Little Daphne by Angela Sargenti – Part One

Chapter One

Speed dating.

So far, all I’ve met are misfits and hard-luck cases, but the next guy who sits down at my table looks promising. He’s about thirty-five or so and is dressed in charcoal gray slacks and a light blue, button-down Oxford-cloth shirt with diagonal stripes. He’s clean-shaven and he has a happy sort of face. I sit up straight in my chair and smile at him.

“Hello, there,” I say, shaking his hand. It’s soft, and I can tell he’s never done a hard day’s work in his life. “My name’s Daphne.”

“I’m Liam. It’s great meeting you, but let me get straight to the point. I need a Little. Do you know what that is?”

I run that through my memory bank and see if I do know what it means.

“I think so,” I tell him. “Is that that whole age-play thing?”

His smile grows wider. I guess he figures if I know what it means, then there’s a chance I might be into it.

“Yes. Interested?”

“I’d have to hear more about it,” I tell him.

“All right. Why don’t we do this? Why don’t I take you to dinner and we can talk about it?”

“Okay. I’ll follow you over.”

“Excellent.”

We leave the speed-dating place and he walks me to my car, a firm, guiding hand at the small of my back. He helps me inside, which definitely gets him points for politeness, and then he says he’ll just pull around. A couple minutes later, he pulls up in a black Mercedes, one of the more expensive models. The car is immaculate, which leads me to believe he’s just gotten it washed, so points for cleanliness, too. I back my ancient Honda out of the space and he leads me to an expensive-looking restaurant in West Hollywood. I go park my car myself, while he has his car valeted, and when I walk up to the front of the restaurant, he’s waiting there for me.

“I meant to tell you to let them park your car,” he says.

“That’s okay. I never use the valet.”

He holds the door open for me, and the hostess, who’s writing something down, knows him.

“Oh, hello there, Mr. Fairfax. Give me one second and I’ll show you to your usual table.”

“No problem.”

She finishes jotting something down in her book and then she turns to him. “Ready?”

He nods and we follow her, his hand on my back again. The girl shows us to a booth next to a window near the back. Once we’re seated, I glance around the restaurant. There are white tablecloths and fresh flowers at every table. Not just a flower in a vase, but a full-on flower arrangement at each table.

“I’m glad I wore my good jeans today,” I tell him. “This is kind of a nice restaurant.”

Liam glances at me and says, “You’re not a vegan or anything like that, are you?”

“No.”

“No food allergies?”

“Huh-uh. I can eat pretty much anything. I can’t stand hot dogs or bologna, though.”

“Good,” he laughs. “Neither can I.”

“Our first common ground.”

He cracks open his menu and says, “Order anything you like.”

“Even a whole lobster?” I ask, just to be facetious. Honest to God, they’re so expensive, the price isn’t even on the menu.

“Yes,” he says. “Of course.”

“Just testing you. I wouldn’t dare. It would be too messy.”

“That’s something to work on.”

“Yeah. I love lobster.”

“Then may I suggest the linguine with lobster and black truffles?”

“That sounds good,” I nod. “I’ll try that.”

“How about a nice glass of Chardonnay to go with that?”

“All right.”

A minute or two later, the server comes and sets a basket of bread down on the table between us. Liam smiles up at him.

“Hey, Ben. How are the acting lessons coming along?”

“Great, Mr. Fairfax. Would you like to hear the specials?”

Liam shakes his head and places our orders. He waits until the guy leaves us, and then he looks at me, his brow furrowed.

“If you’re interested in the position, which it sounds like you are, there’ll be a contract and a few other forms to sign.”

“Contract?” I say, helping myself to a piece of sourdough bread and some butter. “What kind of contract?”

“Nothing out of the way,” he tells me. “Just something to spell out the terms of our agreement. If you’d like, I’ll give you a copy and you can take it to your lawyer.”

I giggle. “Funny. I’ll take a look at it. What about the forms? What are they?”

“A simple non-disclosure agreement, and an agreement that you won’t be a Little again for one year after leaving me.”

“Why’s that?” I ask.

“To keep you from trading up right away. You’ll likely meet some rich and powerful men while you’re with me, and I don’t want any of them stealing you away.”

“Do I have to be a Little all the time? Even when we go out?”

“No. This is more of a private transaction.”

“And just how little am I supposed to be? I don’t have to wear diapers and sleep in a crib, do I?”

“No. Let’s just say you’re around ten.”

I stare at him a moment, and he starts looking nervous. He glances away and starts playing with his fork, so to let him off the hook I say, “All right. I guess I can handle that.”

He smiles at me again and we chat for a while before the server returns with our food. Everything smells delicious, even Liam’s dish, even though I’m no big fan of fish. The dishes are artfully arranged and mine has a couple of shaved truffles on it with a trio of nasturtiums on top.

“I can never remember,” I tell him. “Are these edible?”

“They have to be. They’re on top of your food.”

“Oh. Yeah. Makes sense.”

Liam waits for me to begin, and when I do, he picks up his knife and fork. The flatware is heavy and well-polished, and the fork feels good in my hand. He’s not really watching me, other than the occasional glance in my direction, but I can tell he’s registering the way I eat, so I try to use my best table manners at all times. Even so, I make a couple of mistakes, first by cutting up my linguine instead of twirling it on my fork, and then by holding my wineglass by the bowl.

“I can see we’ll have to get you some etiquette lessons,” he tells me.

“Yes, um…”

“Daddy?” he says hopefully.

“Yes. Daddy. I don’t have to have a different name now, do I?”

“No. Little Daphne has a nice ring to it.”

“What’s going to happen?”

He pitches his voice low and says, “Well, hopefully you’ll move in with me, and role-play being a little girl. When we’re having our alone time, I’ll dress you up like a child and discipline you if you’re naughty.”

“Discipline me?” I ask. “How?”

“You’ll come over my knee for a good, sound spanking.”

He’s not smiling anymore, so I know he’s serious, and the way he says it, I have a feeling he’s more interested in the spankings than he is in me being a little girl. Whatever. He’s a rich guy, let him enjoy his fantasies and fetishes. Anyway, I’ve watched my share of spanking videos, so I don’t mind indulging in a little OTK from time to time.

“What are you going to do besides that?”

“I’m going to love you and protect you.”

I take a bite of my linguine and chew it. The lobster’s cooked perfectly and is buttery soft in my mouth.

He says, “Where do you live, Daphne?”

“Sherman Way and Galt.”

“I’m not that familiar with the Valley, but I think I know where that is.”

“Yeah. It’s kind of a not-great neighborhood,” I tell him.

And he says, “How’s your lease? Do I need to buy you out of it and put your furniture in storage?”

“You mean I’m supposed to live there full-time?”

“Little girls need their daddies.”

“Right.”

We continue to eat for a while and then he says, “Would you like to come back to my place after dinner and see the house?”

“Sure.”

After dinner, he drives me up Mulholland and stops in front of a sensational house built into the side of the mountain. It’s like a movie star’s house, and when we get inside, there are huge windows overlooking the entire Valley, which is all lit up and gorgeous. Off to the right is a pair of French doors leading to a deck with a swimming pool. It’s one of those infinity pools, with a hot tub and nice teak lounge chairs to sit out and sun yourself in.

“Oh, wow,” I say. “I can’t wait to try all this out.”

“Whenever the urge strikes you,” he tells me.

He leads me on a tour of the house. It’s opulent and ultra-modern, until we come to what will be my room. It’s set up like a ten-year-old’s bedroom, but a ten-year-old from maybe the late seventies. The furniture is white with fake gilding, and there’s a canopy bed with pink ruffles overhead, and a bedspread to match.

“So, I have to live in this all the time?” I ask.

He glances at me and says, “Yes. It helps with your mindset.”

I scan the room again and notice the fashion dolls and the three-story house of their dreams. There are other toys, too, and a bookshelf full of children’s books. I pluck one off the shelf and it’s The Wizard of Oz, a book I loved when I was a kid. I open it up and skim through some of the pages.

“See?” he says with a grin. “You’re getting the hang of it already.”

“But what will I do?” I ask. “What will I do when you’re gone to work? Do I keep my job?”

“No. This is your new job. Now, tell me, what’s the one thing you wish you had time for?”

“I wish I had time to finish my degree, but they’re mid-semester right now.”

“What else?”

“I wish I had time to learn how to paint. I mean, I know how to do airbrush to a certain degree, being a cake decorator, but I’d like to learn to paint with a paintbrush.”

“There are classes, surely?”

“Yes, um, Daddy. I just have to look them up.”

“Stop stumbling over it,” he tells me, and makes me say ‘daddy’ a bunch of times in a row. “Now what were we talking about?”

“Painting classes,” I tell him. “Looking them up.”

“Yes. That’ll be your first assignment, then, looking them up.”

After that, we sit down at his thick glass dining table and discuss the particulars of the job. I see from the contract that his full name is Liam Isaac Fairfax. As we go over it, he writes in that he’ll allow me to put in my notice and keep working at the bakery until the two weeks are up, and in the meantime, I can pack up my apartment and get ready for the move, all of which he’ll pay for. The salary’s about five times what I make decorating cakes, and I won’t have to stand on my feet all day. I’ll get to live in this awesome house with a handsome guy who’s only about fifteen years older than I am, and all this just to dress up like a little girl and act purposely naughty (I’m assuming.)

“So, no sex, then?”

He actually has the good grace to blush when I say that, and he says, “That’s entirely up to you.”

“I don’t know,” I tell him. “Can we see how it goes?”

“Of course.” He writes that into the contract, too, that sex is at my discretion. “Mostly, I need a Little who can handle a strict disciplinarian.”

I find the thought of being disciplined by him very erotic. Actually, I feel like doing something naughty right away, to sort of test the waters.

As if reading my mind, he says, “Would you like a little sample, before you sign the contract?”

“Okay.”

He goes and sits on the couch, rubbing his hands on his knees. I stand there, unsure of how to get started, but he takes care of that for me.

“Come on. These delays will only add to your punishment.”

I get up and go over to him. He tells me to pull down my pants, but I feel awkward doing it. He reaches out and unzips my jeans, and then he yanks them down to my knees. My panties soon follow, and he guides me down over his lap.

“Since you’re new at this, I won’t spank you very hard, but I am going to be thorough.”

“Thank you, I guess?”

“Let’s begin.”

He’s true to his word. The first few smacks aren’t painful at all, but as time goes on and he smacks the same places again, they start to sting a little bit. I’m not sure if he’s turning up the heat or not, but when he gets to my thighs for the third time, it makes me want to stick my hand back and protect myself. Daddy’s spanking firm and fast, and his smacks keep landing everywhere. I lock my feet together to try to bear it, but he is relentless, and I know I’m going home with a hot, red bottom after this.

He spanks me for quite a long time, and when he’s finally finished, he lets me up. I stand up in a daze and pull my jeans back up. I almost want to cry, he did such a thorough job, but I hold back my tears.

“Daphne?” he says.

“Yes, Daddy?”

“Come here and sit on my lap.”

When I do, he takes me into his arms and cuddles me, kissing the top of my head repeatedly.

“Your hair smells nice.”

“Thanks. It’s the conditioner.”

“Do you want to talk about what just happened?”

I shrug, but the truth is, I do. “How does this hurt when you weren’t even going that hard?”

“Repeated blows to the same area.”

“Are you going to spank me much harder than this?” I ask.

“Yes. Sometimes. It’s in the contract.”

“I mean, it’s okay, but how much harder?”

“I’ll use the belt, or a paddle. It really depends on what your crime is. Ever gotten it with a belt?”

