Daddy's Princess Quotes

Her mother was my wife," the Count roared, loudest of all. "You pathetic excuse for am money-grubbing fool, you disgrace to the face of the world." And with a shriek of disgust he turned and was gone. Guilietta was beside Inigo then, so excited. "Daddy likes you," she said.

so your father told you once that you were his princess you won't see the castle you cannot find your prince and now you've grown a lot and your dress don't fit right your daddy's not a hero he stole your chariot so here you are in pieces trying to prove to us it's real the softness of your smile and the lies you want to feel the scales beneath your skin are showing off today there's evil in your heart and it wants out to play there's evil in your heart and it wants out to play there's evil in your heart and I have made a home here for me you'll burn it down with your fantasy

But if there was no baby ... Then he wouldn't be a daddy. And for aome reason, he desperatly wanted to be a daddy.

Steve. That always felt made-up to me. Like, when your kid says, “Tell me about my daddy, Mama!” and you’re on the spot so you blurt out the first name that comes to mind—“Uh, his name was, um, Steve, honey.

Daddy! Don't cry." I fell into his arms. "Listen to me, kitten. Win or lose, you'll always be a princess to me.

Dante took the baby from the woman, cradled her against his broad chest, uncaring for the drool he got on his suit, cooing to her. “You missed Daddy, didn’t you, princess?” Then the fluffiest cat she'd seen walked out and rubbed against Dante's legs, getting fur over his pants. Zephyr’s ovaries melted. What was it about a big man with babies and kittens?

My soul is shattered and broken, and I lose all the pieces, unable to glue it back together. Look at me now, my little princess. Daddy's gone, and he's never coming back." - Kade Mitchell

Father of the fatherless daughter, do not be the lost soul in your daughter’s life. Play a major role in your daughter’s life. She should always be her daddy’s little princess, even when she is old and gray. She deserves to be happy! She deserves to be loved! She deserves joy! And she deserves you!

Liam Beckett, did you break my daughter?!” “Oh come on. She hit me! I didn’t break her. Well, my perfectly chiseled body might have hurt her slightly. But it wouldn’t be an issue if she would learn how to keep her hands off of me.” “You little shit,” I laugh over my father’s shoulders. Liam laughs loudly, “I’ll go get some ice for the big baby.” “Don’t call my little princess a baby!” Daddy yells after Liam. “I’m fine, just hit him weird,” I say to soothe his worry. “How many times do I have to tell you not to hit like that? I could see your form was off all the way across the room. Should have gone for the crotch. Always go for the crotch, Dani.” Oh lord, here we go. He’s been teaching me how to kick a man’s ass since I was five and Zac stole my doll. Of course, his first lesson was for me to always go for the crotch. “Daddy, I wasn’t trying to hurt him. We were just joking around.” “Joking around? You aren’t supposed to joke around with boys. I need to look into that island . Ship your ass off,” he grumbles under his breath.

My father is more likely to throw me in the ocean than throw me a ball.

This pussy needs a Daddy, doesn’t it, princess?

So it stood to reason that if I could disappoint my own father—if I couldn’t get my own father to love me enough to stick around or, God forbid, visit more often than one day a year—how was I ever going to get a man who didn’t have to love me like daddies were supposed to? (Hey,

That’s it, princess. Come for daddy. Come all over daddy’s cock.” “Yes, daddy!

I’m so sorry, I forget to introduce m’self. Cleo, shat for Cleopaitra, cause m’ daddy always said I look like an Egyptian princess. And ya are?” “Not as happy to meet you,” he said.

You’ve been difficult today, princess—very naughty. You’re lucky I’m going to let you come at all today. You may suck my cock, but you’ll have to make yourself come. Naughty girls don’t get a good fucking, do you understand?

Has it got any sports in it?” “Fencing. Fighting. Torture. Poison. True love. Hate. Revenge. Giants. Hunters. Bad men. Good men. Beautifulest ladies. Snakes. Spiders. Beasts of all natures and descriptions. Pain. Death. Brave men. Coward men. Strongest men. Chases. Escapes. Lies. Truths. Passion. Miracles.” “Sounds okay,” I said, and I kind of closed my eyes. “I’ll do my best to stay awake . . . but I’m awful sleepy, Daddy . . . .” Who can know when his world

Remember, my darling, one man’s rubbish might be another man’s gold. But perhaps we are all beachcombers in a way,’ Daddy had said, squinting in the sun. ‘We keep seeking, hoping to find that elusive buried treasure that will enrich our lives, and when we pull up a teapot rather than a gleaming jewel, we must continue to search.’ ‘Are you still searching for treasure, Daddy?’ ‘No, my Princess of the Fairies, I’ve found it,’ he’d smiled down at me and kissed me on the top of my head.

