A man has just answered my ad.
Lonely little girl in search of a daddy. Must be willing to administer loving discipline as needed.
I guess that just about says it all.
He sounds nice on the phone. He has a nice, deep voice and sounds like he’ll be good at giving commands. His name is Bennett Gregory, and he says he’s thirty-eight and works in radio. I tell him I’m twenty-three and work as an administrative assistant for the county.
I make decent money. It’s not about him supporting me or anything. I guess I just have daddy issues.
Anyway, we agree to meet at a chain restaurant. You know, someplace public, in case he turns out to be a creep.
“My name’s Amaya Chandler, and you’ll know me because I’ll be wearing a hat.”
“What kind of a hat?”
“A black pork pie hat.”
“Really?” he asks. “I didn’t think women wore hats anymore.”
“They usually don’t, but I like hats.”
“All right, then. I’ll see you at seven tonight.”
I take great care dressing that evening. I want to seem hip and cool, while still looking very young for my age. I put on a long skirt and some flats, and a plain white top with a little black vest over it. With my natural baby face I look young as it is, so the only makeup I put on is some mascara and a little blush to highlight my cheekbones. I don’t do anything with my hair apart from blow-dry it.
When I’m ready, I drive to the restaurant and wait.
I’m nervous waiting. What if he doesn’t show? I’ll have to sit here and eat by myself, and everyone will know I got stood up. As it is, the server cards me, since I look like a perpetual teenager. He takes his time examining my I.D., then finally he brings me a glass of white zinfandel like I asked for.
I needn’t have worried about Bennett, though. He’s right on time, and he spots me easily. He’s wearing some nice, comfortable jeans and a turquoise polo shirt. I get up and hug him like we’re old friends, and he hugs me back.
“Been waiting long?” he asks, slipping into the booth.
“No. Just a few minutes.”
I sit down across from him and start to feel a little shy, thinking about my ad. Bennett feels my unease and gets the ball rolling.
“It’s a nice night out.”
And I say, “Yeah. It’s nice and warm.”
“We could use some rain, though.”
“Yeah. Rain would be good.”
“Of course, it might trigger mud slides.”
“Mud slides. Yeah.” I look over at him, and I can’t think of anything else to say. Our glances meet and I say, “You know something, Bennett? I hate small talk.”
He laughs, looking relieved. “Thank God. I do like the hat, though.”
I touch the brim. “Oh. Thanks.”
“How many hats do you own?”
“Let me see. About a dozen?”
“You probably own a lot of shoes too, don’t you?”
“Yeah. You’ve got to have shoes to go with the hats.”
The server comes back with Bennett’s drink, and we both pick up our menus and look through them.
“I think I’ll get the ribs,” he tells me.
“I was thinking about them, too, but I’m afraid they’ll be too messy. Especially on a first date.”
“Don’t worry about that.”
Taking a sip of my wine, I look across at him. “You probably think I’m crazy.”
“Not at all. I used to have a couple of littles. Not at the same time, of course, but yeah. I’m familiar with the whole scene.”
“What happened to them?”
“Who? My littles? I guess they got sick of being treated like children and bailed.”
“I’m sick of not being a little. Not that I ever was one before. I just want to try it out.”
“You’ll find me an easygoing guy, but when the rules are broken the fallout will be severe.”
“Who makes the rules?”
“We’ll make them together.”
“Cool. I like that idea.”
“So, what’s your deal? Why do you want to be a little so badly?”
Shrugging, I say, “I always felt neglected by my parents. My mom met someone else and ditched us when I was seven, and my dad never had time for me.”
“Did he ever punish you?”
“Yeah, he grounded us and made us go to our rooms.”
“Yeah. I have a younger brother who’s in the army.”
The server is back to take our orders. I decide to go for broke and get the ribs, too. When he’s gone Bennett leans forward and says in a low voice, “Let me guess. You always wanted to be spanked.”
I feel myself blush, but I nod. “There was a kid next door who always got it, little Joey. I used to hear him. His dad would tell him to pull his pants down and bend over, and I used to do bad stuff to see if my dad would ever do that. He never did, though.”
“It excites you to hear someone being spanked?”
I blush and nod again.
“Would you like to go to my place after dinner? See if we can’t make your lifelong wish come true?”
“You mean to spank me?”
I glance over at him, wondering if I should, but then I remind myself that this whole thing was my idea in the first place, and I’ll have to trust him if he’s to be my daddy.
“Okay,” I tell him.
We eat our dinner and afterwards, I follow him to his place. He lives in a house down at the beach. I pull in beside him in his garage (he says cars get hit a lot out on the street) and he guides me toward the back door.
“Being on the radio must pay a lot more than I thought,” I say, entering his kitchen and taking note of his professional-type stove and refrigerator, and the huge kitchen island.
“No, no,” he tells me. “I’m not on the radio. I own three stations.”
“And some apartment buildings. Oh, and a strip mall.”
“Do you have any investments?”
“We’ll have to change all that if you stay with me.”
We make our way out to his living room. It’s clean and comfortable-looking, with a big sectional and plenty of room to have a party.
I say, “Does this place ever get damaged during El Niño?”
“Not so far. It’s set back a good distance, though.”
“I’ll bet the view is awesome in the daytime.”
“It is,” he admits. “And the sunsets are excellent. How do you want it?”
“How do I want what?”
I feel surprised by his directness and say, “I don’t know. What do you have?”
“Do you want it with the belt, like your little friend, or would you rather be paddled?”
“I guess paddled. I mean, can I be over your lap?”
“Like with a proper daddy?”
“Yes,” I tell him. “Like with a proper daddy.”
He gives me an ironic-looking smile and points towards one corner of the room.
“Go stand in the corner,” he tells me. “I want your skirt up and your panties down. Oh, and you’d better take off your hat.”
I do all he says while he leaves the room to go get whatever implement he’s going to spank me with. When he comes back (I can hear him behind me) he calls me to him. He’s sitting on the couch. I start pulling up my panties so I can walk over there, but he tells me not to, so I hobble over to him and allow myself to be drawn down over his lap. He’s got a small wooden paddle sitting on the cushion next to him, and he picks it up.
He says, “Since you’re new to this, I’ll only go half as hard as I usually do.”
“Next time I’ll beat your little ass off.”
Although I shudder, I feel funny in my tummy when he says that, and I’m aware I’ve grown shamefully damp. Apparently, he’s aware of it too, because he sets the paddle down on my back and dips his hand down between my legs, his fingers demanding entrance. He rubs my bare pussy for a moment. It feels so good, I can’t help but moan. Once he elicits this moan from me he picks up the paddle again and gives me a good, solid swat with it.
“Ow!” I cry, surprised more than hurt by it. He gives me another, then another. I’m already squirming around, because I’m not used to being spanked, and he tells me to lie still or he’ll change his mind and go full strength.
His response is to start paddling me again, and, even though it’s only half-strength, it hurts. I struggle to keep still, but he’s paddling me all over my bottom and thighs. They feel like they must be several hundred degrees hot, but he doesn’t stop there. Instead, he starts all over again, paddling all the places he’s already targeted.
I can’t help it. I start wriggling around again, so he stops momentarily.
“Didn’t I tell you to lie still?”
“Yes, Daddy. It just hurts so much.”
“I’m going to give you two full-strength swats to show you what the word ‘hurts’ really means.”
“No, no. I’ll be good. Please?”
He dives right in and delivers two firm and stinging smacks to my backside, smacks that are so hard they bring tears to my eyes. He doesn’t stop there, he just continues on as before, peppering my butt with half-speed blows. This time he talks, though. He asks me what I’ve done to misbehave lately, and I tell him I was late for work a couple of times. He incorporates this into the spanking, telling me that’s what I’m being punished for.
“Why were you late?”
“Because I took too long getting ready.”
“Then I want you to set your clock ten minutes earlier when you get home, so we don’t have this little problem again.”
“Yes, Daddy. Can we be done, now?”
“No. I know you’ve done something else bad, now haven’t you?”
I sag over his lap and nod my head.
“What is it?”
“I got a parking ticket.”
“Uh-huh. How much was that for?”
“Thirty-two dollars? Do you think money grows on trees?”
“Well, you certainly act like it. I’m sure they docked your pay for being late, too.”
He starts landing hard spanks all over my bottom again, lecturing me on punctuality and following the rules of society. He spanks me so thoroughly and lectures me so fully that I’m very sure I’ll never get another ticket or be late again. I fight with myself not to throw my hand back to cover and protect my sore bottom, and when he finally stops paddling me, I am in tears. He pulls me up to face him, and then he pulls me down to sit on his lap to be comforted.
I put my head on his shoulder and cry into his shirt. It takes me a good while to stop, so long that he actually has to tell me that’s enough. I squelch my tears, and Daddy tells me to get up. He leads me by the hand into his bedroom, and tells me to lie across the end of the bed. He pulls my skirt up once more and goes over to the dresser to get some hand lotion. He rubs the cooling lotion into my butt and thighs, speaking kindly to me again. When he’s done, he tells me to get up and fix my clothes.
“So, what do you think, Amaya?” he asks me. “Do you still want me to be your new daddy?”
“Would you like to come spend the weekend here, so we can get used to each other? I have a very pretty guest room, just made for a little girl like you.”
He takes me by the hand and leads me to go see it. It is pretty. The walls are painted lavender, and the curtains and comforter are pale yellow with lavender flowers dotting them. A big, puffy chair sits in one corner next to a bookcase full of books.
“Do you like to read?” he asks me. “Do you like having stories read to you?”
“Here. Come see your bathroom.”
In the bathroom sits an old-fashioned tub on ball-and-claw feet, and yellow and purple towels hang on the towel bars. A stand beside the tub holds a rubber ducky and fresh grooming supplies, and there’s even a glassed-in shower for times when a bath would be impractical.
“What about the closet?” I ask.
“Oh, yeah. We can’t forget the closet. Right here.” He opens the closet door. It’s a large walk-in, and he calls my attention to the shelves at the top. “That ought to be enough room for a dozen hats,” he tells me.
“And all my shoes.”
“What do you think?”
And I say, “I love it, Daddy.”
“Then be here at six on Friday, and bring yourself something pretty to sleep in. If you have a favorite teddy bear or doll you like to sleep with, bring that, too.”
I do have one, but I’m afraid to ask. He notices my reticence, and encourages me to ask it.
“What about sex?” I ask.
“Why don’t we discuss that this weekend?”
He walks me to the back door and opens the garage door for me. Once I’m seated in my car, he leans in the window and smiles.
“Call me when you make it home safely,” he tells me. “Do you know how to get home from here?”
“Yes, Daddy. I just live in Culver City.”
He leans further in and kisses me.
“Then you have a safe trip back, and I’ll see you Friday. We’ll have a fun weekend, all right?”
“Okay, Daddy,” I say, starting my car and waving at him. “Bye.”
“Bye, baby. Don’t forget to call.”
I back out of his garage and eventually out onto Pacific Coast Highway, which is busy tonight. I drive home and then I give him a call like I promised. Once we get off the phone I go to my room and check out my sore butt.
The pain has dulled down quite a bit, and I’m not as sore as before, but my bottom’s still pretty red. For such a sweet guy, he sure spanks hard, and I start to wonder if I made the right choice, placing that ad. The spanking he gave me did seem loving, but it also felt like very strict discipline. Did I bite off more than I can chew?
I guess I’ll find out on Friday.
By Friday, my butt’s back to its normal color. Daddy calls me at lunchtime, checking to make sure I’m still coming.
“Of course,” I tell him. “Why wouldn’t I?”
“I didn’t spank you too hard and scare you off, then?”
“No, Daddy,” I say, wondering if it’s a lie. “I’ll be there.”
