“Wow,” Daddy said, his voice full of appreciation. “You’ve been working awfully hard in here,” he complimented. He leaned down and murmured in my ear, “You’re being a very good girl tonight.” I felt his hand gently caress my butt through the skirt I was wearing, and I shivered. I hadn’t realized how hungry I’d been for his touch.
“Why don’t you sit down and relax while I get things finished?” I suggested as soon as I was able to speak without my voice wavering. “There’s a big salad in the fridge. You can always get started on it if you’re very hungry.”
“I’ll get it out, but I’ll wait until you sit down with me,” he replied. He pulled out the Caesar salad I’d put together. “Very nice,” he praised, and I glanced over at him in time to see his smile. I felt warm and good all over, knowing I’d pleased him.
I removed the chicken from the pan, then added the drained pasta to the sauce with a little of the cooking water. “How was your day?” I asked.
“It was very good,” he replied. “I was looking forward to coming home to you.” I felt that warm little tingle all through me again. It had been a long time since I’d lived with anyone, and even then, it had been my mother. It was nice hearing that somebody had been looking forward to seeing me at the end of the day. Of course, this was all an act, but it was still nice. There was something to be said for fixing a nice dinner for somebody other than myself for once.
“Did you do a lot of business today?” I asked.
“A decent amount,” he said.
“I guess with spring coming soon, things will pick up, and you’ll be pretty busy,” I pointed out, bringing a platter of chicken and pasta to the table. I saw that same smile on Daddy’s face, and it really made me feel good. I was becoming a regular little Daddy’s girl, feeling happy whenever I knew I’d pleased him. And I realized I didn’t mind at all.
“You’re right. This is the calm before the storm,” he explained after filling his plate. “I’m trying to enjoy the lull while I can, because I know I’ll be working insane hours soon enough.”
The thought bothered me, and I couldn’t suppress the little frown that crossed my face at his words. I hadn’t considered that his schedule would ever change, and these evenings together might be fewer.
“Everything okay?” he asked before taking a big bite of chicken. I was gratified to see his eyes close as he chewed. Anyone who cooks a meal for another person wants to see that certain look that says they’re enjoying it. It’s a sort of gratification that’s hard to put into words, just that confirmation that the time and effort was worthwhile. I smiled inwardly.
But I couldn’t forget what he’d just said, either, and that inner smile gave way to a pensive frown.
“Oh, sure, everything’s fine. I’m glad you like dinner,” I responded. He nodded with a big smile, so I continued, “I just hadn’t given any thought to your change in schedule. Of course, it makes total sense. You’re going to be super slammed in a little while. Probably throughout the spring and summer, I’d imagine?” I tried to keep my voice light and unaffected, but it wasn’t easy.
I was feeling rejected, plain and simple. And as much as I knew it was wrong, as much as I knew I was overreacting, I couldn’t help myself.
“Yeah . . . I guess so,” he replied. I looked up from my plate and saw that he looked to be as deep in thought as I was. Was he feeling the same way? Did he just come to the same realization I had?
His blue eyes met mine, and I looked away. There was so much going unspoken between us, but I didn’t have the courage to express what was going on in my heart. I didn’t even know if I could put it into words at this point. I was too conflicted.
I reminded myself not to put too much pressure on him. So what if we had to see less of each other? It wasn’t the end of the world. Life would go on. I’d gone nearly a week without our get-togethers, after all.
But I hadn’t enjoyed it.
“This really is delicious, Little Girl,” he said. I shook myself mentally and willed myself to keep participating. This personal, emotional stuff would have to wait for another time.
“Thank you, Daddy,” I said with a big smile. And he was right – it was good. I focused on eating, and on keeping the conversation away from the future. Live in the now, I reminded myself. I was so terrible at doing that.
After dinner, I told him to go into the living room to relax while I cleaned up. He tried to protest. “Please, you did all this work. The least I can do is help with the washing up,” he insisted. But I remained firm.
