It’s why there’s no alcohol in my home. Never has been, never will be. I put up with enough alcohol-fueled fighting and my stinkin’-drunk stepfather pawing all over me when I was growing up. Never again.
And as much as he loves a good glass of bourbon, Brock has never brought alcohol into our home, and he’s never, never approached me after he’s had a drink. On nights when we go out with friends and he has a drink, we both know there’ll be no sex when we get home. He refuses out of respect for me and the pain it caused me growing up. He has no idea how much I love him for that. No one’s ever shown me the consideration Brock has. Matter of fact, he even told me one day how much he respects me for being his Little and how he’ll never take that for granted. That means the world to me.
I am so in love with this man that I can’t think straight. “Your woman wants you to make love to her, baby. I love you so much it hurts.”
The smile he gives me tells me every bit of the love I give him is returned tenfold. “I love you too. What’s your pleasure, angel?”
“This.” I scoot down his body until I’m face to face with that beautiful rod of his, its purple head swollen and happy to see me. When I open wide and take it in my mouth, the moan he lets out sets me on fire. I’d rather pleasure him than anything else in the world. Going to work on it, I enjoy the way it pulses against my tongue, the bitter saltiness of it, the smell of myself on him. It’s a heady combination that makes me hornier than I can stand, all the while stroking his balls while I suck long and hard. That hardness hits the back of my throat and I clutch my left thumb into my palm to stop my gag reflex, then give it everything I’ve got. He’s all velvet and steel in my mouth, sliding in and out of my lips, and I melt with every stroke, listening to him gasp and groan. Pleasing him thrills me. It’s better than being accepted by a parent or a lover. It’s the joy of knowing my beloved is in ecstasy because of me.
The sticky saltiness of him fills my mouth, and I swallow the preciousness of it. Brock is a fantasy come true for me in every sense of the word. As soon as I’ve lapped it all up and licked him clean, I crawl back up into his arms. “Lily, what did I ever do to deserve you?”
“You decided you loved me. That’s all you had to do.”
“I love you still. I’ll never stop.”
“And that,” I say, giving him a soft, sweet kiss, “is why I love you.” Staring into those beautiful hazel eyes, I see a reflection of myself, the me he sees, not the me I see when I look in the mirror, because he’s looking at me with love. My hand seeks out his manhood and I start to stroke him.
“I take it you want more?” he chuckles.
“With you? Always.” His lips are soft and warm as they press against mine, and when his tongue searches for mine, I meet it and stroke against it. God, he’s delicious in every way. When he moans into my mouth, I feel myself go wet, my desire for him growing every second, pressure curling and expanding down low in the heat of my belly. He’s hardening again, his skin velvet against my palm, and I know he can feel my lips curling up in a smile.
“Oh, angel, I love being inside you,” he whispers to me, hissing his pleasure as I keep stroking, long, strong strokes that make him shiver―I can feel it against my hand. “You want it, don’t you?”
“I want you. I always want you, Brock. Nobody but you.” When he unwraps my hand from his cock, I slide across the bed and he follows me, crawling up my body like a big cat. Two seconds is all it takes him to bury his hardness inside me, and I meet his thrusts with my own. I run my hand down between our bodies and stroke my clit, the external and internal friction combining into a whirling vortex of ecstasy that set my body shaking.
Brock’s voice is torturously raspy as he chokes out, “Lily, hell, you’re a goddess, baby. A real goddess. Oh, oh, oh, damn, girl,” he whispers as he bores deep into me, thrusting deep twice before he stills on top of me. My fingers creep up his back and into his hair, stroking and kneading his scalp, and the sigh he gives me in repayment is all I need to know I’ve made him happy.
And that’s all I really care about.
I hate mornings because when the sun comes up, he has to leave to go to work. And I hate being separated from him all day long. But I have plenty to do, so I stay busy. As soon as I eat and get showered, I start in on folding the laundry I did the day before.
Halfway through the day, he calls. “Hey, babe!”
“Hi! Having lunch?”
“Yeah. I walked next door and got a sandwich. But I called to tell you: Look under the book on my nightstand. There’s a surprise for you.”
“Ooooo!!!! Goody! Thanks, babe!”
“You’re welcome. See you this evening. Oh, and remember: Pale pink.”
“What does that mean?”
“You’ll figure it out. Talk to you in a bit. Love you, angel,” he says.
“Love you too. Bye.” As soon as he hangs up, I run as fast as I can to the bedroom and pick up the book. He’s been reading some James Patterson novel, and underneath it is an envelope. The outside of the envelope reads Friday, 1:00 p.m. I open it up and look inside. There’s a slip of paper, a certificate of some kind, and when I figure out what it is, I start to scream with delight.
To: Lily Owens
From: Brock Owens
Manicure and pedicure from Jenny at Decorate Your Life Salon, 212 Waterford Court.
Note: I love you!―B.
