Daddy Diaries Novels & Stories

He had no right to be ogling her like she was one of those girls from his magazines. Oh, yes, Toni knew all about the magazines. The ones he kept in the drawer of his bedside table. Magazines full of tit-shots and beaver-shots, with ads in the back for phone-sex hotlines and escort services. She knew about the videos, too. And the p**n on his computer. The way she figured it, Daddy was a man and men were all alike ... men were pigs. Men looked and men drooled and men jerked off in the lonely dark.

“Now spread your legs, princess. Daddy’s not asking twice.” The words rolled through me like smoke, thick and suffocating. His voice was too low, too dangerous, and it left no room for refusal. My body betrayed me anyway, knees parting against the cool sheets even as my mouth refused to form the word yes.

ANGEL'S POV The late morning sun painted warm stripes across my bedroom floor, turning the dust motes into floating gold. I was curled in my favorite spot by the window, my new diary—one with a beautiful pink leather cover—was open in front of me as I wrote in it. Daddy had gotten it for me just yesterday. His eyes were wide when I’d presented him with my first completed diary, filled to the last line with letters to Mommy. He read it like he had mouth paralysis.

I replied then just like that he got up from his seat and went back to his room. I sat there, surrounded by memories of my father, staring at the old leather-bound diary in front of me. Our relationship had always been strained, to say the least, but I never expected what I found within its pages. As I delved deeper into the diary, I discovered a history of pain and bitterness that left me reeling. My father's words poured out onto the page, raw and unfiltered, revealing the deep hurt and regret that he had carried with him throughout our lives.

Yet, a part of me yearned for his dominance, willingly submitting to him. "Daddy," I murmured softly. With those words, the last shred of resistance Stephane had for me shattered, his lips crashing onto mine with ferocity, causing me to stumble backwards. In an instant, I was consumed by the force of his desire, his mouth ravaging mine, begging me to open up to him. And I did.

do I really need to spell it out to him? "I started keeping a diary after that, Dad told me to write down all my ideas in that. You know after I found out why you hate my father, I started researching about your father and his company to find the truth. You know the top five deals that your father's company cracked... they all have come from my ideas... from my diary, which my father pitched to your father." I said and he got still... he couldn't move... it looked like he was in pain...

"Missed you, baby girl. Lectures keeping you from Daddy too long?" I'd crossed the room in a daze, hands sliding up his chest, feeling the heat of his skin, the steady thump of his heart. "Missed you more, Daddy. All day thinking about your cock—how it feels stretching me, owning me." He'd groaned then, hands gripping my ass, lifting me effortlessly onto the desk, papers scattering like fallen leaves. "Show me how much you missed it." His fingers had hiked up my skirt, finding me bare and dripping, two thick digits plunging in without mercy, curling to hit that spot deep inside that made my vision blur. "Fuck, so wet already. This pussy's always ready for Daddy's big dick, isn't it?"

I needed to be anywhere but home. ​By the time I got there, I was practically vibrating with anxiety. Chloe and Matt were sitting on the bleachers, and Brody was leaning against his car. ​"Whoa, you look pissed," Chloe pointed out as I marched over. ​"I'm so f**king sick of him," I vented immediately, throwing my hands up. I couldn't tell them the truth, so I used the only excuse I had. "My stepdad. He just keeps trying to act like this perfect father figure, trying to control my mom, trying to control me. I can't stand him."

Riley’s pov The cabin vacation with the family felt so long and boring at first. Mom was inside getting dinner ready with my aunt. Dad—my stepfather, but I still called him Daddy—was on the porch, sitting in that old, groaning wooden chair. He had a beer and looked out over the lake. The sun was setting low, making the water shine. I was eighteen now, yet he still had this habit of treating me like his little girl at times.

Isabella managed to mutter in between her moans. “Yes, babygirl. Cum. Cum for daddy. Fill your daddy’s mouth with your sweet cum.” His muffled voice came and his movement became more ferocious and within seconds she came, filling his mouth wholly. He drank her each and every drop of cum and finally hovered her, aligning his dick on her hole. “Ready to be filled by daddy again, babygirl?” “Ye… Yes, daddy.” Isabella replied, breathing heavily.