When I pull up, the garage door’s open for me to pull in and park. Daddy’s waiting at the back door, a smile on his face.
“Have you been late at all?” he asks, giving me a hug and a kiss.
“No, Daddy. I followed your advice and set my clock ten minutes earlier.”
“Good. How was your day?”
“Not bad,” I say. “And yours?”
“Full of meetings.”
Daddy leads the way into the kitchen, and there’s a big bouquet of roses sitting on the kitchen table. He calls my attention to them and slips my bag out of my hand.
“Those are for you,” he tells me.
“Thank you. How pretty!”
I go over and smell them, but like most hothouse flowers they don’t have much of a scent. I smile over at him anyway, pleased by his thoughtfulness.
“How’s your bottom?” he asks.
“I got you something else, too, for later.”
“Oh, no. It sounds like I’m going to be spanked again.”
“You are. How do you feel about bondage?”
I shrug. “I’ve never tried it before, to be honest.”
“Want to give it a whirl?” he asks.
“Okay, but go easy on me. This is all new to me.”
“It must’ve been hard for you to put that ad on the internet, then.”
“Yeah. I debated with myself for a long time before I did it.”
“I’ll make you glad—and sorry—you ever did. Let’s eat. I made a tray of lasagna.”
He leads me out to the dining room and sits me down at the table, and then he goes back into the kitchen and retrieves the tray of lasagna. He cuts me out a piece and then serves himself.
“This is good,” I say, taking a bite. “We’re doing small talk again.”
“I know. Tell me something deep. Were you afraid to come back?”
“No. I did sort of wonder if we should come up with a safe word, though. I mean, just in case.”
“How about ‘moon?’” he asks.
“Moon? Yeah, okay.”
“Did I really paddle you that hard, where you think we need a safe word?”
“No. I’m just saying. Especially if you’re going to tie me up.”
He sets down his fork and reaches for my hand. “Hey,” he tells me. “You know I’d never really hurt you, don’t you?”
“Yeah. Yeah, I do. You’ve been very respectful.”
“Well, eat up so we can get your corner time out of the way. What did you bring to sleep in?”
“A yellow baby-doll nightie.”
After dinner he gets me settled in the guest room and tells me to go put on my nightgown.
“I’ll be in the living room, waiting for you,” he says.
Once he’s gone I start unpacking. I open the closet, which is about twice the size of the one I have at home, and I hang up some of my stuff. The rest of it I stow in the dresser, and finally I change into my nightie. Unbeknownst to him, I also have a pair of white thigh-high stockings with pink bows on them to wear with my nightgown, and a pair of patent-leather Mary Janes to wear on my feet. I thread a pink satin bow through my hair, and when I come out to the living room, he grins.
“You look like a proper little girl,” he tells me.
“Now go get in the corner and do like before.”
“Panties down? There’s not much to them. They’re G-strings.”
“Why don’t we just take them off?”
I go to the corner and remove my panties, setting them on a nearby chair, and then I face the corner and put my hands behind my back. Standing there with no panties on makes me hot, and I can feel Bennett behind me, shuffling around the living room, but I have no idea what he’s doing. I do know I’m going to sleep with him tonight if he wants to. After all, he is going to be my daddy, and he is going to see me naked. It seems absurd to feign innocence at this point.
He doesn’t leave me in the corner for very long. After about ten minutes he calls me to him. When I turn around I see that he’s set one of the chairs from his dining room out in the middle of the floor and is seated on it, waiting for me.
“Come over my lap,” he says softly.
“What am I getting in trouble for?”
“This is a maintenance spanking, to remind you to be good.”
“No. Not yet, anyway. This’ll basically warm you up for what’s to come later.”
I get over his lap. He positions me where he wants me, and then he lifts my nightgown and folds it over my back, leaving my bottom bare and exposed.
“Oh, Daddy,” I say, my heart beginning to pound.
“Don’t forget our safe word.”
He smacks my bottom with his bare hand, a brisk, slapping blow. I gasp and twist around, but he returns me to my prior position.
“Don’t start your squirming,” he tells me, “or I’ll take my belt to you.”
That’s all I need to hear to send a jolt to my pussy. I close my legs and tighten up, afraid he’ll find out his harsh words turn me on.
“Spread your legs,” he tells me, and I obey immediately. Just as I feared, he slips a finger inside me.
“My, my, what a naughty little girl you are.”
“You know what happens to naughty girls?”
“They’re tied to the bed and teased mercilessly, and after that they’re punished.”
“No, don’t try to talk your way out of it. I’m going to finish warming you up, and then I’ll teach you a lesson you won’t soon forget.”
I’m not afraid of him or of what he’s telling me, since I figure it’s all for my benefit. Besides, I secretly crave the belt after all those years of hearing the kid next door get it.
Daddy proceeds to spank me some more, but his bare hand is nothing compared to the paddle he used last time. Just when I start feeling bored and fidgety, he tells me to get up. He stands up after me and grabs me by the elbow to propel me into his bedroom.
He has a huge, king-sized bed, and I don’t miss the Velcro cuffs attached to each corner. He leads me to the bed and tells me to lie face down on it. When I do, he stuffs a nice, sturdy pillow up under my hips and binds me that way, with my ass in the air. He attaches the cuffs to my wrists, and then he slips a blindfold over my head to cover my eyes. I hear the snick of a lighter as he lights a vanilla-scented candle, and then hear the strains of violin music.
All this calms me down considerably.
I feel Daddy dip his finger into me again and use my juices to trace a trail between my butt cheeks. He circles my secret little hole, drawing a moan from me.
“Does my baby girl like that?”
“One of these days, Daddy’s going to get that cute little butt of yours.”
He doesn’t say anything else; he just continues using my juices to lubricate me back there. I don’t know if he means to take me in the bottom or not, but I know if he does I won’t safe-word out.
After a while, though, he rears back and smacks my ass several times, hard. When he’s done, he moves away. I hear him go to the nightstand and get something out of it, then to the dresser to get something out of it, too. I can hear him approach the bed behind me, and then I hear something zing through the air and land across my bottom with a stinging splat.
“Ow!” I cry. My bottom throbs, and I hear the same sound and feel the same sting, this time a little lower than before. “Ow, Daddy, what is that?”
“A riding crop.”
“That’s kind of the point.”
He uses it to trace up and down my legs, up one side, over my bottom, and down the other leg, making me quiver in anticipation.
“I like the stockings,” he tells me. “The bows are a perfect touch.” He lays the crop atop my ass, balancing it there. I hear a buzzing noise, and then I feel him tuck a vibrator between my clit and the pillow. I want to slide my hungry pussy along the side of the vibrator, but Daddy says, “You’d better keep that crop balanced up there. or you’ll be hating life.”
“Can I at least come when it’s time?”
“Only if you can do it without disturbing the crop.”
He inserts two of his fingers into my pussy, sliding them in and out. It feels so good I can feel my orgasm building, but just as I’m on the verge of having one, he pulls away and shuts off the vibe.
I groan in frustration, and Daddy chuckles.
“I told you I’d tease you unmercifully.”
“Shall I put it back?”
“Well, since you’ve been good…”
He turns the vibe back on and puts it back between my legs. I’m still balancing the crop, but I feel it slide off when I shift my weight. I wait to be punished for it, and a few seconds later I feel the first of the lashes. I try to press my hips into the mattress to hide from them, but being tied down renders that effort totally useless. Besides, I can’t bring myself to move away from the vibe. The whipping he’s giving me with the crop does something to me. I scream and cry out, but my nipples are hard against the mattress all the same. I feel the first thrill of excitement when I realize I’m going to come soon, and I grind myself against the vibe. He stops whipping me after several strict blows, and sets the crop back up on my sore butt.
I don’t know what he’s doing behind me. I imagine he’s watching me, watching to make sure I don’t dislodge the crop again. Suddenly I feel the weight of his knee between my legs, feel the mattress sag. The crop slides away again, but he doesn’t move away. He picks it up and uses it to tickle my bottom. It irritates the welts, but it also makes me more aware of everything going on behind me.
“Keep going to town on that vibe,” he tells me, and I hear a zipper unzip. I want to please him, so I do.
I’m close now. My juices have coated the plastic vibe, and I slide around on it freely. I grab the straps that restrain my wrists, and I use them for leverage. I hear him squirt lube into his hand, and I suppose he’s lubing himself up, but for what I can’t be certain.
“Keep going,” he says, and now I know he’s masturbating behind me. The thought of it drives me, as I know the sight of me is driving him. I take a deep breath and hold it while I squeeze my muscles tight. That does the trick, and soon I am flying.
“Oh, Daddy, I’m coming,” I tell him, and I hear his grunt, informing me that he’s about to, too.
I feel something warm and wet land on my ass. It’s thick, and it takes a moment to roll down into my crack. I can only assume it’s his come. He rubs it into my skin carefully, and then he takes the vibe away and turns it off, setting it aside.
“I’m going to have bruises tomorrow, aren’t I?”
“Yes, baby girl, you are,” he answers. “Let Daddy make it up to you by giving you a massage.”
He moves away, and I hear him go into the bathroom. I’ll know I’ll be sore all day tomorrow, but it pleases me on some level, the knowledge that I’ll have him on my mind all day. I hear him return, and he kneels down on the bed again, cracking open a bottle of vanilla-scented something. I hear a squirting sound, and then I hear him rubbing his hands together. When the oil hits my skin, it’s warm. He starts the rubdown with my ass. He’s gentle with me and rubs it in soft, round circles, and then he pushes my nightgown up my back to bare it. He switches it up, this time using his thumbs to work his way up my spine to my shoulders.
“Oh, Daddy, that feels so good.”
“I’m glad, baby.”
He works the tension out of my shoulders, not forgetting my neck, and then he does my shoulder blades. After that, he makes his way down to my ass again and takes off my stockings so he can do my legs. He hasn’t whipped my thighs this time, so he’s able to apply pressure without hurting me. He uses his thumbs again to relieve my tension, and by the time he’s done rubbing me down I feel like my body’s made of jelly.
Daddy steadies me and takes me into the bathroom so we can take a hot shower together to rinse away the oil. After that, I’m done for the day, although I do try to help him put things away.
“No, no. This is for me to do. You lie down and get some rest.”
And I fall asleep in Daddy’s bed.
In the morning I’m alone in bed. I smell the delicious aroma of bacon cooking and hot coffee brewing, so I throw back the covers and slip out of bed, padding downstairs to the kitchen. Daddy’s there, working alone, and he looks up when he hears me.
He says, “Hey. I was just about to wake you up.”
“Need some help?” I ask with a drowsy yawn, standing in the doorway watching him flip eggs.
“You can make the toast, if you like.”
I move into the kitchen proper and head for the toaster. There is a loaf of bread in a nearby breadbox. I get it out and pop a couple of slices into the toaster.
“What would you like to do today?” he asks. “Horseback riding?” I look to see if he’s kidding or not, and he is. I make a face at him, and he laughs. “No, really,” he tells me. “What do you want to do?”
“Let’s take a tour of the brewery. I’ve always wanted to.”
“Really? All right.”
“And after that, we can go to Griffith Park and ride the carousel.”
“They have that train ride, too.”
“Fun,” I say, buttering the toast and arranging it on a plate. “Let’s do it.”
After breakfast I get ready, picking the most juvenile outfit I have with me to wear. I bring a straw hat downstairs to wear on the trip, to keep the sun out of my easily-freckled face. Daddy seems to approve of my outfit, because he grabs the hat and sets it down, and then he pulls me into his arms for a kiss.
“You look pretty,” he tells me.
“Let me just grab my keys and we’ll go. Let’s stop off after the brewery and get us some sandwiches for a picnic.”