Oh, good. We’re all here waiting. Everything is fine. Cade: All? No. You all need to leave. Jasper: I’m on my way. Cade: Why is my child’s birth part of a group text? Summer: Because we’re excited! Violet: So excited! Send pictures! Rhett: After though. Not during. I don’t need to know Willa that well. Summer: Rhett Eaton. I know you are not texting and driving with the daddy-to-be in your car. Cade: He is. Rhett: Red light, Princess. And why are you only worried about Cade and not me?

Hand-to-hand combat provided a great workout, but it wreaked havoc on my cleaning bill. Or if I get dirty enough, I could always go shopping. I’d stolen Daddy’s credit card again, to his delight, which meant I could go shopping until it screamed.

I’m not pure,” I said, driving my point home. “There’s nothing clean and innocent about me. I might be a princess but my crown would be made of broken, dirty things, not gold and jewels. I’d never be good enough for Daddy Acrux. And that’s just the way I like it.

And what about Ripley? I can’t let some other dude play princesses with my girl. Or take my spot at the dinner table next to her and listen to her explaining all the reasons purpole is her favorite color. That’s my seat next to Ripley. She’s my little chatterbox. I’m her glitter-haired daddy, and nobody else!

Try it! You might like it !! I wrote this letter to tell you that I am very, very sorry. When you are mad at me, your face looks like Daddy’s when he smelled that skunk that was hiding in the garage. And this made me very sad. Your face, not the smelly skunk. Are you still mad? Pleeze circle one: YES NO If you are still mad, pleeze accept my sorryness for taking your clock, calling you a sandwich stealer, playing games on your phone and drawing my very cute face on it, and trying to call Price Princess Sugar Plum. I did not reech her. But I did reech a guy named Moe by mistake, and he was not very polite at all. He said if I reech him again he will call the cops. That would be very bad becuz I do not think they serve chicken nuggets in jail. Then I would starve to death, which would not be a very fun time . Anyway, I made this sandwich just for you because I really care about you. I hope you love it! You are my very best friend! After Miss Penelope and Princess Sugar Plum.

I knew in my heart that the only rationale he could have had for leaving was because of how big a disappointment I must have been, and I wasn’t going to do that to some other kid. So it stood to reason that if I could disappoint my own father—if I couldn’t get my own father to love me enough to stick around or, God forbid, visit more often than one day a year—how was I ever going to get a man who didn’t have to love me like daddies were supposed to? (Hey, Envious Classmate, see how fucking great I thought I was?)

Can’t we find some way out of this, Mr. Fancy Prince?” “Marc’s on it,” Dec said, holding up his phone. “He thinks you two might be able to use your royal sway to either commandeer them on behalf of the royal household or get the Astronomer to accept payment for them rather than press charges.” “Payment?” Bryce blurted. “Relax,” Flynn said, smirking. “We got the money, Princess.” “Yeah, I’ve seen your daddy’s fancy house,” Bryce quipped, earning a scowl from Flynn and an ooooooh from the sprites. Bryce suppressed her smile and lifted a brow to Ruhn. She’d fucked up one friendship thanks to pulling princess rank, but this…For Lehabah she’d do it. “You in, Chosen One?” Ruhn’s mouth quirked to the side. “Hel yeah, Starborn.

Never play the princess when you can be the queen: rule the kingdom, swing a scepter, wear a crown of gold. Don’t dance in glass slippers, crystal carving up your toes -- be a barefoot Amazon instead, for those shoes will surely shatter on your feet. Never wear only pink when you can strut in crimson red, sweat in heather grey, and shimmer in sky blue, claim the golden sun upon your hair. Colors are for everyone, boys and girls, men and women -- be a verdant garden, the landscape of Versailles, not a pale primrose blindly pushed aside. Chase green dragons and one-eyed zombies, fierce and fiery toothy monsters, not merely lazy butterflies, sweet and slow on summer days. For you can tame the most brutish beasts with your wily wits and charm, and lizard scales feel just as smooth as gossamer insect wings. Tramp muddy through the house in a purple tutu and cowboy boots. Have a tea party in your overalls. Build a fort of birch branches, a zoo of Legos, a rocketship of Queen Anne chairs and coverlets, first stop on the moon. Dream of dinosaurs and baby dolls, bold brontosaurus and bookish Belle, not Barbie on the runway or Disney damsels in distress -- you are much too strong to play the simpering waif. Don a baseball cap, dance with Daddy, paint your toenails, climb a cottonwood. Learn to speak with both your mind and heart. For the ground beneath will hold you, dear -- know that you are free. And never grow a wishbone, daughter, where your backbone ought to be.

