“You wouldn’t dare,” she said. “I’m twenty years old.”
“Try me,” I goaded. “You’re never too old for the belt, princess. It made a fine man out of me.”
“Yeah, sure it did. A real fine man, Daddy.”
“Watch your mouth, Georgia.”
She laughed, a bitchy little cackle. I felt my hackles rise, the urge to put the snotty little bitch over my knee threatening to boil over.
“I don’t need your money anyway. I’ll get some from Mikey, he’s picking me up this afternoon.”
“The same Mikey who’s dating someone else? Some other darling instead of you?” I said. “Oh, I forgot, you don’t give a fuck about him, do you?”
She folded her arms, eyes like thunder. “I don’t actually. I’m using him for sex, and the sex will be a lot better now he owes me. He wouldn’t want his precious girlfriend to find out he’s been fucking my tight little ass, would he? He works for her father in some posh gig down Piccadilly Circus. My silence will be worth even more to him than my pussy.”
“You’re a classy girl, Georgia, you know that?”
“It’s not a crime to enjoy sex, Andrew. And I’ve seen your internet browsing history. You’re not all that classy yourself.”
My blood turned to stone, seizing my fists into rocks. “You’ve been on my laptop?”
A sly grin lit up her face. “It was enlightening. What a big, bad boy you are, Andrew Priestley. Not quite so Priestley, are you?”
“What the fuck were you looking at?”
“Aww, did I make you angry? Shame.” She turned her attention back to her phone, still grinning. My mind whirred, speeding through the contents of my laptop, the scanned paperwork in my documents folder. Embarrassment burned like a motherfucker, burned me up with the thought of what she’d found in there. The thought of her laughing. Laughing at me, laughing at my misfortune. Did she laugh with her friends? Laugh at what a stinking loser Andrew Priestley really was. Laughing about my dirty little secret.
I overloaded without warning, striking like a cobra to wrench her from her seat. Her phone clattered to the floor, and her eyes flew wide and wild, mouth open. I didn’t give her time to fight me, twisting her wrist behind her back and slamming her chest down on the table top.
“You’ve pushed it too far this time, Georgia, too fucking far. You think I was joking about the belt? Think I’m a fucking joke, do you? Is that it? It’s time you learned some fucking manners, little girl.”
“What are you doing?” she hissed. “Andrew, what the hell are you doing?!”
I pinned her hard, my chest against her back. Her body was so small, crushed under my weight so tight I could feel her breathing.
“You asked for this, sweetheart, you’ve been asking for this every fucking day I’ve known you.” I stood up, pressing hard between her shoulder blades to keep her in position. “Don’t you dare move, Georgia Tate, don’t you fucking dare.”
She wrenched her head around to face me, a picture postcard of shock. Her face had turned white, eyebrows high on her head in frozen animation. She didn’t make a sound as I loosened my belt, not a single fucking sound. I looped the leather in two, tested it hard against my hand. Georgia flinched at the thwack, and underneath my rage the lust uncoiled, stretching a path right the way along my spine. I hitched the soft white cotton of her nightdress, sucking in breath at the beauty of her ass. She was perfectly formed, milk-white flesh goose-pimpling before my eyes. She flinched again as I hooked my fingers inside her lacy pink thong, gasping as I slid the scrap of fabric all the way down her thighs. She clenched her legs together, but not in time to hide her modesty. Her pretty little pussy had bared its lips, promising me the tightest of wet kisses. Fuck. I was hard. Fucking hard and fucking angry. I stood in no man’s land, fighting for composure, struggling to back the fuck down and get out of there, out of the fucking craziness. I took a step back, letting the belt hang limp against my thigh.
Georgia didn’t move.
She didn’t move a muscle.
Finally her voice peeped up, thin and wispy in the quiet. “Andrew...”
“Shut up,” I barked. “For once in your life, just shut the fuck up.” My dick pulsed in my jeans, thrumming with the need for brutality, the need to punish.
She arched her back, shimmering blonde curls under the kitchen spotlights. “Andrew... Daddy...”
“SHUT UP!” I could feel my pulse in my temples, rushing with adrenaline. “You’ll shut up if you know what’s good for you.”