“No. My dad ran off when I was three, and my mom never spanked me but once or twice with her hand.”

He pulls me in closer and kisses my cheek and says, his voice all sweet, “You have a new daddy now.”

The way he says it just makes me melt. I turn my head and our lips meet. So much for no sex. He kisses me slowly at first, and then with more passion.

“Are you sure about this?” he asks.

“Yes.”

“I’m still going to spank you, if need be.”

“I know.”

He reaches out timidly and grabs my breast. I drop my head back and moan, mostly to encourage him, and he squeezes the other, holding me upright with his free hand.

He says, “When I saw you across the room today at speed dating, you looked like the kind of girl I thought I’d like. I was afraid you were going to choose the nerdy guy in the Hawaiian shirt, though.”

“He told me a funny joke, but I can’t remember it now.”

The corners of his mouth curl up in a warm smile, the warmest since we met. “What would you like to do right now?” he asks.

“You forgot to show me your bedroom.”

He lets go so I can stand up, and then he says, “It’s this way.”

“I hope you know I never sleep with a guy on the first date. But I figure, these are special circumstances, so…”

He nods. “Don’t worry. I have condoms upstairs.”

As usual, he’s brisk and business-like, something I’ll have to break him of. He shows me to his room and kisses me once we’re inside. He cups my breast, and then he starts unbuttoning my blouse.

“Yes,” I whisper into his ear, and I start undoing his shirt to reciprocate. I pull it loose from his waistband, and then I slide it off his shoulders and down off his arms. He does my top, and then, with one hand, he unhooks my bra.

Maybe he’s not quite as businesslike all the time as I thought. When I go for his pants, he stops me.

“Maybe I’d better handle this,” he tells me. “I am the daddy, you know.”

“I’m just nervous,” I say. “I tend to rush things when I’m nervous.”

“There’s nothing to be nervous about with me.”

“I know.”

I stop trying to undress him and let him finish taking off my clothes instead. Once he has me naked, he has me pick up our shed clothing and fold it neatly, and then go put it on a nearby chair.

“Daddy likes it when his little girl is neat and tidy.”

“Yes, Daddy.”

He takes his pants off and throws them over the back of the chair, and then he calls me to him and turns me to look at my bottom.

“Not too bad,” he says.

“No, Daddy.”

“You be a good girl and come to bed now.”

He leads me to the bed and together, we whisk back the covers and lie down. He immediately pulls me into his arms for another kiss, this one more devastating than the first. He really is a good kisser, and I wonder where he learned it, how many Littles he’s had before me. He certainly is cute enough, with his light brown hair and those blue eyes of his. They’re a real blue, too, not a washed-out blue. And his body. He’s in excellent shape. He must hit the gym every day.

His bed is very comfortable, and has what are probably about a million thread-count sheets on it. It’s a low platform bed, with Chinese woodwork on the wall behind it, and more on the ceiling. Three Chinese lamps hang suspended over the bed, and there’s a round Oriental rug at the foot of it. The coffered ceiling is also lit, and that’s the only light we’re using. It’s all very low-key, which is surprising for such a button-down kind of guy. I scoot in closer and he kisses me again, and then he grabs my breast again, not timidly this time, now a little aggressively. He gives it a firm squeeze, and when he gets to my nipple, he rakes his thumb over it, sending a jolt down to my pussy.

“You like that?” he whispers.

“Yes.”

He ducks his head and starts sucking on my breast instead of just squeezing it, and it feels so good, so right. When he’s done with that one, he lays me out flat on my back and works on the other one.

“Oh, Daddy,” I say, willing the word to come naturally.

“Yes, baby?”

“You’re really awesome at this.”

“Just wait.”

He kisses each breast and then he kisses a trail down my belly to my cunt. I open up to him when he gets down there, and hook my legs over his shoulders. I catch my breath when he touches his tongue to me, and pet his thick, brown hair as he gently parts my labia to expose my clit. He wastes no time getting started, licking me from one end of my pussy to the other. I moan as he slides his hands under my bottom and tilts my pelvis to dart his tongue in and out of me and all around my clit. My eyes tear up, it feels so good, and I don’t realize what kind of tension I’ve been carrying until I come with a sob of joy. He doesn’t let up on me quite yet, though. He keeps going until I have a second glorious orgasm, and really burst into tears.

He’s beside me again in a flash, holding me and asking me what’s wrong.

“I haven’t come in ages,” I tell him. “It’s been months since my last date.”

“Hence the speed dating?”

“Yes, but don’t get the wrong idea. I wasn’t trying to bone the Hawaiian-shirt guy. I just…wanted to find a boyfriend.”

“Why such difficulty?”

“Well, for one thing, I’m not rich or glamorous, so it’s kind of hard to find one in this town. I mean, who wants a cake decorator from Van Nuys?”

“I do. Now dry your eyes and stop putting yourself down. Do you know how to put a condom on a man?”

“No.”

“Well, let this be your first lesson, then.”

He hands me the packet and a tissue off the bedside table. I wipe away my tears and blow my nose, and then I tear the packet open. I put it on the end of his cock, and try to unroll it, but I have it on upside down. I apologize and turn it over, and then I roll it down the length of his shaft until it’s on. He puts me on my hands and knees and enters me from behind. I hear him moan when he slides himself all the way in, and it cheers me up immeasurably.

Daddy grabs my hips and pistons in and out of me. He’s the oldest guy I’ve ever been to bed with, but I guess I’d better get used to it, if I’m going to be his Little. I wonder if being paid to act like a little girl makes me a prostitute, but then I decide I don’t care. Besides, since having sex is up to me and not mandatory, I guess I’m in the clear.

He smacks my butt and tells me to pay attention, and I clear my head and get back into the game. He gives me another swat just for the hell of it, and it seems to turn him on, because he picks up speed and fucks me harder, so hard it makes me grunt and groan. This, too, seems to get him going, because he swats me once more and when I moan, he comes, probably just as hard as I do, judging by the way he cries out and hangs onto me.

Leaning down, he kisses my shoulders and the back of my neck. I feel him carefully withdraw, and then he gets up and disposes of the used condom.

When he comes back, he says, “I have my latest test results, if you want to see them.”

“I have mine somewhere at my place,” I tell him, “but I’m clean. I haven’t been with anyone in a really long time. I mean real long.”

“How long’s real long?”

“Going on two years?”

“Yes. That is a really long time. If you find them, let me know, and we’ll file them away with the contract.”

“How romantic.”

“I’m sorry,” he tells me, looking a little bit ashamed. “Next time we’ll cuddle, when I don’t have to fool around with a condom.”

“Okay.”

I go to the chair and get my clothes to start getting dressed. He joins me and pulls on his boxer-briefs and puts on his slacks.

He says, “You don’t hate your room, do you?”

“It’s just so pink,” I tell him.

“I can have it painted and the carpet changed out, if you like.”

“Can’t we put in wood flooring?”

“It’ll be hard to kneel on when you play,” he tells me.

“Oh. Good point. We’d better leave it, then.”

“I have a question,” he says. “Would you mind terribly if I asked you to wear a school uniform sometimes?”

“With the plaid skirt and all? No problem. Why, are you going to veer off and play Headmaster once in a while?”

“No. We’ll just do bad report cards, or pretend that your teacher called.”

“Cool,” I tell him. “I imagine Daddy’s strict about bad grades.”

“Things will get progressively more uncomfortable if you come home with a bad report. Then, of course, there are lines to write and corner time.”

“Is it crazy that I’m kind of looking forward to it?” I ask.

“So am I. I enjoy disciplining naughty little girls.”

“No kidding.” I say. “What happens when I’m good?”

“You get spoiled.”

“Like how?”

He says, “Treats, and jewelry, and new clothes and all kinds of things.”

“Grown-up things?”

“Yes.”

“Then I’ll be very, very good,” I tell him.

He laughs. “Not too good, I hope.”

“No. Not too good.”

“Let’s hope these two weeks pass quickly, so you can get all moved in here,” he says.

“Speaking of which, I hate to say this, because I’m having a nice time getting to know you, but I have to go home and get ready for work tomorrow.”

“Will you text me when you get off work? I’d like to see you tomorrow evening, if that’s okay.”

“Oh, sure. I get off about one, and I usually take a quick nap, so how about two, three o’clock?”

“That sounds fine,” he tells me.

I crouch down to tie my shoes and say, “What time do you get home?”

“I generally get here about six or seven.”

“That’s not too bad. Gives us a couple hours together anyway, if I stay up late.”

“Good. Let me take you back to your car now.”


Chapter Two

The next day, I text Liam, as promised.

I write, “I’m up from my nap, Daddy.”

It takes him a while to text me back, and when he does, he apologizes and says he was in a meeting. He asks me what I want to do, but I don’t know what to say, because in truth, I only want to go back to his house and have him make love to me again. I don’t want to come right out and say so, though, so I don’t say anything.

“RU there?” he writes.

“Yes. Just thinking,” I reply.

“How about dinner again? I know this gr8 little Italian place a couple miles from my house.”

“Sounds gr8.”

“Pick U up @ 6. What’s UR address?”

He shows up promptly at six, and he’s still dressed in his business suit. He looks even more handsome than he did yesterday, and he’s wearing a tie that brings out the blue in his eyes. I’m dressed up in a short, flirty skirt and a brand-new top I splurged on and bought myself last weekend. I put my hair in braids, and I’m wearing a pair of flats so I don’t look too tall. Lucky for me, he’s about six feet two, so I’d probably look small no matter what kind of shoes I was wearing.

When he gets here, he takes me by the hands and looks me up and down.

“Hello, gorgeous,” he tells me.

“Hello. How was your day?”

“Not bad. And yours?”

“Not too bad, considering. They weren’t too happy that I’m going to leave, but my boss said he appreciates me giving them notice.”

“Are you going to miss it there?”

“Sort of. I won’t miss having to get up at three in the morning, though.”

“Three? That’s what time you go to work? That sounds kind of dangerous.”

“Yeah. I keep my keys between my fingers so if anybody messes with me, I’ll gouge their eyes out.”

He gives a nervous laugh and says, “Now I’m going to worry about you every day until you move in with me. I want you to text me every morning when you get to work, okay?”

“Yes, Daddy.”

He smiles down at me and says. “You know something? I like your hair in braids.”

“I did it just for you.”

When I say this, he looks truly pleased and pulls me into an embrace, patting my bottom as he does. He says, “You’re a good girl, Daphne.”

At the restaurant, they card me when he orders me a glass of wine, and the server, a female who’s not much older than me, looks at Liam speculatively. I guess she decides he’s too young to be my father, so he must be my date, and she shoots me a glance like I’m a dirty slut for going out with someone his age. She snaps right back into her waitress-working-for-tips mode, though, and we don’t have any more problems.

“It’s the braids,” he says. “They make you look much younger than you are.”

“Maybe I shouldn’t wear them when we’re going out.”

“What, because of one waitress? Forget her. Now, you were telling me about your mom?”

“Oh, yeah. She used to wait tables, too, but then she got a job with the phone company.”

“Does she like it?”

I say, “Yeah, but they work odd hours. I guess that’s why I don’t mind doing it myself. I’m used to it.”

“It’s going to take you a while to get used to sleeping in,” he tells me.

“I know. Hey, do you have any workout equipment at your place?”

“Yes. I’ve got a couple pieces, a treadmill and a Bowflex. I must’ve forgotten to show you that room. And I forgot to tell you, the cleaning lady comes every Tuesday and Thursday.”