A mani and pedi! How awesome! I tear around the house, putting on my shoes and grabbing my bag, and then I run to the car. Jumping in, I shove the key into the ignition and tear out of the drive, heading straight for the salon. This’ll be so much fun!
And when I get there, I get a huge surprise. Our friend Kristin, whose daddy is a friend of my daddy, is there waiting for me! Her daddy gave her a gift certificate for the same thing! How much fun is that? We spend the afternoon laughing and talking, and when my technician, Jenny, asks, “So what color do you want your nails?” I already know the answer.
“Pale pink!”
6
Gloria
That Owens woman wears the weirdest clothes. Yesterday I saw her in something that looked like a preschooler’s tee shirt. Today she had on a sundress and had her hair braided into pigtails. How strange is that? I saw her earlier headed out to her car in a hurry. Wonder where she was going?
I decide to take a short walk, and on the way I see that Becca Henderson woman. She’s always very, very quiet. All I do is greet her with, “Hello, Becca. How are you?” She kind of stares for a minute before she answers.
“I’m fine, Gloria. How are you?”
I can tell by the way she said it that she really doesn’t care how I am. She’s just being polite. Well, at least she’s not rude like that Karen Reynolds. She’s a loudmouth if ever I saw one. Not a smooth bone in that woman’s body.
Siobhan McAllister is coming out of her house when I pass. I have no idea what’s going on there. I see cars there from time to time, and someone said they’re photographers and they do their work from home. I could see that, but seems like most of their clients come in the evenings. Maybe they’re working during the day. Who knows? Sometimes I see some of them during the day too. They’re all muscled-up guys and busty women, so maybe they do fashion or fitness photography. I have no idea. Anyway, she doesn’t even bother to speak, just kind of throws me a little wave and that’s it. And that’s fine. She’s an odd bird, so I don’t really care anyway.
I have to go right past the church on my walk and I hate passing by there. I really don’t want to run into either of the Reverends Danvers, not after what Reverend Samuel pulled on me. I still don’t know why he did that. It was crazy. Of course, nobody believes me when I say I didn’t do anything, but I know I didn’t and he does too. I don’t know how he looks at himself in the mirror after that, but I suppose he somehow does. Luckily for me, when I pass there’s no one there except the church secretary, Katie. I wave to her through the glass door and just keep walking.
When
I get to the Owens’ house, I really want to look at what they’re doing out back, but right now everything’s as it was. It’s a mystery to me.
I decide as I’m walking past the bakery to pick up some of those pastries Russell likes so much. I can’t remember if he likes peach or blueberry best, so I get two of each and I figure we can have one of each. The liquor store is right next door, and I get a fifth of vodka while I’m there. You never know when you might run out.
I’m walking back by the McIntosh house when Martin comes home. I haven’t spoken to Savannah in a while. After that night that I went over there just to say hello and all hell broke loose, I’ve made a wide berth around them. Whatever that was about, I don’t want to go through it again.
The TV’s on when I get back to our house, and Russell is sitting there watching some home improvement show on public television. “I brought back some of those pastries you like so much,” I sing out.
“And stopped at the liquor store too, huh?” he calls back.
My arms are crossed over my chest as I rest against the door facing and glare at him. “Why would you say that?”
“Yes or no?”
I huff out, “Yes. But we were running out of vodka.”
“Funny. I haven’t had any,” he mutters.
“What exactly are you trying to say?” I growl.
“Nothing.”
Now I’m getting pretty ticked off. “I tried to do something nice for you, and instead of thanking me, you’re picking at me. Nice, very nice, Russell.”
He shrugs and sighs. “Thanks for picking up the pastries. Can you stay sober long enough to enjoy them?’
Never saying a word, I turn and head back to the kitchen to start dinner. Why do I even bother? Just because I like to have a few drinks a day doesn’t mean I’m a lush. And sure enough, I was right: The bottle of vodka is almost empty. I use what’s in it and then crack open the new bottle I bought. I need more vegetables in my diet, so I make myself a Bloody Mary. The celery is especially delicious.
7
Lily
It’s Saturday and we’re going to have to find somewhere to go to play. We can’t go out into the back yard. The drunk down the street will see us and come snooping.
Where we lived before was the other side of town, so I’m not familiar with things around here. I’m sure there are some parks around somewhere, but I really don’t know where to look, so I ask Daddy if I can use the computer. He smiles and says, “Yes, but no looking at bad pictures or you’ll be punished.”
“Yes, Daddy. I promise, I won’t.” Not if he’s looking anyway. Haha.
I put in our address and add “parks nearby.” Up comes a list, and there are quite a few. There are also several schools around, and they all have playgrounds. I’m wondering if any of them are kind of secluded, which would be nice, but if they have surveillance cameras, that could be bad. I decide a park would be best. That means I’ll be limited to equipment that kids aren’t playing on. It’s a pretty day, so that’ll be tricky.