She turned her head again, slowly this time. I saw her lips move without sound, the quietest utterance. I moved closer, straining to hear her fucking apology.
But there was no apology.
“Please...” she whispered, so softly it was like a breath. “Do it.”
I nearly buckled on the spot, nearly shot my hot fucking load in my jeans. Her big, wide eyes, her tight little mouth. “Apologise,” I barked. “Final chance.”
She shook her head, then turned away, pressing her face to the table top. She moved her arms out of the way, her hands flat to the wood. I saw the muscles in her legs tense, the soft globes of her ass bracing themselves for punishment.
I closed the distance between us, standing tall at her side. “You’re a very, very bad girl, Georgia Tate. Apologise now or I’ll show you what happens to bad girls.” Her breath was shallow and frantic, but she didn’t move a muscle. “Last chance, Georgia.” I pressed my hand onto the small of her back, and she gasped, shifting from foot to foot. “Stay still.”
“Yes, Andrew...” she murmured.
My dick jerked in my jeans, swollen enough to fucking burst, and I gave in, gave in to the whole fucking lot of it. Every dirty thought, every wet fucking dream, every single time I’d jerked off over her.
“Daddy,” I said. “You’ll call me Daddy.”
I felt her shiver, her breath catching in her throat. I waited, soaking in the silence, waited until she choked out the words.
“Yes... Daddy...” she whimpered. “Please...”
I groaned as I swung the belt, bringing it down hard against virgin flesh. She wriggled like a fish, squealing in shock and pain. “This is what happens to sneaky, dirty girls in this house,” I grunted. “You’ll be good from now on, Georgia Tate. Really fucking good.”
“Ow!” she wailed. “Ow, Daddy, Ow!”
I hit her so fucking hard, over and over, lashing her with vicious bites of leather until she tried to scrabble away. I pulled her back into position calmly. “Take your punishment like a good girl,” I hissed. “Take it all.”
Her knees locked together, her breathing ragged. “Yes, Daddy!” she cried. Her pain-filled sob was the sweetest fucking sound I’d ever heard.
I stroked her hair, teasing her curls in my fingers. “Let Daddy teach you, like a good girl.”
I landed a vicious stroke on the thighs, and her soft whimper was music to my filthy ears. It spurred me on all the more, savaging her soft flesh with hard, loud thwacks. I beat her ass red raw, raw enough that she was shaking with adrenaline, twitching at every blow. I stopped only when breathless, surveying the damage. The girl was broken, sobbing against the table, and yet she hadn’t moved from me. “Have you learnt your lesson now, Georgia?”
She nodded, gulping in air. I dropped the belt to run my fingers down the rosy welts on her ass. “So sore,” I whispered. “You’ll remember this, won’t you?”
“Yes, Daddy.”
I wandered my touch down her thighs, tracing the pink patterns over her skin. She shifted her legs apart, offering me passage to the dainty folds of her cunt. She was glistening wet, and the scent of her bludgeoned my senses, pounding through my brain. I pressed my thumb against her hungry slit, sinking inside her.
“Please,” she murmured. “Please.”
“Is this what you need, dirty girl?” I ground my crotch against her ass and she rolled her hips like a seasoned whore. “I knew you were a filthy little cock dolly. How many men hav
e been in this tight little snatch, Georgia?”
“I don’t know,” she wheezed. “Some...”
“Don’t make me pick up that belt,” I hissed. “How many, Georgia?”
“Thirty... forty... I dunno.”
“Forty?”
“I love sex, Andrew. I need sex. It’s all I think about.”
I took a handful of curls, twisted her head to face me. “What did you call me?”
“Sorry, Daddy,” she smiled. “I love cock, Daddy. I want yours.”
We both startled as her phone screeched from the floor. It whirred around, vibrating in noisy little circles around the tiles. Caller display punched me hard in the groin, crushing my excitement in a vice of pain. Mother.
“Shit,” Georgia said. “Mother bitch calling. Impeccable timing.”
I backed away as reality crashed down. What the fuck was I thinking? What the fuck, you stupid horny sonofabitch? What the fuck?
Georgia kicked the handset away, reaching around to finger her clit. “Where were we, Daddy?”