“I don’t even have to clean? That’s awesome.”

He laughs. “I thought you might like that.”

The server is back. She sets my Chicken Risotto in front of me, and serves Daddy his Osso Bucco.

Everything smells and tastes delicious. I try to eat with better etiquette than last time, and he doesn’t say anything, so I guess I do all right.

“When will I take etiquette lessons?” I ask.

“Let’s get you moved in before we worry about all that.”

“All right.”

“I was thinking,” he tells me, “that maybe you’d like to come stay at my place. That way you can park your car in the garage and be safe at three in the morning. It terrifies me to have you leaving from your place.”

Touched, I smile at him. “Oh. Sure. I guess that would be all right. We’ll have to stop by my apartment and get some clothes and my uniform and stuff, though.”

“Fine. Fine.”

After dinner, we go to my place. I’ve been packing my stuff, so the living room resembles a warehouse. I invite him to come sit on my bed while I gather the stuff I need. I do so quickly (it helps when you’re organized) and I bring enough stuff for a couple of days, just in case. Daddy carries my bag out to his car, and then I get in mine and follow him home.

He’s got a nice, big, well-lit garage. The light comes on automatically when the door opens. Daddy has me park on the far right, and then he leads me through the side entrance to the house.

He carries my bag up to the second floor, even though it’s not all that heavy. We enter the pink room, and he puts my bag on the bed for me. “Go ahead and unpack your things,” he tells me. “Let me know if you need anything. I’ll be downstairs watching TV.”

It doesn’t take me long to unpack, and I join him downstairs. He turns off the TV and turns to me.

“You wanted to see the exercise room?”

“Yes, Daddy.”

“Come on. It’s right this way.”

We go down another set of stairs to a lower floor. This is where the laundry room is, and all that kind of stuff. He points towards a door on the left and we go inside.

“Cool,” I say, looking at his set-up. He’s got clean towels rolled up in a massive basket, and a small refrigerator nearby, with cold waters and sports drinks inside. The equipment looks brand new, and the room doesn’t smell like sweat at all.

“I should get changed and work out now,” he tells me. “Would you like to join me?”

“Okay,” I say, feeling a little shy, which is dumb, because he’s already seen me naked. “You can show me how to use this Bowflex.”

“Deal.”

Once we’re changed, we meet back downstairs. Daddy’s already doing a few reps on the Bowflex, but he stops when I come in. I go over to him and he shows he how to use it, and then he gets on the treadmill and does a run. Meanwhile, I start in on the Bowflex. I have to change the weights, of course, but I do several different types of exercises. When we’re done, we wipe away our sweat and throw the used towels into a second basket set there for this purpose. He gets us both a water, and we hang around and finish them.

“I like that machine,” I tell him. “Maybe when I get home tomorrow I’ll do the treadmill, too. Oh, wait. We didn’t talk about that yet. Am I to come straight here, or wait until you get off work?”

“You can come straight here. Let me get you a key and show you how to disarm the alarm system.”

“I’ll stop and get some more of my stuff, if that’s cool.”

“Yes, of course. You are going to be living here.”

He starts away, but I stop him and reach up to kiss him.

“You’re like my fairy godfather,” I tell him.

“You won’t always think so,” he says, but he’s got a smile on his face, so I’m not too sure I believe him.

“By the way, if you go downstairs and take a right instead of a left, you can get to the pool that way, too.”

“Awesome.”

“We’d better go take our showers now. Don’t you have to get to bed pretty soon?”

“Oh. Yeah.”

“Why don’t you sleep in your bed tonight, and see if you like the mattress.”

“Okay.”

Since it turns out to be a nice pillow-top mattress, way better than my bed at the apartment, I have no complaints, other than being lonely. That’s of a short duration, though, since I fall asleep within minutes.

The next morning, I tiptoe around, getting ready. When I go out to the kitchen to grab something to eat, I find a note and a spare garage clicker. The note just says sorry he forgot, and to have a nice day, and I kiss the sheet of paper it’s written on before folding it up and putting it in my purse.

The day passes quickly, since I’m busy the whole time, and I go pack another couple of boxes and get some more of my stuff. I’m home way in time to be able to hang out by the pool for a while, and after that, I go back inside and work out. By the time I’m done with all that, I’m kind of tired, and Daddy won’t be home for a couple more hours, so I go take my daily nap.

Sometime later, I wake up. I’m just about to open my eyes when I hear my bedroom door open. I look around and Daddy has his head poked in and is smiling.

“I didn’t wake you, did I?”

“No. I was just about to get up. What time is it?”

“About six.”

“Oh, no,” I say. “I slept that long? Now I’ll never get to sleep tonight.”

“I could wear you out.”

I stop and stare at him in dismay. My heart’s already beating faster, and I’m thinking of a childhood friend who got it with the belt every few days growing up. Her mother used to come outside and say, “Your father’s going to wear you out when he gets home.”

“You mean a whipping?” I ask.

“I meant in the bedroom, but we can do the whipping if you want.”

“No, thanks,” I shudder. “That sounds like it hurts.”

“I can go softly and show you what it’s like.”

Since it’s sort of like my job to get spanked, I nod and say, “Well, okay. But can we do the sex first?”

“Don’t you worry about sex. Come with me. There’s no room in here to punish you.”

He leads the way to the bedroom and, once there, he has me strip from the waist down.

“What did I do wrong?” I ask, so I can get into the scene, too.

“You were caught smoking. Now bend over my bed and get ready for the whipping of your life.”

“Wait. I need a teddy bear.”

“If you’re wasting my time…”

“No, really, Daddy.”

He goes and fetches me a teddy bear to cuddle with and help me endure the whipping he’s about to give me. He hands it to me and I clutch it to my chest. I hear Daddy behind me, taking off his belt. The sound makes me shiver, first the buckle clinking, and then the sound of the belt whooshing through the loops. No one’s ever used a belt on me before, and I’m scared.

“What were you doing smoking?” he demands.

“I didn’t want to look like a dork in front of my friends.”

“So you’ll trash your body to look cool? That’s the stupidest thing I’ve ever heard.”

“Yes, Daddy.”

“Spread your legs. I’m going to do your thighs, too.”

I don’t see how that will be any different than my bottom, but whatever. I nod again. Without another word, he lays on the first stroke, and he is doing it lightly. A little too lightly.

“Can you go a little harder?” I ask.

The next stroke delivers a little more of a wallop, but it’s still not what I want.

“Harder, Daddy.”

This stroke snaps across my ass crisply and sharply. I suck in a breath, and then I nod to show that it’s the right amount of hard for me, a novice spankee. He hits me again, and then again, and then so many times I lose count.

Suddenly, he stops.

“I told you to spread your legs.”

“I’m trying.”

“Do it. Now. And keep them spread, or I’ll keep them spread for you.”

He gets back in the swing of things, pun intended, and lashes my bottom for a little while longer. I’m beginning to get sore, and I’m afraid I’ll have to go to bed with a blistered ass, but a short time later, he stops.

“How many cigarettes did you have?”

“Just one.”

“Then it’s five for each thigh.”

“Yes, Daddy.”

He starts, the first one stinging right away. I crush my poor teddy bear and lift my feet off the floor.

“Damn it, Daphne, I said to keep your legs spread.”

“I will. Just…ow.”

“You have nine more to go.”

“Maybe you’d better do what you’re going to do, because I don’t think I can keep my legs spread for all that.”

“Stay there.”

He flings the belt down next to me, and leaves the room. It’s smooth, black leather, but I’m afraid to touch it. I hear Daddy come back into the room, and when he does, he kneels at my feet and spreads them out. Then I feel him put something on my ankle. I peek down and see that it’s a leather cuff. He then moves onto the other and cuffs it, too.

“There,” he tells me. “That ought to keep you in position.”

He picks the belt back up and immediately goes to work, whipping my poor, tender thighs. I want to cry, they burn so bad. He does the five, and then he goes to the other side and does the rest. I don’t know if that’s the full ten or not, because it feels more like a hundred, but finally, he throws his belt down and comes and sits beside me on the bed. He starts rubbing my butt, rubbing some of the heat out, but what’s really on fire are my inner thighs. He leaves them alone, just to torture me, I guess.

“No more smoking, do you hear me?”

“Yes, Daddy.”

Finally, he rubs my thighs. It hurts, but it also excites me. From my thighs, his fingers creep up to play with my pussy. He checks my moisture level and says, “Uh-oh. Somebody likes being punished.”

“No. I don’t. really.”

He ignores me and starts finger fucking me. I’m basically helpless, cuffed to this bar, and I can’t help it, my body starts to respond. I want his whole dick, not just his fingers.

“Please, Daddy?”

“Please, Daddy, what?”

“I need to feel you inside me.”

“No, no. Not yet.”

I growl in frustration as he removes his fingers and brushes them over my clit softly, so softly I try to chase them. Daddy laughs and pats my butt. He grabs for some pillows and throws them down on the floor. I feel him behind me, arranging them. I try to look, but he tells me to keep my eyes forward.

“Daddy’s going to toss your salad,” he tells me.

“What’s that?”

“You’ll see.”

I feel him lean up and grab my poor thighs for leverage, and then he does something I’ve never felt before and tongues my bottom hole. I moan. It feels so good, so fucking good, and he does it again. He lets go of one of my thighs and I feel him stick his thumb inside me, leaving his fingers out to play with my clit as he licks me yet again, licks me from my cunt to my asshole. I offer no resistance. Instead, I start fucking his thumb as I lie there enjoying my tossed salad. Much more of this will drive me insane, I tell myself, but I don’t really care. I’ve never felt anything like this before. He rubs my ass cheeks and spreads them so he can really get down in there and—

“Oh, God, Daddy,” I cry out, my pussy clenching and spasming, my head just completely locked into this orgasm. I feel him draw away, and a second later, he’s standing beside me smiling.

“Now I’ve worn you out in both senses of the word. Here, let me take this spreader bar off.”

He kneels down and frees my ankles. I immediately squeeze my thighs together to see if I can produce another orgasm, but nothing happens, so I give up.

“May I put my pants back on?” I ask.

“Yes, of course.”

I slide my legs into my pants, and pull them gingerly over my bottom. All in all, it’s not as bad as I expected, except for doing my thighs. I rub on them to dissipate the heat, and Daddy looks at me regretfully.

He says, “Come on. Let’s order some Chinese. What do you like?”

“I like almost everything, but Kung Pao chicken’s my favorite.”

“Yes. Let me give them a call.”

We sit and talk while we’re waiting for the food to arrive, and I ask him what his family is like.

“I don’t know,” he tells me. “I haven’t spoken to any of them for a long time.”

“Why not?”

“They didn’t seem to like that I got rich. They just can’t relate. My father was all right, but he passed away nine years ago of heart failure.”

“Oh, my God. I’m so sorry.”

“Never mind,” he tells me. “He lived a happy life.”

“But what about you, Daddy? Are you living a happy life?”

Our glances meet, and for the first time, I see that there’s a hint of sadness in his eyes. “I do all right,” he tells me. “Better, now that you’re here. It’s nice to know you’ve got someone to come home to.”

“Yeah. I’ve never had that, either. My mom was always working, trying to keep a roof over our heads, so I used to come home and clean and make dinner.”

He smiles. “What can you make?”

“Simple things, like stuffed bell peppers and pork chops. You know. Easy stuff. Which reminds me. What can I bring with me? I mean, besides my clothes and whatnot.”

“What in particular are you asking about?”