Did Mama leave you all alone in here?" I picked her up out of bed and rubbed her back for a minute while she hiccuped. "Daddy's here," I murmured against her bald head, rocking her from side to side. "Let's get that wet diaper off you." I laid her on the bed and grabbed a diaper from the top of Kate's dresser, talking the whole time. "I don't know what your mommy was thinking, leaving my princess in here all alone," I crooned, my voice somehow keeping Iris calm. "She's outside with your brothers and sister and Daddy's friend Miles. He's a jackass. You stay away from him, okay?" I smiled as Iris froze, like she was listening intently. "Daddy was not very nice," I said, pulling her little pants down her legs and unbuttoning her onesie. "I wasn't even there when you were born, and I'm really sorry about that. But your mama came home with me anyway, so that means there's a chance, right? As long as Miles keeps his you-know-what in this pants." Iris lifted her hand to her face and tried really hard to get it to her mouth, her eyes unfocused as I babbled. "You're doing so good, princess. Look at you, not even crying while I change you. Such a big girl." I finished re-dressing her and pulled her to my chest. "You think your mama could love me again?" I asked, kissing her little cheek. "Probably not, huh? We'll just have to keep working at it so you can live with Daddy forever.

Tina was hosting. She's a thirty-five-year-old version of Sienne, only bottle blonde.Same blind-you lipstick, same taste in clothes,same complete disregard for anyone else's opinion on anything. They hate each other. "You hate me!" Sienna wailed. It wasn't Tina's voice that snapped back, but Dad's, "Oh,no. I am not playing that game with you. Do you have any idea what a hundred pounds of filet is gonna cost me? And now you want lobster?" "But it's my wedding! Daddy-" "Don't you Daddy me, princess! I'm already five grand in the hole for the damned hotel,not to mention two for the dress, and every time I turn around, you and your mother have added a new guest, bridesmaid,or crustacean!" First of all,Dad was yelling.Almost. Second,he was swearing.Even damn is fighting talk for him.I set down my pizza and debated the best route for a sealthy escape. I'd seen the dress.Pretty, in a Disney-princess, twenty-yards-of-tulle, boobs-shaped-into-missiles sort of way. Sienne looked deliriously happy in it. She looked beautiful.The less said about the bridesmaids' dressed, I'd decided, on seeing the purple sateen,the better. "No lobster!" he yelled. There was a dramatic howl, followed by the bang of the back door. When I peeked out,it was like a photo. Everything was frozen.Dad was standing over the massive pasta pot, red-faced and scowling, wooden spoon brandished like a sword. Leo and Ricky had retreated to the doorway of the freezer. Nonna had her eyes turned heavenward, and Tina was halfway through the dining room door, smirking a little.

Didn’t you ever notice that whatever you wanted or whatever you set out to do, Cora wanted to do it too?” Noah asked. “She wasn’t like that.” “She was, Mer. And it’s okay to admit it. One of the hardest things about Cora dying is that everyone wants to erase her—the real Cora. They talk about her as though she were perfect. She wasn’t. ‘Don’t talk ill of the dead,’ people say. But if we aren’t truthful about who our loved ones were, then we aren’t really remembering them. We’re creating someone who didn’t exist. Cora loved you. She loved me. But what she did was not okay. And I’m pissed off about it.” Mercedes reeled back, stunned. “Geez, Noah. Tell me how you really feel. She still deserves our compassion,” she rebuked. He nodded. “Everyone deserves compassion. And I know suicide isn’t always a conscious act. Most of the time it’s sheer desperation. It’s a moment of weakness that we can’t come back from. But regardless of illness or weakness, if we don’t own our actions and don’t demand that others own theirs, then what’s the point? We might as well give up now. We have to expect better of ourselves. We have to. I expect more of my patients, and when I expect more—lovingly, patiently—they tend to rise to that expectation. Maybe not all the way up, but they rise. They improve because I believe they can, and I believe they must. My mom was sick. But she didn’t try hard enough to get better. She found a way to cope—and that’s important—but she never varied from it. Life has to be more than coping. It has to be.” Mercedes nodded slowly, her eyes clinging to his impassioned face. She’d struck a nerve, and he wasn’t finished. “I know it’s not something we’re supposed to say. We’re supposed to be all-loving and all-compassionate all the time. But sometimes the things we aren’t supposed to say are the truths that keep us sane, that tether us to reality, that help us move the hell on! I know some of my colleagues would be shocked to hear it. But pressure—whether it’s the pressure of society, or the pressure of responsibility, or the pressure that comes with being loved and being needed—isn’t always a bad thing. You’ve heard the cliché about pressure and diamonds. It’s a cliché because it’s true. Pressure sometimes begets beautiful things.” Mercedes was silent, studying his handsome face, his tight shoulders, and his clenched fists. He was weary, that much was obvious, but he wasn’t wrong. “Begets?” she asked, a twinkle in her eye. He rolled his eyes. “You know damn well what beget means.” “In the Bible, beget means to give birth to. I wouldn’t mind giving birth to a diamond,” she mused. “You ruin all my best lectures.” There was silence from the kitchen. Silence was not good. “Gia?” Noah called. “What, Daddy?” she answered sweetly. “Are you pooping in your new princess panties?” “No. Poopin’ in box.” “What box?” His voice rose in horror. “Kitty box.” Noah was on his feet, racing toward the kitchen. Mercedes followed. Gia was naked—her Cinderella panties abandoned in the middle of the floor—and perched above the new litter box. “No!” Noah roared in horror, scooping her up and marching to the toilet. “Maybe it won’t be a turd, Noah. Maybe Gia will beget a diamond,” Mercedes chirped, trying not to laugh. “I blame you, Mer!” he called from the bathroom. “She was almost potty-trained, and now she wants to be a cat!

