Call Me Daddy

by Jade West

  It’s her expression, one I haven’t seen on her before. I guess it’s a little in the shift of her feet, too. The way she shuffles, the scowl beneath her stupid jokes.

  She’s jealous.

  And I can’t believe it, I can’t believe Kelly Anne is actually jealous of me.

  “He’s nice,” I tell her. “He’s really nice.”

  “Nice and creepy…”

  “Nice and nice. Kind and strong and considerate and thoughtful and loving.”

  “Loving?” She raises her eyebrows. “Oh my God, did he… touch you? Major gross-out.”

  I’m a bad person, I must be, because I want to tell her everything, want to tell her all about how amazing he made me feel, and how good he was and how much he loves me. I want to tell her that it’s fate, and I love him and he loves me, and he’s going to take care of me, hold me tight, and make my lunch every day, and take my virginity and it’s going to be everything I ever wanted, not some crappy fumble with Kyle Vickers behind the school bins like hers was.

  “Laine…” she prompts. “Did he..? Are you..? Jeez, don’t tell me you finally ditched the V-card?”

  I tug her elbow and pull her to the side of the corridor. “No. Not yet. But I will.”

  She rolls her eyes. “For real? You and Hannibal? So many hot guys out there and you pick the creepy old dude. Daddy issues much?”

  My cheeks are on fire. My whole body feels on fire.

  “That’s what this is, right?” She laughs. “Daddy issues.” She pretends to suck her thumb and I get an icky rush of butterflies. “Ooh, Daddy, that feels so nice, Daddy. I’ll be a good little girl, Daddy.”

  “Stop it,” I say. “It was nice. The whole thing was amazing.”

  She props herself against the wall, acts like the big, cool girl. “The whole thing? So spill, oh virginal one, what is the whole thing?”

  She’s ruining it. My only friend, my only confidante, even if she’s always been a shit one, and she’s ruining it.

  “Forget it,” I mumble, and make to move past her.

  She grabs my arm. “Hey, Laine. Chill, I’m only goofing around.”

  “It’s not funny.”

  She looks so shocked as I scowl as her, and it’s about time. It’s about time I let her know she’s being a fucking asshole.

  “It’s a fucking joke, alright?” She sighs, like I’m the unreasonable one. “I’m serious, I want to know. If it’s a big deal for you, it’s a big deal for me.”

  If only that were true. That’s never been true.

  I shrug, and why not. She’s the best I’ve got.

  “It was nice,” I say. “He was really considerate, and really respectful, and took it really slow…”

  “And…” Her hands are egging me on. “Juicy gossip, please…”

  I lower my voice. “He kissed me…”

  “Yes, and…”

  “And it was amazing.” I can’t stop smiling. “He was amazing. He kissed me, and touched me, and…” I check there’s nobody close. “And he put his mouth on me, and sucked my clit until I came, and then he put his dick there, and it was massive… really big…”

  She laughs. “How would you know?”

  I laugh right back. “I’m not a total baby, you know. I’ve watched pornography, just like you do.”

  “The very fact you call it pornography says it all.”

  “But he is,” I continue. “He’s big. And it felt amazing.”

  “But he didn’t fuck you, with this big giant cock of his?” She raises an eyebrow.

  I grin. “Not yet, but he will.”

  She groans. “So what did he do with it?”

  The memories come back, and so do the tingles, the feeling of him, rubbing, and making those noises. The sound of the bed creaking.

  “He rubbed me… right against my clit… and I came… and he came…”

  “He fucking dry humped you?!”

  I shrug. “It wasn’t so dry…”

  “Gross,” she says, but she’s lying. She’s scowling again.

  I sigh, hug my lunchbox to my chest. “I love him.”

  “Excuse me? You fucking what?!”

  I smile. Simply. “I love him.”

  She stares at me like I’m a simpleton. Mum stares at me like that, too, and I hate it. I always hate it. “I mean it,” I tell her. “I love him, and he loves me.”

  “You don’t even know him,” she snaps.

  “I know enough,” I snap back. “It’s fate.”