“I have three or four cookbooks I’d like to bring, plus some paperbacks. I’ll keep them in the closet if you think it’ll wreck the illusion.”

“No. Don’t be silly. Why don’t we say this? You can use two-thirds of the closet for your personal things, and a third for your Little clothes. Which reminds me. We need to go shopping pretty soon.”

“I know. I have hardly anything that’ll pass for Little clothes. I do have some footie pajamas, though, but they’re really hot. I have a hard time sleeping in them.”

“They’re not necessary. We can just buy you a couple of nightgowns and some regular pajamas. I’ve even seen some with cartoon characters on them.”

Just as I’m about to reply, the doorbell rings. It’s the delivery man from the Chinese food place. I go with Daddy to the door, just to be nosy. The delivery man hands Daddy a bunch of bags and Daddy pays him and gives him a ten-dollar bill for a tip. Once he’s gone, Daddy carries the bags into the kitchen and opens them, one by one.

“Make yourself a plate, whatever you want. Be careful with that one, it’s Hot and Sour soup.”

We take our plates into the dining room and sit down in the same spots we used for the contract signing.

“That reminds me, Daddy. When do I officially start?”

“You already have, haven’t you?”

“Oh. I guess so. I didn’t know if tonight counted.”

“Don’t worry, you’ll get paid.”

“That’s not really what I meant, but okay.”

He applies himself to the task of eating, and after a while he says, “So, when’s your day off?”

“Tuesday and Wednesday. How come?”

“So we can go shopping without rushing you back here to get to bed on time. Do you know any place that might have the kind of clothes we’re looking for?”

“There’s a place on Melrose with vintage clothing. They might have what we need.”

He says, “Yes, let’s plan to go there. There are actually a couple places over that way I’d like to check out.”

“So, let’s go Monday night,” I tell him. “Once I’m done working, we won’t have these kind of time constraints.”

“Won’t that be nice?”

I take another bite of Kung Pao chicken, daydreaming about not having to get up so early. “It’ll totally be nice.”

We chat a little more, and once we’re done eating, I help him get the mess cleaned up and everything put away. “What’s the maid’s name, by the way?”

“Pauline.”

“Oh, good. She sounds like she speaks English.”

“Yes. She’s originally from Kansas.”

“How old is she?”

“About fifty-three, I think. She’s been with me several years, but I lost track of her birthdays. I just give her a card with a hundred-dollar bill in it around Tax Day. Which reminds me. When is your birthday?”

“September twenty-third.”

“Hand me my phone. I’d better put that on my calendar.”

“When’s yours?” I ask, getting up to get both our phones.

“November twelfth.” We both put each other’s birthdays into our phones, and then he says, “Isn’t it about time for you to get ready for bed?”

“Yes. I need to hop in the shower and all that.”

“Okay. I’ll be out here, watching some TV. Give a yell when you’re ready for bed and I’ll come and tuck you in.”

I call him in when I’m in bed, and he comes and gives me an Eskimo kiss.

“You get some sleep now,” he tells me, “and Daddy will see you tomorrow. Don’t forget to text me once you get to work.”

“Okay. Good night, Daddy.”

“Good night, baby.”

Contrary to my earlier prediction, I fall asleep more or less instantly. The rest of the week follows on about the same until Monday, the day Daddy’s going to take me shopping. He gets off work early and meets me at the house.

“I called the vintage clothes store and they said they’re open until nine,” I tell him.

“Good. Let me just change quickly and we’ll go.”

He changes into a pair of khakis and a blue chambray shirt, and then we head out. I give him the address and he punches it into his on-board navigation system. From his house, it doesn’t take too long to get there.

I go look at the dresses once we get inside, and Daddy looks at a rack of blouses. I find some cute ones, but nothing that’ll fit me, until I happen on one in my size and preferred style. I take it off the rack, and the salesgirl says she’ll put it in the second dressing room for me. Daddy finds a couple blouses he thinks I might like, a pin-striped one with an eyelet lace-trimmed Peter Pan collar, and a yellow one with a peplum and a drop collar in white. They’re both pretty and feminine, both something I can see myself wearing. I try them on and they all look nice on me, but he digs a little further and finds me an outfit consisting of a top and a pair of matching shorts, and a designer wrap dress for grown-up evening wear.

The salesgirl asks me if I need any accessories, and shows us a glass case full of vintage jewelry.

“You don’t have any jewelry, do you?” Daddy asks me.

“Nothing to speak of.”

“We’ll have to rectify that. What do you think of these earrings?”

“Those came from the estate of the actress Cheryl Miller,” the salesgirl tells us.

I glance at the earrings. They’re black steel, with pagodas engraved into the fronts and backs, and they hang from the earring wires in diamond shapes.

“Oh. Pretty,” I say, thinking how nice they’d look with the wrap dress.

She takes them out of the case and shows them to us. I hold them up to my ears and look at them in the little mirror on a stand.

“They look nice,” says Daddy. “How about I get them for you?”

“I won’t complain,” I tell him. “I can get some black espadrilles to go with them.”

Of course, I have to explain to him what espadrilles are, but when I do, he nods.

“That sounds about right. We’ll take them.”

We leave the store with several bags, and Daddy locks them in his trunk. When he gets back in the car, he turns to me and smiles.

“Where to next?”

“There’s another place a few miles up, if you want to go there.”

“Sure,” he says. “Why not?”

“Are you getting hungry, though? Maybe we should grab something quick.”

“Do you like gyros?”

“Yeah, as long as they leave the onions and tomatoes off.”

“I think we can arrange that.”

Daddy drives us to a nearby Greek food stand, and we order our food and sit down.

“Having fun?” he asks me.

“Yeah. I like vintage clothes. Of course, the really fabulous stuff is on the second floor.”

“Why didn’t you say so?”

“Because, I thought we were going shopping for Littles’ clothes.”

“Not just. If you see something you want, don’t be afraid to say something. What size do you wear, anyway?”

“About a six. Somewhere between a small and a medium. It depends on the cut, mostly.”

He nods, and a moment later, the guy in the food stand calls his name. I’m so used to calling him Daddy already that I almost miss it when they call him Liam. He goes and fetches our food, and then he sits down across from me and passes me mine.

When we’re done eating, we go to the second vintage clothes store. It’s a lot smaller than the first place, and I don’t find anything good. The dresses here run more towards the Jan Brady look. We give up after a few minutes and leave.

“Well, that was disappointing,” he tells me.

“I know, but there’s a second-hand store down there a little way. Do you want to check it out?”

“Sure. Why not?”

So, Daddy takes me down there and we find a couple of things that might not look too bad, plus, they have a few assorted school uniforms on a separate rack, amongst which, I find a couple of plaid skirts that fit me, and a top or two, along with a school sweater from a well-known local prep school. When we get home that night, I model one of the school uniforms.

He’s got a big grin on his face, and I can see the arousal in his eyes when I come out in a red plaid skirt, a white blouse, and the navy-colored sweater.

“You need shoes,” he says. “We should’ve bought you shoes. And some of those socks. You know, the kind with the lace on them.”

“I can order the socks, if you like, but what kind of shoes do they wear with these uniforms?”

“Black leather Mary Janes would be all right. They’re just for wearing around the house, after all.”

“I can stop and get some after work tomorrow. I’ll go to the mall. They’ll be bound to have something.”

“Let me give you some money.”

Since I’ve only got about fifteen bucks to my name, I let him give me money for the shoes and socks. He hands me two hundred-dollar bills, and tells me not to worry about the cost, to just get some nice ones.

The next day at work, I’m talking to my friend who runs the front counter, Danita. I tell her about the money and say, “Can you imagine running around with a couple of Benjamins in your pocket? Not for anything in particular, just for pocket money?”

“Girl, I don’t even have two hundred in the bank. Where’d you meet this guy?”

“Speed dating.”

“Maybe I’d better go give it a try.”

“Mostly you meet a lot of shitheads, but this time I really lucked out.” I get back to work and later, she asks me where to go. I tell her, but then I say, “I haven’t met any of his friends yet, but if I ever meet one who I think you’ll like, I’ll try to set you guys up.”

After work, I go get the shoes. I find some black espadrilles, like I wanted, and then I find some nice, comfortable Mary Janes. They’re a bit old-ladyish, but I know they’ll look cute with the socks, which I find on a lingerie website once I get home. I order them, and once I’m done with all that, I go back to my apartment to pack some more.

I don’t really have all that much stuff, but I do need to sort out what I’m going to bring to Daddy’s place and what I’m going to send to storage. I definitely decide to bring some my childhood favorites, including the best doll I’ve ever had, a few stuffed animals, and a couple of books I love. I also bring my Easy Bake oven, the thing that got me started decorating cakes in the first place.

Next, I sort through my clothes. I have a lot of trying on to do, and I decide to take some of them to the thrift store to donate. The rest, I pack up and take over to Daddy’s, along with the toys.

When Daddy gets home, I model my school uniforms with the new shoes and some thin nylon socks. He wants to play, of course, and he tells me I was very naughty today and must be spanked. I go over his lap and he spanks me a while, and then he lets me up.

“Nice,” he tells me. “I like the new uniforms, especially the one with the red skirt.”

“Yeah, that’s my favorite, too.”

“Let me call for a pizza or something.”

And I say, “Okay, but I have to get on a schedule and start eating right pretty soon.”

“Yeah, so do I. Do you want to work out after dinner?”

“Sounds good to me.”


Chapter Three

It’s official.

Daddy and I are officially living together. The movers came and packed up my house this morning, and yesterday was my last day at work. I get home by three in the afternoon, and I decide to go through the freezers and see what Daddy has on hand, which is a bunch of TV dinners and a package of rib-eye steaks. I take these out to defrost, but I know they won’t be ready for tonight, so I start making a grocery list, using my cookbooks as guides. He doesn’t have that much in the way of spices, so I’ll have to buy some, and he has zero onions and other fresh vegetables, so I add them, too. By the time he gets home, I have a meal plan with a coordinated shopping list ready to go.

“You don’t have to do all that,” he tells me. “Pauline will go to the store for you. In fact, you don’t even have to cook, unless you want to.”

“Yeah, I usually enjoy cooking,” I say. “It helps me unwind after a stressful day.”

“Well, I’m trying to make it so you don’t have any more stressful days.”

“I know, but I have to look for painting classes, so that might stress me out.”

“Oh, that reminds me,” he says, digging his wallet out and pulling out a piece of paper. “Here’s your first paycheck.”

When he hands it to me, I stare at it, not sure if it’s the correct amount.

“This is more than I made in a whole month, working at the bakery.”

“I don’t know how you managed to pay your rent.”

I shrug. “I just had to live on a tight budget. Plus, my place was pretty small, so it didn’t cost that much. Seven fifty for a studio apartment.”

“Well, I’m glad you’re living here now, where the only expense will be to that cute little bottom of yours.”

I go up to him and give him a big hug. “I could use a spanking right now,” I tell him.

He kisses me. “Yeah?”

“Oh, yeah. I was naughty all day long.”

“Then I guess I’ll have to punish you.”

“Yes, Daddy.”

“Go get something pretty on.”

I go to my bedroom and find a jumper and a blouse and put them on. They’re freshly laundered and they smell nice. I also change my panties to something more childlike. When I’m done. I come out to the living room and find Daddy sitting in one of the straight-backed chairs from the dining room. He has a hairbrush in his hand, and when he sees me, he beckons me forward.

“The hairbrush, Daddy?”

“Yes, Daphne, the hairbrush.”

“I wasn’t that naughty.”

“Let me be the judge of that,” he tells me.