You’d have come without asking? That’s not allowed, princess.” I recoil. “Princess?” “Mm,” he agrees. “My pretty princess slut.

Daddy’s pretty princess with the sensitive cock and the blush on his cheeks.

Look at you, taking daddy’s cock so good. Your hole is so fucking welcoming for me, isn’t it?” I cry out, throat sore with rasp. “It’s okay, princess, I know you can’t give me words. Not when you're drunk on cock, taking your pounding like a perfect little boy.

Take it,” he rasps, teeth nipping at my ear. His cock swells in my ass, and sparks roll down my back. “Take daddy’s cum in your pretty princess hole.

Swallow, princess,” he commands, pumping his hips. “Milk daddy’s cock with your throat, little boy.

The princess shall have what the princess wants,” Damien says, grabbing the chainsaw from the sled. “Don’t be a brat.” “Shut up,” I say under my breath. Without warning, Damien grabs my jaw, tracing his gloved thumb over my lips. “What was that?” he asks, staring at me with piercing blue eyes, leaving my knees weak. “You’re the best,” I playfully murmur, lustfully gazing up at him. “Daddy.” “Yeah.” He crookedly grins, leaning into me. “That’s what I thought.

He’s everything I love in a man. And he’s off limits. Or rather, as a mafia princess with a marriage contract to another family, I’ve been off limits to him.

No orgasm until I say so, understood, princess?” “Yes, Daddy Skyler.” A shudder ran through him as he whispered, “Fucking love it when you call me Daddy.

So, what exactly did Ignita tell you about me?” he hissed, sounding decidedly peevish, even to his own ears. “All good?” “Besides that you are her favourite great-nephew by any measure under the suns –” wielding the foot-wide ladle with aplomb, she poured one last bucketful of dragonwort soup, a noted restorative, down his throat with a pleasant gurgle “– she said that you are honourable, faithful, creative, artistic, misunderstood, a Dragon whose heart lives in his poetry, which you have sadly neglected to admit to me; you are finicky to a fault, severely short-sighted and lacking in firepower.” Gnarr-rum-blasted-death! he swore unhappily. “Nice list. Thanks for sharing.” Blithely, the mite added, “Ignita is also furious that you did not come to her earlier with your eye problems.” Blitz said something even ruder. “She even claimed that I’m more stubborn than you, which I believe was meant to be a compliment. Now, hold still. The eye drops are next.” “She specifically said, ‘Lacking in fire power?’ ” He sighed moodily, unable to break the sense of being utterly defeated. This was not a happy place for a Dragon. His wings drooped as if they weighed a tonne each, and his food stomach churned with nausea. “She didn’t use words such as disabled, worthless, fireless lizard, witless fool, cold-hearted undraconic worm, a Dragon who is no Dragon at all, or –” “Blitz, stop.” “So, why don’t you just run back to Daddy, little Princess? Go on. Go home. Why be dragged down in the maelstrom of a worthless loser?” “Blitz! Shut your stupid fangs.” “Whinging being so charismatic in a Dragon …” Grinding her teeth furiously, the girl who was climbing his neck leaned over to his left upper ear canal and hissed, “Do you know what I would go back to, you thumping great moron? Let me give you the salient highlights. Since I was old enough to walk and my mother passed, it has been impressed upon me that my sole purpose in life is to get married to the richest fool I can charm into my bed, no matter how despicable he might be. I will not inherit. That privilege is for my brothers. Instead, I am merely an entry on my kingdom’s asset register – a very fat entry. I am commanded to be charming, accomplished and perfectly presented at all times. I go to balls to catch wealthy Princes. Can you imagine what it is like to be valued for your dark, beautiful skin, and nothing else? To only ever be seen skin-deep – I mean … you know?” Blitz groaned softly. “So aye, I don’t really want to go home, in case that was somehow unclear. I would rather live with an enormously unreasonable, complaining, crabby, haughty chunk of a Dragon, because among your many admirable qualities and your damnably beautiful honour, you have one gift I value above all others. Do you have any idea what I’m talking about?” He croaked, “Of course, aye … sort of … not a whole lot. Sorry.” Nonsensical, but true. Warm moisture dripped into his ear. Crying! Oh, by his wings, what had he done now? The Princess whispered, “You see me, and accept me, just as I am.