The brewery tour is educational, and at the end of it they provide samples of some of the beer. I’m not used to drinking in the day, so I feel slightly intoxicated just from the samples. Daddy holds my hand on the way back to the car and gets me buckled in safely.
“That was interesting,” he tells me once he’s in the car, too. “I’ve never been before this.”
“Me neither. I’ve lived in L.A. my whole life, but I never got around to doing it.”
“Well, thank you for that,” he says. “I never would’ve thought of it on my own.”
We stop off for sandwiches like he said and take the not-too-long drive to the park. I want to go to the carousel straight away, but Daddy makes me wait until we eat our lunch.
“I don’t want to leave these sandwiches sitting in a hot car. That’s food poisoning waiting to happen.”
We go find a picnic table so we can eat our lunch. I sit across from Daddy and smile at him.
“Sure you don’t want to go horseback riding?” he teases.
“Stop it. The only horse I want to see is on the merry-go-round.”
“You know what would really look cute on you?”
“A red balloon tied around your wrist.”
“I don’t know if they have any balloon vendors here,” I tell him. “Anyways, why red?”
“It’s so cheery and festive.”
Chuckling, I imagine myself running around with a balloon tied to my wrist like a little girl. Secretly I love balloons, and for the exact reasons Daddy just mentioned.
I say, “I just love parties, don’t you?”
“Yeah, I do, as a matter of fact, but the kind of parties I go to, everybody air-kisses each other and none of the women eat.”
“No offense, but that sounds kind of boring.”
“It is, but I have to do a certain amount of schmoozing. As a matter of fact, I have a party to go to next weekend, if you’d like to go with me.”
“Okay. But what will I wear?”
“How about after this: I take you out and buy you something special?”
* * *
“Is this your first grown-up party?” the saleslady at Lacey’s Department Store asks me. I want to get angry, but then I realize I am dressed like a youngster.
“Yes,” I tell her. “I need something sophisticated.”
We walk around for a little while, and then I spot something I might like. It’s the quintessential little black dress, and I take it off the rack and hold it up to myself. It’s a wrap dress, too, which is very figure-flattering and never gets old.
“Go ahead,” says the saleslady. “Try it on.”
Daddy’s seated near the women’s try-on room, and I pass him with a smile. “I’ll be out in a second,” I tell him.
So I go inside and put the dress on, and just as I suspected, it looks great on me. My stomach doesn’t pooch out or anything. I go out to where Daddy’s sitting and show it to him.
“Do you like it?” I ask.
“It’s beautiful. You’re beautiful.”
He says, “No, really. Do you need some shoes to go with it?”
“Yeah, I kind of do, if that’s cool.”
“Sure thing. Let’s pay for the dress and we’ll go down and look at the shoes.”
Of course, it takes longer to select the right shoes, since they not only have to look good, they also have to be comfortable. At least, to some extent. I pick out a pair of strappy high-heels with a row of rhinestones across the instep and try them on, modelling them for Daddy.
He nods in approval. “Very pretty,” he tells me.
“They feel nice, too. By the way, how’d you get rich enough to own a bunch of stuff at your age?”
“My grandfather. I was working in radio, and the station was looking for a buyer, so he came through for me and bought that one. I eventually made enough off it to go out and buy the other two myself. And the other stuff. I go gradually, so I don’t get in over my head.”
“That’s smart,” I tell him, sitting down to take off the shoes.
“Well, I try not to be a bonehead.”
“What makes the most money?”
“When the apartment building is at full capacity, it does. I mean, net profit, because the radio stations gross the most. But there are a couple of vacancies right now, so that pulls it down some.”
“Is it a nice building?”
“Yes. It’s very nice. I try to pick good addresses on all my investments. Right now I have a deal going for a triplex in Woodland Hills, south of Ventura Boulevard.”
I stuff the shoes back into the box, and the salesman stops by and asks if I like them.
“Yes. They’re perfect.”
“Let me drop these off,” he says, indicating another customer’s shoebox in his arms, “and I’ll come back and we’ll get you rung up.”
“Thanks,” I tell him. I reach for the shoes I wore in here and put them on.
“Having a nice day?” Daddy asks.
“Good. Lean over here. I want a kiss.”
I give him a quick kiss on the lips. The salesman stops back by, and I hand him the shoes. We follow him over to the counter to pay for them.
“Need anything else?”
“No. I think I’m good.”
After we pay we leave the mall and head back out towards Daddy’s house at the beach. When we get there I take my packages into the guest bedroom and try the shoes and the dress on together. I like the way they look, and I go out to the living room to show Daddy.
“They look nice together,” he says. “Go change now. I’m going to start dinner.”
“Really? What are you making?”
“Gnocchi with sage butter sauce.”
“It’s no big deal. I’m using packaged gnocchi.”
“It still sounds fancy,” I say, on my way out of the room. I go to my room and change into my street clothes, hanging up my new dress in the closet and putting the shoes beneath it. I come out to help Daddy, and he has some white dishes with square plates and bowls. I get them out of the cupboard and set the table with them. “Daddy?” I ask.
“I know I haven’t done anything wrong, but can I have a spanking after dinner?”
He turns and looks at me.
“Even after last night?”
“Do you want it with the paddle again?”
“Yeah. I guess that would be all right.”
I go to the drawer we keep the napkins in and select two of them. I also grab the flatware and finish setting our places at the table.
“What are we drinking?” I ask.
“Red wine. I’ve already opened the bottle, if you want to pour yourself a glass.”
I get a wineglass down and pour myself some from the bottle he has on the counter. It’s a nice, smooth wine, and I drink my glass down in only a couple of gulps. I pour myself some more and turn to watch him.
“You like to cook, don’t you?” I ask.
“Yes. It relaxes me. Do you want to wash those green beans for me?”
I get the colander down and dump the beans into it, and then I put them under running water. He has a pan ready, and he gives it to me so I can fill it with cold water and the beans. When I hand it back he puts it on the stove and lights the burner, and then he salts the water.
“How long?” I ask.
“I don’t know, about fifteen, twenty minutes. I can smell them and tell when they’re ready.”
“You must’ve been cooking for a long time.”
“I used to help my mother when I was a kid. What about you?”
“It was mostly just me and my dad and brother,” I tell him. “We ate a lot of frozen pizza.” I go on to tell him of the other culinary wonders my dad could make, and he laughs.
“Didn’t he have anything special he could make?”
“Man,” he says, grasping me by the upper arm and pulling me to the front of the stove while he stands behind me. “Come here and I’ll teach you something. Watch this.” He dumps the gnocchi into a pot of boiling water and says, “As soon as they float to the top, they’re finished.”
To my surprise, it only takes a minute or two. Daddy hands me a slotted spoon, and I scoop them out with it, and then throw them into the pan with the sage butter. He tosses some grated Parmesan cheese into the melted butter and tosses the gnocchi in it.
“That’s all. Easy, right? Now, grab those green beans and drain them.”
While I do, he goes and plates up the gnocchi. I bring the green beans over to the table in a bowl and he goes back for the wine and the glasses.
“I’ve never had fresh green beans before,” I tell him.
“You’ll like them. If you want, you can put butter on them, but I like them just the way they are.”
We sit down together like a normal family and eat. I see what he means about the green beans being good just plain, and the gnocchi is delicious. I have to remind myself to eat slower, so I set down my fork and take a sip of wine.
“Dinner’s good, Daddy. Thank you.”
“You’re welcome. Are you sure you want to be spanked after dinner? Even with those bruises on your butt?”
“If it’s not too much trouble. You don’t have to do it real hard.”
“Are you feeling guilty about something?”
“No, nothing like that. I just… need it once in a while. I’ve tried spanking myself before, but it doesn’t really work.”
I feel myself blush, because it’s a part of my kink I find embarrassing, but I say, “Yeah. You know, with a hairbrush and whatnot. But it’s not the same.”
He nods, but I’m not sure he really understands until dinner is over and he starts my punishment by sending me to the corner.
“I’m going to clean up the kitchen, and then I’ll get to you when I’m finished,” he tells me. “In fact, go get the paddle and hold it behind your back. It’s in my nightstand.”
When I get it out of the nightstand I see that he has more than just the small wooden paddle he’s used on me before. There’s also a round, leather-covered one and a long, rectangular one that looks like a fraternity paddle.
I don’t want the frat paddle right now, because I have a pretty good notion that’ll bruise me even more, but I bring both the small one and the leather-covered one out with me. When Daddy’s done with the dishes he comes out to see me.
“Well, I see you’ve found my other paddles.”
“Do you want to choose, or do you want it with both?”
I hear him move away, and when he calls me out of the corner, he’s already seated in the middle of the couch.
“You know what to do,” he says. “Pull your pants down to your knees and get over my lap.”
I hand him the paddles and then I obey, undoing the fly on my jeans and shoving them down before sliding down over his lap. I am abuzz with anticipation, but first Daddy caresses my bottom with his bare hand.
“I should’ve had you take your pants all the way off,” he tells me. “You’re not very bruised from last night.”
“Good. Get up and strip down. All the way.”
“Even my top?”
“Yes. We’re going to have a naked punishment.”
It excites me even more that he’s making me take off all my clothes. I get back up and strip, and then I climb back over his lap. He hands me the wooden paddle and tells me to hang onto it, and then he says, “We’re going to do the leather paddle first.”
“Ever had it with one of these?”
“I think you’ll find that they sting quite a bit more than the plain wooden ones do.”
To demonstrate, he rears back and brings the paddle down smack in the middle of my left cheek. I yelp, and he repeats the process with my right cheek, and then he begins the spanking in earnest, alternating cheeks, The only sound I hear is myself crying out, and the continual crack of the paddle as he punishes my bottom with crisp, resounding spanks. He ignores my cries, spanking on and on, way past the point of tears.
Finally, he stops and hands me a handkerchief, and I use it to dry my face off. My bottom is throbbing and feels hot and swollen. He caresses it again, like he did before he started spanking me. Some of the heat dissipates, and he gives me a chance to stop crying. When he’s good and convinced that I’m done, he trades paddles with me and starts fresh. I hang onto the other paddle with a white-knuckled grip, and I realize he’s having me hold it so I don’t try to throw my hand back and interfere with my spanking.
He’s right about the difference between the two paddles. The wooden one has more of a thud to it and stings less under normal circumstances, but my ass still burns from the leather paddle and the wooden one just exacerbates it. I wriggle around a lot, but I manage to keep my hands in front of me while I try my best to hold back my tears. Daddy doesn’t seem to mind me kicking my legs, especially since he must know what kind of distress I’m in. My ass feels red-hot and I’m finding it harder and harder to keep from crying. Suddenly, he gives me a couple of hard cracks that force me to start crying again.
When I do, he stops. He pulls me up and sits me on his knee, and then he gives me a big hug. He says, “You probably needed the cry more than anything else.”
I nod because it’s true, but I don’t say anything. He cuddles me until I stop crying, and then he lets me go. I go find my clothes and put them back on, and once I’m dressed he comes and drags me into his arms and kisses me.
This is just what I need, and I kiss him back.
“You’re the best daddy ever,” I tell him, feeling a little shy all of a sudden.
“Well, thank you. You’re not a bad little, either.”
“I’m doing okay for a newbie?”
“I’ve got no complaints. Have you?”
“No. I feel a strange attraction to you,” I say.
“Do you? Like nothing or nobody can ever break our bond?”
“It’s going to make it hard for either one of us to date.”
“I don’t care about that,” I tell him. “We seem to be doing all right without anybody else.”
He smiles and kisses my forehead, and then he releases me. My heart starts pounding, and I’m afraid I’ve scared him off, saying we don’t need anyone else, but all he does is go sit back down on the couch.
“Bring the lotion and I’ll rub it on your bottom,” he says, so I go fetch it. When I get back, I hand it to him, and I pull my pants down without even being asked to.