“Yes, Daddy.”

“Now, get over my lap.”

I do as he says, hoping he won’t use the hairbrush on my thighs. I’ve decided I don’t like having my thighs spanked.

Daddy pulls me closer and arranges me where he wants me. He tells me to stick out my hand, and when I do, he puts the hairbrush in it.

“Hang onto that for me,” he says.

He starts my spanking over the skirt of my jumper. It’s muffled and doesn’t hurt in the least, but he soon tires of that and lifts it, laying it over my back. Next, he’s spanking me over my panties. This does sting a little, since they are made of thin, white cotton. He spanks me over them for longer than he did my dress, landing swats all over my bottom, especially down where the elastic for my legs is. Finally, he tells me to lift up, and I know my panties are coming down.

Daddy pulls my panties down to my knees and shifts me again so my bottom is raised. I know he’s going to attack the tender skin right where I sit, and I quickly find out how right I am. He starts spanking me there, not too hard, but hard enough to make me bite my lip, and fast enough to make me hold onto his ankle to keep from slipping off his lap. He spanks me like this for several minutes, and then he asks for the brush.

I hand it to him. I’ve never been spanked with a hairbrush before. This one is a nice, big oval one, made of wood. I wonder how badly it’ll hurt, and soon find out.

“Ow,” I say with the first swat, without really meaning to. The second swat wrenches another exclamation out of me, as does the third and fourth. The brush stings my bottom, and gets worse with each swat. Pretty soon I’m crying out with each blow, twisting around on his lap to try to evade the swats, or at least lessen their impact. Suddenly, he pops me really hard and tells me to be still.

“Oh, Daddy.”

He doesn’t say anything back, but resumes my spanking. I concentrate on lying still, but that means I also concentrate on each and every swat he gives me so I can lie still. I’m still crying out with every whack, and my cries are getting closer together and louder. A couple of quick slaps to my thighs brings tears to my eyes, but I’m trying to be a big girl and not cry. I am undone, though, when he slows up and takes his time to land hard, precise swats to my sit spot and my upper thighs. He goes on for a bit longer, just to see if I’m crying for real, I guess, and when he realizes I am, he stops and lets me up.

I climb to my feet and awkwardly pull my panties back up. They’ve slipped down to my ankles, and I have to crouch down to get them up. He’s sitting there with his arms crossed, watching me, and when we make eye contact, I brush away my tears.

They’re quickly replaced by more, and Daddy gets up and goes over to the couch. He sets the brush down on the coffee table and calls me over to come sit on his lap.

“Come here, baby. You just sit down on your old daddy’s lap and daddy will make it all better. Here, grab yourself a tissue first.”

I grab a couple, because I know it’s going to be hard to stop crying. My ass is simultaneously burning and throbbing, and I hate to sit down on it, but he pulls me down and sits me on his knee anyway. He presses the side of my head against his shoulder and I relax there and try to get a grip on myself. He makes soft, soothing noises and rubs my bare knee, and a couple minutes later, I finally stop crying.

“Do you want something to cool your poor little bottom off? I have aloe vera in the other room.”

“Okay.”

We both stand up, and he tells me to lie down on the couch with my panties down and he’ll be right back. When he is, he sits down on the edge of the couch and squirts the cold aloe vera on my butt. He rubs it in gingerly, and it is helping to take a lot of the sting out of my bottom. This is a new experience for me, because the very few times my mom ever spanked me, leaving my butt burning was part of the punishment. It’s nice to be taken care of afterwards, and I hope he does this every time he punishes me.

When he’s done, he helps me up and drags me into his embrace. His kiss is hot, demanding. I feel his cock pressing against my stomach, and I go weak at the knees.

Oh, what this man can do to me!

“Come to bed,” I tell him, taking him by the hand and leading him to his own bedroom. He helps me turn down the bed, and then he practically rips his clothes off and climbs in. I’m more careful with mine, but I, too, rush to get in bed.

I slide in, carefully avoiding any scraping of my ass. When I’m beside him, I roll over and face him. He draws closer and his lips meet mine again. He’s still filled with need, I can feel it in his kisses. I return them as I reach down and grasp his cock.

He breaks off the kiss and moans. “Oh, Daphne.” I push him down onto his back, and then I climb up and straddle him. I raise up and guide his cock into me, and then I look at him.

“I’m going to fuck you now,” I say.

His brows lift when I say that, and I begin moving my pelvis back and forth, up and down. He grabs my tits and tweaks my nipples, and a jolt of passion rushes through me. I throw my head back and ride him as he grabs my hips and gets in sync with me. My senses begin to overwhelm me. I cry out and call his name, his real name. He doesn’t seem to mind it, and he moans again in response.

“I’m going to come,” I cry. “I’m going to come.”

He doesn’t say anything, so I think he’s not ready yet. I try to hold it, but I can’t, I have to experience it and let myself drown in the glorious feeling. Liam’s still got my hips and he’s moving me, and a moment later, he comes too. He holds me still now, and I can feel him inside of me, spending. When he’s done, he lets go of my hips and lets me slide down off of him.

The sheets feel prickly against my bottom, even though I know they’re soft as a cloud. Daddy comes and grabs one of my ass cheeks, making me yelp and jerk away.

“Oh, God, I’m so sorry,” he tells me. “I forgot.”

He has me turn over and he examines my bottom. He tells me I’ll have some bruises for a couple days, but I just shrug.

“I’ll be all right.”

“I’m going to get you some of that arnica,” he tells me. “It’s supposed to make them go away faster.”

“Sounds good. How about we go put my check in the bank and have dinner, and then we’ll stop at the drugstore on the way back.”

“Okay.”

“I can’t believe it. I’ll finally have some money to use in my account. Maybe I’ll go shopping tomorrow. Do you like grown-up lingerie, too?”

“Sure.”

He doesn’t sound very enthusiastic, so I decide to stick to the little-girl look for now. “Come on,” I tell him. “I’m starving.”

We go out to eat at a Mexican restaurant nearby, and then I put my check in the bank. I’m totally stoked that my balance is now over two grand. When we get back in the car, I turn to look him in the eye.

“Daddy,” I say. “Thank you for the big check.”

“No problem. It’s what we agreed to, after all.”

“I know, but thanks. I’ll get my last check from the bakery and then I’ll be sitting pretty.”

“Poor Daphne. It must’ve been hard for you, living on what you made before.”

“Kind of. It’s like, you feel like you should be doing something with your life other than working all the time, but there’s never any money to do anything with.”

“What would you like to do, then?”

“Oh, my God, I don’t know. Ride in one of those bi-planes while the guy does barrel rolls and other tricks.”

“That sounds terrifying.”

“Yes, but fun, too. Like a roller coaster.”

“Well, if you’re really good, I’ll see if I can’t arrange it. What else?”

“I’d like to go to the Museum of Contemporary Art.”

“You couldn’t even afford that?” he asks, scandalized.

“It’s like fifteen bucks, plus parking, plus lunch, plus gas.”

“Never mind that. I’ll take you.”

“Really?’ I say, grabbing his hand and giving it a squeeze. “You’re the best daddy ever.”

His chest puffs up. “It means a lot to hear you say that.”

“No,” I tell him. “You really are special. At first, I thought you were just going to be some pervy older guy who likes to spank girls, but you’re not. You’re actually a daddy, and a good one at that.”

“Well, I do like to spank girls.”

“I know, but it’s different with you. I don’t know how to explain it.”

He smiles and starts the car.

“You don’t have to explain it. I’m just glad you’re satisfied with me.”

“I am,” I tell him. “I really am.”

“Good.”

He backs the car out of the space and then he drives us to the drug store. When we get inside, I ask him if I can go look at the makeup.

“I suppose so, but don’t wander off. I won’t be long.”

When he gets to the makeup section, I have a plastic basket with several items in it.

“What’s this?”

“False eyelashes.”

“I don’t know if I should allow you to have those.”

“Please, Daddy? I just want to see how they look.”

“Well, all right. Just in the house, though. I don’t want you running around town with them on. Not until I see you in them first.”

“Okay. Fair enough. Oh, wait. I need a magazine, so I can see how professional models do them.”

“That money’s just burning a hole through your pocket, isn’t it?” he asks.

“Kind of. Sorry.”

“It’s nothing to be sorry about, sweetheart. I don’t blame you a bit. Let’s stop for an ice cream on the way back,” he says.

“Can I pay?”

“If you like, but I really think you should try saving some of that money each week.”

“I will. After this first one.”

The next day, I go to the mall to buy something special to wear to the museum. There’s a big sale going on, and I hit the changing room with a bunch of stuff to try on. Most of it looks pretty cute on me, so I buy it. I put it in my car, and then I go back into the mall to do some more shopping. I buy a few more things, including a couple mini-dresses with sashes that look like they might pass for a young girls’ clothes. I find the socks I’ve been wanting in an accessories shop, so I buy up all they have.

After that, I can’t think of anything else to buy, so I put the rest of the bags in the car and head out. On the way home, I remember there’s an art supply store near the house, so I decide to stop in and see if they know where I can start getting painting lessons. The lady behind the counter is one of those ex-hippie types who wear long gauze skirts and bandanas on their heads. She has a ton of thin metal bracelets on, and she smells like patchouli oil. She’s friendly and helpful, though, so I don’t mind chatting with her for a while, especially since we’re the only two people in the store.

She says they have classes at the community college, but they won’t start until after Christmas, but she thinks they have some at the arts and crafts store, a different branch of the same one where I learned cake decorating, way back in the day. I thank her and tell her I’ll be back when I know what I’ll need. I stop by the arts and crafts store and sign up for the classes, which start in two weeks.

After that, I go home and carry in all my bags and stuff. I put the clothes away, and fold the socks away into a drawer, and then I think, maybe I should surprise Daddy by dressing as a Little for him.

I take a quick shower and wash off all my makeup and braid my hair. I pick my favorite of the two dresses and put it on, along with the lace-trimmed socks and the shoes we bought for “school.” Everything looks pretty good together, and I go into the kitchen to see if I can’t scare up something for dinner.

I finally decide on spaghetti, so I put some ground beef in the sink to defrost, and get the pans ready for everything else. I bring all my ingredients out of the pantry and realize I really am going to have to go grocery shopping.

Later, when the ground beef is defrosted, I put on an apron and go to work. It’s close to the time Daddy normally gets home, so I put the beef on, and fill the big pot with salted water for the spaghetti. It’s almost done when Daddy gets home.

“Ugh. I was going to surprise you.”

“I am surprised.”

“Are you sure?”

“Yes. You look nice today. Did you go shopping, like you said?”

“Of course. I also did something else.”

“What’s that?” he asks, stirring the ground beef for me.

“I found out when I can start painting classes. They have some at the craft store that’ll tide me over until the real ones start at community college.”

“Excellent. You’ve been a good girl today, haven’t you?”

“Tried to be. I spent some of my money, but then I started feeling kind of panicky about it and I stopped.”

“Panicky?” he asks.

“Yeah, like really anxious, because I’m not used to spending money like that.”

He glances at me.

“Oh. Then you won’t like my next suggestion.”

“What?”

“I was just thinking maybe we ought to go to Las Vegas for the weekend.”

I stand there staring at him. “Really?”

“We’ll stay at the best hotel on the strip. They’re having a Picasso exhibit right now, if you’re interested.”

“What will I wear?”

“Let’s figure it out after dinner. You’d better put the spaghetti sauce in now.”

I take his advice and finish preparing dinner. I bought a few cute things today, but I wonder if they’re appropriate for Vegas.