I retreated to the sink, dowsing my face with cold water. “Enough,” I said. “This was a mistake.”
“It wasn’t,” she said. “You want me, I know it.”
“This is fucked up. Really fucked up.”
“So?” she snapped, eyes wide and angry. “Nobody has to know.”
“We’ll know,” I said. “I’ll know.”
“I’m not a baby!” she hissed. “I’m a grown woman, I can fuck who I like!”
“Watch your mouth,” I snarled. “Or I really will pick that belt back up.”
“Good,” she pouted. “And after that you can fuck me. I know you’ll fuck me hard, Daddy. I think about it every night.”
“Stop,” I said. “Just stop.”
“Why?!”
I groaned in frustration, balls aching like a bastard. “This is so fucking wrong.”
“I like wrong,” she said. “And so do you. I know it.”
“Show’s over,” I snapped. “I mean it.”
Her eyes turned dark, hurt and angry. “Are you fucking serious, Andrew? For fucking real?”
“Deadly,” I said. “Please, Georgia, do as you’re told for once.”
Her mouth slammed shut; a tight little line of rage. She pulled up her panties, smoothing down her nightdress. “Asshole!” she yelled. “I thought you wanted me!”
I sighed. “That isn’t it, sweetheart.”
“Fine, whatever,” she snapped. “I’ll go get fucked by someone else, someone who does want me.”
“Jesus, Georgia, that isn’t it.”
“Six fucking months!” she screeched. “I’ve thought about this the whole time!”
My temples were pounding, senses in overload. “It’s not me you want, baby face. You only want what you can’t have. That’s the thing with being spoiled; you want the toy just out of reach.”
“Fuck you, you patronising prick.”
I stalked over in a heartbeat, pressing my face into hers. “Don’t you dare use that tone with me. I could beat you again all day long, a hard-on isn’t compulsory.”
“You’re kidding yourself,” she said. “I felt how hard you were.”
“I’m sick of your spoiled little tantrums, Georgia, sick to fucking death.”
“This isn’t a tantrum!” she raged. “I really want this!”
“Sure,” I smiled. “Wanted this enough to make my life hell for six months. You can kid yourself, sweetheart, but don’t kid me. You hated my guts on sight.”
“You don’t know me at all,” she said. This time her eyes took me aback, they were pooling, heavy with hurt.
I mustered all the resolve I could manage, holding myself firm until she accepted defeat. She grabbed her phone and stormed away, a typhoon of slamming doors and thumping footfalls.
It was a long time before I moved from that kitchen, staying out of her way until I heard her leave the house. I called her name once, twice, three times to be sure, and then, finally, when I was certain she was out of the way, I made my way up to her bedroom.
***
Georgia Tate’s diary was easy to find. Too easy. It ate further at my unease. It was thinly disguised under a stack of paperbacks, its pink satin cover jutting out underneath like a sore thumb. Maybe she’d wanted me to find it the whole time, only I’m not a sneaky fucking snitch.
I sat down on her bed, flicking through the pages. Yesterday’s entry was bookmarked, as good a place to start as any.
I’m drunk again. Really drunk. Beth and Stacy got in my face tonight, called me a skanky little slut. Beth said I’d been giving Richard the eye. Like fuck I had. He’s the prick who’s been trying it on with me ever since her birthday last September. I can’t stand him, anyway, his breath smells of eggs and by all accounts he has erection problems, Beth told me herself.
Andrew was kind to me this evening, it even looked like he gave a shit. I tried to tell him who I am, what I want. Yeah, I know... fucking face palm city. He touched my knee, and it felt so fucking good. He sent me to bed, and like an idiot I wondered if he’d come after me. He didn’t. I followed him into his bedroom, yeah, yeah, what’s new? Only this time I went further. I watched him shower, and fuck, his ASS. It’s like steel...
A wave of nausea rose up from my gut. I scanned on, hardly able to look.
I watched him jerk himself off. It was so hot. Part of me can’t help but wonder. You know. Maybe, just maybe it was about me...
I flicked back through the journal; pages and pages and pages of secrets that a man like me should never have access to. Through the nausea my dick was already hard, images of Georgia Tate’s perfect little pussy spread open for me scorching my resolve, burning it to ashes. I found the entry six months earlier. The day I arrived in her life. I could hardly bear to read.
