Daddy Issues

by Ava Sinclair

  As her excitement grew, she began to whimper, raising her hips to his mouth, offering herself up to him. His hands flew to the waistband of her panties, pulling them down. Her labial mound was plump and delicate and covered with light, reddish brown hair. With her legs spread, the inner flower of her pussy was exposed and glistening, the clit pert and—he suspected—throbbing. He latched onto it with his mouth, giving it the same tender attention he’d given her sweet breasts, alternating sucks and gentle bites with long, slow strokes of his tongue as he licked away her essence. Her cries filled the room, but her legs remained spread as she offered herself to him in the sweetest fashion.

  Her first orgasm was achieved with his mouth pressed against her. He grasped her buttocks, squeezing them tightly as her arousal coursed from her pussy. It was all he could do to tear himself away when her tremors finally subsided, but he wanted more, wanted to see more, wanted to explore and commit to memory every part of this innocent, alluring woman-child lying beneath him with her dusky rose nipples and spread legs, waiting to be filled.

  “Turn over, little one,” he said, and didn’t wait for a reply. He put her on her stomach and then pulled her hips up. Her bottom was tight and pale, the round cheeks parted by a deep cleft. He spread them apart, his cock throbbing almost painfully as he gazed at the tight crinkle of her virgin rosebud and her dripping pussy below.

  He swirled his finger in her arousal, then used the tip to circle her bottom hole. William held her tight, predicting she’d pull away. And she tried, but he reminded her smoothly and authoritatively that he was in control here, not her, and that all he did was for her pleasure, their pleasure.

  William pressed against the resisting ring of muscles, his slick finger nudging, nudging, nudging until the tip slid in and then further, up to the knuckle. He watched Ellie, keeping an eye on her face, which was turned partially toward him. Her cheeks were flushed, her eyes closed. To his surprise, she pressed back, facilitating a deeper probe of this untried portion of her anatomy.

  Oh, yes. This sweet girl was made for pleasure. And now William was ready to take his. His cock was straining so hard against the front of his trousers that he had difficulty working it free. Once sprung, he palmed it as Ellie looked back, her eyes widening. William was not a small man; his cock was long and thick, a drop of clear pre-cum crowning the flared head.

  “Please,” she said, and the need in her voice surprised and excited him. She wanted him, was eager for him, her hips pushing back until the soaked curls of her pussy brushed his thigh. He would not make her wait. Putting a hand on either side of her hips, he shoved into her with one smooth, firm thrust, relishing the sound of her little cry and the unbelievable heat and tightness of her pussy. Had she already not divulged that she’d had a few short-term lovers in her past, William would have thought her a virgin.

  His cock throbbed in her tight sheath, and she throbbed around him, the walls of her pussy drawing on him as she reached her orgasm immediately, her high cry rending the air. He was so close to joining her, but resisted the urge, slapping her lightly on the ass as her waves receded and he started his own motion.

  “God, you feel so good, Ellie,” he moaned as he thrust into her, marveling at how she found and matched the rhythm, her soft buttocks mashing into him with each stroke. Her back was covered with a sheen of sweat. He leaned down, licking the saltiness from her before gently sinking his teeth into her shoulder as one hand moved beneath to pinch and pull her clit.

  Ellie was wild with excitement, and he knew she’d never been taken like this, that in this way he was her first, that this was her first experience with sex as it was meant to be. She was so passionate, so quick to rise from valley to peak. Even now, she was approaching her third orgasm and this time William would join her, his throbbing cock relenting to the powerful contractions that invited him to spill himself into her in wave after wave of pure ecstasy.

  Only after her last blissful shudder did he lay himself down on his side, drawing her into his arms. His cock remained nested in her pussy, the cum leaking around it. She did not move, did not ask to be released so she could hasten to the shower. She merely sighed the sigh of a contented woman and turned her head so he could kiss her.

  “You are mine, Ellie Brewer,” he said. “You are mine, wherever, whatever. And nothing will tear us apart.”