Daddy likes his dinner, and he likes what I’m wearing. Right before we’re done eating, he asks if he can put me over his knee.

“Okay, but not too hard.”

“No, just a play spanking.”

“And then we’ll look at my clothes?”

“Yes.”

After dinner, he sets a chair again, but this time he dispenses with the hairbrush, thank God. My butt’s still a bit sore from yesterday. He lifts the back of my dress and carefully takes down my panties.

“Maybe I should spank your thighs, since your bottom is so bruised.”

“No, no. I can handle it. Please don’t do my thighs.”

He gives my butt a practice swat. It doesn’t really hurt me, not even with the bruises. That arnica stuff works really well. I squirm a little, though, when he smacks me a second time, right on my sit spot.

“Still tender there?”

“Yes. A little.”

“I won’t spank you there, then. I’ll just do the crowns of your buttocks.”

“Okay.”

He smacks one of them. I don’t make a noise or struggle, so he goes again, a bit harder. I still don’t feel any discomfort, so he begins spanking me in earnest. He holds me in place with a hand on my hip, which only makes me think of making love.

“Daddy?”

“Yes, baby.”

“I love you.”

“I love you, too, but you’re still going to be spanked.”

He says it so matter-of-factly that I don’t think he believes I was saying it for real. I keep my mouth shut after that, because I guess it’s much too early in the game to start talking about love. Besides, what we have is a business transaction, not a deep emotional connection.

Daddy spanks me a little more and then he stops.

“How was that?” he asks. “Not too bad, right?”

“No. Not bad at all.”

“Good. Now let’s go look at your clothes.”

When we get to my huge walk-in closet, I turn the light on so we can see.

“First of all, you’ll want that wrap dress we bought, in case we go somewhere nice. If you have another good dress that’d be perfect.”

“I have a nice pants suit I wear at weddings and stuff. Here, I’ll show you. Plus, I just bought the cutest little dress today.”

“Bring them out and let’s have a look at them.”

When I do, he approves of both of them. Suddenly, he seems to think of something.

“Do you have any luggage?”

“Just a crappy, cheap overnight bag.”

“Let’s put this on hold, then, and make a run to Beverly Hills.”

“Why Beverly Hills?”

“Because that’s where the Louis Vuitton store is.”

I stare up at him a moment.

“You’re never going to buy me some Louis Vuitton luggage.”

“I am, too.”

“Oh, my God. That’s insane.”

“Well, Daphne, we might do some travelling, and you’re going to need something good. You don’t want to look like a little ragamuffin with your stuff in black trash bags.”

“No, but—”

“And that brings me to another thing. Your car’s kind of a heap.”

“I know. I’ll get another one, now that I’m making decent money.”

“I think we should go down next week and pick you out something nice. I’ll cover the down payment, and you can make the car payments every month.”

“All right.”

When we get to Beverly Hills, he buys me a rolling suitcase and an overnight bag. He lets me look at the purses, and then he recalls me to our purpose and takes me home to get me started on my packing.

“Mmm. That leather smells so good,” I say.

“Yes. It does. What about day wear?”

“What about these shorts with this top?”

“That’ll look adequate. What else? You need an outfit to go in, and enough for three or four days.”

I show him what else I bought, and eventually, we piece together a few more really cute outfits.

“Why don’t you go tomorrow and get some fresh, white sneakers?”

“Yeah. I think I’d better. I tried washing the ones I have, but the stains don’t come out.”

“Get anything else you think you need,” he tells me, digging into his back pocket for his wallet. He pulls out a platinum card and says, “Here. I’ll give you my credit card, in case you run low on money.”

“Daddy, it’s too much. You just spent, like, a million dollars on me.”

“Ten thousand, tops.”

“Still.”

He smiles, and his hand brushes my cheek.

“Don’t you worry about what I spend on you. You’re my little sweetheart. I have to take good care of you like I promised.” I begin feeling nervous and uneasy again, and I’m afraid he’s running out of money. I continue packing my bags and he says, “What’s wrong. Why so quiet?”

“I don’t even know what you do.”

“I dabble in real estate, and I run an online auction site. And a dating website.”

“Really?” I ask. “Then why’d you come to speed dating?”

“I like to keep my personal life separate from my work life.”

“So, you know how to do all that computer stuff?”

“Most of it. What I don’t know, I can hire out.”

And I say, “Oh, my God.”

“It’s shocking, I know, but there it is.”

Glancing up at him, I study his sweet, smiling face. “You don’t mind my being nosy, do you?”

“No. What’s on your mind?”

“How’d you get into the Little scene?” I ask.

He shrugs. “I was born this way, I guess.”

“But what happened to you?”

His smile fades. “Nothing happened to me. I just like spanking pretty girls, especially when they look young.”

“I know, but isn’t it kind of incestuous?”

“Incestuous? No. We’re not related and you’re of age.”

“Did you have a sister or someone?”

“No,” he says, sounding offended. “God, no. I may be a little twisted, but I’m not that twisted. Real children don’t interest me at all.” I run out of questions, so I don’t say anything else, but he grabs my hand and holds it. “Do you find this disturbing?” he asks.

“No. I’m just curious.”

“What about you? You don’t mind being my Little, do you?”

I shake my head. “No, but it is kind of different. I mean, I’ve never done anything like this before, but I’m not squicked out by it, if that’s what you’re asking.”

“Are you enjoying it at all?”

“Yes. Much more than I thought I would, and it’s not just because of the money and presents. I just like being with you.”

“Thank you, Daphne. I like being with you, too.”

After we get my stuff all packed, we go to his room, so he can start in on his own suitcase. His matches mine, except it’s a bit bigger. I sit on his bed and watch as he starts packing. He seems to know just what he wants to bring along, and he stows it all in his suitcase.

“Do you want to fly, or drive?” he asks me.

“Either one. Whichever works best for you.”

“I think we’d better fly, or we’ll get stuck in a traffic jam coming home.”

“Will we? I’ve never been to Vegas before.”

“Have you ever gone skiing?”

“No.”

“Well, then, I’m talking blind. Let’s just fly.”

I bounce on the bed, starting to feel excited. It’s been so long since I’ve gone on any kind of trip, it’s unreal.

“Sixth-grade camp.” I say.

“Sixth-grade camp?”

“Yeah. That’s the last time I’ve gone on a trip. We did drive down to San Diego when my mom’s brother died, but we stayed with family, so I’m not counting that.”

“This’ll be a lot more fun than staying with family for a funeral, I promise you.”

“Can we go on that Eiffel Tower thing?”

“Yes.”

“Can we ride the gondolas at the Venetian?”

“Absolutely.”

“What about the roller coaster at the top of that one hotel? I forget which.”

“Sure. And we’ll get a cabana to hang out in by the pool. We’ll do everything first class.”

“We’re going to have the most fun.” I tell him. “Can I ask you another huge favor?”

“What’s that?”

“Can we order room service while we’re there? I’ve never had room service before.”

“Baby, we can do anything you like. Maybe we’d better stay for three days instead of just two. That way I can get you a massage down at the spa. I’ll bet you’ve never had one of those, either.”

“No, I haven’t.”

“Let me call my assistant to set everything up. And we might as well see a show while we’re out there,” he tells me.

He sends me to my room to pack for an extra day while he contacts his assistant, someone I’ve never met before. Before I quite get out of the room, though, he asks me my last name.

“King. Daphne Annabelle King.”

“That’s right. I remember from the contract signing. Now, you run along and go finish packing, all right?”

“Okay, Daddy.”

I go back to my room and pack another couple of outfits, and then I lift my suitcase off the bed and set it on the floor. A little while later, Daddy comes to my room and tells me we’re all set, that his assistant, Myra, is going to email him our itinerary.

“She’s going to put you on our company insurance, too,” he tells me.

“Oh, good. I thought I was going to have to pay for COBRA.”

“No. I just have to call her back with your social security number.”

I go over to the desk and write it down for him, and he calls his assistant back and gives it to her.

“Oh, right,” he tells her, and then he covers the mouthpiece with his hand. “You’ll also get twenty thousand dollars in life insurance.”

“Cool. I’ll leave it to my mother if I die.”

He gives her this information and he covers the phone again and says, “She’s going to overnight us an entire benefits package.”

“What’s her name?”

And he says, “Myra Mosko. When we get back from Vegas, I’ll have her come meet you.”

I nod. “So, what’s my position in the company?” I ask him.

“You’ll be my household manager.”

“Oh, wow. Will there be a retirement account, too?”

“If you sign up for it, which I hope you will, since we match part of what you save.”

“For real? Damn. Today’s turning out to be like Christmas or something.”

He chuckles, and I can see he’s just as pleased as I am about the whole thing. “How much will you save?” he asks me.

“Five hundred bucks a month.”

“Then we’ll match two-fifty.”

“That’s going to be a good retirement account. I can’t wait to tell my mom.”

“It’ll probably be a good idea to give her your job title, too, so she doesn’t worry. It sounds so much more respectable than saying you’re my Little.”

“She wouldn’t even know what that means,” I tell him. “But yeah. I’ll say I’m your household manager.”

Our glances meet and he smiles at me.

“Come here,” he says, holding his arms out. I go to him and he embraces me. “Happy?”

“Yes, Daddy.”

“Give me a kiss.”

And I do. I reach up and hold his head between my hands and kiss him hard. He returns the kiss, and backs up against the bed, pulling me with him. He sits down on it and pulls me over his lap.

“Another spanking? Already?”

“This is a good-girl spanking. Let’s get these undies off.”

I let him pull them off, and then I wait for the inevitable strike, but all he does is spread my legs and start playing with my pussy. I raise my bottom to give him better access, and he circles my clit with one of his fingers. It’s only when I chase it that he lands the first smack.

“Be still.”

“Yes, Daddy.”

He delves his finger into me and discovers how moist I am.

“Tsk tsk tsk,” he says. “Somebody’s been thinking naughty thoughts.”

“I’m just excited because you’re touching me.”

He grabs one of my butt cheeks and kneads it between his fingers. I lay there enjoying it, and then he does the other, before going back to fingering my pussy.

“Mmm. You’re nice and soft and sweet,” he tells me. He pulls me in closer and settles me there, and I can feel his cock pressed up against my side. I reach back and start rubbing it, and I hear him moan.

“Get up,” he says. “Get on the bed on all fours.” When I do, he crawls up behind me. He grabs the teddy bear that’s by the pillows and hands it to me. “Get down, but leave your butt in the air.”

As soon as I’m in position, I hear him fumbling to undo his pants. Once he’s got them open and pushed down to his knees, he enters me from behind. I squeeze the bear and moan into its belly.

“Good girl. You let Daddy fuck you.”

“Okay.”

He fucks me with good, long strokes, pumping in and out of me. It feels crazy-good, and I move to his rhythm, backing into him so he can sink all the way in to the hilt and out again. I have a feeling I’m going to be spanked again afterwards, but I don’t even care, it feels so good. He starts going faster, plunging in and out of me. I raise my head and moan, and he reaches over and brushes his hand over one of my braids before reaching down and finding my clit. He starts rubbing it, very softly at first, then with more pressure. That familiar feeling starts creeping up on me, and I moan and twist and drop my forehead onto the teddy bear’s tummy.

“Oh, God, Daddy. Oh, God, I’m going to come.”

“Not yet. Not yet, baby.”

I hold off as long as I can, but as soon as he grips both my hips in his hands and drills into me, I know I can’t wait any longer and I come. Luckily, he’s right behind me and I hear him groan as he pumps his seed into me. I collapse under him, and he curls up against my back, spooning with me.

