Daddy's Princess
Page 4
The air was thick with our gasps.
The haze started to clear from my mind, and I realized with mounting horror exactly what had just happened. Everything that had been so sexy a moment before was different after the orgasms…
Why did I let him do this to me?
More importantly…
Why did I want to do it again?
Chloe
An hour later, I slumped down face-first into my sheets. Christi was nowhere to be seen. Probably at class, I thought to myself as I bunched up the comforter and tried to make some sense out of what had just happened.
But my body had other plans, and soon I was passed out – dreaming of the man who had dominated my sexual fantasies for years.
I definitely needed that nap.
When I woke a few hours later, my roommate bestie was still gone. That made sense. Even with our long friendship, we wanted the room alone a few times a week to focus and laze around, so we’d intentionally scheduled our courses on opposite days.
Speaking of classes…
My eyes trailed to my textbooks. I had been so wrapped up in preparing for the social last night that my homework still needed to be done, and there was a lot of it. But it quickly occurred to me that I hadn’t eaten anything besides a bagel on my way out that morning.
My rumbling stomach won that fight.
Pulling off the covers, I glanced down at my ruined blouse. Obviously, that’s not gonna do for venturing into public… I tossed the garment beside my small bookcase, making a mental note to replace the buttons and sew them later.
After throwing on a replacement shirt and slipping my sneakers back on, I fiddled with my hair in the mirror. Satisfied that I didn’t look like an unearthed swamp monster, I dusted myself off and started walking off in the direction of the campus cafeteria.
I went through the motions, grabbing whatever looked good and standing in line behind a couple of bohemian students who looked kind of familiar. They appeared to be chatting about the twist ending to some new video game, laughing and gesturing wildly.
After a few moments’ thought, I figured out why I recognized them: they were a few of Christi’s musician friends, as seen in one-off Facebook photos. She liked to spend part of her Sunday nights drinking beers and listening to a group of them jam out in an empty space.
I felt bad, suddenly. Every Sunday afternoon, she suggested that I tag along. Thought it would really “open my mind.” But those nights were always my cram evenings for tackling the consequences of my heavy course load, so I’d never taken her up on it.
It sure sounded nice, though.
They paid for their pizza slices and cokes, and then wandered off without a moment’s thought. I figured that they hadn’t even noticed me.
Why would they have? I’ve made zero effort to show up to any of their weekly gigs. Who the hell would I be to them?
I shook my head, trying to clear it.
If I wanted to pursue this degree, get into grad school and land a successful career in a laboratory somewhere, my focus needed to be on my classwork – not underage drinking on campus with a bunch of stoner musicians, and definitely not on incredibly sexy, powerfully-dressed ghosts from my past...
Digging in my pocket for my debit card, I paid for my meal and sat down at an empty table near the windows.
After the first few bites of my pre-packaged ham and swiss sandwich, I pulled my phone from my pocket. There was a group chat going for a project in one of my classes – a history assignment, where our professor had sectioned us off into groups of five.
The other girls were apparently comparing sales for Coach purses and Dansko boots, so I flicked away and sent a few text replies off to some friends, then briefly scoured Facebook for anything entertaining.
I clicked away. After a few more minutes with dinner, I realized that I hadn’t bothered checking into Candy Companions since leaving this morning. To my astonishment, there was a notification of a new bank deposit.
Why would there be another deposit? I thought to myself.
But that wasn’t all.
There was a new message from Damian.
My chest tightened as I scrutinized the words on my smartphone. I remembered that he’d told me he’d be in touch soon, but I hadn’t expected this soon… nor had I expected him to send a list of tantalizing demands.
1. You come to my office every Saturday night.
2. You speak when you can’t handle it.
3. You address me only as ‘Daddy.’
4. You follow every order I give.
5. You start tomorrow.
I expect to see either confirmation or refusal within 48 hours. Before you decide, the original terms stand – your sugar daddy will pay you one thousand dollars per meeting. Decide soon, Princess.
Five filthy little rules. All of them set a demanding tone for… whatever the hell was now happening between us. Once I’d agreed, that was.
I was confused, alarmed…
And crazy turned on.
If I thought my head was swimming with emotion before, I was definitely in the deep end of the pool now. My thighs were slickening just at the thought of Damian Clarke making these demands of me… and me fulfilling them.
But before I could get too excited, I remembered the other notification. I flicked to my bank’s app and logged in, eager to check what could possibly have changed.
Sure enough, my checking account had a fresh deposit of one thousand dollars. It had been there for several hours, probably deposited right after I left Damian’s office...
Holy shit.
I was definitely not equipped with the resources to process this information. My eyes were glued to the screen, the phone trembling in my hands as the number repeated in my head.
“You okay?”
I glanced up to see Christi. She was dropping her backpack at the table and sitting down with a tray of chicken parmesan, a concerned look growing across her face.
“You’re not gonna believe this…”
For the next ten minutes, with my dinner long since forgotten, I told her everything. All the details I’d help back last night, all the things that had happened today. I spilled it all.