I will not be forced to marry!" Merida yelled. She drew a claymore from the display stand, not because she thought she needed the long sword for protection, but because she felt more at peace with its heavy weight in her hand. Her mother had never understood her. She wanted Merida to be like her, a prim and proper royal lady. But Merida had never felt drawn to that life. She wanted to be free. She relished the feel of the wind in her hair as she raced her horse across the glen. Delighted in the exhilaration of hitting a target from fifty paces away with her bow and arrow, or tumbling in the dirt with her three brothers. She was her father's lass, not her mother's proper princess.

I will not be forced to marry!" Merida yelled. She drew a claymore from the display stand, not because she thought she needed the long sword for protection, but because she felt more at peace with its heavy weight in her hand. Her mother had never understood her. She wanted Merida to be like her, a prim and proper royal lady. But Merida had never felt drawn to that life. She wanted to be free. She relished the feel of the wind in her hair as she raced her horse across the glen. Delighted in the exhilaration of hitting a target from fifty paces away with her bow and arrow, or tumbling in the dirt with her three brothers. She was her father's fierce lass, not her mother's proper princess.

Remember how to address me, Princess.. call me daddy

J.C. said, "Miss Doris, is all printhesses white?" "How's that?" "Is printhesses always white?" "I ain't seen one recently. Last one I seen was black." "Powther say they're white." "Who's he?" "My daddy." "Well," Miss Doris said, "maybe your pappy's only seen white ones. Folks only see what they want to see.

I couldn’t get my own father to love me enough to stick around or, God forbid, visit more often than one day a year—how was I ever going to get a man who didn’t have to love me like daddies were supposed to?

I’m here now, princess. You can let go. Milk my big cock with your first orgasm.” He quickens the strum of his thumb on my clit, his full-to-bursting manhood stroking into me deeply, so deeply, I can’t think, only feel. “You can do it, little girl. You can do this for Daddy and make me so proud.

Oh! So, do you call Jaxon 'daddy' now?" "Fuck my life." I placed my head down on the countertop.

The spoiled Carver doll is an enigma, a myriad of contradictions. In my experience, that means only one thing. She’s not who she claims to be—hiding. Lying. Pretending. That’s a lot to reap from a smell, but I’m trained to sniff people out. And as intoxicating as her scent is, it reeks of secrets. A princess living off Daddy’s money, on the prowl for a husband to assume that role, and mixed up in something she shouldn’t be. I can sense it. She’s so damn fake. So nauseatingly perfect.

Her breath caught as a memory hit her like a tidal wave: ten-year-old Jasmine, curled up with a book at her father's feet while he worked through the piles of parchment in the box, full of official correspondence from his ministers and satraps, the governors who ruled neighboring provinces in the sultan's name. "One day, Jasmine azizam, this will be your job too," he had said, peering down at her with a serious expression. "It's the most important work a mortal could ever do: taking care of an entire kingdom and its people. Is that something you can see yourself doing one day? Ruling just like your Baba?" "I only have to do it if you don't have a son." Jasmine had shrugged off the question with all the carefree obliviousness of a child. An inscrutable expression had come over her father then. He opened his mouth to say something and stopped, as if thinking better of it. And then he reached down to squeeze her shoulder. "There will be no son, Jasmine," he had said. "You are the one.

Careful, princess. Your daddy issues are showing.” “The only issue I have is you.

…you’re like a biker princess or rock goddess, wrapped in a fat ass, shiny Do Not Touch tape that only makes everyone wanna touch it more. You’re a little hood but still a Cali girl. They want to be you, imitate you, but they don’t know how. They have fancy clothes and cars and Daddy’s plastic, but no matter what they do or buy or who they pay, they can’t reach your level, and they know it. You’re this lethal ass combination of girl they never knew they wanted to be until now but couldn’t match if they tried.

And to be honest, a man could only watch Frozen or The Hobbit so many times before he was ready to murder a halfling or strangle a princess, so I picked a Godzilla film I knew we all liked.

Then his hand, calloused and rough and huge, wraps around my throat. "A man gets you here; what do you do?" I smile. It's not that I'm not taking this seriously that makes me smile. It's more that taking it too seriously will be a complete system overload for me and send me into a panicked spiral I might never crawl out of. And, of course, the way he looks so freaking serious makes me want to be the complete opposite. "Call him daddy?

He opened the door. “Hello?” “Daddy! Uncle Mo!” It was Jill, his eleven-year-old princess, tearing around the corner, that smile plastered on her face. Mike felt his heart warm—the reaction was instantaneous and universal. When a daughter smiles at her father like that, the father, no matter what his station in life, is suddenly king. “Hey,

Yeah, the princess and the pea. Only the pea was Daddy, getting thrown in jail for bribing a judge or forgetting my birthday because he and Mom were off in Europe.” “At least you had parents.” Baldwin looked into his wineglass, and Taylor reached over and touched his hand.