The rubdown feels nice, and I’m so glad I placed that ad. Meeting Bennett is one of the best things that’s ever happened to me.
It’s while I’m daydreaming and thinking all this that he says, “Do you want to make love to me?”
His voice penetrates my thoughts, and I nod.
“Then come on. Get up.”
I do, and I pull my pants up without fastening them. I let him lead the way to his bedroom, and once inside, he turns to me and kisses me hard. Without quite knowing how I got there, I find myself pressed up against the wall. He toys with my nipple, turning it into a hard knot.
“Let me take my pants off,” I tell him, wanting him then and there. He steps back a pace or two so we can both struggle out of our jeans and underpants. We kick them aside, and then Daddy comes forward again and starts kissing me, before lifting me easily and settling me on his cock.
I moan aloud. “That feels so fucking good,” I tell him, and he starts rocking his hips, taking me on a wild ride.
Never before have I felt this kind of passion, and I go with it, freeing myself of my usual inhibitions. Bennett’s the kind of man you feel like you can do anything in front of and he won’t judge. I feel my passion build as he fucks the shit out of me.
“Almost there,” I whisper, and a few seconds later, I feel myself go over the edge. “Oh, Bennett,” I cry out in a husky voice. He drills into me for a good several seconds longer, prolonging my orgasm before he finally comes himself.
He lets me down carefully, his forehead resting against the wall. He says, “Amaya, you’re so beautiful. I really lucked out meeting you.”
“Let’s go lie down. I’m sapped.”
“Want me to fix you something to eat?” I ask.
“A quesadilla, silly. That’s about all I can make, too.”
He says, “What’ll your dad think of you dating an older guy?”
“He won’t care, as long as it doesn’t affect him.”
“No? He’s not overprotective?”
“Not in the least.”
“Well, don’t worry,” he tells me. “I’ll overprotect you. And I think I’ll take that quesadilla now.”
I get up and swish out of the room, naked. This is the first time I ever made anything in Daddy’s kitchen, and I feel like I’m prying, opening his cupboards and drawers. The kitchen’s very organized, so I don’t have to dig around too much to find the frying pan and a spatula. His refrigerator’s pretty well organized, too, and I grab the cheese out. There is a package of tortillas on top of the breadbox, and I take a couple out before firing up the stove and making his quesadilla.
After making myself one too, I take them back into the bedroom and Daddy smiles at me.
“I guess you really like my kitchen.”
“What makes you say that?” I ask.
“I heard you singing down there.”
“Oh, God. And I sing so badly, too.”
“You do not. What was that you were singing?”
“Just a Broadway tune.”
To change the subject I hand him his quesadilla. He digs right in, so I sit down and follow suit.
“What’s this party you’re taking me to going to be like?” I ask him.
“It’ll be fine. Just shake hands with everybody and act like you’re having a good time.”
“Who are these people?”
“Mostly real estate people and bankers. Stock brokers. People like me.”
“Yes. Stick with me and you’ll probably learn a thing or two about business. That reminds me, do you have a brokerage account?”
“We’ll have to get you one.”
With what, I don’t ask. Instead, I just nod. He finishes his quesadilla and hands me the plate.
“That was good,” he tells me. “It really hit the spot.”
“Thanks. I’m glad you liked it.”
“Let’s go get dressed and make ourselves a drink. By the way, that reminds me. You’re not an unhappy drinker, are you?”
“No. The total opposite. I’m probably annoyingly happy when I drink.”
“That’s good,” he says, climbing to his feet and picking his underpants up off the floor. “My last girl used to throw things. Then she started throwing them at me.”
I watch him put them back on and say, “Oh, my God. That’s crazy.”
“Of course, I wasn’t her daddy, so I couldn’t spank that nonsense out of her. There was nothing else for it. I knew it was time to break up.”
I retrieve my panties and slip them on. “Do you think having things the way they are between us is better, in the long run?”
“Definitely. Why do you ask?”
“No reason,” I say, pulling my top over my head. “Just seeing if you’re still of the same mind.”
“I am. What about you? It’s what you want, isn’t it?”
“Yes, of course. But what do you get out of it?”
“It turns me on,” he tells me, buttoning his fly. “I like this little role-playing thing we’ve got going on.”
When I don’t answer right away, he meets my gaze and holds it. I can see he’s being honest, so I say, “So do I.”
“Then come on. Quit worrying about it and get over here and kiss me.”
I go to him to give him a peck on the cheek, but he grabs me and plants a real kiss on my lips.
“There,” he says. “Now let’s go get that drink.”
“Good,” I tell him. “I feel like getting wasted.”
A couple of minutes later we’re standing in his kitchen and he’s mixing me a screwdriver. When he gives it to me, I taste it.
“Whoa,” I say with a chuckle. “That’s a strong drink.”
“You said you wanted to get wasted. No, really. Is it too strong? Give it back and I’ll fix it.”
I hand him back the drink, and he puts a little more orange juice in it. He sticks a green bendy straw in it, and uses it to stir the drink again. When he hands it back, it’s perfect.
He puts his arm around me and leads me back to the living room. We sit back down together on the couch and get comfortable.
He says, “You’re a good lover, you know that?”
“Sure. Why not?”
“I’m not very experienced.”
“Then you must just be a natural.”
I feel my face go red. “Thanks,” I tell him.
“You’re welcome, and don’t be embarrassed about that.” He takes a slug off his drink and I can’t help smiling. He says, “What’s the smile about?”
I shrug. “Nothing, really. I’m just flattered you think I’m so good.”
He sets down his drink, and then he draws me into an embrace. His hand’s still cold from the ice in his drink, and it makes me shiver. He thinks it’s from his very touch and presses my head against his chest and kisses it.
“What about me?” he asks. “Am I doing a good job disciplining you, or am I too rough?”
“You’re fine. I don’t need it any softer or harder than you’re already doing it.”
He gives me a squeeze, and then he lets go of me and has another swallow of his drink. I do the same and we gaze at each other.
“The ocean sounds louder,” I say.
I stir my drink with the straw he gave me and take another sip of it. I say, “I feel like I can tell you anything.”
“What’s it like, managing a radio station?”
“It’s all right. I’m very hands-on. What’s it like doing admin for the county?”
“Why don’t you quit and come to work for me? I could use a good assistant.”
“What would that entail?”
“The usual. Accompany me to meetings and take notes. Make phone calls for me. Run errands.”
“No,” he says. “I’ll set you up a desk in my office. A lot of this is work from home stuff.”
“My home or yours?”
“Mine, but I like to get started early.”
I say, “That should be fun. I’ll have to get up at four to make it on time.”
“What if you stayed here?” he asks. “Then you can just get up at your normal time.”
“Where will I stay? In the guest room? What happens if you have a real guest?”
“Screw ’em. They can sleep on the couch.” I look at him in surprise, and he laughs. “No; actually, I have another guest bedroom.”
“Can I stay during the week and go home on weekends?”
“Sure, but what about burglars?”
“I live next door to the building’s manager. I don’t think anyone will break in there.”
He takes up his drink again and doesn’t say anything, so I think he must be ready to take back what he said about me staying there. Instead, he turns to me with a smile.
“It’ll be nice, having you here.”
“Can I have my mail forwarded, so I don’t have to worry about it? I’m kind of paranoid about identity theft.”
“Yeah, no problem. As a matter of fact, why don’t you just move in here, when your lease is up?”
“That’s five more months,” I say, grabbing my own drink and taking a sip of it. “Let’s worry about that when the time comes. Hell, you might not even want me here by then.”
“As long as you’re not sloppy and annoying…”
“Me? No. At least, I don’t think so.”
“Neither do I,” he says, picking up his drink and rising to his feet. “Grab your drink and let’s go out on the deck and watch the sunset.”
I do as he asks and follow him outside. The weather’s starting to cool off a little, so I set my drink down and duck back inside for my hoodie. When I get back out there he’s on his phone.
“All right,” he says into his phone. “You take it easy, now, and I’ll see you tomorrow.”
When he hangs up, I glance over at him.
“My mother. She lives in a retirement community nearby and she twisted her ankle today playing golf.”
“Aw. Poor thing.”
“She’s all right. You ought to come with me and meet her tomorrow.”
“Okay. If you’re sure.”
“Yeah. I’ll tell her you’re my new assistant.”
“Well, it is the truth. We don’t have to talk about that other part.”
“Which reminds me. We haven’t even discussed your salary.”
“I was making thirty-seven thousand with the county.”
“Then that’s what I’ll pay you, too. Wait. To hell with that. Let’s make it an even forty. But I’m really going to work you. First off, can you organize my closet? I can’t find anything in there.”
I smile. It’s just the sort of work I enjoy.
“Sure. Let’s finish watching the sunset, and then you can get me a couple of boxes and a trash bag.”
We sit there drinking our drinks as the sun slowly sinks behind the waves. Glancing around the beach, I see the sunset has brought out other people to watch it. There’s an older couple walking hand in hand down by the surf, and a girl jogging behind a Labrador Retriever nearby. Daddy reaches for my hand and holds it, and we don’t get up and go inside until the last tiny sliver of orange is gone.
As soon as it is, I turn to him.
“I know,” he tells me. “The closet.”
We get up and go back inside, and Daddy lets me loose in his closet, sitting on the bed to keep me company as I work. I pull a sweater out of a pile on a shelf.
“Keep, or donate?” I ask.
“I’ll keep that one.”
“What about this one?”
“Keep, but you can donate that next one down. It never fit me well in the first place.”
“We should get some of those storage boxes with the little windows in them so you can see what’s inside. That way you won’t have to mess up the whole pile just to get to the one you want.”
“That’s a pretty good idea. Where can we get some of those?”
“I’ll look on the internet later.”
“Come over here a minute. Your drink’s dying.”
I go to him, and he sits up and gives me a kiss before patting me on the butt and moving me in the direction of his nightstand. He’s right about my drink. The ice is melting and watering it down. I pick it up and drain it, and Daddy asks me to hand him the glass.
“I’m going to the kitchen to fix us another. Do you need anything else?”
“No, I’m cool.”
A couple of minutes later, he’s back with fresh drinks. “Come on,” he says. “Take a break.”
I go and sit beside him on the bed.
“Just for a minute,” I tell him. “I need to finish this.”
“You’ll never get it all done tonight. Besides, don’t we have to order those box thingies?”
“Yeah. I suppose you’re right, but we can at least get everything sorted tonight.”
“Then let me in there and I’ll pick out the rest of the donations.”
Working together, we get the bulk of the job done a lot faster than I would working alone. He hands me a scarlet-colored sweater to put into the donations box, but I spread it out and look at it. It’s pretty, with a V-neck.
“Is this cashmere?”
He glances up. “Yep. It’s a nice sweater, isn’t it? It just doesn’t go with anything I own.”
“May I keep it? I’ve always wanted a cashmere sweater.”
“Yeah, sure,” he says. “It’ll be a little big on you, but go ahead. If you see anything else you like, keep that, too.”
I set the sweater aside on the bed, and then I start hanging things back up, the pants with the pants, the shirts with the shirts, and so on. We take breaks here and there to drink our drinks, and by the time we’re done organizing the closet, we’re both kind of buzzed.
“That’s nice,” he tells me, gesturing toward the closet. “You’re going to make a good assistant.”
“I plan to. A serious one, too.”
“Not too serious, I hope.”
“No. There’s always time for fun and games.”
He sweeps me into his embrace and says, “Good. That’s what I like to hear.”
I reach up and kiss him, and he kisses me back, but it doesn’t go any further than that. When he lets me go he takes me into his home office and sits me down at his desk.
“You look those boxes up while I make a list of all the stuff we’re going to need. What kind of desk do you like?”
