Hickory, Dickory, Dock
The mouse ran up the clock
The clock struck one
The mouse ran down
Hickory, Dickory, Dock

(Old nursery rhyme)

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One of life's little mysteries is why creatures the size of human children, and even adults, are afraid of creatures the size of mice. And yet it's a fact that some people will be frightened shi... witless at the sight of a tiny little mouse.

Take Debbie Simpson, eight years old, for example. When a little grey house mouse scuttled out from behind the grandfather clock in the hallway she let out the most piercing shriek you can imagine. A blood-curdling shriek. The sort of shriek that would send shivers up the spines of the dead (if they still had spines, that is).

Debbie's shriek of terror was followed a split second later by a loud thud and then a string of obscenities from the kitchen. The obscenities came from the mouth of Debbie's father, and the thud was the sound of his head hitting the underside of the kitchen sink when he'd heard that shriek. He'd been under there for the last half hour trying to rescue a very valuable diamond ring belonging to Debbie's mother from the drain pipe. Why Debbie's mother would want to wash the vegetables while wearing an expensive diamond ring is another story, so we won't go there....

Still reeling from the impact, and with stars in his eyes, Mr Simpson staggered out to the hallway, sort of ready to rescue his daughter from the peril that had drawn that shriek of terror.

"W-what's the matter?" he slurred.

"D-daddy, it was a mouse! I-It came from behind the clock" said Debbie in a voice that was halfway between a shriek and a sob.

"A mouse?" asked Mr Simpson in a rising tone of incredulity.

"Yes Daddy" the still frightened little girl replied.

"Do you mean to tell me" Mr Simpson began, "that I had to hit my head and pinch my fingers with the pipe wrench and drop the hammer on my toe just because you saw a #$%#$#$&%^^% mouse?"

"Sorry Daddy, but it frightened me."

"Oh, it frightened you, did it? And now you're sorry, are you?"

"Um, yes Daddy." Debbie might only be eight, but she sensed that things were not going well. Her father had a very dark and foreboding look on his face and she'd never heard him swear so much.

"Well now, I think I need to give you something to be really sorry about!" Mr Simpson said in a very loud and menacing tone.

"Daddy..." began Debbie faintly. She hadn't been physically punished very often, being the basically good little girl that she was, but she remembered those few times. And she sensed that there was about to be another one.

Without another word her father seized the child by the arm and dragged her to the kitchen. Sitting on a chair, he pulled his now pale and trembling daughter across his lap and, with a few deft movements, pulled off her little pink elastic-waisted shorts and white cotton panties.

"No Daddy! No, please don't spank me on my bare bottom" Debbie pleaded in a tone that almost ended on a shriek.

But avenging justice was deaf to her pleas. While one hand clamped her small body to his lap, the other came down hard on the soft rounded flesh of her little bottom.

"Owwww!" she shrieked. "That hurt, Daddy."

"It was meant to! And there'll be a lot more by the time I've finished with you, my girl." Without further ado Mr Simpson laid into the little girl.

Smack! Smack! Smack! Smack! Smack! Smack! Smack! Smack! Smack! Smack! Smack! Went Mr Simpson's hand on Debbie's little bare bottom.

"Owwww! Owwww! Owwww!" shrieked Debbie as her tender little bottom became redder and redder and more and more sore. She sobbed out unheeded pleas for mercy and the tears flowed from her eyes and fell to the floor.

After a couple of minutes Mr Simpson paused. He was feeling very strange. Stranger than he'd ever felt before.

It wasn't just that he was breathless, or the headache he'd got from hitting his head on the sink or anything like that. The first thing he noticed was that his cock was hard inside his underpants and jeans. That wasn't strange in itself: it always got that way when he was alone with Mrs Simpson. But to get a real woody while spanking his little daughter's bare bottom was something new altogether.

What really knocked him for six was the sudden realisation that he wanted to feel her private parts. Yes he, Bernie Simpson, respected local accountant and volunteer bushfire fighter, wanted to feel the private parts of his own eight year old daughter.

What he should have done was to give her a lecture and send her to her room to think about her wickedness, but he hesitated. And as we all know, he who hesitates is lost. He hesitated because, deep down, where he'd always pushed the black thoughts, was a desire to feel up little girls. Here was an almost perfect opportunity: they were alone in the house, and would be for a while yet, and he could treat the grope as part of the punishment.

"Are y-you g-going to s-smack me any more D-Daddy?" sobbed Debbie, who was wondering about the pause in her punishment.

"No" said her father. "I'm going to punish you in a new way" he went on, in a much softer voice as he slowly placed his hand on her red little bottom. He rubbed it softly for a few minutes, marvelling at the feel of her skin. The child had by now almost stopped sobbing and twisted her head around to see what her Daddy was doing.

"You've been a naughty girl, haven't you Debbie?" he asked her in almost a whisper, bending his face near her ear. His hand now lay still on her bottom.

"Yes Daddy. I'm sorry Daddy." She wondered why his index and middle fingers had slipped down between the tops of her thighs.

