Misc. Erotica Daddy's Little Princess (COMPLETED)- By Novelist Casanova

[novelistcasanova]

My bond with Arjun grew stronger every day, quiet but unbreakable. He never asked for more than I could give, never pushed against the walls I still kept around my heart because of Dad. Instead, he simply stayed—steady, patient, loving me exactly as I was.

There were small moments that wove us closer. One rainy afternoon when the college bus broke down and I had no way home, Arjun walked with me under his umbrella for two kilometers through the downpour, holding it over me the entire way so I stayed dry while his shoulder got soaked. When I tried to thank him, he just smiled and said, "I would walk through any rain for you, Sudha."
Another time, during college fest preparations, I stayed late decorating the stage and twisted my ankle climbing a ladder. Arjun carried me on his back again, all the way to the first-aid room, then waited while the nurse bandaged me. He refused to leave until I was safely back in my hostel, even though it meant he missed his own group’s practice. "You are more important," he said simply, and I felt something inside me soften.
The strongest moment came during a college excursion to a nearby river. I had gone too close to the edge to take a photo, the ground gave way, and I started slipping toward the fast current below. Arjun lunged without hesitation—he grabbed my wrist with one hand and wrapped his other arm around my waist, hauling me back onto solid ground. We both fell backward onto the grass, his arms still around me, breathing hard. He held me for a long time after, whispering against my hair, "I have got you. You are safe. I will always catch you." I clung to him, heart racing, realizing he had literally saved my life twice now. In that moment, something inside me surrendered completely.
I loved him so much that I decided—quietly, deeply—that I would live the rest of my life with him. Not just as lovers, but as partners, as husband and wife one day. I wanted to wake up next to him every morning, to build a home with him, to grow old with him. His love had proven itself in every small act, every sacrifice, every time he chose me even when I did not deserve it. I knew no one else would ever love me the way Arjun did—selfless, steady, endless.
We spent evenings sitting on the low wall behind the college, hands linked, talking about the future. "One day," I whispered to him one night, "when the time is right, I want to marry you. I want to spend my whole life with you."
He looked at me, eyes shining. "I have wanted that since the first day I saw you, Sudha. I will wait as long as you need. I will be here. Always."
I rested my head on his shoulder, feeling the warmth of him, the safety of him. "I love you, Arjun. More than I ever thought I could love anyone besides my dad."
He kissed the top of my head gently. "I love you too. More than anything in this world."
Dad never knew. I kept Arjun hidden, because Dad’s love for me was possessive, fierce—he could not stand the thought of any man near me. But Arjun understood. He never asked to meet Dad, never pushed for more than the secret moments we stole. He loved me in the shadows, quietly, completely, and that only made me love him more.
Two men who loved me completely. Dad—my protector, my first love, my everything. Arjun—my future, my heart outside the home. Two loves that did not fight, because one stayed hidden. And in my heart, there was room for both.


While everything was going fine, talks about my marriage began in the house. Relatives visited more often, whispering about suitable boys from good families. Amma started looking at me with hopeful eyes, asking if I liked anyone. Dad listened quietly, but I could see the tension in his jaw—he never liked the idea of any man taking me away. The conversations made me tense every day. My heart raced whenever marriage was mentioned. How was I going to tell Dad that I was in love with Arjun? How could I explain that I wanted to spend my life with him? I was pretty sure Dad would not agree. He was possessive about me. He could not stand any man next to me. Even seeing me talk to a male classmate made his eyes darken, his voice sharp with questions. The thought of telling him about Arjun filled me with dread—I knew he would never allow it.
Amidst this, I noticed a sophisticated advocate from Chennai named Rajesh visiting our house regularly. Rajesh was filthy rich, powerful, and strikingly handsome. He always arrived alone in his expensive black car—a sleek, shining Mercedes that looked completely out of place on our dusty village roads, its glossy black paint reflecting the sun while our neighbors’ old bicycles and bullock carts looked small and worn beside it. He wore perfectly tailored black formal trousers and crisp white shirts that looked brand new every time, gold watch glinting on his wrist, expensive leather shoes polished to a mirror shine, hair neatly styled, clean-shaven face carrying an air of quiet authority and effortless wealth. His voice was smooth and confident, his manners polished. He carried himself like a man who owned everything he touched, everything around him, everything he looked at—including, sometimes, me.
