Consumed by You

I love talking to you. The sound of your voice alone sends shivers racing down my spine, even when we’re miles apart. Every conversation feels like foreplay — the way you tease me with your words, the low timbre of your laugh, the way you say my name like it’s something sacred. I find myself daydreaming about you at the most unexpected moments, my body growing warm and restless just thinking about your touch.

I crave the softness of your skin beneath my fingertips, the heat of your body pressed against mine, the way your breath catches when I get close. Right now, just imagining your hands on me makes my heart skip wildly, my pulse thundering in my ears. I want you so desperately it aches. I need you to explore every inch of my body the way only you can — slowly, hungrily, worshiping me with your hands, your mouth, and your eyes until I’m trembling and completely undone.

I want to wrap my legs tightly around your waist, pulling you impossibly closer until there’s nothing between us but heat and desire. I lean in and catch your lower lip between my teeth, giving it a playful bite before soothing it with a deep, passionate kiss. My tongue traces a hot, wet path up the side of your neck, tasting the salt of your skin, feeling your pulse jump under my lips.

I suck gently on your earlobe, then whisper filthy little promises into your ear, my breath hot against you. “Tell me,” I murmur, voice husky with need. “Tell me how much you need me. Tell me how long you’ve been hard thinking about fucking me. I want to hear every dirty thought you’ve had about me.”

You push me up against the wall with that perfect blend of strength and hunger, your body pinning me there. I can feel your hardness pressing insistently against my thigh, thick and throbbing, making me ache with anticipation. Your hands are everywhere — sliding under my shirt to cup my breasts, thumbs brushing over my hardening nipples, then gripping my hips and squeezing my ass as you grind against me.

The friction makes me gasp and moan, my body arching into yours. I can feel how wet I already am, my panties soaked just from your touch. Our mouths crash together again, tongues dancing, breaths mingling as the temperature between us rises higher and higher.

You lift me effortlessly and carry me to the bedroom, our lips never parting. You lay me down on the soft sheets and climb on top of me, your weight pressing me into the mattress in the most delicious way. Or maybe I push you down first, straddling your hips, my hair falling around us like a curtain as I look into your eyes and slowly rock against your cock.

I want to feel you everywhere — your hands roaming my body, your mouth on my neck, my breasts, sucking and biting just hard enough to make me whimper. Your fingers slip between my thighs, stroking my slick folds, circling my swollen clit until my hips are bucking desperately and I’m moaning your name like a prayer.

When you finally push inside me, stretching me open with that perfect, full feeling, I cry out in pure ecstasy. “Yes… fuck, you feel so good,” I gasp. Each deep thrust sends waves of pleasure crashing through me. I dig my nails into your back, raking them down as you move faster, harder. “Don’t stop, baby. Please don’t stop.”

I wrap my legs around you again, heels digging into your lower back, urging you deeper. I want to hear you groan about how tight and wet I am, how perfectly I squeeze around your cock, how badly you’ve needed this. Your hips snap against mine, the wet sound of our bodies meeting filling the room along with my breathless cries.

You flip me over onto my stomach, hands gripping my hips and pulling my ass up toward you. With one powerful thrust you bury yourself completely inside me. I scream into the pillow as the new angle hits that perfect spot over and over. You take me hard, your body slamming against mine with raw strength, one hand fisting my hair, the other holding my waist so I can’t escape the overwhelming pleasure.

Orgasm after orgasm rips through me — my body shaking, my pussy clenching rhythmically around you, soaking your cock and the sheets beneath us. I’m a trembling, moaning mess, but you don’t stop. You keep driving into me, drawing out every last pulse of pleasure until I can barely breathe.

I turn to face you again, pulling you into a deep, desperate kiss. My hand slides down between us, wrapping around your slick cock, stroking you slowly while I whisper how much I love feeling you inside me. I want to taste you. I push you onto your back and crawl between your legs, taking you into my mouth.

My tongue swirls around the head, teasing the sensitive underside before I suck you deeper, hollowing my cheeks and taking you as far as I can. I love the way you groan my name, the way your fingers thread through my hair as I worship you with my mouth.

Then you pull me up and slide into me again, this time slow and deep, our bodies moving together in a sensual rhythm. Every thrust is deliberate, every kiss filled with passion. I feel you everywhere — your breath on my neck, your hands gripping my thighs, your cock stretching and filling me so perfectly it feels like we were made for each other. I ride you slowly, grinding my hips in circles, savoring every inch of you before we both lose control again and fuck harder, faster, chasing that edge together.

