Becoming Daddy’s Good Girl Chapter 1: Dressing Room Submission

Becoming Daddy’s Good Girl
Chapter One: Dressing Room Submission
By mypenname3000
Copyright 2016

“You take care of your father and be a good girl, Melody,” my mother said as she stood in the doorway of our house, her the tight, gold necklace glinting about her throat. She always wore it. The thin chain kept the heart-shaped locket pressed to the hollow of her throat. Her braid of brown hair fell off her right shoulder and down the front of her conservative dress. My mom always wore the most conservative dress. She was such a fifties housewife, staying at home, keeping everything clean, being subservient to dad.

Like always subservient. She would fetch him beers when he watched TV after work and always made sure his coffee was topped off during breakfast. Every day when he came home from work, Mom would be waiting for him, ready to take his jacket and massage his feet.

And she did it with a smile on her face. She loved my dad. And I didn’t blame him. He was a handsome man, tall, dark-haired, and muscular. Sometimes he made my eighteen-year-old body ache with desires and I would have to masturbate in my room hoping my twin sister Alice didn’t notice.

Now Alice and I weren’t identical twins but fraternal. We looked as much alike as any other normal set of sisters. She was taller and slimmer than I was but my breasts were bigger and my hair finer. It fell in a similar braid to my mother’s down my back, almost the same shade of brown.

“Mom, we’re going to be late,” Alice shouted from the car, her head shoved through, her bushy, tawny hair spilling about her delicate face. We both inherited Mom’s small nose and delicate cheekbones, making us look fragile and innocent.

“In a moment, dear,” my mom shouted, always full of patience. She turned to me and stroked my hair. “While I’m gone it will be up to you to take care of him, okay. Be obedient and a good girl. I know you will be. You love being a good girl for your daddy.”

My cheeks warmed. Ever since I realized that my dad was a muscular hunk beneath the dress shirts he wore for his office job, I found myself wanting to do whatever he said, running errands, fetching him drinks, doing things Mom normally did for him so I could be around him. It made my heart almost float out of my chest when I did.

I just wanted to be close to my dad. I was a daddy’s girl, but so were lots of my friends. My friends, including my best friend Sun, were all jealous that I had the cutest dad.

Alice, on the other hand, was a brat. I was glad she was going with Mom to Grandma’s. Three weeks of just me and Dad while Mom helped Grandma adjust after Grandpa’s hip surgery. I could have gone, but it was my choice to stay.

And I would get to spend so much time with Daddy. So of course I declined. It was so boring at Grandma’s. I loved her and Grandpa, I did, but there was nothing to do there but be board. They barely had internet and no cable, just rabbit ears on a black and white TV.

“I’ll be good for Dad,” I smiled.

She sighed. “You don’t call him Daddy anymore. I get it, you’re getting older, but it always made him happy when you call him Daddy.”

“It does?” I asked, a hot thrill shooting through me. Daddy. It felt so naughty to call him that at my age. I squirmed my hips, my nipples hardening in my bra.

She nodded her head. “Now you be good. Do everything he tells you. Eighteen is not too old to be spanked over your father’s knee.”

I blushed. Once, I had seen Dad spanking Mom a few weeks ago. They were in their bedroom, but the door had been cracked. It was Saturday and my sister and I were supposed to be weeding the garden. I slipped in to change my clothes—my tight shorts were proving impractical to moving—and heard the slaps. At first, I thought dad was hurting her until I glimpsed her face.

Mom loved to be spanked.

The image rose in my mind. My mother naked, her large breasts pressing against Dad’s muscular thigh, her round bottom red and wiggling as he slammed his broad hand on her flesh. Her head had risen with each spanking, her toes curling. I caught a glimpse between her legs. She was shaved and looked so youthful. And with her hair braided, she seemed more like a little girl being spanked by her daddy than a wife playing with her husband.

I had only watched for a minute before I was so afraid I ran. I burst into my bedroom, shoved my hands down my shorts, and rubbed at my pussy lips. I was so wet. I had never masturbated with such a frenetic need as I pictured Dad’s muscular chest, covered in barbwire tattoos, rippling as he drew back his arm and spanked me.

“Melody,” my mother said, bringing me out of my fantasy. “You are going to behave, right?”