Our house was simple—middle-class village home with mud walls, tiled roof, small veranda, no luxury. We lived modestly: Dad worked hard at Sudha Rice Mill, Amma managed the household, I went to college in second-hand kurtis and skirts. When Rajesh stepped out of that Mercedes, it was like another world had arrived. The car alone cost more than our entire house and land combined. He would park it right in front of our gate, engine purring softly while village children gathered at a distance, staring wide-eyed at the gleaming machine. Dad would come out, initially stiff and formal, greeting him with folded hands. Rajesh would smile politely, shake Dad’s hand firmly, and they would sit on the veranda discussing business, law cases, land deals.
At first, Dad kept conversations short, polite but distant—middle-class caution around someone so obviously wealthy. But slowly, Dad started talking more. Rajesh would invite Dad for rides in that expensive black car—Dad sitting in the passenger seat, the door closing with a solid, expensive thud, the car gliding away smoothly while our neighbors watched in awe. I watched from the window as Dad's face lit up during these rides, impressed by Rajesh's knowledge, his wealth, his connections in Chennai. Dad spoke of him with growing respect, mentioning how Rajesh handled big cases, dealt with crores, moved in high circles, how his car alone was worth more than everything we owned.
The contrast was stark. Our simple life—middle-class struggles, careful budgeting, patched clothes—against Rajesh's world of effortless luxury. Every time that Mercedes pulled up, dust swirling around its polished tires, it reminded me how small our world was, how big his was. Dad seemed dazzled by it, drawn to it, spending more time with Rajesh, accepting more rides, listening more closely.
Rajesh began asking Dad to show him around. Dad would take him to the rice mill, proudly introducing Rajesh to the local traders, explaining the business, pointing out the sacks of rice, the weighing scales, the workers. Dad would say things like, "This is my mill, Rajesh. These are the traders I work with—good, honest men." I watched Dad's pride as he presented his world to this rich man, even as Rajesh's expensive black car waited outside like a silent reminder of the gap between them.
I thought nothing of it. To me, Rajesh was just some rich man trying to have a business deal with Dad. We were middle-class—our house simple, our life modest. I ignored Rajesh completely—barely nodded when he greeted me, never lingered when he was around. My mind was on Arjun, on Dad, on the marriage talks that made my stomach knot every time they came up. I had no idea Rajesh was watching me more closely than I realized, his eyes lingering when he thought no one noticed.


My mom and dad always spoke about Rajesh in front of me. It started casually—over dinner, while Amma served rice and sambar, or during evenings on the veranda when the village quieted down.
Dad would lean back in his wooden chair, voice carrying a rare note of admiration. "That Rajesh... he is something else. He handles cases worth crores in Chennai. Big companies, big people. He knows everyone—ministers, businessmen, judges. And the way he talks... sharp, confident. He is not like these local lawyers. He has class. Real class."
Amma would nod, eyes wide, impressed. "Yes, he looks like a film star. So handsome, so well-dressed. That gold watch, those shoes... everything about him shines. And that black Mercedes car—when he parks it outside, the whole street stops to look. We are simple people, but Rajesh treats us with respect. He even asked about Sudha the other day—said she looks very cultured."
Dad would smile slightly, pride mixing with something else. "He is successful. Very successful. He told me his law firm has branches in Bangalore too. Deals with tech companies, real estate empires. He drives that expensive car like it is nothing. And he is polite—always greets properly, never shows off. But you can see the power. The money. The confidence."
Amma would add, voice soft but excited. "He is young, unmarried, good family background. Advocate, rich, handsome... such a catch. Any girl would be lucky."
Dad would nod slowly. "He is impressive. Very impressive. He took me around in that car again yesterday—showed me the city side of things. He knows how to live. How to succeed. I like talking to him. He has vision."