I love you so much it consumes every part of me. In these moments, the world disappears. There’s only us — tangled limbs, heated skin, racing hearts, and overwhelming pleasure. I need you to make love to me like this for hours — hard and rough one moment, slow and tender the next. I want to feel you come deep inside me, your body shuddering against mine as we both fall over the edge together.

Afterward, hold me close in your arms. Let me rest my head on your chest, listening to your heartbeat slow down while your fingers gently trace patterns on my back. Whisper how beautiful I am, how perfect we are together. Because with you, I never want this feeling to end. I’m yours — completely, utterly, and always. Make love to me, baby. Take everything I have to give… and give me all of you in return.

Awakening of a Bad Boy

I was eighteen, fresh out of high school, still living with my parents while I waited for university to begin. The days felt endless and boring—until she moved into the apartment across the hall.

She was twenty-nine, with the kind of confident, feminine energy that made my pulse race every time I saw her. She worked some office job and came home in these tight little dresses and mini skirts that barely reached mid-thigh. The way the fabric clung to her hips and the smooth skin of her legs… I couldn’t stop staring. I was a virgin, technically a “bad boy” with a rebellious streak, but completely inexperienced. Still, my mind was filthy. I became obsessed with the idea of her pussy—what it looked like, tasted like, and especially how her panties smelled after a long day.

We started chatting whenever we ran into each other in the hallway. She was warm, playful, and always gave me compliments: “You’re getting so handsome,” or “That smile of yours is dangerous.” I’d blush and return them, telling her how incredible she looked in her outfits. The tension built slowly, like a secret we both knew but never named.

One evening, after she’d clearly had a long day, she caught me staring again. She smiled knowingly and said, “You look like you want to ask me something. What’s on your mind, naughty boy?”

My heart hammered. I confessed everything in a shaky voice—how I fantasized about her, how I wondered about her scent, how I jerked off thinking about her panties. Instead of being shocked, she laughed softly, her eyes sparkling with mischief. “You’re cute when you’re honest.”

The next morning, she knocked on my door while my parents were still asleep. She pressed a warm, soft pair of her black lace panties into my hand. They were slightly damp. “From last night,” she whispered. “I had a very… satisfying evening. Enjoy.”

I locked myself in my room, heart pounding. Her scent hit me immediately—musky, sweet, feminine, intoxicating. I pressed the crotch of her panties to my face and inhaled deeply, my cock instantly rock-hard. I wrapped the soft fabric around my shaft and started stroking, imagining her wet pussy grinding against them all day. I came so hard I saw stars, thick ropes of cum soaking the lace. I didn’t stop. I came again and again that morning, burying my face in her scent until my balls ached and my mind felt completely rewired. Something awakened in me that day. Panties weren’t just fabric anymore—they were pure erotic power.

For weeks we kept this game going. She’d slip me fresh pairs after her nights out or solo sessions. She was firm about boundaries: no actual sex, no boyfriend, and she wasn’t going to “corrupt” me. But she loved teasing me, knowing how obsessed I was.

Then my parents went on a weekend trip.

She came over that same evening, wearing a tiny sundress, no panties. 

“Show me,” she said, voice husky. 

“Show me what you do with my panties.”

I was nervous but so turned on I didn’t hesitate. I pulled out her latest pair, already stained with my previous loads, and wrapped them around my throbbing cock. I stroked slowly at first, then faster, moaning as her scent filled the room again. She watched with dark, hungry eyes, biting her lip. When I got close, I showed her exactly how I came—thick spurts shooting across the lace and my fingers. She let out a soft moan, clearly aroused.

Then she did something that broke me in the best way. She took my cum-covered fingers, brought them to her mouth, and licked them clean, savoring my taste with a wicked smile. Her hand slipped under her dress as she did it. I watched her tremble and cum right there in front of me, her thighs shaking, a soft gasp escaping her lips. She let me taste her fingers with a fresh female orgasm.

She kissed my cheek afterward, whispered “Good boy,” and left.

That weekend changed everything. When university finally started and I moved into my own place, my obsession only grew. I found myself chasing that same thrill with cute girls on campus—stealing glances at their skirts, imagining their scents, collecting secret trophies when I could. She had lit a fire in me that never went out.