“Are you going to punish me?” I ask.

“Yes. Very hard, since this will be my last chance for a while.”

“Please don’t.”

“Get up and go kneel on the couch in the living room. Pull your skirt up and wait for me.”

I don’t argue, I just get up and do as he tells me. It feels shameful to kneel there with my skirt up, and he makes me wait quite a long time. When he finally appears, he’s holding a wooden bath brush. I have no experience with one, but it looks wicked.

“Daddy, please.”

“You keep quiet. Just look out the window at all the lights.”

I nod, and that’s all the signal he needs to get started. He lands the first swat and I cry out loud. I fare no better with the second one, and by the third, I’m actually weeping. This doesn’t stop him from giving me a couple more, and by the time he stops, I’m already stiff and sore.

“Oh, Daddy, why?”

“Shh. It’s okay now. Daddy’s done punishing you.’

He pulls me down onto his lap, but my butt’s all prickly and sore and I squirm out of his grasp and stand up. I rub my bottom, trying desperately to dissipate some of the heat. He takes pity on me and sends me to his bathroom for the aloe and the arnica.

I hand them to him and crawl over his lap. He raises my skirt again and proceeds to rub my bottom with them. When he’s done, he stands me up.

“Feel better?”

“Yes,” I sniffle, “but you didn’t have to go so hard.”

“I’m sorry. I forget what a nasty implement that is.”

“Have you ever spanked anyone else with it?”

“Yes. I used to spank my old Little with it, but she was naughty all the time. It was the only way to make her behave.”

I sit down beside him and say, “What happened to her?”

“She moved to Portland with her roommate. She said she didn’t want to be a Little anymore, that she was just saving up for the move.” He doesn’t say anything else for a moment, and then he looks at me apprehensively. “You wouldn’t do that to me, would you? Move off to another state?”

“No, Daddy, but that bath brush is too hard just for playing with.”

“I know. I won’t use it again, unless you’re really naughty.”

“Thank you. I’ve tried to be a good girl for you.”

“Oh, you have. That’s why I don’t mind spoiling you.”

I scoot closer and raise my hand to his face. He hasn’t shaved in a day or two, and his stubble is rough. I want to feel it on my pussy, or between my ass cheeks again. He takes my hand and kisses it, and he stands up and pulls me to my feet. I reach out for his belt buckle and undo it, before starting in on his fly.

“What are you doing?” he asks.

“I want to suck your cock. Take your pants off and sit back down.”

He does as I ask, of course, and sits down, legs spread open for me. I kneel between them and lean in and tease him with my lips first, and then my tongue. His cock jumps and I catch it in my mouth. He groans, a nice, guttural sound that proves to me he’s already enjoying his blowjob. I go down on him, and he grabs one of my braids near my scalp, then the other, and uses them to guide my head up and down. I reach up under his shirt and find his nipples, pinching them a bit. He moans again as I take him all the way down into my throat.

This time, I do the moaning, and he lets go of my braids for a moment. I raise my head and smile at him, and then I lower it again, and once more, he takes hold of my braids, driving his cock down my throat. I ease my head back up and cup his balls, and then I slip him out of my mouth and lean my head down to tongue his shaft. I sit back and unbutton his shirt, leaving it hanging loose. I take my nails and scratch his nipples lightly, and then I do the same with his balls, before gobbling up his shaft again. I chuckle, and he lifts my chin to look at me.

“What’s funny?”

“I wish I had tied you up. I would just do everything to you.”

“That sounds great,” he tells me, closing his eyes and dropping his head onto the seat back. He stretches his arms out along the back of the couch, surrendering himself in a clear invitation for me to do whatever I want to him.

First, I suck his nipples. I can hear his breath in my ear, and feel his heart beating quickly. Raking my nails over his entire chest, I’m surprised he doesn’t try to escape his imaginary bonds. He exhales on a long breath, and I kiss my way down his belly, back to his waiting cock. I wrap one of my hands around the base, and I lower my head onto his exquisite shaft, tonguing it as I go down.

“Oh, baby,” he whispers. “You don’t know how good that feels.”

I pop him out of my mouth and say, “You don’t know how I’m going to tease you.”

I point my tongue and run it along the underside of his crown. He moans again, but this time in a long, drawn-out, shuddering moan. Next, I give his cock a big swipe with my flattened tongue. When I start to pull away, he almost takes his hands off the back of the couch to stop me, but he remembers just in time and says, “Please.”

He sounds so needy that I haven’t the heart to keep teasing him, so I go down on him again, this time pulling out all the stops. I work his cock thoroughly, sucking him and licking him and pumping it with my hand. I handle his balls and moan with him in my mouth again, and when he comes, he comes hard, pouring his seed down my throat. When he’s past the tender stage where he doesn’t want to be stimulated anymore, I clean off his cock with my tongue, and then I kneel up and smile at him.

He reaches for me, freed now from the magic spell that kept him bound to the couch. I let him pull me down to straddle him, and then I let him kiss me, his lips crushing mine.

He says, “You make me feel like a teenager again.”

This makes me smile, my own teen years barely behind me.

“You make me feel like a woman, instead of just a girl.”

“That’s the opposite of what I want in a Little.”

“I know, but I can’t help it. You just do something to me.”

He nods. “I know what you mean, Daphne, but you have to try.”

“I will, but does that mean you don’t like what I just did?”

“Not at all,” he tells me, and then he sighs. “I don’t know what I’m trying to say here. Maybe we shouldn’t have started having sex.”

“Sex?” I ask him, beginning to feel deflated.

My eyes search his face, and he blushes again, like he did the first day. “Maybe you’re too direct,” he tells me. “Maybe we’re too close.”

“How can we be too close if I’m your little girl?”

“I don’t know. Why don’t you go to your room and play now? Daddy has to think.”

I want to lash out at him and hit him where it hurts, but I don’t know him enough to know how. Instead, I just say, “You’re the meanest daddy ever,” and run to my room to go cry.


Chapter Four

When I get to my room, I give my new suitcase a good, savage kick before flinging myself down on the bed, but once I’m cried out, I calm down and feel better. I wonder if Daddy’s even going to take me to Vegas now. Maybe it’s too grown-up of an activity for me, and he’ll just cancel the whole thing.

I get up and take my hair out of the braids and brush it out. I’m in the middle of this when there’s a tap at the door. I can’t very well deny him entrance, so I tell him to come in.

“Oh,” I say, as if it could be anyone else at my door. “It’s you.”

“I’m sorry, Daphne.”

“For what?”

“For upsetting you.”

I shrug, like it doesn’t matter, but of course it does. He slips the hairbrush out of my hand, and at first, I think he’s going to take me over his knee and spank me with it, but he sets it down on the dresser, turns me around to face him, and kisses me.

I try to squirm away, but he holds me tightly.

“Stop,” he tells me.

“I’m not doing anything.”

“Don’t make me angry. I’m trying to apologize.”

Our glances meet, and I quickly look away.

“What difference does it make? If you don’t want me, you don’t want me.”

Turning away, I grab the hairbrush and start brushing my hair again, but he wrestles it out of my grasp.

“Sit down,” he tells me, his voice a little harsher than he probably intended. I let him have the brush and go sit down on my bed, folding my hands primly in my lap. He doesn’t say anything for a few moments, but finally he just says, “I didn’t mean it.”

I’m trying to be a hard ass, but every time he says something soft and gentle, I find myself on the brink of tears again.

“I don’t know what you want me to say,” I tell him, feeling a little sorry for myself. “I won’t try to initiate sex anymore.”

“Please, Daphne.”

“No. You said it yourself. We shouldn’t have even started. It was a stupid thing to do.”

He sighs, and then he comes over and sits down on the bed beside me.

“I’m still working this out in my head,” he tells me. “I don’t know how this should look. You’re only my second Little, and I don’t know what the hell I’m doing. Should I sleep with you, not sleep with you? I don’t know.”

“I think we were doing just fine before you started overthinking it.”

He reaches for my hand and holds it. “I just don’t want to ruin what we’ve got.”

“How can you? We’ve already got it, we’ve already been doing it. It doesn’t make any sense to stop it now.”

“I suppose you’re right,” he tells me, lifting my hand up to his lips and kissing it. “Will you forgive me?”

“Yes, but quit acting dumb.”

“I will.”

I pull my hand away, but then I reach up and grab his head and pull it down for a kiss. I’m careful not to make too much of it, though, and I’m doubly careful not to say what’s really on my mind, and that’s to tell him I love him. I break off the kiss and smile up at him.

“Maybe we should just get some sleep,” I tell him. “It’s been kind of a long day, and we have to finish getting ready for the trip tomorrow.”

“Will you come sleep with me?” he asks. “Just to sleep. Nothing else.”

“Can you even do that?” I ask.

“I don’t know,” he tells me. “I’ll try very hard, though.”

Of course, I have to try much harder than he does, since I satisfied him earlier. I lie awake for a good hour, nestled in his arms, my clit throbbing in frustration. We’ve never talked about masturbation, and I don’t know if it’s allowed, so I don’t even dare touch myself. This might be a punishable offense, and the last thing I want to feel is that bath brush again.

In the morning, I feel better and more optimistic. Daddy left me a note saying he’s gone to work for a few hours. I wish I had my vibrator, but I got rid of it out of guilt and embarrassment before I moved in. I’m hoping he won’t have much more to do before the trip and that I get a chance to be with him after he gets home from work.

When he does get home, it’s after six, and he looks tired. He brings some cheeseburgers and fries, and we sit and watch TV while we eat. I don’t talk to him too much, because he’s listening to the news. Finally, during one of the commercials, I venture to say a few words.

“Are you looking forward to the trip?” I ask him. “What time do we have to get up?”

“Regular time,” he says.

“Oh? Good.”

“Why’s that good?”

I shake my head, suddenly remembering that I said I wouldn’t initiate sex. “No reason,” I lie.

Our glances meet, and I can tell you the exact moment his fatigue turns to desire. He scoots closer and puts his arms around me, and then he kisses me very gently, although I can feel the tension in his muscles as he tries to keep his passion in check.

“You’re not still mad at me, are you?” he asks.

“I was never mad at you.”

He kisses me again, this time more insistently. My hunger for him flares, and I return his kiss. He hasn’t shaved yet, so he still has those whiskers I’ve been longing to feel. I catch myself again, before I have a chance to tell him I love him, but I raise my hands to his face and rub them.

He chuckles. “Like them?”

“Yes.”

“I’m going to take you to bed now.”

“Okay.”

He gets up and takes me by the hand into his bedroom. When he flips the switch, the lights blaze to life, so he dims them. I get undressed, and he tells me to lie face-down on the bed and spread out. When I do, he kneels at every corner of the bed and pulls out a set of under-the-bed restraint straps I didn’t even know he had. He affixes the Velcro cuffs to each of my limbs, and then he sticks a pillow under my head and another under my hips. I tremble in anticipation, which only becomes heightened when he comes and slips a black satin blindfold over my eyes.

“Daddy—”

“Hush. Daddy’s going to take good care of you.”

I wonder if he means to beat me, but I relax when I hear him put some Motown music on. If he meant to punish men, surely he’d put something with a more driving beat on.

He doesn’t touch me, doesn’t come near me for a few moments, so long it makes me sigh. I feel him touch my ankle when I do, to reassure me, I guess, that he hasn’t gone off and left me like this, tied down to the bed with my ass in the air. I twist a little, but I know he can see every bit of me. Maybe he’s standing behind me admiring the view, because he doesn’t touch me again for several more minutes.