"Well now, there's a way you can show me that you really are sorry."

"Daddy?" Debbie's voice rose in pitch as she felt his fingers touch the lips of her hairless little girl slit. "What are you doing Daddy?"

"Making sure that you really are sorry" Bernie's mouth had gone dry and his cock was rigid inside his underpants.

"Y-your not s-supposed to touch me there" said the little girl, squirming as she tried to move her crotch away from her father's fingers, which had started to stroke her little mound. He merely held her more firmly with his other hand.

"Oh" he replied. "Would you rather I smacked you some more? I could, you know, and even harder."

"N-no, please don't smack me any more Daddy. But...."

"But what, Debbie?"

"But.... But that's bad touching, Daddy." This was not said with a whole lot of conviction. She was feeling very strange. It was her turn to feel stranger than she'd ever felt before. It was a sort of tickly warmth, and it began to feel quite pleasant when her father ran the tip of his finger up and down the lips of her little fanny. She squirmed and wriggled a bit on his lap, noticing for the first time that something hard inside the front of his pants was pressing against her hip.

"Well now, if it's bad touching then maybe I'd better stop and give you some more smacks."

"No Daddy, please don't smack me again. It-it's alright. You can touch me there if you want to." Without realising it she had parted her legs a little. The way that her father's fingers ran up and down her fanny lips was making her feel all warm and tingly all through her body. What made her feel even more tingly inside was that she subconsciously knew that the hardness pressing against her hip was her father's maleness.

Mr Simpson's maleness was more than tingling. It was hot and throbbing, and he could now feel the cool wetness of precum against the skin of his abdomen. And he could feel something that was a little bit damp; his small daughter's little fanny.

Very carefully he slid the tip of one finger between the lips and slowly ran it up and down the length of her little slit. She squirmed and wriggled on his lap, deliciously pressing her warm weight against the hardness inside his pants, and let out a soft but deep sigh.

"Does Daddy's little girl like that?" he asked in a whisper.

"Y-yes Daddy" she replied in what was almost a gasp.

"Is it still bad touching?"

"No Daddy. I don't know Daddy. Oh!"

The last exclamation was drawn from her when her father's finger pressed gently on her tiny nub. It was so unexpectedly sensitive and she was both surprised and pleasured by this totally new sensation. Without thinking about it she parted her legs a bit more.

With a bit more room to work in, Debbie's father was able to easily press his finger a little bit deeper between her soft labia, and he moved it up and down between them. Up and down. Up and down, and with each stroke he pressed it against her little clit. As the moments passed she became more and more excited by the overwhelming new feeling that went all through her young body, gasping and moaning softly and wriggling and squirming on her Daddy's lap.

The more she wriggled and squirmed and moaned and gasped the more excited that her father became. Some of us can withstand a lot of excitement of that kind, and others can't, especially when it's something as new and illicit as feeling up your own eight year old daughter. All it takes is a trigger to send the latter over the top, and thus it was with Mr Simpson.

The trigger in this case was when Debbie suddenly went rigid and a couple of spasms shook her slim frame. With a shock that her father realised she'd had an orgasm, and the shock went down his body and straight into his rigid and throbbing cock. He gasped and grunted and jerked and writhed, discharging his excitement into the inside of his underpants in a hot and thick stream. It was beyond doubt the best and most powerful climax he'd ever had.

"There, let that be a lesson to you" he said, a little breathlessly a couple of minutes later as he put his still flushed daughter off his lap. "Put your clothes back on and go.... Go and play in your room."

"Yes Daddy" said a shaken and stirred Debbie in a faint voice as she pulled her shorts and panties up.

Much to the delight of Mrs Simpson, Mr Simpson found her expensive diamond ring right where she'd left it on the dressing table in their bedroom when he went in there to change his underpants. Still, the time that he'd spent under the kitchen sink, and the minor injuries to his head, fingers and toes turned out to be a good investment. After all, hadn't he got to feel up his eight year old daughter and have the best cum of his life?

Debbie, being the good little girl that she was, went to her bedroom just as she'd been told. Feeling more than a little shaken by her experience she lay down on her bed, but her bottom was a bit too sore for that so she turned over onto her tummy and lay there with her head turned to one side. Of course this meant that her little twat was pressed against the bed and, even though her body was light and the bed not hard, and even though it was covered by two layers of clothing, after a while nature began to take its course.

Eventually Debbie noticed the warm and snug feeling down there between her legs, right where her Daddy had been feeling her. It was nice, so she wriggled her slim little hips a bit in an instinctive reaction. That made it feel even nicer, so she wriggled some more and, because that made her feel even nicer, she wriggled a lot more and felt very much nicer.

Debbie was also a smart little girl, so it didn't take her long to realise that the source of her growing pleasure was her fanny, and that she could just as easily do to herself what her father had done. Tentatively she slid her small hand under herself, down inside the front of her pink shorts, down inside her thin cotton panties and closed it over her warm crotch. Oh, it felt sooo good!

"Thank you Daddy" she whispered as her little finger found her tiny nub....