She was my origin story. My first real taste of raw, forbidden desire. And I’ve been chasing that intoxicating mix of scent, lace, and feminine power ever since.

Breathless & Burning

Velvet night

Candlelight

Dangerous eyes

Hidden sighs

Fingers trace

Slow embrace

Breathing thin

Heat within

Teasing touch

Need too much

Lips that taste

No time to waste

Bodies pressed

Sin confessed

Heartbeat race

Hungry pace

Moonlight glows

Desire grows

Shaking knees

Begging please

Sweat like rain

Sweet dark pain

Nails that mark

After dark

Tangled tight

Lost all night

Whispers low

“Don’t let go”

Passion deep

Secrets keep

Burning slow

Afterglow

Morning creep

Bodies weak

Shivers fade

Memories stayed

Eyes still meet

Pulse skips beat

One last kiss

Falling bliss

Silent room

Perfume blooms

Sheets still warm

After the storm

Hearts still leap

Back to sleep

Come here, Daddy

Hey Daddy…

I really tried being good tonight.

I tried distracting myself.

I tried being productive.

I tried pretending I wasn’t thinking about you.

Completely failed.

It’s quiet here

quiet always makes things worse 

because then my brain starts wandering… 

and somehow it always ends up back with you.

Your voice.

Your attention.

That Dominant look 

You’re such a distraction.

You know that?

I keep checking my phone 

Will your name magically pop up?

I keep wondering what you’re doing.

If you’re relaxing.

If you’re busy.

If you’re thinking about me too.

And before you get cocky…

Don’t.

Okay maybe a little.

But only a little.

I miss you tonight.

Extra.

Somebody’s stuck in my head.

So annoying

I miss being close to you.

I miss your attention on me.

I miss stealing moments with you where 

everything else gets quiet for a little while.

And honestly…

I want you here.

Not tomorrow.

Not next week.

Tonight.

I want one of those nights u show up 

suddenly my whole mood changes.

One of those nights where we forget 

everything else for a while.

Where I don’t have to think.

Where I can just exist with you.

Talk.

Laugh.

Be close.

Be your girl for a little while.

Maybe I’m being needy.

Actually no.

I am being needy.

Completely.

And maybe I’m sending this 

because I wanted your attention.

Maybe because I miss you.

Or maybe because I’m laying here 

wishing Daddy would stop making me miss him

You’ve officially ruined my night.

Now fix it.

Call me.

Or maybe…

Instead of calling me…

Get in your car.

Drive over here.

Come steal a few hours away 

from everything with me.

Because I miss you.

And tonight feels like one of those nights

I really don’t want to fall asleep 

without seeing you.

So…

Come here, Daddy.

(Based on a real life voice note late at night)

Daddy Violates Forbidden Virgin

Thirty Six, a daddy dom with firm control over good things,

Neighbor to her father—friendly nods, nothing more. 

Her eighteenth birthday: first time I laid eyes on her. 

Camera in hand, snapping party shots, She wore a tight deep-neck top, 

cleavage teasing, Paired with simple shorts—innocent enough for the crowd. 

But her gaze locked on mine, sub by nature, 

Flirty smiles and poses that screamed unspoken need.

Next day, she came over to see the photos, 

In jeans and a casual tee, brushing close on the couch, 

Fingers lingering, flirting bold—testing my resolve. 

Then parents left town, the house next door silent. 

Doorbell rang: there she stood, transformed— 

Tiny mini skirt barely covering her thighs, 

Thong peeking with every shift, 

Tight deep-neck top plunging low, breasts straining.

"Hey Hey Heyyy," she whispered, 

stepping inside, voice trembling,

"Parents are out of town, i am home alone, 

So i wanted some company" She said

She had this pleading puppy eyes.

"What?" I asked 

"You know this, you know me and you know what i need"

Please fuck me. Use me. Breed your little girl."

I stepped back, denial sharp:

"No, baby—this is wrong. 

I'm twice your age, Your father trusts me. 

We're neighbors; this could ruin everything."

"Daddy, I am Ovulating. Horny AF" she whispered

She bit her lip, eyes pleading, sub instincts on fire:

"But I'm eighteen now, legal and aching for you.

I've wanted this since I saw you at the party.