I could tell he was flattered, and pretty pleased with the way I was doting on him. And while I did want to make him happy, more than just a little bit of my desire to clean up alone was to have the time to compose myself. I had to think.
The fact was, I reflected as I cleared the table, I was more than just a little bit responsible for all the heartache that had plagued me for so long. All the guys I’d given my heart to, who I’d dropped everything for in the faint hope they would love me, it wasn’t their fault things had fallen apart and our friendships had ended. It was mine.
Instead of enjoying my friends and making the most of the time we had together, I was always wishing for more. Always wanting more. After a while, all our interactions would be fraught with tension and pain, all on my side of course. I would act as though I had some place in their life. I would butt in way too much. I would shoot meaningful looks that were never returned and probably, in hindsight, made them super uncomfortable. I would try everything I could think of to make myself indispensable, in the hopes I could convince them they loved me.
And eventually they’d stop talking to me. We’d stop hanging out. All because I was always ruining it. I was always wanting more, needing more, never able to accept what people could give me. Only now, years later, did I know I’d wasted the time that could have been spent having fun and enjoying what I had.
And this was the same situation, all over again. I had to be careful not to make those old mistakes. Just because Hunter had to work a little more didn’t mean we wouldn’t still see each other. Even if we had to drop down to one night a week, or even once every two weeks, that didn’t mean he thought any less of me. And just because we were doing this right now, playing our roles, didn’t mean we had some deep and special relationship. I had to stop reading more into things than weren’t really there.
I rinsed the dishes and put them in the dishwasher, silently cursing myself. I refused to let myself ruin this. What we had was nice; it was fun. We both enjoyed it. If Hunter didn’t, he wouldn’t have made it a point to be so apologetic and so set on getting back on track. I couldn’t read more into it, just like I couldn’t read more into his upcoming scheduling change.
By the time everything was spic-and-span, I was feeling better. More resolute. And with an invisible armor all around me. I wouldn’t let myself get too caught up. I had to play it cool and enjoy what was right here in front of me rather than wish for more.
But when I walked into the living room, all of my resolute strength melted when I saw him snoozing on the sofa. It featured a recliner on either end, and he had made the mistake of putting his feet up. It was like a sleeping pill, which I had found out many times after waking up in the middle of the night after passing out with the TV still blaring. He must have dropped right off.
I stifled the snort that bubbled up before I could stop it, but he didn’t stir. I leaned in the doorway leading from the dining room to the living room. The TV was in front of me, against the wall, with the sofa sitting across from it to my left.
Now that he was sleeping, I could drink him in with my eyes without feeling self-conscious. His head was tilted back against the deep green cushion, his eyes closed, his mouth slightly open as he snored softly. His face was absolute perfection. That perfectly straight nose, the square jaw flecked with faint stubble. His lips were full and soft. I was torn between wanting to kiss him and wanting to run my fingers through his thick, dark hair. He looked so in
nocent.
I settled for curling up at the other end of the sofa and letting him get some rest. He had been so good to me the night before, after all. But it didn’t take long for the movie he’d put on to get really loud; typical action movie type stuff. He stirred after a particularly loud explosion.
“Oh . . . hey,” he said, rubbing the side of his face with his hand. “I’m sorry. How long was I asleep for?”
“Not long, really,” I told him. “It’s only seven thirty.”
“Wow,” he chuckled. “I guess the day was longer than I thought. And then you stuff me full of pasta and bread, and I pass out, of course.” We laughed together.
“Speaking of dinner,” he said, and his voice took on a different quality altogether, one which sent a shiver up my spine, “I had planned to give you a little reward for all your hard work. You deserve it, don’t you think?”
I nodded, trying to appear casual. Trying to hide the fact that I really wanted to bounce up and down and clap my hands like a five-year-old on Christmas morning. Because I wanted to be rewarded, very much.