“I don’t know,” I say. “How about a roll-top desk with lots of compartments? Or one of those secretaries with the bookshelves over top?”
“Maybe we’d better hit up the antique mall after we visit my mother. I’ll bet we can find something nice there.”
“Is that where you got yours?” I ask.
“No. I inherited mine from my grandfather.”
“Really? I never even knew my grandfather. Or my grandmother, either, for that matter.”
“You poor baby.”
I shrug. “It’s hard to miss what you’ve never had.”
He doesn’t say anything else, so I fire up his computer and click on the internet icon. I type in my search a couple of different ways until I find what I am looking for. The boxes come in several colors. He chooses charcoal grey, so I start to order a couple of sets to make sure he has enough. He has me order four sets, so I can do the closet in my bedroom too.
“Might as well organize both of them.”
“Maybe I’d better get five sets, then,” I tell him. “I have a lot of clothes and junk.”
“Sure. You have to look nice when you’re working for the county.”
“Oh, wow,” I say. “That reminds me. I’ll have to put in my notice at the county. Do you think you can spare me for a couple more weeks?”
“Will you still come over and stay?”
“Sure. I’ll have to get up earlier, though.”
And he says, “I’ll make it worth your while.”
He waggles his eyebrows at me, so I assume he means sexually. I nod in agreement.
* * *
On Monday I go to my boss directly after our weekly meeting with the staff. I let him know about my new job, and he asks me to reconsider, saying he can maybe get me a raise.
I say, “I like working here, Brad. I do. But this new job’s going to be more challenging, and I’ll get to travel and do things I’ve always wanted to do.”
I eventually talk the hurt look off his face, and we get on with our day, but I feel bad, because I’ve worked for him since I got out of secretarial school, and I know it will be hard for him to replace me.
“It’s like breaking up a marriage,” I tell Daddy over dinner. “You get close, you know? I had to learn his likes and dislikes, and all that, and it took a while to get over that ‘being on our best behavior’ phase. We eventually got comfortable with each other, and now he’ll have to go through all that again.”
“So will you, in a way,” says Daddy. “I mean, we don’t know everything about each other yet.”
“No. That’s true. I still haven’t seen you get angry.”
“I’m not normally an angry person,” he tells me.
“No. I know that. It’s one of the things I really like about you.”
“You know what I like about you? I thought you were going to play the brat all the time to get spanked, but I’ve been pleasantly surprised. I liked that you just asked me for it the other night without playing a lot of games.”
“Did you?” I ask. “I was worried I was wrecking the illusion.”
“No. I like the role-playing, but we don’t have to be slaves to it.” He’s quiet for a moment, and then he says, “I know what we can do. Once we get our office set up we can pretend like I’m a teacher and you’re a naughty student.”
“We don’t have to use a cane, though, do we? They look pretty wicked.”
“What would you prefer?” he asks.
“Just a belt or a strap. Something like that.”
“Are you sure? They pack a lot of sting too.”
“Maybe we’d better test one out,” I tell him. “Let’s go into the office after dinner and we can try it out.”
He nods, and then he says, “Why don’t we try out that frat paddle while we’re at it?”
I remember how scary it looks, but I agree to let him try it on me anyway. We eat the rest of our dinner in relative silence, and directly after dinner we put the used dishes in the sink and go to Daddy’s office. He sends me for the paddle, and while I’m gone he clears a space on the desktop for me. He makes me pull down my pants, and then he invites me to bend over. Once I’m down there he unbuckles his belt and whisks it off.
“All the way down,” he tells me, and I lay my head on my forearms. While I’m down there he places one of his hands around the back of my neck to keep me pinned there, and then he takes the first swing.
That first crack of the belt across my ass is a shock, and it’s a good thing he’s holding me, or I’d have jumped up. He takes another swing, then another, and I bite my lip to keep from howling. How little Joey took all those belt whippings as a kid is beyond me.
“Can we change to the paddle? I don’t think I’m up to the belt right now.”
“All right this time, but you won’t always get to pick.”
He eases off me and goes to pick up the paddle. Once he has it, he clamps an iron hand around my neck again to hold me down.
The paddle’s not much better than the belt, and I cry out with the first swat. He starts role-playing, even though we’re really just experimenting.
He says, “Well, Miss Chandler? Are you going to keep disrupting my class?”
“I know you’re not. Now lie still and take your punishment, and I don’t want those feet coming up off the floor.”
He seems pleased that I’ve called him ‘sir,’ but he keeps punishing me anyway. He gives me about ten more good wallops with the paddle, and then he tells me to stay where I am so he can get the belt.
“Not the belt again.”
“I’m afraid so. You’ve been a very naughty little girl today, haven’t you?”
“Can I get a couple of tissues first?”
“Yes,” he tells me. He waits patiently for me to wipe my face off, and then he has me bend over again. He clamps me back down under his hand and returns to his grim task, giving me the first lick. He starts talking between each one, telling me I’d better start behaving and stop disrupting his class, and that I’m setting a bad example for the others, and blah, blah, blah. The truth is, I stop listening to the actual words and concentrate on the tone of them. For some reason beyond the actual pain, I want to cry for disappointing him.
“Those crocodile tears won’t get you out of this,” he tells me. “How do you think I feel, having to get myself a new secretary after all those years together?”
Hearing that opens the floodgates, and I weep copiously, so much that he’s forced to stop and lift me to my feet.
“Why did you say that?” I ask.
“Because I know you feel guilty about it. Go ahead. Have yourself a good cry, and then I’ll take you down to the pier for an ice cream.”
He lets me clean myself up while he puts his belt back on and goes to put away the paddle.
“I’ll put it in my desk drawer,” he tells me. “We’ll keep it in there now for when you act up.”
“Can I go wash my face before we go to the pier?”
“Sure, honey. I’ll put the dishes in the dishwasher while you do that. I like to leave things neat for the maid.”
“There’s a maid?”
“Yeah. She only comes during the week, though. I usually don’t see her, except on Wednesdays, when she comes to work at one and stays until nine. Her little granddaughter’s in kindergarten and she has to pick her up from school.”
“That’s nice of her. What’s her name?”
“Is she Hispanic?”
“No. She’s from Alaska.”
“How’d she end up here?” I ask.
“Got sick of the cold, I guess. Now go wash up.”
The next day we go visit Daddy’s mother. She’s sitting on a sofa with her ankle propped up when we get there, but she hobbles over to open the door for us. She’s a petite lady with white hair, and Daddy tells her to go back and sit down.
“Can I get you anything?” he asks her.
“You can take the dog for a walk, if you want.”
“Where’s his leash? Oh, yeah. This is Amaya Chandler. She’s my new assistant.”
She gives me the once-over and says, “Well, Amanda, it’s nice to meet you.”
“Amaya. It’s nice meeting you, too.”
“Mom? Where’s his leash?”
“It’s on the doorknob to my bedroom.”
Daddy goes and gets the leash, and the dog, a miniature Schnauzer who’s sitting on the couch next to his mistress, wags his little stump of a tail.
“Come on, Jock. Let’s go for a walk.”
“You don’t have to come with,” says Daddy. “You can sit here and get acquainted with my mom.”
Once he’s gone she turns to me.
“You have a nice son,” I say quickly.
And she says, “Thank you. I’m Betty, by the way.”
She sizes me up a moment. “You look so young.”
“I’m almost twenty-four,” I tell her, “and I’ve been to secretarial school.”
“Is this your first job?”
“No. I came over from the county. I was secretary to the director of Social Services.”
“You’re not going to do anything crazy, like falling in love with my son, are you?”
“I don’t plan to,” I say, although in truth I’m half in love with him already.
“What do your parents do for work?”
“My dad works at the Rocket Propulsion plant, and I don’t know where my mother is.”
“Broken home, eh?”
“Smashed to bits,” I tell her.
She laughs. She has a nice laugh, like Bennett’s, and she relaxes a bit. She tells me about herself, like how she used to be an English teacher, and she’s about to add something else, when Bennett returns with the dog.
“I think I like this girl,” she tells him.
“Good,” he says, unhooking the dog from his leash. “So do I. What do you want for lunch?”
“Just a grilled cheese with some tomato soup.”
He proceeds to fix her lunch, while I help her sit up and set up a tray table for her. When we have her all fixed up Bennett kisses her and tells her to call him if she needs anything else.
Once we’re back in the car we decide to blow off the desk shopping for now, and instead Bennett takes me to the big farmers market near West Hollywood.
“I want to get my mom some of these apples she likes,” he tells me. “It’s the only place I know that sells them.”
“You haven’t changed your mind about me working for you, have you?”
“No. Not at all. Why? Are you nervous?”
“Yes. A bit. I can’t help thinking something’s going to go wrong.”
“Nothing’s going to go wrong. Just relax.”
We arrive at the farmers’ market and park.
I say, “My dad used to bring us here every October when we were little, so we could look at the pumpkins.”
“Well, he had to do some stuff with us.”
“Maybe when we’re done, we’ll go window-shopping at The Grove.”
“All right. I’ve never been there.”
“You’re like a little orphaned child,” he tells me.
“I feel like one sometimes. I have to make an appointment to see my own father or he might be off at the track.”
He laughs and pulls me close, his arm around my shoulders. I glance around and notice people are giving us hard looks, like Daddy’s some kind of pervert and I’m a trampy little teenager. I hold my head up high and ignore them, because we’re both adults and we can do what we want.
I buy some of those cute little baby squash, and Daddy gets the apples, called lady apples, for his mother. We also get a good deal on some wild mushrooms, and Daddy describes the dish he’s going to make with them.
When we get back to Betty’s she’s pleased with her apples. We take Jock the dog on another walk together, and Daddy heats her up a TV dinner. We end up going home after that, and we talk in the car.
“Did you see how those people at the farmers market were looking at us?”
“Don’t worry about them,” he tells me.
“It was nice, walking together like that. I like it when your arm’s around me.”
“Good. I like it, too.”
“We have to be careful about when we do it, though,” I tell him.
“Of course,” he answers. “Especially around the people I work with.”
“Because it’s none of their business. Besides, you’ve never seen a bigger pack of gossips in your life.”
This makes me a little nervous about that party we have to go to on Friday. It’ll be my first time meeting the people Daddy associates with, so I take extra care getting ready that night. I do my nails and makeup all right, but I don’t know what to do with my hair. Without a mother I never learned how to create different hairstyles. The only one I know is the French Twist, so I settle on that.
Daddy’s lucky. All he has to do is throw on a suit and some shoes and he’s done. I mess up my hair the first time, so I have to start all over. I’m in the middle of this when Daddy comes to my room.
“Are you about ready?”
“Almost. I just have to pin up my hair.”
“That dress looks pretty on you.”
“I brought you something.”
“Finish your hair and I’ll show you.”
I finally get my hair done, and I turn to him. He’s holding a velvet-covered jewelers’ box with a gold ribbon around it, and he offers it to me.
I untie the ribbon and open it. Inside is a three-stranded pearl choker with a rosette in the front, kind of like Princess Di used to wear.
“Oh, my God,” I say, taking it out of the box. “It’s beautiful. Help me put it on.”
Daddy comes over to me and slips the necklace around my neck, fastening it and dropping a kiss on the back of my neck. He slowly turns me around so he can see me in it.
“How does it look?” I ask.
“Fabulous. Check it out.”
I go look at myself in the mirror, and I have to agree with Daddy’s assessment.
Daddy says, “Do you want the earrings to go with it?”
“There are earrings, too?”
“Of course. They’re just plain, though.”
“That’s okay. This is the first real jewelry I’ve ever owned.”
“Well, good. I’m glad you like it.”
Later, at the party, I meet a lot of people, but the one who really stands out is a woman named Sophie. She comes right up to our group and air-kisses everyone, including me. She kisses Daddy last, but when she does, she kisses him for real, on both cheeks, leaving behind red lipstick which he must go wipe off. I am left standing there beside her with nothing to say.