  “Not those fucking horoscopes again…”

  “I don’t need horoscopes to tell me it’s fate,” I insist. “I already know. And he knows it, too.”

  “Then you’re both fucking cray cray.” She spins a finger in the air.

  “He’s going to be the one,” I say, and I don’t give a shit anymore. Not what she thinks, nor what she says. Not at how she looks at me, or how Mum looks at me, or how anyone else in the whole world looks at me.

  None of it matters, not now I have Nick. Daddy.

  Not now I have someone who loves me.

  “Fine,” Kelly Anne says finally, and lets out a sigh. “If you insist on being cray cray with Hannibal-old-guy then you do that. Just let me have all the juicy gossip, deal?”

  I think I’ve won some invisible battle, and I’m not even sure what I was fighting.

  “Sure,” I say. “But his name’s Nick.”

  “Daddy Nick,” she laughs, and I’m sure my burning cheeks are going to give me away, but she slaps me on the back and doesn’t even notice. “Alright,” she says. “Now, let’s talk about blowjobs, I’ve got some great techniques…”

  Chapter Fourteen

  Laine

  Nick’s smiling when I slip into the passenger seat, and I can’t stop giggling as Kelly Anne’s silly-arse blowjob techniques flash back through my mind.

  “What?” he asks. “What’s got you so tickled?”

  I shake my head, and try to stop, but he leans toward me, his eyes so questioning, and it’s too much. It’s much too much.

  “Kelly Anne,” I say, and he sighs before I’ve even started. “No!” I tell him, “it’s funny. She was, um… trying to teach me… in the toilets…”

  He raises an eyebrow. “Trying to teach you what exactly, Laine?”

  The giggles stop as I realise I’ve committed myself to sharing the stupid story. And with that comes the truth that I’ve been blabbing about us, about what we did. It feels like I’ve done wrong somehow, like I shouldn’t be talking about that, and I guess my expression says so, because his eyes won’t leave mine.

  “What, Laine?”

  I shrug. “I, um… I told Kelly Anne, some things.”

  He nods. “Some things about us?”

  I tap the empty lunchbox in my lap. “I won’t tell her anything else… not if it’s private…”

  “Do you want us to be private?”

  I shrug again. “If that’s what you want…”

  His hand rests on my arm. “That’s not answering my question. Do you want us to be private?”

  I don’t. I don’t want us to be private. I want to shout it from the rooftops, show the whole world that a man like Nick loves me, and I’m his and he’s mine. But I don’t say that. The words don’t come, so I shake my head, hoping my eyes tell him all that.

  “No,” I say. “I don’t want us to be private, like we’re doing something wrong. I want it to be… real…”

  He smiles. “It is real. We’re real.” His fingers squeeze my elbow. “I have no problem with you telling Kelly Anne about us, Laine, but you should be aware that aspects of our… relationship… may make people uncomfortable.”

  “I didn’t tell her about… those bits…” I admit, and my cheeks are on fire.

  “Probably for the best.” He squeezes again. “I’m not ashamed, sweetheart, but we’re unorthodox. Our relationship is unorthodox. Be prepared for what that means, should it get out somehow.”

  “It won’t…” I tell him. “I
’d only talk to Kelly Anne, and she’d…”

  “She’d what?”

  I don’t want to say it, but I do. “She’d laugh, or be super icked out. She wouldn’t get it.”

  He laughs, and it surprises me. “Super icked out could arguably be the right response to a situation like ours. Daddy play is… niche, Laine, so niche that most people just wouldn’t understand.”

  I laugh with him, but I’m shaking my head. “No! It’s not super icky, not at all! I like it… it’s just…”

  “A little bit icky?”

  “No!” I fidget in my seat. “I meant it’s private, not icky.”

  Daddy play. The words spin in my brain, and they make sense. That’s what this is. It’s Daddy play. I saw that on Jerry Springer once, years ago, some grown up woman in pigtails, colouring in while this guy talked to Jerry about how she was his little-y or something.

  It made me feel squirmy, all weird and hot, and then so guilty when Mum laughed about it and said how gross it was. Window cleaner guy, that’s who she said it to. And he hadn’t said a word, just stared in my direction.