Mother has a husband. A fucking husband!! Out of nowhere, I mean what the fuck?? She dropped me a text message, a TEXT, to let me know I have a new stepdaddy. Fucking awesome. I wanted a stepdad my whole fucking life, and now I’m twenty she decides to marry some random? She’s such a BITCH. They are arriving home today, YES, to MY home, BOTH of them. Hey, Georgia, here’s your new Dad. Like that’s NORMAL. Apparently his name is Andrew, and he’s some hotshot IT executive or some shit. I’m never going to be ok with this, EVER.
My blood turned to ice. Text message? Cynthia told her daughter about me by text message? I thought back to our wedding-day, our early morning conversation.
“Are you sure you want to do this now? What about your daughter? Wouldn’t she want to be here?”
Cynthia smiled, brushed it aside, as though it was the most ludicrous suggestion she’d ever heard. “Georgia? No! She’s a big girl, Andrew, she doesn’t need to be here. Believe me, Georgia won’t even care. She’s not that kind of girl.”
Seems Cynthia knew even less about her daughter than I did.
He’s here. Oh my God, he’s here. Daddy Andrew. I want to hate him, hate both of them, and I DO hate them, but it’s so much more fucked up than I thought it would be. He turned up with a suitcase, just like that. Held out his hand and said ‘Hi, I’m Andrew, but you can call me Dad’ like a real fucking comedian. He’s younger than Mother. Not much, but enough. And you know what? The thing I don’t get, after the ice-queen she’s been my entire life, the frigid, prudish, man-hating bitch she’s ALWAYS been, how the hell did she land a guy like him? He’s absolutely, insanely, ridiculously, obscenely, disgustingly hot. The guy’s huge, like HUGE. He was wearing this t-shirt and he is so fucking ripped you can see every muscle on him. His hair is so dark it looks black, apart from this tiny bit of grey he has above his ears, but even that looks hot on him. His eyes are green. GREEN under dark brows. He’s way out of Mother’s league. He shouldn’t BE here, not with HER.
I’m supposed to hate him, but now I just hate her even more. I expected to feel a lot of things with a brand new daddy in my house, but I didn’t expect to feel like this. I’ve never felt so jealous in my fuc
king life.
I’m crushing like crazy over my new daddy, the guy that’s fucking my mother. Can life get any more fucked up than this?
My hard on disappeared, finally. At least there was some shred of morality in my filthy body. I was reeling, knocked for six. I flicked to a random page.
I’ve been horrible to Andrew-Dad for two whole months and he’s STILL here. I thought he’d have given up by now, fucked off back where he came from, but no. He hates me now, I know he does. Mother’s finally stopped parading him like a show pony. She hardly bothers with him at all, I haven’t seen them talk in days. She’s back on her phone again, planning trips again, like he never even arrived. I’m sure they’re not fucking, they act like they don’t even know each other.
I’m having nightmares again every night. I told Mother but she only snapped again, snarking that I should have grown out of them by now. I still haven’t told the bitch they’re always about her. She gave me some cash to sort out the shrink again, but I’m not going back there. I just wish I could sleep.
I spied Andrew typing his laptop password last night. Ladyluck69. There’s something about him I don’t get. He’s so serious all the time, but he never talks about his past, just comes and goes from work every day like he never had a life before this. I checked out his laptop but only for a minute while he was in the shower. He watches pornography A LOT, maybe even as much as me. If only he knew what I was really like. Maybe then he’d realise he married the wrong woman.
A few pages on.
I’m fucking a million randoms again. I can’t stop myself. I need to get HIM out of my system. It’s been ten times worse since I saw his porn stash. I look at it whenever I get chance, like some weird crazy stalker. He’s so dirty, maybe even dirtier than I am. He’s watched this one video about twenty times, and it’s so fucking dark. A young blonde gets tied up in some basement and fucked by about five different men. It’s one of the roughest vids I’ve ever seen. She takes two cocks in her ass and it actually makes her cry. They call her dirty names, and choke her and spit all over her, but you know what? She likes it. I know she likes it, I can see it in her eyes.
Daddy Knows Best Page 2