Driving over to his office.
How insanely modern and decadent it was.
The way that Damian reacted...
The way my body reacted to him…
All the while, she watched me with widening eyes and a devilish, celebratory smirk. When I was eventually finished telling getting her up to speed, she took a deep breath.
“First off, that sounds fucking crazy,” Christi shook her head. “I’m honestly impressed. I know you’ve been going through one hell of a drought and boy, did you break that in style…”
I covered my face with my hands.
“Two, he clearly wants a dominant… arrangement with you. I know you said you used to have this huge crush on him… but do you really want to be submissive to this guy?”
I swallowed.
Did I?
My mind was still reeling from the insane sex that we’d enjoyed together, earlier that same day.
How hot and in control he was…
Being pounded against the desk…
The way my body reacted to him…
“I don’t know for sure,” I finally reasoned aloud, “but I’ve got some time to think about it. Either way, that was the hottest sex I think I’ll ever have in my goddamn life.”
Christi winked. “Sure as shit sounds like it. If you turn this down, let him know I’m available!”
“You’re terrible,” I said, laughing.
“Sharing is caring,” she replied.
We finished our meals together, the rest of the conversation leaning towards homework assignments, weirdoes on campus, and the stupid construction projects that were hampering our ability to get around campus.
We walked back to the room afterwards, before getting sucked into our own respective homework assignments. Christi was taking an easy eno
ugh semester, so she respectfully plugged in her headphones and pulled her laptop into her lap as I continued toiling on past her.
Luckily, I could push Damian’s proposal out my head long enough to concentrate on the work. But every time I took a small break, thoughts of him would inevitably crawl back into my head, firing up my inner core and making me crave more of him. Nobody had ever turned me on like Damian – not even in my wildest fantasies.
And that’s why I took the next big step. I curled up in bed that night, wrapped myself in my comforter, and gripped my cellphone in my hands so hard you’d think it was trying to run away as I typed out a quick response to Damian’s list of demands.
It was just two simple words, but they said more than any long-form essay I could possibly type.
Yes, Daddy.
Chloe
In the days after I’d sent him my reply, Damian had went dark. I tried to tell myself that we lived busy lives – him with the stresses of running his company, and me with my difficult course load at Temple University.
But that Saturday night, we shelved it all.
He told me to arrive an hour early, wearing “something cute and innocent”. Christi helped me pick out an outfit that fit the bill, and I carefully applied a little makeup to accentuate the innocent part of his request.
I was nervous. I didn’t know what to expect.
What I did expect was awful Saturday night traffic, especially heading downtown. I left a lot earlier than necessary, and arrived in his building’s parking garage with half an hour spare.
That meant, of course, half an hour trying to not freak out about my sugar daddy – and what we were about to do together.
Maybe I could say the first time I’d come here was a mistake or an accident or a silly fling, but this was different. Was I ready for this?
After what felt like years with my white knuckles gripping the steering wheel, I took one last, deep breath and climbed out of my car.
As I strolled towards the parking elevator, I summoned every last desperate ounce of courage that I had deep down – wishing I could have maybe pre-gamed a glass of wine to steel my nerves.
I escorted myself across the building lobby, over to the elevators, up to his floor, and into the deserted offices of Clarke Financial Solutions.
The modern, mysterious domain of Damian Clarke held even more mystique once night fell. Twilight was in full swing, already replacing the natural sunlight across his office lobby with encroaching shadow. Dim illumination cut through the deepening darkness from contemporary lighting fixtures above; along the walls, conservatively brief splashes of light only added to the atmospheric effect.
But the way to those oak doors was clear to me, and I was soon knocking for his attention.
A moment passed; then, the door clicked.
And Damian was there.
For all I knew, he could regularly entertain weekend evening client meetings. That would make sense. For one, it would explain why he wanted me to meet him so late on a Saturday every week.
It would also explain his perfect appearance: that carefully groomed face without a hair out of place, his crisp executive suit, and the flawlessly powerful aura that surrounded him.
He couldn’t have done that just for me.
“Welcome back, Princess,” he smiled wide.
Realizing how dolled up I probably looked, I felt small and shy in his presence. His dark, piercing eyes scanned me from head to toe, taking in every little detail as he allowed me into his private office.
I was a wounded gazelle on the Serengeti, and I’d just walked into the lion’s den.
Damian took me by the hand and led me towards his desk, turned to face me, and drew me into a kiss sexier than I thought was possible.
His tongue darted along mine. The warmth of his breath intoxicated me, sending small shivers down the goosebumps on my skin. I nervously met his tongue with my own; his tongue danced with mine before he sucked it between his teeth.
With less than half an inch between us, I was intimately tethered to him. I felt his hand grasp beneath my dress, his fingers discovering how wet for him I already was.
Damian licked his fingers clean in front of my astonished gaze. His mouth met my earlobe as he pulled me close, whispering filthy promises into my ear with an aching husk to his words.