  Her body was soft against him, relaxed and trusting. William basked in the moment, enjoying the calm before the storm he feared was ahead.

  Chapter Twelve

  “Do you know why I’m spanking you?”

  Ellie was stretched over William’s lap as he sat on the edge of the high bed, her body supported by the mattress. It was the next morning, and the smell and glow of sex still clung to her well-used body. But some tension had returned with the light of day and her concerns over what William’s enemies may do. So he’d put her back in little girl mode, explaining that sometimes a good cry was the best medicine for reducing stress.

  “So I’ll not hold everything in?”

  “Yes,” he said, rubbing her upturned nates with his broad hand. “You’ve internalized stress for far too long, and we both know from your past that when it finally comes out, it can do so in a damaging way. You need to understand that you’re safe here; you’re safe to vent—within reason of course—or to cry if you feel frustrated or sad or grieved. A sound spanking can help you learn to let go. Do you understand?”

  Ellie’s heart was pounding. She knew he was right as she lay there swirling in a cocktail of sensations—fear, gratitude, and excitement. Her pussy was sore from the three times he’d taken her before dawn; her nipples, too. Just moving now on the bedcovers caused the peaks to tingle and ache.

  “Ellie, I’m waiting for your answer.” He punctuated the comment with a squeeze.

  “Yes, sir,” she said.

  And so William began to spank her, his large hand catching the under-curve of first one cheek then the other, each hard blow pushing her forward over his lap as far as she could go with his arm so tight around her waist. Ellie bit her lip against the sting, but as he continued, she couldn’t stop the little cries she emitted with each escalating spank of his hand. The cries became a sob, then a bawl, then infantile open-mouthed wailing as he spanked harder and harder and the floodgates of emotion opened, pouring out the anxiety she’d kept hidden inside.

  Afterwards, he held her cradled in his arms, her bottom throbbing and smarting against the soft hair of his hard-muscled leg. She sobbed as he assured her again and again that it would be all right, that she’d done nothing wrong—that they’d done nothing wrong. And soon enough she found herself believing him, and relaxed into a warm grasp she wished could continue all day.

  But he had a class to teach, and Ellie had to work. She wiped her eyes with the back of her hand as he tipped her off his lap and rose to shower, inviting her to join him. She declined, choosing instead to pull out the box of letters William had retrieved the night before between their bouts of lovemaking.

  The letters exchange between Dr. Wentworth and the woman he called his little Emily were sweet. He traveled often, and when she could not accompany him, he wrote home daily. Ellie had been skeptical when William had told her the nature of the Wentworths’ relationship, but the messages exchanged between them left no doubt that there was a strong father–daughter element to their marriage.

  If you do not eat a proper diet and keep to a proper bedtime, it may be necessary for me to employ a nanny to care for you, my sweet, Dr. Wentworth wrote in one note. Your last letter mentioning an overconsumption of sweets and erratic evening hours makes me wonder if you may benefit by another adult authority figure to redden your naughty bottom in my absence.

  It was apparent from Emily’s reply, penned in curling, feminine script, that she absolutely did not want anyone other than her husband caring for her.

  Oh, no! I pray you not charge me to another. I can only offer my submission to you, my husband, my lord, my love, my guardian!
I will be better, I promise! Correct me if you must on your return, but please promise me you will not let another’s hand put me back on course!

  Her husband had relented, but with a warning.

  If this is your decision, then I am glad to hear it. But upon my return, I will begin training your bottom with the methods I discussed. I believe having reminders lodged inside of you in my absence will keep your mind always on your duty to obey me, my love, my jewel, my pet, my little girl. You are forever on my mind, little Emily. My hope is that you will wear my love like a shield, knowing that under its protection there is nothing you cannot face.

  “Have you read all of these?” Ellie asked, lying on her back finishing the letter she held above her face.

  William had emerged from the shower, his sandy hair curled by the water, a white towel wrapped around his narrow hips. “I have,” he said.