By then I’m champing at the bit, am dying for his touch. I feel my eyes prickle with tears, and I know I’ll cry just from sheer frustration if he doesn’t touch me soon. I become frantic for him to get started, whatever he’s going to do to me, and I squirm around until he smacks me on the ass with his hand.

“Please do something, Daddy.”

“Oh, baby, I will. What do you want Daddy to do?”

“Anything. Anything.”

I can feel the mattress sink down under the weight of his knee on the bed, and he touches my pussy very tenderly, running his hand down to cup it like it’s a beautiful, fragile flower. He plunges his thumb into me as far as it will go, but it’s not enough, not enough for me now. I need to feel him inside me, or, if not him, something resembling him.

He withdraws and stands up, and I hear him fumbling around with something. The next thing I know, he’s lubing me up, both holes. My ex-boyfriend, Bruce, used to fuck me in the ass at least once a week, and I like anal, but I haven’t said anything to Daddy about it. I don’t want to get my hopes up, but to me, it’s the ultimate domination.

I feel him bend down again, and he starts nipping at my ass cheeks with his teeth, with just enough pressure to drive me wild. His whiskers feel good against my cheeks, and I’m dying to be taken, but all he does is switch on a vibrator and slide it into my cunt. It’s one of those with the clit buzzer on it, and he leaves it inside me as he leans in and starts massaging my shoulders. I can feel that he’s naked, can even feel his warm, hard cock against my side. He works his way down my back to my hips, the vibrator buzzing away the whole time.

He spreads my ass cheeks, thumbing them open. He lets go of the right one and delves a finger into my hole. I can’t help but moan as he works it around and around, stretching me so I can accommodate his girth later on. He adds another finger, and then another, and finally, he removes them and climbs up between my legs to replace them with his cock.

“Oh, Daddy,” I whisper.

“Shh. It’ll be okay.”

And it is okay. It’s more than okay. With his cock in my ass and the vibrator shoved into my pussy, I am in bliss. He starts pumping away, driving my clit down onto the vibrator with each pass and making my hard nipples rub against the mattress. It feels so good I never want it to end, and try my best to hide it when I come the first time, but the walls of my pussy clench the vibrator. My ass must be clenching his cock the same way. He pulls it almost completely out, and I’m afraid he’s going to stop, but he rams it back into me, all the way up to the hilt. He does this over and over, driving me toward another orgasm, and when it hits, it hits hard.

I can’t hide this one at all, and neither can he. I feel his cock pumping semen into my ass, and when he’s done, he slides out of me, pulls my head back, and kisses my throat, before getting out of bed to release me from my bonds.

“Ever been tied up before?” he asks.

“No, Daddy. That was my first time.”

“Did you like it?”

“Yes, but I didn’t know what you were going to do, especially when you put the blindfold on me.”

“That’s the point, little one. It heightens your anticipation, and your other senses.”

“You show me so many nice things,” I tell him.

“I like being the first to conquer you.”

Ordinarily, a man saying something like that would piss me off, but said with such complicit tenderness, I don’t mind at all. I grab his whiskers again and kiss him.

“I’ll have to shave them in the morning,” he tells me.

“Too bad.”

“They’ll grow back, and then I’ll rough you up with them the way you like.”

I chuckle, hoping that’s a promise, flattered that he’s noticed how much I like them.

“Come on, now. Let’s give our bags one final check and then go to bed. You won’t mind sleeping in your own bed tonight?”

“No.”

“All right. Let’s go.”

We split up and go double-check our bags one last time to make sure we have everything. I’ve got a checklist I made, and I check everything off as I go along. I’m just finishing up when Daddy comes back into the room.

“Well, I’m all set,” he tells me.

“Me, too.”

I show him my checklist, and he wants me to make him one when we get back to town, so he can store it on his computer and have it handy.

“That’ll be my first assignment as your household manager,” I say, going up to him and hugging him. “What do you think of that?”

“I think it’s great. We’ll have a nice mini-vacation, and we’ll come back feeling rested and refreshed.”

In the morning, we both get up and shower together. Daddy soaps me up, but I’m too full of frisk to become aroused.

“How exciting,” I tell him. “I’ve never played a slot machine before.”

“It’s easy. You’ll enjoy it. Rinse.”

We get out and he towels me off, sending me back to my room with a playful smack on the behind. I eat a yogurt and have a cup of tea for breakfast, way too excited to have anything more substantial.

“Here,” says Daddy, once I’m finished. “Let’s sit down in the living room and wait for the Town Car. We can’t leave now, or we’ll be absurdly early.”

But sitting still and waiting to go have fun apparently isn’t my strong suit. I get up to look out the window about a dozen times, until Daddy threatens me with a spanking unless I sit down and wait patiently with him.

When it’s finally time to leave, I jump up and dance around, but I have to calm down when the driver comes to help take out the bags. I go out with them, and he places my new luggage in the trunk and then he opens the back door of the car for me, like I’m the queen or something.

“I’ve never been in a Town Car before,” I whisper. The driver must hear me, though, because he looks in the rear-view mirror and smiles.

“Are we sitting in first class?” I ask Daddy.

“No. We’re taking a commuter jet. There will hardly be time to even get a soda before we’ll be there.”

“Oh, wow.”

Once we get to the airport, the driver opens my door again, and then he and Daddy go take the luggage out of the trunk. I see Daddy slip the guy some money, but I don’t know how much he gives him, so I finally decide to just ask.

“I gave him a twenty,” says Daddy, “but you could get away with ten, strictly speaking. Why?”

“Just curious. I just want to see what’s appropriate, in case I ever have to travel by myself.”

“I doubt that’ll happen,” he tells me. “There shouldn’t be any reason for you to travel alone.”

Smiling, I press his hand. “You always take good care of me,” I say.

“Thank you, Daphne. That means a lot.”

Once we get our tickets and are checked through, we go have a seat in the waiting area. There’s sort of a festive atmosphere, since we’re all going to Vegas, but after an hour or so, people calm down to a normal level until they announce we’re boarding.

“Have you ever been on a plane before?” Daddy asks me, once we’re on board. I look over at him and shake my head.

“You know the answer is going to be no. My mom was a single parent. We didn’t have money to go screwing around on planes. And don’t say poor Daphne. My life wasn’t that bad, considering.”

He reaches out and chucks my chin, and then he gets out his laptop and starts answering emails. Of course, he has to stop while we taxi down the runway, but once we’re up in the air, he continues, and my whole attention goes toward looking out the window.

“Oh, my God,” I say, grabbing his hand. “This is so awesome.”

“I’m glad you like it.”

“I do. I really do.”

Daddy’s right about the short length of the flight, and we’re there before we know it. Once we land and get off the plane, he hails a taxi to take us to our hotel.

The hotel is amazing-looking, even from the outside. It’s more amazing inside, though, so much so that I have to remind myself not to look like a yokel by gaping at everything I see. There’s marble everywhere, and the chandeliers are made of Venetian glass. Daddy sits me down while he checks us in, but they’re very efficient at the front desk, and he’s back with me after only a little while.

“Room twelve-sixteen. Here’s your room key. Do you know how to work it?”

“I’ll watch you.”

I tuck the key away in my purse and follow Daddy to the bank of elevators. It only takes a couple moments until we’re on our floor.

When he unlocks the door and swings it open, I am staggered by how beautiful everything is. A few minutes later, the bell hop comes with a brass cart full of our luggage, and he sets our suitcases and overnight bags down on the beds like we ask. Daddy tips him, too, giving him what I guess is another twenty. We unpack quickly and I hang up my things, and then he turns to me and says, “What do you want to do first?”

“I forget what you said we were going to do.”

“Well, I thought tomorrow we’ll do the roller coaster and the Eiffel Tower, and screw around a little bit out on the strip, and Sunday we can slouch around by the pool and get your massage, and then go see a show in the evening. That gives us Monday to pack up and get out by check-out time.”

“Sounds good to me. So, you want to just hang out here for tonight?”

“Yes, if you don’t mind. First, we’ll get you a stack of ones so you can tip the cocktail waitresses when they bring you a drink, and I’ll get you some money for the slots. Do you have your phone and key, in case we get separated?”

“Yes, Daddy.”

“Well, come on. What are we waiting for?”

We get all organized, and then Daddy sits me in a section of the casino.

“What do you like to play?” I ask him.

“Black jack. And slots. Sometimes craps. I’ll be over that way if you need me.”

“Okay. Have fun.”

“You, too, sweetheart.”

I play for about three hours, and even win sixty-five dollars, and I’m just about to call Daddy and tell him I’m hungry when he comes to find me.

“How’d you do?” he asks.

“Good. How about you?”

“I’m up by two-fifty.”

“Awesome.”

“Where do you want to eat?” he asks.

“I don’t know,” I say. “I saw an Asian restaurant around here somewhere that looked pretty nice.”

“All right. Cash out and we’ll go.”

Since it’s still early, the restaurant isn’t crowded, so we get right in. Daddy orders us an appetizer called Golden Crab Claw and orders a wine called Vouvray. For dinner, I choose Szechuan Roasted Chicken while Daddy gets Prime Beef Tenderloin. He orders a glass of Cabernet for himself and a glass of Gewürztraminer for me, which he says pairs well with spicy food. Everything’s really yummy, but by the time we get to dessert, I am too full to have any.

“We can always order up room service if you want some later,” he tells me.

After dinner, we go back out to the casino to play some more. I go to a different section with different games, and Daddy tries his hand at Pai Gow, some kind of poker-type game. He pretty much breaks even on his, but I come out ahead by thirty dollars.

“It just feels so awesome,” I tell him. “I’ve never won anything before, except a spelling bee in the fifth grade. You don’t get any money for that, though.”

He laughs and kisses my forehead. “I’m glad you’re having fun. Would you like to ride the tram and go have a beer? There’s a craft brewery next door.”

“Oh, yeah. Sounds fun.”

“And if you don’t get too sauced, I’ll let you get one of those big, long drinks they sell out on the strip.”

He takes my hand and we head out. The beer next door is really good, and I try a couple different ones. Luckily, all I drank today was the wine at dinner and the craft beer, so, true to his word, he gets me a huge strawberry margarita in an impossibly long plastic cup. It tastes pretty good, but all this drinking is starting to catch up to me. We start back in the direction of our hotel, but then Daddy remembers about the Eiffel Tower and insists on taking me now so I can see the city all lit up.

“The gondolas are over that way,” he says, pointing it out, “but I think they only run them during the day. I’m not a hundred percent on that, though.”

“This is so romantic,” I say, and he leans down and brushes my lips with his.

“You’re so sweet,” he tells me. “I’m glad I could make this happen for you.”

“After this, can we go back to the hotel? I’m starting to get a little chilly.”

“Sure, honey, any time.”

I slip my hand in his. There are other people on the elevator, and some of them are looking at us and smiling, like they think we’re on our honeymoon. We hang out at the top of the tower for a while, and then we ride back down.

“Do you want to do anything else?” he asks me.

“No. Not tonight. Unless you mean making love.”

“I do if you’ll be on top.”

“Okay. That’s my favorite position anyway. Hey, Daddy?”

“Yes?”

“Can I keep the money I won?”

“Of course, baby.”

We get back to the hotel a few minutes later. The dancing water fountain is on, so we stop and watch it before we go in.

“It’s so different when you’re outside,” I say. “So loud, so pretty.”

He doesn’t say anything. He just holds my hand, but the minute the show’s over, he takes me inside and up the elevator to our room.


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