I am with Victor, the two of us holding hands and laughing and somehow I know it is in the future—whether years or weeks, I can’t say. We are walking along the beach at noon—the sun hot and bright overhead, the sunshine warming my skin as it hasn’t in many long years. I look up at it, squinting the way you do on a bright day, but I am not afraid. The sun is no longer my enemy but a warm, benevolent friend. Victor says something I can’t hear. I looked over and asked him to repeat it. “I said, I think she’s hungry…” “Who?” I ask but then I look down and realize I am pushing a baby stroller. Victor is already kneeling on the sandy beach, cooing to whoever is inside the stroller. “Daddy’s little princess is hungry?” he says, picking up a baby who looks to be about one and a half years old. He brings her to me and I look at her in wonder. She has Victor’s big chocolate brown eyes and my dark brown hair. Her little face is heart shaped and delicate with a button nose and a sweetly pursed candy pink mouth—perfect in every way. “She’s beautiful,” I whisper, in awe of the precious little girl. “Just like her mom,” Victor says proudly. He holds her out to me and she puts up chubby little arms, eager for me to take her. “Momma!” she says when I hold her. She nuzzles close and presses her chubby little cheek to mine. “Momma… love you.” “Oh, sweetie,” I whisper, holding her tight. “I love you too. Momma loves her little girl so much.” Victor puts his arms around both of us. “And I love you both. My two sweet girls,” he rumbles and I feel loved and protected and perfect in every way. The waves shush along the beach, the sand is rough and warm under my feet, my little girl is safe in my arms and my husband loves me—loves both of us completely. The sun beams down on us like a golden blessing and I feel a joy like I have never known, a joy I never expected to feel after Celeste… after she… she…

Thank you, Daddy," she said, kneeling beside him and kissing his cheek again as he forced the warm soup down. Autumn could be blunt and straightforward one second, tender and sweet the next. She was so much like Avery in that way. The thought touched his heart and brought a beloved memory forward. "I remember when your dad and I found out we were going to be parents. Avery was so sure we were having a little girl he started a betting pool with the physician's staff. Everyone had their money on us having a boy, but not your dad. 'His little princess', that's how he referred to you from the very beginning. Of course Avery had been right, but so had everyone else; none of that mattered to your dad. You should have seen him gloating in the doctor's office that day. Your dad always did like being right, probably about as much as he loved getting his way.

Has it got any sports in it?” “Fencing. Fighting. Torture. Poison. True love. Hate. Revenge. Giants. Hunters. Bad men. Good men. Beautifulest ladies. Snakes. Spiders. Beasts of all natures and descriptions. Pain. Death. Brave men. Coward men. Strongest men. Chases. Escapes. Lies. Truths. Passion. Miracles.” “Sounds okay,” I said, and I kind of closed my eyes. “I’ll do my best to stay awake . . . but I’m awful sleepy, Daddy . . . .

Just lay back and relax, Daddy's little Princess. I'll lick it real good like always. Now, lay back and be still.

Who kills Prince Humperdinck? At the end, somebody’s got to get him. Is it Fezzik? Who?’ ‘Nobody kills him. He lives.’ ‘You mean he wins, Daddy? Jesus, what did you read me this thing for?

After the shattering events of the past ten days, I was happy to fly home and return to my normal, everyday life. Pat met me at the airport, then we picked up a very unhappy Caroline after school. She’d been missing Patrick desperately since he’d left for college. In my short absence, she’d experienced an unexpectedly rough adjustment to her new high school. This had been a bad time for me to be away. She felt abandoned. Caroline burst into tears of relief the minute she stepped into the car. I just held her close for the twenty-minute ride home. We went straight up to her cozy pink bedroom to talk. She sobbed that she’d been miserable while I was away. “Daddy has been wonderful, but a daddy is not a mommy. I really needed you.” I choked back my own tears. “But, Caroline, darling,” I said, “I was only gone for five days. Just think of William and Harry. Their mummy is never coming back.