Be my first, Daddy—I've saved my virginity 

just for someone like you."

I gripped the doorframe, reasoning through the storm:

"It's forbidden, little one. 

One step inside my world

And there's no going back—secrets, lies, 

the risk of getting caught.

Your dad could hate me forever;

 this affair would burn us both."

She pressed against me, hands sliding up my chest:

"I don't care, Daddy. 

I need your control, 

your cock deep inside.

Deny everyone else—

just take me, breed me, own me."

My resolve shattered. 

I pulled her in, door slamming shut.

"Good girl," I growled, 

"but from now on, you obey Daddy completely."

I claimed her virginity on the living-room rug, 

Mini skirt flipped up, thong torn aside. 

She was dripping, impossibly tight, gasping as I stretched her slow—

 

"Daddy, it hurts so good—harder, please!" 

I thrust deep, relentless, breeding her exactly as she begged, 

Her submissive cries echoing: 

"Fill me, Daddy—make me yours!"

Every day after, she showed up in those tiny skirts, 

Thong flashing, top barely containing her 

We fucked everywhere: 

shower, kitchen, my bed. 

Mornings bent over the counter, 

afternoons riding me raw, 

Nights with her tied and begging for another load.

When her parents returned, 

the mini skirts stayed hidden, 

But the texts kept coming: 

Need you, Daddy. Door's unlocked.

The count of late night fucks while her parents were asleep downstairs

UN-FUCKING-COUNTABLE

Our forbidden affair burns hotter than ever—

My perfect little sub, forever marked as mine.

Defiance Undressed At Last

Her building had rules.
Cameras. Alarms. Locks.
Barriers meant to slow desire.

So I waited outside,
hands in my pockets,
chilly night, patience thin.

Sharing the cold night air
And, indian food smelling great
With a delivery guy who had no idea
what he’d just walked into.

Then the door opened—
and there she was.

Not the girl I commanded.
Not the skirt. Not the kneel.
Bad Surprise for Daddy

Just a T-shirt, Soft sweatpants,
Bare beneath both—
and that look in her eyes
that said I know exactly what I’m doing.

I barely had time to think
before she was on me,
kissing me openly, urgently,
body pressed close,
heat rising through cotton and nerve.

I grabbed her tight
Didn't miss the kissing opportunity

The delivery guy stared.
Of course he did. Anyone would.
I am sure he dreamt about a sex scene

She didn’t care. That was the point.
That was a sexy move to be honest

The elevator ringed.

We were touching each other.

Inside we go, the door closed,

and with it, the public world vanished.

No apology. No obedience.

Just bratty confidence

And a slutty smile & more kissing

that pushed every button on purpose.

“I’ll get ready,” she said lightly,

already walking away inside her room.

I waited.

And when she returned—

I understood the game.

A thin silk dark green kimono.

Nothing else. Fabric clinging,

barely covering,

revealing everything without giving it away.

She moved slowly,

letting me see the outline of her body,

every step a quiet provocation.

That was her effort.

That was her defiance.

I said nothing. She was fucking sexy.
Silence can be louder than commands.

But, she was not yet obedient

I could smell her bratty pussy

She poured the prosecco,

handed me the glass,

And sat beside me like this was casual,

like she hadn’t just walked straight past

every rule I set.

We talked about the day.

The city. The night.

But beneath every word

was the unspoken truth:

she hadn’t obeyed—

and she knew exactly

what that meant.

The brat had arrived.

And Daddy was deciding

how to respond.

I didn’t raise my voice.
That was the first correction.

We sat close, prosecco breathing between us,

bubbles rising like unfinished thoughts.

She talked—too freely—about my hands,

about how easily her body had unraveled before.

About how i fingered her

made her squirt and got my palms wet.

She smiled when she said it,

testing, poking, forgetting herself.

I set the glasses down.

Slow. Final.

The room shifted.

She felt it before she understood it.

I pulled her to the edge of the couch,

not with urgency, but with certainty.

With my two middle fingers deep

Started fingering her vigorously

until she squirted one more time

Shaking, Her breath stuttered.

Her defiance softened into heat.

I reminded her—

without shouting,

without asking—

what happens when a brat forgets

who owns the moment.

When her body shook,

When the room carried 

the evidence of her undoing,

the brat burned away completely.