“What’s your name? Are you here with Bennett?”
“Yes,” I tell her. “My name is Amaya Chandler.”
She gives me the once-over and says, “Pretty dress. I wish I could wear something so simple, but alas.”
She sighs, but she’s beautiful and could probably get away with wearing anything. I ignore her backhanded compliment and struggle to avoid rolling my eyes, but then Daddy comes back, creating a diversion. He’s got two glasses of wine in his hands. He gives one to me and keeps the other.
He says, “I thought I might bring you a drink.”
I take the initial sip, but then I nurse it. Sophie looks put out that he brought me a drink but not her, which leads me to believe they used to date.
“So, what do you do, Andrea?” she asks me.
“Amaya. I’m Bennett’s personal assistant.”
She looks at Bennett as if she can’t believe it, and swats his arm with her hand. “Naughty Bennett. You should’ve told me you were looking for someone.”
“It was sort of a spur-of-the-moment-type thing,” he tells her.
A guy named Oscar joins the group next. He looks like Sophie’s type, a hipster in a man bun. He’s tall and loose-limbed, and shuffles instead of walking. Sophie gives him a frosty hello and leaves it at that, but Bennett has a lot to say to him. Apparently, he’s the station manager for Daddy’s radio stations, so we leave Sophie so he and Daddy can discuss how it’s going. We all three sit together on part of a grey sectional as Oscar tells him how some new DJ is working out.
Pretty soon a new guy comes who looks to be about twenty-six or so. He plops himself down beside me and introduces himself.
“Hi,” he says, sticking his hand out to shake. “Brian Lawson. And you are?”
He draws me out and gets me talking, asking what I do and telling me about himself. He says he manages Daddy’s strip mall and his apartment buildings, and I say I’m Bennett’s new assistant.
“He’s terrific,” Brian says of Daddy. “He gave me a chance fresh out of school when no one else would. I thought I’d have to go work at a rental car agency, but no.”
“He gave me a chance, too,” I tell Brian. “I’ve never been anyone’s personal assistant before. Not like this.”
“You’ll enjoy it. Bennett is great to work for.”
“I’m really looking forward to it. I just started, but he wanted to bring me here and introduce me around.”
“I’m glad he did. Can I get you another drink?”
“Sure. I’ll go with you, if you want.”
I touch Daddy’s arm to let him know I’m going over to the bar, and he nods and gets back to his conversation. Brian helps me up, and we head to the bar. He looks at me and smiles. He’s not much taller than I am, especially with heels on, but he’s devastatingly cute. I’ve always been a sucker for red hair, and his is thick and wavy and shot with gold.
When we get to the bar he orders four glasses of wine so we can take some back to the others. We bring them their drinks back, and now they’re talking about their return on investment. I haven’t the faintest idea what that actually means, so I tune them out and get back to my conversation with Brian.
“Where’d you go to college?” he asks.
“I only went to secretarial school. I didn’t have time to go to regular college.”
“My dad wanted us out, and he wouldn’t put up with a four-year college.”
“But you’re doing okay on your own?”
“Sure. Bennett invited me to live in. I have a studio apartment in Culver City right now, but if I do live in I won’t have to pay any rent.”
“I know,” I tell him. “Bennett’s awesome. Can you imagine how much money I’ll save?”
“What will you be doing for him, precisely?”
“I don’t know yet. Just whatever he needs done, I guess. Run errands, stuff like that. Make travel arrangements, keep his calendar updated. You know. Regular secretary stuff.”
“What do you like to do for fun?”
“Sew. I made this outfit.”
“Really?” he asks, looking impressed.
“No. Not really, but I could have, if I’d had more time.”
“Okay. What else?”
“I like to explore Los Angeles. There’s so much to do here.”
“Where do you like to go?”
“Well, I just went on the brewery tour and goofed off at Griffith Park. I didn’t go to the observatory yet, but I did go there on a field trip when I was a kid. Why? What do you like to do?”
“I play bass in a band.”
“Yeah? What’s the name of your band?”
“You won’t have heard of us. We hardly ever play a bar or club, but we play weddings and stuff once in a while. We’re called The Rockets and we mostly play 50s and 60s music.”
He says, “We should do something sometime.”
“I can’t,” I tell him. “I sort of have a boyfriend.”
“I’m sure we’ll be working together, so I’ll let you know if anything changes.”
“Yeah. You do that.”
We both fall silent, so I turn and glance at Daddy. He gives me a smile, and when I turn back to Brian he excuses himself to go talk to a friend of his. I sit back down beside Daddy and sip my wine.
There are a lot of people here, and I love to people-watch, so I occupy myself doing that while Daddy wraps up his conversation with Oscar. When Oscar leaves Daddy turns to gaze at me.
“How’d you like Brian?”
“He’s nice,” I say. “He tried to ask me out, but I said I have a boyfriend. I hope you don’t mind.”
“Mind? That you called me your boyfriend?”
“I didn’t tell him who.”
“No worries. Let’s just try to keep it on the down-low.”
And I say, “Yeah. Sure. No problem.”
“Oh, look,” he says. “There’s my broker. Let’s go say hi.”
We both get up off the couch and I walk with him over to a short man in a business suit. I watch him take a drink off of a passing waiter’s tray as we approach. He looks harassed and ready to unwind.
“Hey, Charles,” says Daddy. “I’d like you to meet my new assistant, Amaya.”
“Hello, Amaya,” he says, changing the drink to his left hand so we can shake. “Aren’t you pretty?”
“Thanks. You look nice, too.”
“I just got here,” he says to Daddy. “Anything going on?”
They start talking about how the market’s down for the past two days, and my eyes glaze over. I know absolutely nothing about investing or the stock market.
“Got any hot tips for me?” says Daddy.
“Yeah. You should buy some Consolidated Devices stock. They’re set to take off when they announce their quarterly earnings next Thursday.”
“How much a share?”
“A hundred twenty-six.”
“Put me in for a hundred shares.”
“What about you, Amaya?” asks Charles. “Do you play the market?”
“We’re going to open an account on Monday,” Daddy answers for me. “Let’s get her set up with twenty-five shares.”
I nod, but I know I don’t have that kind of money in the bank. I can’t ask Daddy how he expects me to pay for all that, though, because there are people around. I agonize over it the whole rest of the party and get really quiet. Several times he asks me what’s wrong, but I lie and say nothing. When we finally get in the car to go home I’m almost in tears, and I blurt out that all I have is seven hundred dollars in the bank, so I can’t possibly open a brokerage account like he wants me to.
“Is that what’s been bothering you?” he asks
“Didn’t I tell you I’ll take good care of you?”
“Are you not trusting me? Again?”
“No, it’s not that. I just… that’s a lot of money.”
“I know,” he tells me. “It’s over thirty-one hundred dollars, which probably seems like a fortune to you, but once we get things going it should build rather quickly.”
“If it does, I’ll totally pay you back.”
“Did I say anything about this being a loan?”
“Then stop being silly, before I put you over my knee.”
This makes me smile, and I say, “You can do that anyway, if you want.”
He lifts his eyebrows and says, “Are you sure?”
“Yes. I deserve it for not trusting you more.”
He must know how guilty I feel about it, because he leans down and kisses me and says, “If you say so, but I won’t go easy on you.”
“I don’t want you to,” I tell him.
When we get home, he tells me to go put my baby-doll nightie on and meet him back out in the living room. I come back out and see that he’s gotten the paddles and some new thing out.
“What’s that?” I ask, pointing at the mysterious strap on a handle.
“It’s a tawse. They used to use it to smack kids’ hands with, but we’re going to use it on that lovely backside of yours.”
“That sounds like it’ll hurt.”
“That’s the general idea, but I won’t go crazy with it. Now, come on. Get over my lap.”
I hasten to obey, and he lifts the thin chiffon and lays it over my back. He rubs my bottom, saying, “Your ass looks spectacular in a G-string.”
“Too bad we’ll have to take it down in a little bit.”
“Why? You can already see my whole ass.”
“Psychology,” he tells me. “Come on. Get into this.”
He lets me lie there over his lap while I prepare myself for a good spanking. He says, “What did you do?”
“I doubted you. Plus, I flirted with Brian a little.”
“I don’t mind a little flirting, as long as you remember who you’re coming home to.”
“Still,” I tell him. “It was very naughty.”
He sighs and says, “I just don’t know what I’m going to do with you.”
With that, he starts in on a warm-up. making sure to get every inch of my butt and thighs. When he’s done warming me up he moves onto the leather paddle and peppers my ass with brisk, stinging blows. I try to keep still, but I’m not one hundred percent successful, so he has to stop for a moment until I settle back down.
“Lift up,” he tells me, and when I do he pulls my G-string down to about the mid-thigh level. “I guess this is as good a time as any to try out the tawse. Ready to do some crying?”
A moment later, he lays on the first lick of the tawse. It hits me like a hot tongue of fire, and I whimper in response, but he doesn’t stop, he keeps right on going. My ass heats up fast, and he even spanks my thighs.
“Ow! Daddy, please,” I say.
“I don’t mind you flirting, to an extent, but you’d better start believing in me or this relationship won’t work.”
I sag across his lap and kick my legs with each blow, but I figure if schoolchildren can handle it then so can I. I start counting the blows, and I’m up to about fifteen when he stops. I’m not crying yet, but I know that’s his goal, so he exchanges the tawse for the leather paddle again. This he uses on my sit spot, nowhere else, just over and over on my sit spot until I feel my eyes well up with tears and my mouth fill with a scream I’m holding in.
Suddenly, he calls me a little brat and gives me an extra-hard whack, and that’s enough. I start sobbing profusely. He stops and lets me up, and then he drags me back down to sit on his knee, and hands me a handkerchief he pulls out of his pocket.
“It’s okay, sweetheart, it’s okay.”
“I’m so sorry, Daddy. Trust is something I really have to work on.”
“Shh, it’s okay.”
I lay against his chest, and he pets my hair while I try to get a grip on myself.
He says, “That tawse is really something, isn’t it?”
“Yes. It’s mean, and I don’t like it.”
“Then you be a good girl, and I won’t have to use it on you again.”
By now, his handkerchief is soaking wet. I sit up straight and look at him.
“Can I go put this thing in the laundry?”
“Yeah. You hungry? I’ll make us some pancakes.”
“Pancakes for dinner? I love that.”
“Then hurry up and get dressed. You can put your pajamas on, if you like. I don’t see us going anywhere else tonight.”
I hurry off to my room and change into my favorite pajamas, a pair of pink flannel pants with cartoon dogs printed on them with a matching t-shirt that says, “Life is Ruff.” When I get back out to the kitchen, I help Daddy out by buttering the pancakes and setting the table.
“How did you like the party, anyway?” he asks.
“Oh, it was good. I liked meeting everybody. How about you? Did you have fun?”
“It was all right. About the same as usual.”
“That Sophie, she’s kind of high-strung, isn’t she?” I ask.
“High everything. High-maintenance, high-drama, high-strung.”
“She’s pretty, though.”
“Yeah. She is that.” I watch as he flips the pancake in his pan, and after a moment he shuts the fire off under the pan. “There,” he tells me. “That ought to hold us.”
We sit down together and fix ourselves a plate. I pour a bunch of maple syrup in a leaf-shaped bottle all over my stack of pancakes and hand the bottle to Daddy.
“Did you ever go out with her?” I ask.
“Who? Sophie? Yes. A long time ago.” For some unknown reason this bothers me. Apparently he picks up on it, because when I glance at him he smiles. “Don’t worry,” he tells me. “She’s with Oscar now. They live together in Santa Monica.”
