The words that Kayti lived for were “good girl”. As a young girl, they had let her know that her father loved her and that she was special, but after he moved away it became harder and harder to hear those words.
She had ended up dating the first man she heard say those words to her as an adult, even though he had said it mockingly to her at a club, when her tits had accidentally bounced free of her low-cut dress and been exposed to anybody. She had blushed, but spent the rest of the night fawning over the man until he finally condescended to take her home and fuck her.
Since then she had done whatever it took to hear those words again: “good girl”. He only said them to when she acted like a fucktoy or embarrassed or degraded herself, so she did those things more and more often. He would tell her she was a good girl when she exposed herself in public, when she acted like a stupid bimbo, when she made out with her female friends, when she reacted to having her tits squeezed painfully or her cunt spanked with a delighted happy squeal, and when she waited on him like a slave.
And he would say it with the *most* affection when she took a load of his cum on her face, and particularly so if she did it in public and particularly so if he photographed her with the cum dripping from her lips. She came to treasure that duty most of all, and if anyone had asked she would have said having her face used as a cumrag was the most rewarding thing that had ever happened to her in her life…
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