Daddy?” “I’m right here, baby.” Lumps form in my throat, going all the way down into the core of me. It’s his voice. His. Right there. I reach toward the doorknob but I don’t get to turn it. Nick smashes at me with his head, pushing against my lower jaw and cheek, like a blow. His muzzle moves my head away from the door. He presses his face in between me and the wood. Fur gets in my mouth. I spit it out and push at him. “That’s my dad. My dad.” I slap the door. “He’s on the other side. The pixies will get him.” Nick shows me his teeth. “I can’t lose him again, Nick.” The wolf snarls like he’s ready to bite. My head jerks back and away, but then I steady myself. “Get . . . out . . . of . . . the . . . way.” Pushing against his thick neck, I slam my hands against him over and over again, pummeling him. He doesn’t budge. “Move!” I order. “Move.” “Zara, is there a wolf in there with you? Do not trust him,” my dad’s voice says, calmly, really calmly. I grab a fistful of fur and freeze. All at once it hits me that something is not right. My dad would never be calm if I was in my bedroom with a wolf. He’d be stressed and screaming, breaking the door down, kicking it in like he did once when I was really little and had accidentally locked myself in the bathroom and couldn’t get the lock out of the bolt because it was so old. He’d kicked that door down, splintering the wood, clutching me to him. He’d kissed my forehead over and over again. “I’d never let anything happen to you, princess,” he’d said. “You’re my baby.” My dad would be kicking the door in. My dad would be saving me. “Let me in,” he says. “Zara . . .” Letting go of Nick, I stagger backward. My hands fly up to my mouth, covering it. Nick stops snarling at me and wags his fluffy tail. How would my dad know that it is a wolf in here and not a dog? How would he know that it isn’t pixies? I shudder. Nick pounds next to me, pressing his side against my legs. I drop my hands and plunge my fingers into his fur, burying them there, looking for something. Maybe comfort. Maybe warmth. Maybe strength. Maybe all three.

Let me guess, you are a Daddy’s Little Princess and Daddy’s Little Princess always gets exactly what Daddy’s Little Princes wants?” He bellowed with laughter and Samara didn’t know whether to slap him because of his nonsensical comments or kiss those luscious lips that were now as rosy as his cheeks.

this is mine, princess," he says sharply as he pulls my panties to the side, finding my wet slit already dripping with my juices.

These cupcake tits kill me princess

How many hot dogs do you want, princess?" Jason asks me. I grin, "Two, please." But the ones attached to your body.

Lana continues, unaware of the shift in my mood. “When I questioned her about it, she told me she would rather not have a daddy at all. It was the first warning sign that I actually listened to. Because my girl is a romantic through and through, ever since she watched her first Dreamland princess movie. She even wrote letters to Santa asking for a daddy, only to be disappointed when her search under the tree came up empty.” A laugh explodes out of me, followed by relief.

Because if he doesn’t, I know the letdown is going to be catastrophic. I close my eyes. “Dear Daddy,” I say softly under my breath. “Come for your princess and make her your queen.

Tallulah fucking Darlington isn’t the special little princess her perfect, law-abiding, prosecution lawyer daddy thinks she is.

Sometimes adults can become very unhappy,' I said to Beth. 'It's called depression. Things start to get on top of them, sometimes little things upset them, and they keep crying. ...

The first days and weeks of control are hard. You’re probably convincing yourself that you understand how it works. Might be thinking that it will be easier now that you are back in your home city. That Daddy is going to step in and save his princess, or at worst, hand you over to a nice civilized alpha.” “He won’t. No one is going to save you. The only rights you have are the ones I choose to give you. You will learn to obey me. If you don’t, I will take your few privileges away and discipline you until you do.

It starts before you can remember: you learn, as surely as you learn to walk and talk, the rules for being a girl. You are Princess. You are Daddy’s Little Girl. Are you ticklish? Give him a hug. You’re sweet, aren’t you? You’re a good little girl. You don’t remember those early days, but here’s what you do remember: You remember ballet class, the way your tummy stretched your pink leotard and your parents fretted over some future eating disorder, and then you were trying tap, or soccer, or what about a musical instrument? You remember “We just want you to be happy!” and you remember you said you were happy because you knew that’s what they wanted to hear. How long have you been saying what everyone else wants to hear? Time went on, and GIRLS CAN DO ANYTHING! So speak up, I can’t hear you! But also: Manners, young lady. A boy is bothering you at school? Stand up for yourself! A boy is bothering you at school? He’s just trying to get your attention. Do you like sparkles and unicorns and everything pink? Oh, that’s stupid now. Can you play in this game? Sorry, no girls allowed. Put a little color on your face. Shave your legs. Don’t wear too much makeup. Don’t wear short skirts. Don’t distract the boys by wearing bodysuits or spaghetti straps or kneesocks. Don’t distract the boys by having a body. Don’t distract the boys. Don’t be one of those girls who can’t eat pizza. You’re getting the milkshake too? Whoa. Have you gained weight? Don’t get so skinny your curves disappear. Don’t get so curvy you aren’t skinny. Don’t take up too much space. It’s just about your health. Be funny, but don’t hog the spotlight. Be smart, but you have a lot to learn. Don’t be a doormat, but God, don’t be bossy. Be chill. Be easygoing. Act like one of the guys. Don’t actually act like one of the guys. Be a feminist. Support the sisterhood. Wait, are you, like, gay? Maybe kiss a girl if he’s watching though—that’s hot. Put on a show. Don’t even think about putting on a show, that’s nasty. Don’t be easy. Don’t give it up. Don’t be a prude. Don’t be cold. Don’t put him in the friend zone. Don’t act desperate. Don’t let things go too far. Don’t give him the wrong idea. Don’t blame him for trying. Don’t walk alone at night. But calm down! Don’t worry so much. Smile! Remember, girl: It’s the best time in the history of the world to be you. You can do anything! You can do everything! You can be whatever you want to be! Just as long as you follow the rules. - Rules for Being a Girl

Oh, hell no. Don’t even go there, Bianchi. You do not have daddy issues.