They spoke like this often—Dad praising Rajesh's success, his wealth, his manners; Amma impressed by his looks, his car, his status. I sat quietly, listening, tension building in my chest. Every mention of Rajesh made the marriage talks feel heavier, more real. I kept thinking about Arjun—my secret, my love—but I never dared say his name. Dad’s possessiveness was clear in every word he spoke about other men. He could not stand the thought of anyone else near me. The idea of introducing Arjun felt impossible.
I stayed silent, nodding politely when they looked at me, heart racing. Rajesh was just a rich man to me—someone Dad admired for business reasons. I ignored the way his name kept coming up, ignored the subtle shift in Dad’s tone when he spoke of him. I focused on Arjun, on stolen moments, on keeping my secret safe.
But the tension grew. The marriage talks were no longer distant. They were here, in our house, in every conversation. And Rajesh’s name was always part of them.



One evening after dinner, I was in my room studying when I heard my mom and my dad talking on the terrace. The door was slightly open, and their voices carried clearly through the quiet night. I stepped closer, standing just inside the doorway, hidden in the shadows, listening without them knowing.
A small campfire burned in an old steel bucket, the flames flickering low and warm, casting dancing shadows on their faces. My dad sat on a wooden bench, chewing betel leaves and nuts slowly, the red juice staining his lips as he spat occasionally into a small brass spittoon beside him. My mom sat next to him on a woven mat, her saree pallu tucked neatly, hands folded in her lap.
My dad took another mouthful of betel, chewing thoughtfully before speaking. "That Rajesh came again today. He brought some papers about a land deal in Chennai. Sharp man. Knows how to talk business. He handles cases worth crores in Chennai. Big companies, big people. He knows everyone—ministers, businessmen, judges. And the way he talks... sharp, confident. He is not like these local lawyers. He has class. Real class."
My mom nodded, eyes bright in the firelight. "Yes, he is impressive. Handsome too. Tall, fair, well-built. Always dressed so neatly—those black trousers, white shirt, polished shoes. And polite. Never raises his voice. When he comes, he greets us properly, asks about our health. He even asked about Sudha again today—said she looks very cultured, very beautiful. Such a good family background. Rich, powerful, unmarried... he would be a perfect match."
My dad chewed slowly, nodding. "I was thinking the same. He is successful. Very successful. He told me about his house in Chennai—big bungalow, servants, cars. He has connections everywhere—ministers, businessmen. He could give Sudha a good life. Comfortable life. Better than what we can provide here in the village."
My mom leaned forward slightly, voice gentle but firm. "We should talk to him about it. Ask if he is interested in marrying Sudha. He comes here often anyway. He seems to respect us. We can invite him for tea one day and bring up the topic. Or better—we can go to Chennai ourselves. See his house, meet his parents, talk properly. It is not good to delay these things. Sudha is nineteen now. Time to settle her future."
My dad stared into the fire for a long moment, chewing betel thoughtfully, then nodded slowly. "Yes... you are right. I will speak to him next time he comes. If he is interested, we can plan a trip to Chennai. See his family, his home. He is a good man. I think he would make Sudha happy."
My mom smiled, relieved. "Good. Let us do it soon. Sudha deserves the best. And Rajesh... he is the best we can find."
I stood frozen just inside the doorway, heart pounding so hard I thought they would hear it over the crackle of the fire. My hands clenched at my sides, nails digging into my palms. My stomach twisted violently. Arjun. My Arjun. The man I loved. The man who loved me back. The man I had decided to spend my life with. And now my parents were talking about Rajesh—this rich, powerful stranger—as my future husband. My dad, who could not stand any man near me, was ready to give me away to someone else. Someone he admired. Someone with money and status.
I felt sick. Terrified. Shocked beyond words. My legs trembled, breath coming in short gasps. How was I going to tell them about Arjun? How was I going to explain that I loved a simple college boy from our own village, not a rich advocate from Chennai? My dad would never agree. He would be furious. He would see it as betrayal. He would forbid it. He would never let me marry Arjun.