“I’ll be Daddy’s good girl,” I smiled.

“Good.” Dad’s voice rumbled behind me.

Startled, I let out a squeak and turned around, my hands clasped before me as Dad, wearing a plain, white t-shirt that molded to his muscles, walked up. Mom lowered her head and clasped her hands before her. Dad stopped before her, ignoring me, and raised her chin.

“Dear,” Mom said, “Melody has promised to take care of you while I am gone. I hope she will be a satisfactory replacement.”

“Once I have her trained,” Dad answered, his thumb brushing her cheeks.

“Good.” A smile played on Mom’s lips. “Then, with your permission, dear, I would like to go and visit my parents.”

“Granted.”

Permission? Why did Mom need permission?

Dad seized Mom’s lips in a kiss. My eyes widened at the unbridled passion. Mom shuddered, her eyes closed while Dad owned her lips. He still held her chin as he kissed her. She moaned, her hips shuddering, her hands squeezed tight together. And then he broke it. Mom took a deep breath, her cheeks flushed.

“I love you, dear.”

Dad nodded, his thumb still caressing her cheek, an intimate touch. Wild thoughts of Dad touching me like that spilled through my mind. A heat ignited between my thighs, wet, molten passion. The urge to run upstairs and masturbate seized me as Dad patted Mom’s ass as she walked away, a laugh on her lips and a saucy look in her eyes.

They were so affectionate.

“Well,” Dad said, staring down at me. He cupped my chin and lifted my eyes. Would he kiss me now? “It is just me and you. Your Mother promises me you will behave.”

“Of course…Daddy.”

His lips twitched, a smile almost forming. “Good.” He kissed me on my forehead instead of my lips. My flesh burned where he touched me. I shuddered. “Go fetch me a beer, the game’s about to start.”

“Yes, Daddy.” My heart beat in my chest as I turned and raced to the kitchen.

I thought I felt Dad’s eyes on my ass. I wore an old pair of jeans—I was supposed to go school shopping with Mom and Alice tomorrow—and they were tight. They hugged my rear and legs. I had grown since I bought them.

I hoped he was watching. It made me feel so womanly. Mom was gone. It was my place to be the woman of the house and make sure the man was taken care of.

My teachers at school would be horrified. Especially Ms. Gardner and Mrs. Thompson. They were always talking about how women didn’t have to serve men and being a housewife was “internalized misogyny.” But it was nice to serve. It made me happy.

What was so wrong with that?

Nothing.

Of course, I never contradicted my teachers. And I never told them about my mother. She was almost straight out of the ancient TV show that sometimes appeared on Nickelodeon late at night—Leave it to Beaver. But she wasn’t faking her happiness. She was always humming and singing as she cooked or clean.

“Your father earns the money and provides for us,” she would say, “and he works hard to do it. So I work just as hard at home making our life pleasant. Your father appreciates what I do, and I appreciate what he does. We compliment each other.”

Hearing her say it made it sound like the most romantic thing in the world.

My head buzzed with images of me being Daddy’s wife. Cooking and cleaning, waiting for him to come home, then I would massage his feet after his hard day while we talked. They always laughed when Mom massaged his feet. It was their private time. Alice and I were banished to our bedrooms or elsewhere during it.

I brought the beer to Daddy.

“Thank you, Melody,” he said, taking it and giving me a nod.

“You’re welcome, Daddy,” I smiled.

He patted the arm of his recliner while the announcer called the baseball game. The Mariners were playing the A’s, and the first pitch had just been thrown. I sat on the chair’s arm and leaned back, Daddy’s arm going around my waist.

It was wonderful. I smiled, loving being near him even if it meant watching a boring baseball game. Twice more he sent me to get him another beer. I returned with his drink and diet cokes for myself. I even started getting into the game, and when the Mariners won, Daddy hugged me to his chest.

He smelled so manly. The hot itch returned to me. I squirmed, my cheeks burning, suddenly so embarrassed. “I have to go make dinner, Daddy.”

“Okay, sweetheart.” He kissed me on the forehead.

I crawled off the recliner, my thighs squeezed tight. I really did have to start dinner, but I wanted to masturbate so badly. “Daddy, Mom was supposed to take me clothing shopping tomorrow.”

“I’ll take you.” his eyes fell on mine.