they make you work for it, make you beg. they sit back in their chair, feeling you squirm in their lap, fingers just barely grazing your thighs. "c'mon, sweetheart," they whisper, low and lazily. "tell me how bad you want it. lemme hear how pretty you beg."
being held in place by a possessive grip on your hip while sat in your daddy's lap, their other hand holding you by the jaw and forcing you to maintain eye contact. completely trapped, their presence and warmth overwhelming you.
"oh, not so playful now. hm, pretty thing?"