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"The New Dress" (c) Scribbler 2001 all rights reserved. This story
has elements of "age-play" but readers should note that all
characters are of the age of consent, and that this story neither
depicts nor advocates any sex acts with minors.


"Its beautiful!", your voice chimes with perfect joy.

Now, you're only eight years younger than I am, but you've always
wanted to be a "Daddy's girl", haven't you? To have someone hold you,
love you, chastise you, and spoil you just as a princess deserves.

And me, well, I'm an obliging sort of pervert, so I'll happily pull
you across my lap and say nice things like "You know this hurts
me more than it hurts you" and "aren't you embarassed to be a big
girl and be punished like a little one?"

Daddy's girl is beaming. . .fancy wrapping paper and ribbons on the
floor as she holds the dress up to admire it. Its Italian raw silk, a
cream color that shimmers as the light catches it, decorated with
gold thread filligree.

You kiss me, your face flushed with excitement and happiness. . .

"It so beautiful. . .it must have cost a fortune. . .can I try it on?"

Of course you can, absolutely, I insist. You come running back into
the room, the dress on, looking like the belle of the ball, a true
princess of the blood.

"My goodness, you are beautiful. . .just look at you!" I smile, a
smile that extends perhaps moment too long in the corners of my
mouth. You catch that look and shiver nervously.

"Darling, you are so perfect looking. . .I must take a picture"

"No, Daddy, my hair's not done . . ."

"Oh, no princess, I insist"

I call our maid Marcella, and ask her to bring me some iced tea, I'm
getting a little thirsty. Meanwhile, I set up my camera, a large
antique view camera,beautiful polished mahogony with brass fiitings.
Its large and bulky, old-fashioned. . .take large format negatives.

Marcella brings the tea.

"Here darling, why don't you have something to drink. . ." I offer
you my glass.

"Oh, thank you Daddy, my throat is parched. . .oh, this is so pretty"
you twirl around, the skirt spinning in the air.

I'm carefully adjusting the camera, dusting the lenses, preparing the
plates, setting the heavy wooden tripod just so. . .you start to
become impatient.

"Da. . .a. . .ady, are you going to take my picture or not?"

I look up at you: "Patience, darling. . .you'll just have to wait a

A long pause.

My hand on your cheek.

"Speaking of waiting, do you remember our lunch date last week?"

"Oh, yes, Daddy. . .that was wonderful. . ."

"Yes, precious, lunch was wonderful, but do you remember what time
you got there?"

My voice is a little less friendly now

"Oh, I was a little late Daddy, I know that, and you remember that I
got down on my knees and begged for your forgiveness. . ."

"Do you remember if I gave it to you?"

"No. . ."

I call Marcella.

"Marcella, the iced tea is wonderful-- could you bring the pitcher
out here..."

She does.

I refill your glass: "Here darling, have another glass. . .you look

"No thank you, Daddy, and besides I have to go to the bathroom. . ."

My eyes get cold. "I did not ask you if you wanted another
glass. . .drink your tea."

You do as you're told, not quite understanding why its important. I
continue working with the camera-- its an antique and very complex,
there are many things to set up.

"Daddy, this is taking too long and I really have to go to the
bathroom-- may I be excused? I'll be back in a flash and we can take
this picture"

I regard you with a cool smile: "No, you'll stay right here. . .and
you'll finish drinking your iced tea."

"But Daddy, I really have to go. . ." your voice is a whine, "I can't

The whine is rewarded with a hard slap acros your face. . .a
handprint red and puffy on your cheek.

"Princess, now you're going to learn a lesson about making Daddy wait.
You're telling me that you don't like to wait, can't wait. . .well
Daddy doesn't like to wait either, and when you make him wait, he
gets angry"

You're starting to squirm now. . .there's a fullness in your bladder
that's urgent.

"Plee. . .ee..ase"

"No, obey me now". I refill your glass. "Drink it"

The glass is so innocuos. . .a pretty mint leaf sitting on the ice,
and the cool yellow-brown color of the tea itself.

You're shaking with the strain as you put the glass to your
lips. . .each drop that passes your lips feels like it goes straight
to your belly. You work to drink it down for me, fearing more severe
punishment. You're squirming all the while, the fullness of your
bladder a weight.

"Now, let's see, you were twenty-five minutes late, now weren't you

I continue without listening for your response. I set a kitchen timer
on the desk, and set it for twenty-five minutes. . .

"Now darling, you can use the bathroom- you have my permission"

Relief floods your face. . .you turn, ready to run for the bathroom

"Wait. . .you can use the bathroom in twenty five minutes. . .till
then you stand here. Oh, and to make it a little more interesting,
every five minutes, you'll drink another full glass of iced tea."

"Oh Daddy, I can't .. .I can't bear it. . .I'm going to have an
acci.. ." your voice trails off.

"No darling, not an accident. You're going to piss your panties,
aren't you?"

"Yes, Daddy. . .but my dress.. .I don't want to get it
messy. . .please let me take it off"

I look coldly at you: "The dress stays on"

You're struggling now, struggling not to disgrace yourself in the most
beautiful dress you've ever seen. . .

I put my hand on your belly.

"Look at me, Princess"-- your tearful eyes meet mine-- "now piss!"

There's a lovely portrait of you that hangs in our punishment
room. . .teary eyed, you stand in the most beautiful cream dress that
I've ever seem, a large dark urine stain spreading over your groin.
Your face is wet with the tears of humiliation. I thought it was a
nice little touch to insist on a nice big smile, your eyes open and
looking right in the camera. . .


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