Left behind was silence, wide eyes,

and that familiar surrender she wears so well.

I stepped back after.

Let her sit with it.

Dominance doesn’t cling—it waits.

She was shaking like a crazy girl

She came to me on her own,

fabric slipping away,

chin lowered,

fire replaced with need.

She let the silk fall.
No hesitation.
No ceremony.
Just skin meeting air
and obedience stepping forward.

She came to me while I drank,
slow hips, deliberate friction,
testing the edge of my restraint.
Her body spoke before her mouth ever dared.

That’s when I decided
she would remember this.

No man did this to her.

I tipped the glass.
Cold sparkle traced her collarbone,
her stomach,
the places where breath turns shallow.

I followed it with my mouth,
claiming what she offered,
teaching her how easily pleasure bends
when Daddy decides the rules.

Prosecco tasted like good poison

She wasn’t defiant anymore.

Whatever fire she’d carried burned down

to something softer, wetter, needier.

Her eyes gave her away before her mouth did—

wide, pleading, already on her knees without bending.

Every word she spoke unraveled her further.

Voice trembling.

Hands frantic.

Grasping at me like permission

Itself was slipping away.

"pound me daddy"

"lets go to my bed."

"fuck me please."

I let her beg.

Let her feel the weight of wanting

without being given yet.

When she reached for me, 

desperate and unsteady,

I stopped her—

just long enough to remind her

who decides when hunger gets fed.

My hand closed at her throat—not cruel,

just certain—guiding her breath,

turning her around,

fingers tightening in her hair

until her posture changed on instinct alone.

That was the moment she broke.

She needed to be handled.

Needed to be reminded

that surrender has a shape,

and it looks like obedience.

Each spank landed with purpose—

not rushed, not careless—

leaving heat behind,

a promise written into skin

she’d feel tomorrow and smile about.

Her sounds softened

after that. Lower. Slower.

The language of someone fully claimed.

I didn’t rush her to the bedroom.

I led her. Step by step. Hand still firm.

Control never leaving my grip.

She followed without question—

no brattiness left,

only devotion, only readiness,

only the quiet certainty

that Daddy had her exactly where he wanted her.

Her sounds changed

When we reached the bed

no sharp edges left in them,

only open need, only trust laid bare.

She moved when I told her to,

slow, deliberate, every motion 

shaped by permission.

Submission wasn’t something 

she said anymore—

it was something she wore.

I took my time there.

Let her feel claimed 

before being taken.

i made her sit on my face

and ate her fucking good

like pussy eating addiction

Let her learn the 

patience of wanting

while I decided the pace.

When I finally shifted her,

turned her beneath me,

the air left her in one long breath—

anticipation heavy,

waiting unbearable.

i started pounding her RAW.

yes RAW. no time for condoms here

its an unsafe and dangerous passion

The rhythm came back like memory.

Familiar. Unforgiving.

The kind of movement

That doesn’t ask, only takes.

She held on like she was afraid 

of losing me—legs, hands, breath—

everything tightening,

everything pulling me deeper,

as if this moment needed to last forever

because she knew it wouldn’t.

Her pussy was gripping my cock so tight

Pulling out was not even near horizon

There was urgency in her then,

A recklessness that hadn’t been there before.

The kind that comes from knowing

time is short and goodbyes are close.

Her words weren’t commands.

They were surrender wrapped in desire,

trust placed fully in my hands.

"No no no. don't pull out please!"

"Breed me Daddy, Deeper"

"Give it to me, drain it all"

I slowed just long enough to make her feel it—

to make sure she knew

this wasn’t about impulse,

this was about control & ownership

When I finally gave her that release,

it wasn’t rushed. It was deliberate.

Final. Balls Drained. Deeeeep

The kind of ending that leaves silence loud

and the clock suddenly noticeable.

Time disappeared.

Walls might as well have listened.

Nothing was gentle.

Nothing was rushed.

Only intention.

Only ownership.

She clung to me like leaving was already hurting.

Like she knew she was spending something

she wouldn’t get back.

Near midnight, the world returned.

She poured another drink—hands steady now.

Pussy full of fertile thick 

white cum almost dripping

face glowing with satisfaction 

she couldn’t hide. I dressed.

We shared silence thick with 

what would never be said.

Our last kiss lingered longer than planned.

Our hands memorized what words couldn’t keep.

Then I was gone.