I slipped back into my room silently, closing the door softly, heart racing, mind spinning. I sat on my bed, knees drawn up, staring into the darkness. Tears burned my eyes. The marriage talks were no longer distant—they were real. They were happening. And Rajesh was at the center of them. I felt trapped, helpless, terrified that my parents would force me into marrying him. That everything I had built with Arjun—our secret love, our promises, our future—would be torn away.
The small campfire crackled on the terrace, my parents' voices fading into quiet murmurs. I sat alone in the dark, heart heavy, mind racing, knowing the storm was coming and I had no idea how to stop it.



One morning my mom and my dad announced they were going to my aunty’s house in the neighboring village. They said they would be back tomorrow evening. My mom packed a small bag with clothes and some sweets for my aunty, while my dad checked the bus timings and counted money for the ticket. They both dressed simply—my mom in her usual cotton saree with matching blouse, my dad in his dhoti and shirt.
My mom turned to me while tying her pallu. "Sudha, we will be back tomorrow. Call your cousin and ask her to come stay with you tonight. Do not stay alone in the house. Lock the doors properly. Eat on time."
My dad nodded, adjusting his dhoti knot. "Yes. Your cousin will come. If anything happens, call us. We will return soon."
They left in the afternoon, walking to the bus stop together. I watched from the doorway as they disappeared down the road, my stomach already twisting. I knew they were lying. They were not going to my aunty’s house. They were going to Chennai to meet Rajesh and his family. I had overheard them planning it the previous night on the terrace—the trip, the meeting, the talk about marriage. They had not told me. They had not even hinted. They left me at home with a lie, thinking I did not know.
I felt terribly shocked. My heart pounded so hard I could hear it in my ears. My hands shook as I closed the door. I was in love with Arjun. Completely. I had decided to spend my life with him. And now my parents were going to Chennai to see Rajesh’s house, to meet his parents, to discuss me marrying him. They were moving forward with a plan that did not include Arjun. That did not include what I wanted. That did not include my heart.
I paced the house alone, mind racing. My thighs still ached mildly from the memory of Dad inside me, but that was nothing compared to the terror gripping me now. If they liked Rajesh’s family, if they agreed... they would force me. Dad’s possessiveness would turn into determination. He would see Rajesh as the perfect match—rich, powerful, respected. He would never accept Arjun, a simple college boy with no wealth, no status. He would say no. He would forbid it. He would make sure I never saw Arjun again.
I sat on the bed, knees drawn up, tears burning my eyes. My cousin would come tonight—I would call her like they asked—but even that felt like a cage closing. I was alone with my secret love for Arjun, with my fear of losing him, with the knowledge that my parents were moving toward a future I did not want. I felt trapped, helpless, sick with worry. The house felt too quiet, too empty, too full of what I could not say.
I waited, tense and worried, knowing they were on their way to Chennai to meet Rajesh and his family, to look at his life, to decide mine—without ever asking me.



That same day my mom and my dad went to Chennai, I could not take the tension anymore. My heart felt crushed every time I thought about Rajesh and the marriage talks. I needed Arjun. I needed to tell him everything.
I called him on the phone in the afternoon when the house was empty. My voice shook as I spoke. "Arjun... come to my house right now. Please. It is urgent. No one is home."
He arrived quietly within thirty minutes, wearing his usual simple kurti top and trousers, looking worried. I let him in through the back door, checked that no neighbors were watching, then locked it behind us. We sat on the floor of my room, door closed, fan turning slowly overhead.
Before I could speak, Arjun told me he had brought his two closest friends—Vikram and Suresh—who were waiting outside. "They know about us. They want to help. Can they come in?"
I nodded, too tense to argue. They entered quietly—both in simple shirts and trousers, eyes immediately lighting up when they saw me sitting on the floor in my kurti top and leggings. Vikram was tall and broad, always smirking; Suresh shorter but intense, always watching me like he was imagining things he should not. Both were horny whenever they saw me with Arjun—their eyes lingered on my boobs pushing against the kurti top, on my thighs visible below the leggings, on the way my hips shifted when I moved. They never said it outright, but the way they stared, the way their breathing changed, told me they loved watching us together, loved imagining more.