Knowing that makes me feel a little better, and I cut off a chunk of pancake and spear it with my fork.
“Thanks for the pancakes,” I tell him.
We finish eating in silence, and when we’re done I help Daddy clear the table and put the dishes in the dishwasher.
“Do you like art at all?” he asks me. “A friend of mine has a show opening up at one of the galleries in West Hollywood next Wednesday, if you’re interested.”
“Yeah. Sure. I’ve never been to one before, but it sounds fun.”
“We really need to get you up to speed.”
“I know. I’m working on it. But won’t it bother you if I get too sophisticated?”
“No. Why should it?”
“You know, the whole age-play thing.”
He glances at me and grins. “You can be a little girl in the bedroom, but that doesn’t mean you have to be one all the time. Why? Do you want to pretend like you’re a little girl all the time?”
“No, I suppose not. I mean, it was nice, going out tonight. You didn’t do this stuff with Sophie, did you?” He glances at me, and as soon as he does I realize she’s the girl he was talking about, the one who liked to throw things at him. “Oh,” I tell him. “Never mind. I get it.”
When Wednesday rolls around I go straight to the beach house so I can start getting ready for the gallery opening. I meet Esmerelda, since it’s her late day to work. She has almond-shaped eyes and looks vaguely Asian, and her hair is long and dark and thick. She tells me, with no trace of an accent, that I’ll really like working for Bennett and he’s great to work for.
“I figured he would be. He’s been taking me around to meet everybody. Getting me up to speed, he says.”
“If you don’t mind my asking, how old are you?”
“You look so young,” she tells me. “Much younger than his last assistant.”
“He had another assistant before me?”
“A twenty-eight-year-old single mother. She never lived in, like you’re getting ready to.”
“What happened to her?” I ask.
“Her son got sick a lot, so she went back on welfare to take care of him.”
“Oh, my God. Nothing serious, I hope.”
“I don’t believe so, no. Where are you two headed off to tonight?”
“An art gallery,” I tell her.
And she says, “His grey suit’s all laid out for him.”
“Good. He’ll like that.”
She looks at me closely, and I can tell she knows I’m not really just a live-in assistant like I said. I try to appear as innocent as I can, but I’m pretty sure she sees through me.
She says, “Well, I’d better stop blabbing and get back to work. Today’s the day I usually do the floors.”
I leave her to her work and go to my room to change and fix my hair. The French Twist served me well last time, so I do it again. Daddy gets home about an hour after I do, and he comes tapping at my door.
“Hey,” I say, looking around for Esmerelda before giving him a hug. He has a bag in his hand, and he hands it to me.
“I brought you a sandwich,” he says. “You can have your pick. Ham and white cheddar or turkey and gouda.”
“I’ll take the ham.”
“Well, go ahead and eat. I’m just going to hop in the shower.”
I hurry up and eat my sandwich, and then I finish getting ready. Tonight I’m wearing a pair of black jeans and a beautiful peasant blouse I bought at a vintage clothing store about a year ago. It’s the first time I’ve ever worn it, because it never seemed right for anything until now, but it looks pretty on, with its white on white embroidery. I’m also wearing a nice pair of espadrilles with cork soles. I can see myself standing there looking all sophisticated at the art show, a glass of wine in one hand and an hors d’oeuvre in the other.
“Oh,” says Daddy when he comes out. “You look very pretty.”
“Thanks. You look nice, too.”
He’s wearing a pair of jeans too, with a button-down shirt and a sports jacket, instead of the grey suit, but I don’t ask him why because I figure he wants to look as casual as I do.
“Thanks,” he tells me. “We’d better get this show on the road or we’ll be late.”
Once we’re in the car he glances at me.
“I’m going to have to get you some more jewelry,” he tells me. “Some gold bangles would’ve really set that off.”
“Some gold anything,” I say, glancing down at my arms. “Even some cheap costume jewelry would’ve worked with this.”
“Maybe we’ll go shopping again tomorrow night.”
I say, “Jeez. I must be costing you a fortune.”
“The pearls weren’t that much.”
“They’re real, though, aren’t they?”
“Of course they are. When are you bringing all your clothes over?”
“On Monday, I guess, but I have to stop off tomorrow and get something nice for Friday. They’re throwing me a going-away party.”
“Are they? They must really think a lot of you.”
“I guess so,” I say with a shrug. “Most of them are really nice, but of course there are one or two pains in the ass like there always are.”
“You’ll miss them, won’t you?”
“Yeah. I will.”
“I guess I’ll just have to keep you busy so you don’t think about it.”
I giggle, but I don’t have a chance to respond because we’re pulling into a parking garage. Once we’re parked we have to walk a couple of blocks to the gallery. As soon as we get there we’re handed glasses of champagne. It’s not too sweet, like most of the champagne I’ve had, but it tastes good and I like it.
Daddy and I seek out the artist first thing. He’s a tall, stoop-shouldered young man who’s dressed in all black. I start to feel underdressed, but then I look around and there are other women dressed even more casually than I am, so I relax. His name is Richard Lyon, and he invites us to look around.
“Do you have to buy something?” I whisper, once we’re out of Richard’s earshot.
“I don’t have to, but I’m going to.”
Glancing around, I find I like most of the paintings, but, looking at the tags, I find them kind of expensive. Finally, we stop in front of one I particularly like. It depicts a meadow with a fawn standing under a threatening sky. He looks scared and lost, and it just speaks to me.
“I like that one,” I tell him.
“Then I’m going to get it for you.”
“Oh, no. It costs too much.”
He says, “For you, maybe. Not for me.”
“Hush. It’s no big deal. You need something that’s all your own for your new office.”
“I thought I was sharing yours.”
“I don’t know. Maybe. It depends on how big the desk we buy you is.”
There’s no arguing with that logic, so I let him buy the painting. They take it down off the wall and wrap it in thick paper and string, marking Daddy’s name on it. It’s quickly replaced by something else, so we walk around the gallery to finish looking, and to talk to a few people Daddy knows. Brian Lawson is there, so I wave at him.
He comes over and gives me a hug, so I hug him back, and then he shakes Daddy’s hand.
“Hey, Brian,” says Daddy. “I was just thinking about you.”
“Really? What about?”
“Tell this young lady that I always help my employees decorate their offices.”
“Yeah. It’s true,” Brian assures me. “Why, did he buy you a painting?”
“Yes. A painting of a fawn.”
“Oh. I saw that one. It’s a good painting. And may I say how pretty you look?”
There doesn’t seem to be anything else to say, at least not in front of Daddy, so Brian gives me another hug and takes his leave of us. When he’s gone I glance over at Daddy, who doesn’t smile until he notices I’m looking at him.
I wonder if I’ve hurt his feelings. He doesn’t say anything, and we finish looking at all the art before we go say goodbye to Richard.
Richard asks if we liked anything, and Daddy tells him about the painting we bought. He’s pleased, and says it’s one of his favorites too, and then he thanks us for buying it and for coming.
When we’re back at the car with my new painting safely stowed in the trunk, Daddy turns to me.
“You know, Amaya, I don’t really encourage my employees to date each other.”
I’m stunned. “Wait, what?”
“I don’t encourage my employees to date each other,” he repeats.
“We’re not dating,” I tell him. “I know who I’m here with.”
Our glances meet and he gives me a sad smile.
“Are you happy with me?” he asks.
“Yes, of course. Don’t be upset with me. I’m not trying to date Brian.”
He nods and turns his attention to starting the car and backing out of the space. I wonder what’s gotten into Daddy, why he’s acting so bothered.
We drive home in relative silence. The next day, Thursday, my brother calls me and tells me he’s coming on leave. I tell him about my new job and the beach house, and he says I’m lucky.
“Oh, wow,” I say. “Where are you going to stay?”
“I guess at Dad’s.”
“You’re going to come see me, aren’t you?”
“Every day. Unless your boss doesn’t like it.”
“I don’t think he’ll have a problem with it, but let me feel him out on the subject and I’ll let you know.”
On Friday we have my going-away party and my (former) boss, Brad, gives me a beautiful leather-covered journal as a memento of our time spent together. I thank him graciously, truly sorry that today’s our last day together, although I am looking forward to working for Daddy.
At dinner I sit there and worry over my brother. He and my dad don’t get along too well, and I’m sorely tempted to ask Daddy if he can stay at the beach house with us.
“Amaya?” says Bennett, jerking me back to the present.
“Oh. Yes, Daddy?”
“What would you like to do tomorrow?”
“I don’t know. I haven’t even thought about it, if you really want to know the truth.”
“I guess I’ll just have to surprise you, then.”
Surprises aren’t usually a good thing in my family, and I look at him askance, truly dismayed. In my family surprises are fraught with lies and broken promises, and I say, “Oh, God. Not a surprise.”
“You don’t like surprises?” he asks, astonished.
I shake my head, thinking back on my dad and his many broken promises. I say, “Anyway, we haven’t even picked out a desk yet.”
Our glances meet and he looks a little put out, which is the last thing I want right now, considering I’m on the verge of asking him about my brother’s visit.
He stands up quickly and says, “Then let’s do that. We can stop off afterwards and have a nice lunch somewhere.”
My heart’s pounding, and I feel trouble in the air. He starts to hurry away and I grab his sleeve, alarmed. “It’s not that I don’t trust you,” I tell him. “It’s just that I don’t trust any man.”
He looks at me like I’m crazy, his brow creased, and he jerks his sleeve away. He says, his voice icy, “Oh? I didn’t know you felt that way.”
I’ve clearly blown any chance of asking Daddy about my brother, and hurt him in the process. I burst into tears and beg his forgiveness. “Please don’t be upset, Bennett. That didn’t come out the way I meant it. What I meant to say is, insofar as I trust any man, I trust you.”
The creases in his brow disappear and he says, “You do?”
“Yes. And that’s the God’s honest truth.”
I sniffle and try to dry my tears, with little success. Bennett’s still looking at me and finally, he says, “Do you need a good spanking?”
“Yes,” I say, guilty for hurting his feelings. “As a matter of fact, I do.”
“Then go take your pants off and lay over my bed.”
I do as he says, and as I’m lying there waiting for him I realize I’ve never examined my feelings toward my parents, nor have I explored my own sexuality. I don’t even know why I felt sheer relief when he offered to spank me, but here I am, bare-assed across his bed, yearning for the belt.
Soon I hear him come in. I usually don’t do this, but this time I turn and look at him.
“Are you done crying?” he asks. “Because I’m not doing this if you’re crying.”
“Why not? I usually end up crying anyway.”
“It feels abusive to me, like I’m kicking you while you’re down.”
“It’s just… my butt still hurts from Wednesday, but I know I still need a hard paddling anyway.”
“I can punish you without torturing you,” he says.
“With the belt.”
I try not to show my enthusiasm, so I roll back over onto my tummy and perk my butt up. I hear him take his belt off, and I shiver. He doesn’t say anything, he just gets right to work, whipping my ass, not overly hard, until I spit out our safe word. But it’s not because he hurt me that I said it, and it’s not until he leaves me there alone that I start crying again. I just feel sort of fragile and ashamed of myself for hurting him, after all he’s done for me.
After a while he comes back.
“What are you still doing here? I thought you’d be up and dressed by now.”
“Dressed?” I demand tearfully. “Now you want me to get dressed?”
His brows raise, and then he shrugs. “I don’t mean it in a bad way.”
“Aren’t you attracted to me anymore?”
“Sure, honey. A lot.”
“Then I need you to be with me.”
“Oh,” he says, looking thoughtful. “Is that why you stayed in here?”
“Yes. Of course. Why else would I do that?”
“I don’t know.”
“I want you, Bennett.”
“Me?” he asks. “Are you sure you trust me enough for that?”
“Come on,” I say.