  “Let’s go home,” Nick says, and my thoughts are right back with him. He’s looking at me so intently as he puts the car in gear, like he knows I’m feeling all squirmy again at the memory.

  I nod. “Home sounds real good.”

  “Yes,” he says. “It does.”

  And in that moment he’s that Nick again. The Daddy Nick that rubbed his cock against me until he came.

  Nick

  She’s thinking about it, the Daddy play. I can see it all over her face. I can feel it in her wispy little breaths, her eyes staring at me as I make fast work of the drive home.

  She’s thinking about it and she likes it.

  I imagine her horny little clit. Imagine her damp white knickers. Imagine the way she’s clenching her thighs under the lunchbox in her lap.

  “I’m going to shave you,” I tell her.

  “Okay,” she says without hesitation, as though I’ve told her we’re having chicken for dinner.

  But I want more than that. My cock is craving a reaction, my cock is craving her. Craving the guilty devilment in her eyes when she knows she’s my horny little girl.

  “I’m going to shave your pretty little cunt, Laine, and then I’m going to suck on that smooth little mound until you come for your daddy like a good girl.”

  Her mouth drops open, her cheeks bloom red, and it makes me so fucking hard.

  “That’s what you want, isn’t it? Tell Daddy that’s what you want.”

  Her voice is so delicate. “Yes… yes, please…”

  “I need more than that, Laine…Yes please, Daddy. I want you to shave me and lick me, Daddy. I’ll be a good girl, Daddy.”

  She shifts in her seat and clears her throat, and her sweet excitement is too much for me. I take her lunchbox and throw it onto the backseat, and my fingers slip between her legs, rubbing at her through the denim of her jeans.

  “Yes please, Daddy,” she whispers, so softly, and her legs part, her hips rolling up for more.

  “You like that, Laine? You like being my little girl?”

  She nods, her lip pinched between her teeth. It takes all of my restraint to pull my hand away and turn my attention back to the road.

  “I saw it… on the TV…” Her voice is hushed, confessional. “I saw it… this woman… in pigtails… and this guy… being her daddy…”

  “Did it make you wet?”

  She nods again. “I went to bed and touched myself, and it felt… icky… but nice…”

  “Dirty,” I tell her. “The word is dirty.”

  “Dirty…” she repeats. “It felt dirty… but nice… I couldn’t stop.”

  “You don’t have to stop. We can play that game forever, Laine. You can be my dirty little girl forever.”

  “Forever…” Dainty fingers reach out and stroke my hand on the gearstick.

  “Daddy’s going to make you his, Laine. Daddy’s going to fuck you, and love you, and punish you when you’re bad. Daddy will take care of you, sweetheart. I’ll make it feel so nice when you’re good, and make it hurt so bad when you’re not. That’s what you need, Laine. Love and discipline. That’s what all little girls need from their daddy.”

  “Yes, Daddy…” Her breaths are like gasps. “Please… that’s what I want… that’s what I always wanted… I want this… I want it so bad…”

  My cock is straining and my heartbeat is thumping in my temples. Everything is twitching, pounding, on the verge of exploding, all because of this divine little creature I picked up in the rain.

  I should stop.

  We should stop. Stop this perverted little game we’re playing.

  But stopping is the last thing I want.

  Laine

  He doesn’t do any of the usual stuff, like head through to the kitchen. He doesn’t head upstairs and take his jacket off and hang it up, or take my lunchbox and put it in the dishwasher. He doesn’t make himself a coffee or get me a juice, or ask me about my day.

  When Daddy Nick closes the front door today, he takes my hair in his hand and pulls tight until I gasp, and then he kisses me, and his tongue is so rough and so fast, his thigh between mine as he pins me to the wall in the hallway.

  I wonder if this is it. If he’ll really take me now.

  If he’ll take me here, with my jeans around my ankles and his tongue in my mouth. I want that. I want it any way he wants to give it to me.

  His fingers tug at my cami top and squeeze my tits through my bra, and he’s so hard against my belly, so hard and so big.

  Suddenly Kelly Anne’s silly techniques don’t seem so silly.