  She rolled over. “What did Dr. Wentworth mean when he mentioned ‘training her bottom’?”

  He sat down on the edge of the bed. “You really want to know?”

  She nodded.

  William leaned over and opened the drawer to a bedside table, and Ellie watched as he withdrew a mahogany box with a gold latch. She raised herself up on one elbow, watching with growing curiosity as he opened the lid to reveal six mahogany objects nestled in a bed of red satin. The objects were graduated in size, the smallest as thick as a man’s forefinger, the largest about three inches in diameter. They were tapered, triangular in shape, with a round handle at the base of each.

  “Bottom trainers,” William said. “They are exact replicas of the ones Dr. Wentworth had especially carved for his little Emily. He used them to stretch her bottom.”

  “Why?” Ellie looked at him.

  “To remind her of his control, even when they weren’t together, and so she could take his cock.”

  “Are they…”

  “Clean?” He chuckled. “Wentworth was a stickler for hygiene. He kept these carefully sterilized, but for good measure, I’ve done it myself.”

  “Why?” she asked, but Ellie knew the answer. She just wanted to hear him say it.

  “Because, my little Ellie. I plan to use these to train your bottom. I love the idea of lecturing at the college while you’re here working, your every move a reminder of how daddy plugged your bottom.” He leaned over until his lips were mere inches from her ear. “And why…”

  Ellie shuddered, her pussy throbbing. His words and the imagery they evoked were highly arousing. The night before had been perfect, but she knew as soon as he left she’d suffer anxiety over what he may face at work from his vindictive ex and the family of the young man who’d shamed her at the coffee shop. Suddenly she felt a longing for this intimate physical reminder of his presence in her life. And Ellie knew as soon as his eyes met hers that he knew it, too.

  “On your knees, little girl,” he said. “Chest to the bedcovers, legs spread.”

  Ellie was shaking with need as she complied, her heart thumping with fear and excitement. She watched as William took the smallest plug from the box, coated the tip with a generous amount of lubricant, and then moved closer to her. She felt her bottom hole twitch reflexively as he pushed the tapered head of the plug against her delicate crinkle, the muscles resisting at first and then finally relenting to the steady, gentle pressure he exerted. The plug slid in with a slight burn as it widened and then immediately narrowed just before the flanged handle. With it seated, Ellie was aware not only of the strange fullness, but of the round disc protruding from between her cheeks.

  “Will this help my little one think of me today?” he asked.

  “Yes,” she said with a smile. Her pussy was flush with arousal now, and he smiled and stood, leaving her with a delicious frustration they both knew he would ease upon returning later that day.

  After William left, she showered and dressed for the day, opting now for one of her girlish dresses instead of blue jeans. She tried not to dwell on their troubles as she worked; William seemed resolved to weathering the storm, and told her there was no reason to worry. Whenever she was tempted to, the plug in her bottom reminded Ellie that she was in his care, and that he was committed to protecting what they had together.

  As much as Ellie longed to continue reading the personal missives between the Wentworths, she had a box of legal papers to finish cataloging first. They were within themselves interesting; Dr. Wentworth had been the witness in the case of a man accused of poisoning his wife, and William believed the documents could be the basis for a book.

  Ellie was just starting her work when the bell on the front door rang. As always, she looked through the peephole, and recognizing the brown uniform of a courier, she opened the door.

  “Is Dr. Ashworth home?” The man was holding an envelope.

  “No, but I’m his research assistant,” she said.

  “Of course you are.” The man’s eyes swept over her, his too-familiar gaze nearly as unnerving as the toothy smile that accompanied it. “This is for you. No need to sign.”

  Ellie took the envelope and the man turned away, then turned back. “Been spanked lately, Ellie? We know how daddy likes to spank his little girl. Soon everyone will.” He winked as he walked away.