He backtracks again. “Okay. Let’s start over. Honey, do you want to be with me?”
“Then get the lotion and come lie back down.”
A couple of moments later there I am on my belly again, getting my bottom cooled down. Daddy has a gentle touch, which has calmed me. I shut my eyes and sigh, feeling like I’m some tropical vacation somewhere.
“What’s wrong?” he asks me.
“Nothing. It just feels nice.”
“Good. Let me ask you something. Do you really want to look for a desk tomorrow?”
“I have to, or else I’ll have nowhere to sit when I start work on Monday. I don’t want to mess up my first day on the job. The new boss might not appreciate that.”
He chuckles. “That’s true. I guess we’d better take care of that, then.”
“Can I be on top this time?”
“Honey, you can be on top whenever you like.”
I turn over and reach for him. He leans down and kisses me.
“Well?” I ask him. “Aren’t you going to get undressed?”
We face each other and smile, and I forget all my earlier woes. He hops off the bed and starts taking off his clothes while I take my top off and throw it down onto the floor.
“I like the way you call me honey,” I tell him.
He doesn’t respond just then because he’s taking off his underpants. His cock springs free and he grabs hold of it for a second, like every man I’ve ever been with has done, and then he turns to me, looking proud of himself.
He has good reason to look so proud. I gesture toward the bed and he comes over and crawls up. He lays down and grabs a pillow to rest his head on.
“Come on,” he says, inviting me with a sweep of his hand. I crawl up on the bed beside him and mount him. He feels so good inside me I want to swoon. His body’s so beautiful he makes me weak at the knees.
Tonight is no exception. He grabs hold of my hips and uses me as leverage, drilling into me hard.
“I’ve never been with anyone like you before,” I tell him.
I fall silent and clear my mind so I can put all my energy into this delightful moment. I move in unison with him, taking his cock all the way in to the hilt. I’ve picked up this trick of squeezing him from the inside, and he seems to like it.
He says, “You better watch what you’re doing, baby girl, or you’re going to run out of time.”
“No,” I whisper. “It’s good for me, too.”
He doesn’t say anything else, he just lays still beneath me, allowing me to take over. I fuck him hard and fast as the tension grows inside me. I know I’m going to come in a minute or two, so I fix my mind on it. He reaches for my breasts and squeezes them, eliciting a moan from me. The sound of my own moans brings me to the edge, and with a couple more squeezes of my breasts I feel my release.
I sit above him, panting until I catch my breath, and then I bear down good and finish him off.
Now it’s his turn to moan, and he catches my face between his hands. Once he comes back down to earth he pulls me down for a kiss. I slide down off of him to lie with my head on his chest. I feel all soft and vulnerable, and I want to tell him I love him, but I’m not the type of girl who says it first, so I lie there quietly, basking in the pleasure he’s given me.
“Your butt’s not too sore, is it?”
“Too sore for what?”
“We’ve got a big day tomorrow.”
“I’ll walk it off.”
“Tell me… tell me what you get out of it. I mean, why’d you put that ad up?”
I sit up, and I have to think about it for a second.
“I put the ad up because I didn’t want to go through dating and having to keep it a secret because the guy might think I’m a weirdo. I guess I just wanted to put it out there right away and find someone who understands. As for what I get out of it, it gives me a chance to feel close to someone and know there’s someone looking out for me. Plus, it takes away all my tension.”
He chuckles. “Not all of it.”
“Oh, because of the sex? No. You’re right. That finishes me off, but good. What about you? What do you get out of it?”
He sits up and reaches for his underwear. He shrugs, and slides them up his legs.
“I don’t know,” he says, arching his back to pull them the rest of the way on. “I guess I just enjoy punishing naughty girls.”
“For real? How much of a dom are you? I mean, would you ever join a club or anything?”
He gets up and finds his t-shirt, and then he pulls it over his head. I feel funny being the only one naked, so I start getting dressed too.
“I don’t know,” he says, with a shake of his head. “I don’t think I could get into the club scene. I like it this way, with only one girl. I like being responsible for you. I like taking care of you, making you happy.”
“Good,” I tell him. “My brother’s coming back from the army next week and he wants to meet you.”
He stops. “Won’t he be pissed that I’m so much older than you are? I mean, he doesn’t know what we do, does he?”
“What? God, no. He probably would be pissed about that. Please meet him. He’s all I had growing up.”
Our glances meet. I can see that he’s kind of on the fence about the whole thing, but finally he nods.
“If it’s that important to you, then yeah.”
“He thinks I just work for you,” I say, “that I’m your live-in assistant.”
“We’ll have to play along.”
And he says, “Wait, does he want to stay here? Is that what this is?”
I shrug. “He can stay with my dad,” I tell him, “but he only has a studio apartment, and he smokes like a chimney.”
“You can ask him to stay here, but I’m warning you. If he does, you’ll have to sleep in your own room, and I won’t be able to spank you while he’s around.”
Despite those disappointing factors, I gasp and cover my mouth with my hands. “You mean it?” I ask. “You’ll let him stay?”
“Sure. Just don’t tell him we’re sleeping together, whatever you do. What’s his name?”
“Chris. Chris Chandler. Do you mind if I call him and tell him?”
“Give me a kiss first.”
I go to him and obey. I’m excited to talk to my brother, but I give Daddy a good, satisfying kiss to show my gratitude. When he pulls away, he grins.
“You’re welcome,” he tells me. “Now, go call your brother.”
Chris answers his phone on the third ring.
“Hey. Guess what? Bennett says you can stay here with us at the beach house.”
“No. He’s really nice.”
Chris tells me to grab a pen and paper, and he gives me all the particulars about his trip home. “Don’t pick me up,” he tells me. “I’ll take a car.”
“Cool. See you next month on the fifteenth.”
I go back to report all of this to Daddy, who’s standing at the stove, popping some popcorn, something that immediately cheers me up.
“What’s the occasion?” I ask, indicating the popcorn.
“Nothing. I just felt like it.”
“Without watching movies or anything?”
“That’s right. We can have popcorn whenever we feel like it. We can also have champagne and caviar, and anything else that spells a party.”
“You’re the best daddy in the world.”
“Go turn on the TV and pick out something to watch.”
I go to the living room and grab the remote. I don’t think he’d like the wedding dress show, or the reality show where foreigners try to hurry up and marry so they can stay in the country, so I pick a clip show, where people wipe out on skateboards and stuff and the host and guests get to comment on it.
Lucky for me, when Daddy joins me he tells me he likes that show, so he sits down and puts the big bowl of popcorn between us.
There are several episodes on in a row, so we sit there and watch them until Daddy says we’d better hit the hay since we have a big day ahead of us.
In the morning Daddy drives me to an antique mall. We go in and look around. I’m looking for something with lots of cubby-holes that will do my painting justice. He’s given me the room next to his office for mine, so I can get a large desk like I want. It takes a while, mostly because I’m easily sidetracked by other objects, but finally we find the desk I want.
It’s a beautiful roll-top desk with lots of cubbies and little drawers. It even comes with a matching chair. I sit down in it and roll down the top. It moves smoothly, so I unroll it again and play with all the little drawers next. It’s just the sort of thing I was looking for, and I beg Daddy to buy it for me.
He has no problem saying yes, and the antique people say they can have it delivered the next day. After that we look around some more, and Daddy buys himself a wooden valet stand which he says he’s always wanted. I find myself a pretty glass paperweight that looks like it has a dahlia in it. I also find a cute little brass stamp holder and a tape dispenser shaped like a pink flamingo. We pay for our treasures, and then we take them out to the car. When we leave we go straight to a nearby Chinese restaurant.
I order shrimp in lobster sauce and Daddy orders General Tso’s chicken. We eat, and I chatter excitedly about my new office.
“I’ve never had my own office before,” I tell him. “I sat outside of my boss’s door at the county.”
“You’re really on your way to fixing it up,” he says.
“Thanks to you. That reminds me, thanks for the desk and all.”
“By the way, where will my brother sleep?”
“In the other guest room. Oh, you haven’t seen it yet? I’ll show it to you when we get home.”
The other guest room is nice, tastefully decorated in Craftsman-style furniture. It’s a lot more masculine than my room, and I just know my brother will like it. I’m counting the days until he gets here.
“Will I get some time off? I mean, I know I just started, but can I spend some time with Chris while he’s home?”
I smile, as pleased with his calling me ‘honey’ as I am with his response.
“You’re so… generous,” I tell him.
“Well, thank you.”
“You’re the best Daddy ever.”
“And you’re the best little girl. But before you get too carried away, I’m going to work you to death on Monday. I have so many things to do. Tomorrow we’d better go to the office supply store. Do you have a laptop or anything?”
“Yes. Do you want me to bring it over?”
“Yeah. Why don’t we stop by your place tomorrow and get some more of your stuff, too?”
“Okay, but the place is kind of messy from packing. It looks like a warehouse from all my books and stuff.”
“Why? How many books do you have?”
“Oh, a couple hundred, easy. I’ve got one whole wall as a bookcase. Maybe we should bring it over. It holds a lot. Plus, it’ll go good with the desk, since the wood’s about the same color.”
When he sees it in person he agrees and marvels over how many books I truly have.
“You should open your own library,” he tells me with a laugh.
“I am. It’s called my office.”
He comes to me and hugs me, and then I raise up on my tiptoes and kiss him. He kisses me back and we start making out, and luckily, I haven’t taken my bed down yet, because we need it.
We fall together onto my bed and he holds me in his arms, kissing me long and deep. I am totally aroused, and I’ve never wanted anyone more. I pull away to catch my breath, and he sits up and takes off his shoes. I take the hint and get up, and we both get undressed. I throw back the covers and climb into bed and he follows me, picking up where we left off.
He doesn’t wait for me to be on top, he just positions himself between my legs and enters me.
“You feel so good inside me I think I’ll cry.”
He grunts a response and starts fucking me, moving in and out with swift, hard strokes. I can’t talk anymore. All I can do is moan with every stroke, and I begin to feel a tightness in my womb, a curling knot of desire, a sense of temporary insanity, because all I can think about is this. He continues to drill me, and a moment later an orgasm washes over me and I cry out his name. It only takes him a couple more seconds to come, too. He drops his head onto my shoulder and kisses my neck before pulling away.
“What got you in the mood all of a sudden?” I ask.
And he says, “Hearing you call it your office like that. I just pictured myself lifting you up onto that desk and screwing your brains out.”
“Mmm. That does sound nice.”
“Come over my lap.”
He sits on the edge of my bed, and I climb over his lap like he wants me to. He caresses my bottom, warming it, and then he says, “I can’t even spank you. I just want to rub your cute little ass. And make you come again.”
He slips his hand between my legs and plunges two fingers inside me.
“Do my clit.”
“In a minute.”
He continues to play with me, and just when I start getting frustrated he withdraws his fingers and lightly rubs my clit, putting just the right amount of pressure on it. I lift up for him, bracing myself for another orgasm. When it hits me, it’s not as earth-shattering as the first one, but it’s still pretty damn good.
I catch my breath over his lap, and I start to get up, but he keeps me in place with a firm hand resting on my back.
“Maybe just a little spanking,” he says, and he gives my ass a slap.
“Yes,” I tell him.
He lands another slap, this one a little harder and sharper than the last one, and then the smacks fall every couple of seconds. None of them hurt, but they do warm my bottom to a pleasant degree. When he’s done he lets me up and I can tell he’s turned on again.
“Come on. Over the back of the couch. I want to take you from behind.”
I picture him doing me over his desk like this, and it’s an alluring thought. I can’t quite get myself to come a third time, but it’s okay. When we’re done we get dressed and start carrying boxes out to his car, and when it’s too filled up to fit any more I grab my laptop and some of my clothes, and we drive back to the beach house feeling quite content.