  I want to try them. Every single one of them.

  I open my mouth wide for Daddy, let him push his tongue so deep, squirming against his leg as his fingers tug and pinch at my nipples. I like it. I like it so much when he’s rough like this.

  I wonder what it would feel like to be a bad girl and have him punish me, and I like that, too.

  I groan as he pulls away, and his breath is hot in my face. Hot and fast.

  “Upstairs,” he orders. “Take your clothes off in the kitchen and wait for me at the table.”

  I nod and my tummy lurches as I leave him. He watches me all the way upstairs as the butterflies flutter. My heart thumps as I take off my cardigan on the way, and my cami, too. I fold them and place them on the chair, then unclip my bra with shaky fingers. I slip down my jeans and step out of them, my knickers, too, and put them on the pile until I’m only in my socks.

  I’m tugging them off when he comes into view, and he stares at me. Swallows as I pull them free and put them on the chair with my knickers.

  He’s carrying a towel, and a bowl.

  And a razor.

  He’s carrying a razor.

  I feel so exposed as he comes near. His suit is so fine and his hair is so slick, and mine’s a wispy mess. I brush it from my face as he watches. His eyes glint as he pats the table, and I hitch up and onto it, the wood so hard against my ass.

  “Lie back, legs up,” he tells me, and I do as he says, grabbing hold of my knees and holding them tight to my chest like I did last night.

  He rolls me backwards, and slips a towel under my ass, and it feels so icky… dirty… like I’m a baby on a changing mat, and he’s about to wipe my dirty bottom…

  I wonder if he can see my… see it…

  I wonder if he wants to…

  He runs his fingers down my thighs, all the way to my pussy, and further. And I know then that he can. He can see everything.

  He pulls my ass cheeks apart and it makes me screw my eyes closed, knowing he’s looking at me there… knowing he can see the most private parts of me…

  “Relax,” he says. “No secrets from Daddy, remember? I want to see everything, know everything. Every beautiful dirty little part of you.”

  I feel heady. Nervous. My throat is dry and my feet are twitchy as he runs his thumb across my asshole.
My actual asshole. And it tickles, but it’s a nice tickle.

  I don’t know if it should feel this good, but it does… it feels really good.

  “Dirty little girls like Daddy’s cock in their ass, Laine.”

  He says it so bluntly, his voice so deep and strong. It makes my toes tingle, to think of him… in there…

  “Good little girls are lucky because they get it nice and gentle.”

  The question rolls off my tongue. “And bad little girls..?”

  I can hear the smile in his voice. “Be good and you won’t have to find out.”

  His thumb, back and forth, pressing into my ass, and I like it. I like being a dirty girl.

  I open my eyes, and his are fixed between my legs, right where he’s touching. He looks so different like this, so dark and sexy and fierce, so different from the Daddy Nick that makes my lunchbox and strokes my hair at night.

  “Wait right here,” he says, like that’s necessary.

  He picks up the bowl and heads out of view, and I bounce my knees against my chest while I wait. I hear water running, and footsteps, my neck craning for sight of him. Steam rises from the bowl when he comes back into view, and there are those tingles in my toes again, those wings beating in my belly.

  I peer down between my thighs as he lathers soap into his hands. They feel so warm as they touch against my pussy, so gentle as he rubs suds all over me. He meets my eyes as he takes the razor.

  “Relax, sweetheart. I’ll be careful.”

  I nod. “I know you will, Daddy.”

  It feels so strange, the sensation of the blade against my skin. Long strokes, then short ones, his fingers spreading me open to run the razor between my lips. I trust him so much that it’s easy to relax. I stare in fascination, not fear. Watching him, watching the way he’s so careful and precise, watching the smile on his face as he shaves me bald and makes me so tender.

  I flinch as the razor dips between my ass cheeks, and then I giggle for being so silly.

  “Nice and smooth,” he says, and runs the blade everywhere. Everywhere.

  He wipes me down with a warm cloth and it feels like tingly heaven. Like my skin’s never been touched before. I want to feel it for myself, but I don’t move, just hold my knees tight like he asked me to.