Jenni's New Collar

I stood in the bedroom doorway, the small black box in my hand. Jenni sat on the edge of the bed, bare feet not touching the floor. Her green eyes locked onto me, wide and waiting. The old collar—black leather with her name in silver—was already around her neck. She hadn’t taken it off in three years. “This one’s special,” I said. She stayed silent, breath shallow, hands folded tight. I opened the box. The new collar was thicker, glossier leather, a heavy silver lock centered at the front—no keyhole, no release. Permanent. Custom-made. Her name engraved again, but now beneath it: *Daddy’s Girl.* Her lips parted. A soft sound escaped—half gasp, half whimper. I lifted it out. She bent her head forward without a word. The snap of the buckle clicked like a promise. “There,” I said, thumb brushing the tag. “Perfect.” She touched it gently, fingers trembling. Then looked up at me, eyes wet but smiling. “I love it,” she whispered. “Thank you, Daddy.” I cupped her face. “You’re mine. Always.” She leaned into my palm. “Always.” No clothes. No rules. No world outside this room. Just us. Just right.

Jenni's New Collar

I stood in the bedroom doorway, the small black box in my hand. Jenni sat on the edge of the bed, bare feet not touching the floor. Her green eyes locked onto me, wide and waiting. The old collar—black leather with her name in silver—was already around her neck. She hadn’t taken it off in three years. “This one’s special,” I said. She stayed silent, breath shallow, hands folded tight. I opened the box. The new collar was thicker, glossier leather, a heavy silver lock centered at the front—no keyhole, no release. Permanent. Custom-made. Her name engraved again, but now beneath it: *Daddy’s Girl.* Her lips parted. A soft sound escaped—half gasp, half whimper. I lifted it out. She bent her head forward without a word. The snap of the buckle clicked like a promise. “There,” I said, thumb brushing the tag. “Perfect.” She touched it gently, fingers trembling. Then looked up at me, eyes wet but smiling. “I love it,” she whispered. “Thank you, Daddy.” I cupped her face. “You’re mine. Always.” She leaned into my palm. “Always.” No clothes. No rules. No world outside this room. Just us. Just right.

I stood in the bedroom doorway, the small black box in my hand.

Jenni sat on the edge of the bed, bare feet not touching the floor. Her green eyes locked onto me the second I entered. The old collar—black leather with her name in silver—was already around her neck. She hadn’t taken it off in three years.

“This one’s special,” I said.

She didn’t speak. She never did when I gave her something new. She just watched, breath shallow, hands folded tight in her lap.

I opened the box.

The new collar was thicker. Glossier leather. Heavy silver lock centered at the front, no keyhole visible. Permanent. Custom-made. The tag bore her name again, but now with two words beneath: Daddy’s Girl.

Her lips parted. A soft sound escaped—half gasp, half whimper.

I lifted it from the box.

She bent her head forward without being told.

The snap of the buckle clicked like a promise.

“There,” I said, running my thumb over the metal tag. “Perfect.”

She touched it gently, fingers trembling. Then looked up at me, eyes wet but smiling.

“I love it,” she whispered. “Thank you, Daddy.”

I cupped her face. “You’re mine. Always.”

She leaned into my palm. “Always.”

No clothes. No rules. No world outside this room.

Just us.

Just right.