His executive desk was bare and ready; the CEO took his time making sure the same was true of me. There was no animalistic pulling on my clothes this time. He unwrapped me like a gift, shedding garments until I was standing fully naked in front of him, noticing that he hadn’t so far as shrugged off his blazer.
“Palms on the desk,” he commanded.
I immediately did as I was told.
“Spread your feet. Ass out.”
He quietly, methodically walked around me, examining the womanly curves of my body with an approving smirk. I soon felt his hands cup my ass, the fingers grasping into the cheeks as we savored the feeling together.
One strong hand grasped the nape of my neck, lowering my face down towards the pristine surface of his desk again.
“Call them out,” he commanded. “To ten. And then you will thank me.”
I silently questioned this, before–
SMACK!
His hand crashed against my ass, and I resisted the urge to yelp. I swallowed quickly, keeping my eyes forward as I knew he expected.
“…One.”
Damian’s flattened, strong palm glided across my ass again, only to pull back for a few seconds. My eyes stared through his office window straight ahead, tracing several of the other buildings in the–
SMACK!
I gasped. “…Two.”
He continued in the same way, lingering a moment with his hand appreciating my bare ass before swinging back for another flat blow. Each hard slap hit my cheeks a different way, not exactly striking the same way twice.
I found the sting to be intoxicating.
SMACK!
“…Nine,” I moaned.
He didn’t hesitate this time: instead, his hand on my neck grasped a fistful of my hair, and he threw everything he had into a powerful blow along my cheek that made me bounce.
“…TEN!” My voice gasped.
The commanding palm remained on my cheek for a moment, letting a few seconds tick by. I wondered, briefly, what he was thinking about…
“You forgot,” Damian said quietly, his voice deep and stern.
“Forgot?” I asked, keeping my eyes forward.
“To thank me,” he elaborated, his fingertips sliding along the curvature of my ass. It was tracing little lines of sweet, stinging pain.
“Thank you, Daddy...”
“It’s too late now,” his stern voice rang over me.
SMACK!
I shuddered, wincing.
“…One.”
Damian started lighter this time, but took no time building to his previous intensity.
This time, when he delivered that powerful last smack to my other cheek, I whimpered to him: “TEN! …Thank you Daddy.”
He dropped down behind me and placed a light kiss where that final slap had landed; the affection mixed with the stinging, and I quietly suppressed a moan.
“You’re welcome, Princess,” he replied, plunging his middle finger into my sopping pussy. I groaned, grasping onto the other end of his table with white knuckles as he flattened his palm along the small of my back.
“You were a naughty little girl for a moment there, but you’ve done much better now. I think it’s time for a reward… would you like a reward, sweetheart?”
I didn’t hesitate. “Yes, Daddy.”
“Good,” he replied calmly, his finger deeply stroking my inner walls. “But don’t you dare orgasm until I tell you to…”
His hand began to move, fingering me into oblivion in his office. I gasped as he pressed two digits inside my soaked chasm; I had to bite my lip and occupy my thoughts with anything else to keep back my mounting climax.
�
�Can I come yet, Daddy?” I finally pleaded.
“Not yet, sweetheart.” Every syllable was laced with powerful, indomitable arrogance, even amused satisfaction. “Not until I tell you…”
My knees pulled closer together. Evidence of my breath fogged up the top of the desk near my face, and I couldn’t hold back the chorus of moans that filled my chest any longer.
“Please, Daddy,” I found myself begging not two minutes later. “I’m trying to be a good girl, I promise, but I can’t… I can’t…”
He took his own brand of dark mercy on me.
“Come for Daddy, Princess.”
Gasps left my lips as I finally let go, feeling a monumental climax that shook me down to my very core. My body shuddered with wave after wave of crippling pleasure as I felt the multiple orgasms ripple through me.
Somewhere in my brain, rapidly awash with orgasmic chemicals, I realized that my wildest fantasies had been nothing compared to this.
He left his fingers inside me for several seconds once I finally relaxed. Drawing them slowly out, he walked around in front, licking them clean for me.
“How was that, sweetheart?”
“Perfect, Daddy,” I whimpered.
He stood in front of me, slowly shedding off his blazer and unbuckling his pants. All the while, he kept his piercing eyes on me, a self-satisfied smirk plastered across his lips.
The first time we’d fucked, I spent all my time face-down against his desk... but this was different. He spun me round and I stared out at the beautiful lights of downtown Philadelphia as his huge cock drove powerfully between my hidden folds. In that moment, I felt like I was flying.
Damian
Most of my clients and employees seemed to think that my favorite part of my office was the imposing executive desk, directly across from the door. It was true that I’d been very selective in my choice. The piece was handcrafted, carefully delivered, and set the tone for the rest of my personal office in grandeur and wood finish.
There was undeniable power in sitting within that comfortable throne behind it. I never allowed another soul to touch it, let alone plant their ass down.