An ordinary ride.

An unremarkable hotel.

A flight home that pretended nothing happened.

And that’s how it stays.

Because some nights

aren’t meant to be explained—

only carried.

A secret heavy enough

to take to the grave.

Afterglow to Absolute Ache

We parted without ceremony

No Grand Goodbye,

Just a last look that 

said this isn’t over,

And a kiss that lingered 

longer than it should have.

You disappeared into daylight,

into obligations, into walls 

that weren’t mine to cross.

Hotel lobby had a note

"Loud room all night, keep it low"

I ignored, the pleasure 

Overshadowed my thoughts

It felt like a compliment

I walked the city alone,

streets loud, alive, careless—

but every corner carried echos from last night.

I could feel my balls empty and drained

You texted me in fragments—

little sparks tossed into the afternoon.

Which was fun.

Still feeling the night.
Can’t stop thinking 

about all the Chaos.

Sexual tension building, 

I’m trying to behave.

You told me about family filling your space,

voices too close, walls too thin,

desire folded neatly and locked away.

But want doesn’t disappear—

it only sharpens when denied.

I answered slowly, deliberately.

Not to tease—to remind.

That what I’d claimed 

didn’t vanish with distance.

That even apart, 

you still carried me

between breaths,

between thoughts,

between your thighs.

when you shifted and sighed.

Daddy knows

I explored the city by day,

but returned to the room by night—

that borrowed space that still smelled faintly of us.

The bed remembered.

The sheets held shape.

Even the silence felt charged,

as if waiting for permission to break.

We didn’t meet again that night.

We didn’t touch.

We didn’t finish

what our bodies begged for.

And somehow, that restraint—

that ache stretched thin and humming—

made everything

darker,

deeper,

more inevitable.

She wrote before sleep:

Tonight will be hard.

I replied:

No worries.

Because desire like ours

doesn’t fade when starved—

it ferments.

It grows teeth.

It waits.

And when we collide again,

the city won’t save us.

New Day in Québec

The day belonged to wandering.

Old streets, stone and history,

French words curling through the air

like flirtation you don’t stop.

I moved through Québec 

like a bad thought—

eyes catching on bare legs,

soft dresses, careless cleavage,

sunlit temptation everywhere.

Beautiful women everywhere,

laughing, swaying, unaware

they were feeding a hunger

already sharpened by you.

I behaved. Mostly.

ohh no, two pretty girls

did flirt with me in the streets

They were in the funicular

They wanted pictures, i helped.

pretty girls but they had very sexy poses

We sparked a good chat and so on

They were just wearing a thong

under their see through thin dresses

Seamless butt and cracks shaped by the dress

They didn't care when i peaked

At their braless sweaty cleavage

They were spreading their legs because

the hot weather was making their thighs wet

I would have peeled their panties

In a flash and sniffed them wet pussies

And, made them follow me into an alley

Daddy Dom was dirty dreaming

Nothing much was about to happen

but they got me very tempted.

By afternoon, the ache returned—

low, steady, familiar.

The kind that hums under the skin

and refuses to be ignored.

My filthy mind

Definitely wanna fuck tonight

Then my phone vibrated.

My slut's name. Perfect timing.

Are you gonna come tonight Daddy?

I smiled. I knew that tone.

The sweetness hiding heat.

The question already soaked in want.

Maybe, I answered.

If you’re a good girl tonight.

The pause before your reply

said everything.

You weren’t behaving.

You were imagining.

When I reached the hotel,

dusk settling in, bags half packed.

The room already preparing to forget me,

your message arrived like a summons.

Come to my place at Ten, Daddy.

She never booty calls, Daddy was special

Simple. Obedient. Too obedient.

I gave instructions anyway—

soft, deliberate, unmistakable.

What to wear - A mini skirt & thong

How to wait - Kneeling down

How to greet me - With Drinks

You said YES

But brats always say yes

right before they test you.

By ten, I was dressed in full black and intention,

the city humming beneath the tires

as the car carried me back toward you.

Every red light stretched.

Every turn tightened the coil.

I didn’t know what waited behind your door—

obedience or defiance,

submission or surprise—

only that whatever version of you appeared,

I would handle it.

Because control isn’t about certainty.

It’s about knowing

that when the door opens,

everything that follows

belongs to me.

Just belongs to only Daddy!