  She felt the color drain from her face as she stumbled back in the house, slamming the door behind her. Ellie sank down into a nearby chair as she opened the envelope with shaking hands. It was a subpoena from Derrick Grayson’s attorney in a case he was filing against Dr. William Ashworth.

  For long moments she stared at the subpoena. It was clear that Grayson was planning to expose the unusual nature of their relationship, to twist it into something that would embarrass William and destroy his reputation and career.

  Ellie walked to his office on shaky legs, laid the subpoena on his desk, and reached for the phone. But just as she was about to dial his cell number—which he told her he would answer in emergencies—she put the phone down.

  William had saved her. When she’d been fired from the coffee shop, she’d felt nearly as low as she’d felt the day her real father had stood her up at the restaurant. He’d recognized her potential, plucked her from a hopeless existence, and given her a life and vocation she loved. Grayson’s lawyers would no doubt try to paint this as something sordid, to cast her as a fragile victim of an older man’s lust. They’d paint him as Humbert to her Lolita, but Ellie knew this was not the case. She’d wanted this, too, and he’d recognized it; William had seen in her a submissive yin to his dominant yang. He’d given her more than one chance to walk away. But she’d not wanted to.

  She shifted in the chair, aware of the trainer still lodged in her bottom. She thought of the Wentworths, and of Dr. Wentworth’s assertion that his love could be an armor for Emily even when they weren’t together. Then she thought of Dr. Gruber’s advice about stepping outside of her cocoon and acting as an adult, and knew what she had to do.

  Somehow, Grayson’s attorney had gotten private information about her life. She had a suspicion about where it had come from, but needed to confirm it. That would mean standing strong. She stood from her chair, wondering if she should change from the parochial-school style jumper she wore into something more ‘adult.’ But she decided against it. She would face this problem as she was, and who she was. She would get answers to the questions plaguing her, and then decide whether the cost to William was too great for her to stay.

  Chapter Thirteen

  The reception area of Dr. Kathleen Kidd was very different from Dr. Gruber’s. Here, the couches were all of stiff black leather, the coffee and end tables cold metal and scattered with magazines reflecting the clientele of her private practice. Ellie thumbed through them, glancing up from pages featuring bored-looking, stick-thin socialites to observe that she was sitting across from women that could have stepped from the pages themselves.

  She looked as out of place as she felt, and realized from the quizzical looks that the others could see it, too. Ellie had not spoken to the receptio
nist when she arrived and took a seat; she wanted to wait until the waiting room emptied and request an audience with Dr. Kidd. But before that could happen, a pretty blond receptionist called her to the front.

  “Do you have an appointment?” she asked, looking at her computer screen and then up at Ellie as if trying to place her face.

  “No,” Ellie replied. “But I’d like to speak to Dr. Kidd.”

  “I’m afraid that’s impossible,” she said with a veneered smile. “Dr. Kidd is booked solid.”

  “I’ll wait,” Ellie said firmly. “If you’d just tell her that Ellie Brewer would like a word with her.”

  “I’m sorry, miss, but…”

  “Stephanie, wait.” At that moment, Kathleen Kidd walked into view. She was wearing a blue suit with matching designer frames on her eyeglasses. But the eyes behind them were as cold as her office, and there was no warmth in the smile she offered Ellie. “I will see this young woman. Send her back.”

  Ellie tried to remain calm. She’d not expected to be seen so soon, and sought to collect her thoughts as she was buzzed into a long hallway leading back to Dr. Kidd’s office. A long window ran down the side of one wall, affording a view of the city and river beyond. The light coming in through the glass was cold and gray. The room itself was monochrome, with a hard leather reclining sofa the only furniture other than Dr. Kidd’s desk and chair. There was a bookcase behind the desk, but Ellie could only see the outlines of the volumes behind a door of smoky gray glass. Kathleen stood between the shelf and the desk, her blue dress and matching glasses the only real color in the room.

  “So, you figured out I was talking about your new boyfriend yesterday,” she said with cool amusement. “You’re cleverer than I thought.”