“Yes, good girls who make delicious meals deserve rewards,” he said, standing. “And good girls who let Daddy take a nap after dinner deserve even better rewards. You agree with me?” I nodded again, feeling that familiar warmth spark between my legs just hearing him talk about rewarding me. When he held out a hand to me, I took it and allowed him to pull me to my feet.
“I think this reward should be given out upstairs, though. What do you think?” I bit my lip and nodded, only hesitating for a moment. My mind was racing. What did he have in mind? Sex? He hadn’t so much as gotten off with me yet, even though he’d been generous toward me all this time. If he did want to go all the way, I knew I wouldn’t stop him. I wanted him.
“Why don’t you head upstairs and get out of those clothes, then,” he said, referring to my blouse and skirt. “I’ll be up in a minute.” I turned, still biting my lip, and walked up the stairs. It was all I could do not to run, actually.
I got to my room and did a quick scan. He’d never been in here before, and while I wasn’t exactly a slob, I didn’t need him to find my underwear lying on the floor or something. But everything was basically in place. I quickly smoothed down the comforter and plumped the pillows on the bed before stripping down to my pink satin bra and panties. I checked myself out in the mirror, adjusted my boobs so they sat up higher in the bra cups, and ran my hands through my hair before I heard his footsteps coming up the stairs.
He appeared in the doorway carrying a glass of ice cubes. I was intrigued, naturally.
“Nice room,” he said, looking around. “Big. Comfortable. And you keep it well.” He smiled at me in approval. “Good thing. If it was messy up here, you might have needed a spanking.”
I smiled, my eyes narrowing. “What if I like being spanked?” I asked.
“That can be arranged, smarty,” he answered. “What do you want first? A spanking, or your reward?”
“Hmm . . .,” I mumbled, looking up at the ceiling and pretending to decide. “I think . . . spanking.” His eyes lit up. Yes, he had uncovered something in me I hadn’t even known existed prior to our meeting. I loved feeling his hand against my ass. He brought me a pleasure I couldn’t have imagined before we became involved this way.
“Okay,” he said, pointing to the bed. “Climb up there. On all fours.” I tried not to give away my eagerness, taking my time as I got on my hands and knees with my backside facing him. I bit my lip again, waiting to see how far he would take me this time.
Chapter 12
He stood beside the bed, next to where I knelt. I felt his hand stroke my ass, still covered in its satin panties. “Very nice,” he murmured. “I love touching you. You have the most beautiful ass.”
I couldn’t help the sigh that escaped from behind my closed lips when I felt him caressing me. His fingers danced over the pink satin and traveled over the bare skin just below it. I sighed again, this time with my lips parted.
“You like that?” he asked quietly. I whimpered in reply. I didn’t just like it. I was already on fire.
Then I felt the first slap of his hand, gentle, yet firm enough to drive me slightly forward. I gritted my teeth, hissing through them as I absorbed the blow.
“You’re the one who wanted this,” he reminded me in that stern, no-nonsense tone of voice. I knew he was trying to sound detached, but a glance toward his crotch out of the corner of my eye told me he felt otherwise.
Smack! I was driven forward again, and I cried out softly. Smack! He alternated from one side to the other, spanking briskly. I felt my arms trembling as the wetness spread between my legs. It was all I could do to keep from moaning and writhing like a wanton slut.
“Had enough?” he asked, and I felt his hand make contact again. My skin was warm and tingling, and the sting melted away to a growing, building heat that threatened to sweep me away.
“More,” I moaned. “Please. Spank me.” It wasn’t my imagination. The bulge in his pants twitched, and I heard him growl slightly.
“More?” he repeated, his breathing a bit ragged. I leaned on my forearms, thrusting my ass higher and exposing more of myself to him. He hadn’t removed my panties yet, though, so not everything was on display. I knew it had to be driving him crazy.
Then I felt his hand again, only it wasn’t on one cheek or the other. It was right in the middle, almost directly over my mound.