I took a deep breath, hands trembling in my lap. "Arjun... my parents went to Chennai today. They told me they were going to my aunty’s house. But they lied. They went to meet Rajesh and his family. They are thinking of getting me married to him."
Arjun’s face paled. He reached for my hand, holding it gently. "Sudha... are you sure?"
I nodded, tears burning my eyes. "I overheard them planning it last night. My mom told my dad to speak to Rajesh about marrying me. My dad agreed. He said Rajesh is successful, rich, good family. They are planning to meet his parents properly. They want this marriage. And I know... I know my dad will never say no to it. He admires Rajesh. He thinks he is perfect for me."
Arjun squeezed my hand tighter, voice soft but steady. "Sudha... look at me."
I looked up, tears spilling down my cheeks. "Arjun... I cannot say no to my dad. If he tells me to marry Rajesh, I will have to. He is my dad. He has done everything for me. He will force me if he has to. And I love him too much to hurt him. But I love you... I want to be with you. I do not know what to do. I am scared. I am so scared."
Arjun pulled me into his arms, hugging me tight against his chest. "Do not worry, Sudha. Do not worry. I am here. We will find a way. I will not let you marry Rajesh. I will work on a plan. I will talk to my parents. We will figure this out. I promise. You will not have to marry anyone else. You will be with me. I will make it happen."
Vikram leaned forward, eyes gleaming, voice low and excited. "Arjun, listen. There is only one way to stop this. You must make love to Sudha. Fuck her. Cum deep inside her pussy. Make her pregnant. If she is carrying your child, her dad will have no choice. He will be forced to let you marry her. No one will want Rajesh after that. Do it soon—before they fix the wedding."
Suresh nodded eagerly, eyes fixed on me, breathing heavier. "Yes. And if that does not work fast enough, we can take pictures. Intimate pictures. You and Sudha together—naked, fucking, your cock inside her pussy, her boobs bouncing, her face full of pleasure. We show those to Rajesh. He will back off. No man wants a girl with photos like that circulating. We can watch... make sure everything is captured perfectly."
Both of them shifted closer, eyes hungry, almost drooling at the thought of watching me and Arjun together, of seeing my boobs bounce, my pussy stretched around Arjun’s cock, my moans filling the room. Their excitement was obvious—Vikram’s hand twitching toward his trousers, Suresh licking his lips, both breathing harder just imagining the scene.
I blushed hard, body tensing in Arjun’s arms, but Arjun held me tighter, voice firm. "No. We are not doing that. I love Sudha. I will not use her like that. I will not force anything. We will find another way. A clean way. I will not let anyone hurt her or shame her."
Vikram smirked. "You are too soft, Arjun. But if you change your mind... we are ready to help. We would love to see Sudha like that... moaning, taking your cock..."
Arjun shot them a hard look. "Enough. Leave. I will handle this."
They left reluctantly, still glancing back at me with hungry eyes. Arjun turned to me, cupping my face. "Do not listen to them. We will do this right. I promise."
I nodded, tears in my eyes, clinging to him. "I trust you, Arjun. I love you."
He kissed my forehead softly. "I love you too. We will get through this. Together."
He left quietly before my parents returned, slipping out the back door with one last look back at me.
I sat alone in the room, heart heavy but a little lighter knowing he was with me. Still, the fear stayed—my parents were moving forward with Rajesh, and I had no idea how to stop it without breaking my dad’s heart.




My mom and my dad returned home from Chennai the next evening. I heard the sound of the bus stopping at the village road, then their footsteps on the path. I watched from the window as they walked through the gate—my dad carrying a small cloth bag, my mom holding her saree pallu carefully against the evening breeze. They looked tired but calm, faces neutral, no excitement or nervousness showing. They did not mention Chennai at all.
My dad set the bag down on the veranda, loosened his dhoti knot slightly, and sat on the bench. My mom went inside to change her saree and start preparing dinner. They spoke only about small things—the bus was late, the road was dusty, they had eaten at a small hotel on the way back. No word about Rajesh, no word about meetings or families or marriage. They acted like it had been a normal visit to my aunty’s house, just as they had told me.