When you and I forget who we are as princes and princesses who are heirs of our Father’s kingdom, we can make some very poor decisions in life. But this never changes our Father’s affection for us as His children. When we beat ourselves up for our mistakes and demote ourselves to the role of a servant, even believing that it’s a spiritual thing to do so, we are inadvertently agreeing with the enemy’s assertion that we are good-for-nothing down-and-outs. Nothing could be further from the truth! Agreeing with the enemy’s lies does nothing to bring us even one inch closer to the Father.

My dick bobs up and down in satisfaction, loving that we did this to her. I thought once I had her cunt, and then her asshole, it would go down, but it’s only gotten harder. I lean in, not able to help myself, and give her gentle licks. “Daddy, I love your kisses on my kitty. They make me feel like such a special princess.” Looking up, I see her lazing against the cool tile, legs spread, and the biggest smile on her face. I suck her clit a little, trying not to be too rough, but giving her the feeling she wants. “You are my special princess, baby girl. You are the most special princess in the world.” It doesn’t take me long to bring her to the edge again, her body primed and ready to take what I give it. I’m so fucking hard. I know she’s sore, but I need her just one more time. I sit up on my knees and position the tip of my slick cock at her opening. “I know you’re sore, sweet princess, but Daddy needs you to be brave and let me fuck your kitty one more time.” “Okay, Daddy. Do you want my bottom instead?” My dick weeps a little cum, and I moan at her

Did he really just ask me to take Ash out tonight? Was he insane? He didn’t deserve her. Any guy who would blow her off for something his daddy wanted shouldn’t get to have her. “Sure,” I replied, hearing the clipped tone in my voice. Stupid-ass cousin of mine had no clue what he was asking for. I was already headed for hell; I might as well enjoy the ride. “Great, thanks, man. Her favorite place to eat is the Seafood Shack. Just meet us there at six. I can grab a drink and spend a few minutes with you guys until I have to head out and meet Dad.” She hated the fried shrimp at the Seafood Shack, and their sweet tea always tasted bitter. It was Sawyer’s favorite place, and she had no doubt agreed with him that it was the best place to eat in town. He didn’t know her at all. “Since I’m agreeing to help out, let’s do this my way. I hate the Seafood Shack. I’m sure Princess Ashton won’t mind slumming it at Hank’s. The burgers there are better than anything the Seafood Shack has, and she really needs to taste their sweet tea.” Sawyer frowned a moment, then he nodded. “Okay, Ash’s agreeable. I’m sure she’ll be fine with Hank’s. I’ve not taken her there but a couple of times, and I think she might agree with you on the burgers. I remember her scarfing one down.” With bacon and cheese on a toasted bun. She even makes these cute little sounds of pleasure as she eats one. One of the many things I couldn’t believe he didn’t know about her.

Listen to me, kitten. Win or lose, you’ll always be a princess to me.” “Oh, Daddy.” I finally started to cry.

Perhaps there’s a barometer of happiness that registers when you’ve been happy for too long and brings you back in line.

I wasn’t Daddy’s little girl. I never had been, and those two words weren’t about to bring that change for me. My fairytale was the neglected princess who fought for her own survival.

Not anymore, princess. I’m your daddy now.

Even beyond princesses, the popular image of an anorexic today has hardly changed since medieval times: she is upper-middle class, white and privately educated. This is why anorexia tends to get much more coverage in the media than, say, schizophrenia, as the former is easier to illustrate with photos of thin, pretty girls. The downside is that it is more likely to be dismissed as a silly rich girl's problem, like tennis elbow or Daddy issues.

Does Daddy know his little princess likes jewels up her ass when she gets fucked?

How about orgasms brought on by other things besides your penis?” “Don’t ever call it a penis again, Princess. It offends him, and it offends me.” “What would you like me to call it?” “Dick. Cock. Rocked. Schlong. Big Daddy.” “Wow. You’ve really thought about it.

Look at me now, my little princess. Daddy’s gone, and he’s never coming back.

The message to those who aren’t dating someone is that you won’t be content or complete unless you’re in a relationship. It starts early. When my middle daughter was four years old, she watched a Disney movie about a prince and princess living happily ever after. When it was over, she asked me, “Daddy, who am I going to marry?” I told her she didn’t need to worry about that right now and that I would make that decision when the time came. (Surprisingly, she seemed okay with that.) But the not-so-subtle message that she picked up on is that “if you don’t have a prince, then you can’t be a princess.