“Oh!” I cried, surprise mingling with enjoyment of this new sensation. He’d never struck me there before. I realized all my nerve endings were extremely sensitive when I felt the explosion of pleasure rip through me. “Jesus,” I breathed, unable to believe how incredible that felt.
“Do you like it when Daddy spanks you there?” he asked, his voice low and lusty. It turned me on even more.
“Yes,” I whimpered. “Do it again, Daddy. Spank my pussy.” He groaned again, and I was rewarded with another brisk spank that left me wide-mouthed and moaning loudly, my head thrown back. It felt amazingly good. I was torn between stinging discomfort and the ache of arousal, and my breath came in short gasps once the moan died down.
I sensed him coming near me again, and I braced myself for another blow, but instead of spanking me, he pulled down my underwear. “Mmm . . .,” he breathed. “You’re all red now. I bet it feels hot, too, huh?”
Even through the hazy pleasure I was wrapped in, I got the feeling I knew what that ice was for. I felt my muscles contract at the thought. “Yes, I’m so hot now, and it stings,” I moaned. “Make it feel better, Daddy.”
I had completely lost all sense of propriety, and any shred of hesitation or modesty vanished. I wanted more – more of this, more of him. I wanted to be dirty.
I looked up and saw him reach into the glass, which he’d left on the nightstand. He pulled out a dripping ice cube. “Will this help, do you think?” he asked. I looked up at him and nodded. He ran the ice over my mouth, slowly, erotically. I moaned softly, never breaking eye contact. When I touched my tongue to the ice and licked it, I heard his breath catch in his throat.
Then he took the cube and disappeared behind me. I was tense, unsure where I’d first feel the sharp cold on my skin. Then I felt a drip, then another; he was holding it over one of my cheeks, letting the water melt and drip onto me, then run down my leg. It was another new sensation, one which wasn’t unpleasant. But I wanted more.
“Please, Daddy,” I begged, breathless. “More. Please. My skin hurts.” I was rewarded with the sensation of the ice cube traveling in small, slow circles over my ass. It was unreal, the feeling of the cold on my overheated skin. I cried out again and again, lost in a blur of pleasure.
“Do you want me to stop?” he asked when the cube had melted.
“No, please, don’t stop,” I panted. I was so aroused it hurt, and I felt my juices flowing freely. I wanted more than anything for him to touch me at the center of the ache he had created.
He got up and took anot
her cube from the glass, then repeated the circular motion over my other cheek. This time he ran the ice farther down my thigh to the area behind my knee. I nearly screamed, the mix of pleasure and discomfort driving me insane.
“You’re so wet,” he murmured, then chuckled to himself a little.
“And not from the melted ice,” I responded with yet another moan. “See what you do to me?” I managed to gasp, and I pushed myself back ever so slightly, opening myself farther to him. I was rewarded with the shocking sensation of an ice cube being run up and down my aching cleft.
“Oh my God!” I screamed and reflexively pulled away. He took my hips in his hands and pulled me back toward him, then hooked an arm around my thighs and held me in place. I knew it was pointless to fight. He was too strong.
“Stay still,” he whispered. “Just breathe.” So I willed myself to stop squirming, and I felt the ice touch my lips again. I whimpered, frantic, and he shushed me. “Just breathe into it. Enjoy it.” So I took a deep breath, then another. Soon, as the ice traveled over my bald pussy lips, I wasn’t in agony. I was in ecstasy.
“Oh my God! Fuck! Yes!” I cried out, throwing my head from side to side as he rubbed the ice all over me. By the time he touched it to my clit, I was begging him to, and I screamed as all the pent-up arousal burst from me in a soul-shattering orgasm.
But he didn’t let me stop there; instead, he took what was left of the ice cube and pushed it inside me. I screamed again, on and on, and I felt my muscles clamp down on the cube until it melted.
He released me, finally, and I collapsed onto the bed. I felt him remove my panties and unhook my bra, then gently turn me over. I was still lost in bliss and didn’t put up any resistance. He lay down beside me on the bed, still fully clothed, propped up on one arm.
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