  I tried, unsuccessfully, to not notice how
perfectly the dark denim gripped her hips and thighs or the round fullness
of her ass.  I told myself that I wasn't having sexual or erotic feelings;
I was simply appreciating the natural aesthetic beauty of the human body
and the elegant simplicity with which she assembled her looks.  The
erection straining to burst from my jeans had a different assessment of the
situation.

   Leah smiled deviously and nodded her approval as she looked Devon over.
Devon turned to face me and stepped off of the platform.  The bustier
covered the bottom third of her breasts and her nipples, and left a peek of
areola visible.  The rest of her breasts were pushed up and presented
forward as if resting upon a shelf.  The peek of areola was small enough
that subject and observer could pretend it wasn't there, if so desired, but
visible enough to discern the contrast of the pink color against the
whiteness of her skin.

   She looked me in the eyes as she did an exaggerated catwalk strut
towards me.  In rhythm with the foot strikes of her steps, her boobs
bounced up and down in a heavenly wave-like dance.  I thought to myself
that she was a bit shorter, more voluptuous, more beautiful and much sexier
than most runway models.  I also realized that I had just described my
daughter as sexy.

   Devon stopped and stood before me.  I was seated on the couch with my
feet planted on the floor and my legs apart.  I suddenly wanted to shift my
position to be less 'spread-eagled' but Devon's position between my knees
blocked any such adjustment.  For the second time in under an hour, I felt
restrained and overpowered by a 15-year old girl.  I knew that physically I
could easily assert myself anytime I wanted to.  The strange thing is that
no matter how much I wanted to...I didn't want to.  Although I wasn't clear
to me at the time, I was intoxicated by the feeling of being under her
control.

   Devon has always had uncanny dexterity with her facial expressions; the
ability to say a million things with one look.  She looked into my eyes as
I looked upward toward her face.  She slipped her open fingers into her
hair and pulled thick piles back from her face held them above her head.  I
felt penetrated; unable to move or speak.  It was as though her beauty were
a sharp-tipped spear pressed to my chest and pinning me in place.

   My eyes did not know what part of her to drink in first.  I gazed at the
large silver hoop earrings dangling from her delicate ears, and salivated
at the thought of gently gliding my teeth over her lobes.

   Her eyes appeared to gradually darken, and her lips reddened as if
invisible hands were applying eye shadow and lipstick.  She smiled as her
look became darker, erotic and flirtatious.  To this day I do not know how
much of it was my imagination, her control over her facial expressions or
something else.  I am however, almost certain about the red flush on her
chest and neck that appears when females become nervous or excited was
genuine.

   I was rescued from the trance when another saleswomen approached from
behind me to hand to Devon some additional garments to try on.  As Devon
reached to receive the items she lost her balance and fell onto me.  I
found myself with a generous face full of boobs and her knee pressed into
my groin.

   "Oops!" Devon giggled, as she relaxed into her position, seemingly in no
hurry to move.  She appeared to want to catch her breath before standing
back up.  Her breathing, giggling and chattering with the saleswomen was
causing some movement of her body.  As she shifted and vibrated, I was
somehow getting a face massage from her boobs.  Her boobs were swollen and
plump and firm and big and ripe, covered with a thin layer of soft girl-fat
and the softest skin I've ever had the pleasure touch.  It was far too
wonderful for me to do anything but surrender.  Whether or not Devon knew
what she was doing to me, she delivered a convincing display that it was
inadvertent and that she had no awareness of it.

   Her knee was planted firmly against the base of my erection where the
shaft meets my balls.  She was sending intense pulses of pleasure through
my body, rhythmically applying intermittent pressure with skill and
precision to surpass any lap dance I've ever had, and I've had quite more
than a few.  I wondered if Devon had learned this technique through reading
or practice.  Devon often acquired expertise through research and executed
with perfect skill on her first attempt.  I wondered if this was the first
'lap dance' she'd given or the thousandth.

   Peering over Devon's shoulder I could see enough through her thick hair
to notice the knowing smile and look of admiration on Leah's face.  She
appeared to be entertained and thoroughly impressed by Devon's skill.  I
suspect that she assumed, correctly, that Devon was "prepping" me for an
obscenely large purchase.

   Less than a minute had passed and I was approaching the point of no
return.  I didn't want to jizz in my pants but knew I couldn't stop it.  I
don't know if her timing was luck or calculation, but her knee stopped just
in time.  Another second or two and it would have been too late.

   Devon pushed herself from my lap and stood up.  "So?  Do you like it
Daddy?  Do I look pretty in this outfit?" I hesitated to speak for fear
that my voice might reveal my lust.  As if they didn't already know.

   Devon knew the answer to her question before she asked it.  But
continuing her ruse, she pretended to interpret my silence as not liking
the outfit.  "I guess he doesn't like it Leah", she said while making a
little girl sad face.  Leah placed in front of the mirror a pair of
sexy-as-hell peep toe pumps with 7" heels and a 2" platform.  "Try it with
the black Louboutin's.  They might help to finish the look."

   Devon stepped into a shoe and wobbled as she tried fasten the strap. 
Thus far Leah had been automatically helping Devon as needed.  But this
time Leah made no motion to help.  Without a word or a glance exchanged,
both seemed to know that Leah wouldn't offer help and Devon wouldn't ask
her to.  Using her little girl voice, the version that dripped sex, "Daddy
help me I can't get this buckle."

   Unsuccessfully attempting to conceal my erection, I stood and walked to
Devon.  I kneeled and began to fasten the buckle on the first shoe.  Devon
steadied her balance by holding on to my shoulder.  Devon's manicured
fingernails, inadvertently of course, softly tickled my ear and very nearly
melted me into the floor.

   I glanced up and saw our reflection in the mirror.  Leah gazed
approvingly as I knelt at Devon's feet, performing the service of putting
on her shoes.  The image is to this day among the most erotic pictures in
my mind.  Devon looked perfectly natural as if she were in exactly the
position she belonged; confident, relaxed, majestic; the ultimate vision of
feminine power.  Her look was long with clean lines.  With black hair and
eyes, black pumps and bustier her look was monochromatic but for the indigo
accent of her jeans.

   With the shoes fastened, Devon took a step and looked into the mirror. I
would describe the way she looked as stunning, but the adjective would be
inadequate.  As she struck poses, I caught a glimpse at the price sticker
on the sole of the shoe, $1999.000.  I couldn't have cared any less.  My
thoughts were occupied by matters of greater importance, probably exactly
how Devon had planned it.  Besides, there are few things I enjoy more than
spoiling Devon and seeing her smile.

   Leah handed me back my credit card with a receipt for the five-digit
purchase.  At ten times the price, it would have been worth every cent.





   To Be Continued.....