I watched them settle down—my dad chewing betel leaves quietly, my mom humming softly while cooking. Everything seemed ordinary. But I knew it was not. I knew where they had really been. The silence felt heavy, like they were hiding something big from me. My stomach stayed knotted the whole evening.
After dinner, when my dad went to the mill to check on something, my mom came to my room. She sat on the edge of my bed, her fresh saree still neatly pleated, blouse hugging her figure. She smiled gently, voice casual at first.
"Sudha... how was your day? Did your cousin come stay with you?"
I nodded. "Yes, Mom. Everything was fine."
She looked at me for a moment, then spoke softly. "You know... Rajesh is a very nice man. Rich, educated, polite. He has a good heart too. What do you think about him?"
I swallowed hard, trying to keep my voice steady. "He is... a nice rich man, Mom. Very sophisticated. Looks successful."
My mom nodded, smiling wider. "Yes, exactly. We met his mom in Chennai. She is a sweet lady. Very cultured. And Rajesh... he spoke so highly of you. He said you look beautiful and well-mannered. He has agreed to marry you. His mom also liked the idea. They want to move forward with the alliance."
My heart stopped. I stared at her, voice barely a whisper. "No, Mom... I cannot marry him."
My mom’s face changed instantly. Her smile disappeared, eyes narrowing. "What do you mean no? Rajesh is perfect for you! He is rich—lives in a big house in Chennai with servants, cars, everything. He travels by flight, eats in five-star hotels, wears expensive clothes. You would have a sophisticated lifestyle. No more struggling like us. You would wear silk sarees every day, gold jewelry, go to big parties. Your life would change completely. And your dad... Rajesh has promised to help him financially. The rice mill would grow. We would never have to worry about money again. Your dad would be respected in the village. Everyone would look up to us."
I shook my head, tears starting to burn my eyes. "Mom... Rajesh is a nice guy. He is rich, successful, handsome... but I do not love him. I love Arjun. I want to be with Arjun."
My mom’s face went pale, then red with anger. "Arjun? That poor low class boy? What do you know about love at nineteen? You are young, foolish! Arjun has nothing—no money, no status, no future. He cannot take care of you. He cannot give you anything. Rajesh can give you the world! You will live like a queen. Your children will go to best colleges, wear good clothes, never face hardship. Do you want to throw all that away for a boy who has nothing?"
I started crying, voice shaking. "Mom... I love Arjun. He loves me. He is good to me. He cares for me. Money is not everything. I cannot marry Rajesh. I cannot."
My mom stood up, voice rising. "You are talking nonsense! Love? What love? You think love fills your stomach? Pays the bills? Gives you security? Rajesh is perfect for you. Your dad has already agreed. We will fix this marriage. You will marry Rajesh. That is final."
I sobbed harder, shaking my head. "Mom... please... do not do this... I love Arjun... I cannot live without him..."
My mom’s voice turned sharp, almost yelling. "Enough! If I tell your dad about this Arjun, he will kill him. He will make sure that boy never comes near you again. Do you want that? Do you want your dad to ruin his life? Or yours? Listen to me. Listen to your dad. Marry Rajesh. Be sensible. Or you will regret it your whole life."
I cried uncontrollably, hugging my knees, begging. "Mom... please... do not tell Dad... please... I beg you... do not tell him about Arjun..."
My mom stared at me for a long moment, face hard. "Then stop this foolishness. Rajesh is perfect for you. Rich. Powerful. Respectable. He will give you a good life. Your dad will be happy. We will all be happy. Think about it. Do not ruin everything."
She turned and left the room, closing the door firmly behind her.
I collapsed on the bed, sobbing into my pillow, heart breaking. My parents wanted me to marry Rajesh. They were moving forward. They did not know about Arjun. And if they found out... my dad would destroy him. I felt trapped, terrified, alone. The future I wanted with Arjun seemed further away than ever, and I had no idea how to save it.