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Lo longs for a strong fatherly figure in her life — as if you couldn’t tell. And for Lo, that role falls to me. Take for instance the other evening when, after I denied her sex because I was in the middle of my writing and she stomped off to the bedroom, slamming — SLAMMING — the door behind her. I called her out to the living room with a booming, “LO! You come out here this instant!”

She stomped back down the hallway and she looked at me. I said to her sternly, “Lo, you’ve been spoken to about your temper and slamming doors.”

She didn’t respond, only turned her head up in defiance, folding her arms like a petulant little five-year-old.

“Lo, you are to be punished.”

“What?! You gonna spank me?” she said enthusiastically, turning round to give me her bum. “Better yet,” she said, “take me over your knee!”

“No Lo. You are going to go through this house and carefully, gently, and quietly open and shut each and every door.”

She looked at me incredulously and said, again defiantly, “You can’t make me.”

“Lo, if you don’t, I will sleep here on the couch.”

“No! You wouldn’t do that!” (I know her every weakness.)

“Yes I would. I mean it.”

“No.”

“Ok,” I said, “your choice.”

She walked away to the bedroom (not slamming the door this time), but she returned within fifteen minutes.

“Please, Daddy, come to bed.” She put on her pouty face and tried to look cute, innocent, and tempting.

“Lo, I told you what you must do.”

“Ok, ok, I’ll do your stupid punishment.”

“Every door, Lo,” I said, “even the refrigerator door. If it’s a door, you open it and close it carefully.”

It took Lo a good ten minutes to get through all the doors, but when she was done, she returned to the living room. She was wearing only her panties. Her breasts looked lovely and longing to be touched.

“Down,” I commanded, “on your knees.”

She kneeled at the foot of the couch.

“Like a doggy, Daddy?”

“Yes, Lo, like a little, obedient bitch.” This phrase made her immeasurably happy. It meant that she was back in my good graces. “Now apologize.”

“I’m very, very sorry, Daddy.”

“For what?”

“For slamming the door.”

“And?”

“I don’t know. And what?”

“And losing your temper.”

“And losing my temper,” she said as if taking an oath. “Now can we go fuck?!”

[Excerpt from the story, “Silver Fox, Mynx, and the Hunter — Part VII: Criminally Minded,” from the blog: mysexlifewithlola.com]

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Just your average nymphomaniac next door. I love fan mail: downloladown@gmail.com

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