Before I close the laptop, I look up some daddy/baby girl porn, and I find a video with a woman in a white, long-sleeved turtleneck sweater and a pink checked pinafore. I sit and watch as he helps her take off her little ruffled rhumba panties, pink ones, and she hands them to him. Then he tells her to sit down and play with herself. I’m sitting there, engrossed in the video and waiting for her to orgasm, when I feel a hand on my shoulder and jump about three feet up from the seat of the chair. “Oh my god! You scared me to death!”
“What did I tell you about looking at the pictures?” Daddy says, and I know what’s about to happen.
“I’m sorry. I know you told me not to look at them, but I wanted to see them.”
“You’re too little to be looking at things like that,” he scolds.
“I’m sorry, Daddy. I shouldn’t have looked, I know. Do I have to stay home now?”
“No. You need the exercise, but you’re going to be punished. Close up the computer and come on over here,” he tells me as he takes a seat on the edge of the bed.
I close out the browser window, then shut the lid on the laptop. I know what’s coming, but I ask anyway, “What do you want me to do, sir?”
“Pull down your pants and lie down over my lap. You’ll get a spanking like a naughty girl,” he says, his voice stern and almost mean.
I pull down my shorts and then my little panties with flowers on them. When they’re down to my ankles, I hobble over and lie down across his lap. “I’m sorry, Daddy,” I whine, knowing how bad this is going to hurt.
His hand smacks me and it hurts. He’s pretty strong. I know I’ll have hand marks on my butt for a few days, but I should’ve obeyed. Instead, this is what I get. And now it’ll hurt when I’m trying to play on the playground. All my fault. He gives me ten stinging blows with the palm of his hand and I’m pretty sure I squealed with the last three. By the time he’s finished, I’m crying. “Did you learn anything?” he asks as I lie there, sniffling.
“Yes. I learned that when you tell me no to something, it means no,” I blubber out.
“Very good. I’ve warned you about that before. I don’t want to take your computer privileges away, but I will if I have to.”
“But, Daddy, I can learn from those people! I really can!” I wail out.
“And you can look at other daddies’ parts. No, that’s not okay. I don’t want you looking at other daddies’ parts. Matter of fact, I don’t like for you to look at other baby girls’ parts.”
I don’t understand that. “Why?”
“Because. Because it could make you want to do things you shouldn’t do. And it could make you feel like something’s wrong with you if you don’t look just like them. And you don’t look just like them, angel. Everyone’s different. But I don’t want you upset when you think you don’t look as good as some of those girls, because you do. You’re a beautiful baby girl,” he says, his hand stroking my bottom where he spanked me. That actually feels really good.
“Okay, Daddy,” I mumble again. “I’m sorry.”
“Get up and pull up your pants. Did you find some parks?”
I climb up, with his help, and pull up my pants slowly. “Yes. Quite a few. We’ll have plenty to choose from.”
“Good. Let’s get going. We need to be back here by late afternoon.” I’m still sniffling, and he reaches for my hand. “I’m glad I picked that outfit out for you. It looks very pretty on you. And don’t forget to put your barrettes in, or I can do it for you.”
“Would you please? I’m not very good at it.” I sit down on the corner of the bed and pull them out of my pocket, so he takes them and starts putting them in my hair to hold the front back out of my eyes while I play. “Thank you, Daddy.”
“You’re welcome, angel. Come on. Let’s go.” He reaches for my hand and takes it, leading me up the hallway toward the front door. “It’s early. I doubt the old bat down the street will notice us.”
“I hope you’re right.” But the minute we step out the door, I see her in her yard. “Shit. She’s outside already.”
“Language!” he barks at me.
“I’m sorry, Daddy!” I say, but I’m terrified she’s seen me and will make some kind of move toward us or tell a bunch of stuff on us. “This is one of those times when I wish this house had an attached garage.”
“You and me both. Stay behind me. I’ll tell you which way I’m moving and maybe she won’t be able to see you. Okay, moving to the left toward the car,” he says, and I follow his lead and keep him between me and her.
He helps me into the car and closes the door right about the same time she looks up and sees us, or at least him. She waves at him, and he waves back, then slips behind the steering wheel. “God, I hope she didn’t see me.” He glares at me. “Oh, sorry! Language. She just rattles me.”
“Rattles me too. She’s unsettling, that one.”
“Yes, she is.”
The first park we visit is full of kids, and I
do mean full. They’re everywhere. That’s a no-go.
We drive to the second one and it’s pretty busy too. I’m beginning to think this is going to be a wash. We look at the list I printed and pick another one, the next closest one.
As we pull into the park, there’s a tree line with an opening for the road to go through. We come out on the other side and it’s beautiful. There’s all kinds of playground equipment, a big ballfield, and a picnic pavilion.
And there’s not a soul in sight. That seems somewhat strange to me. “Daddy, why is there no one here?”
He shrugs. “I was wondering the same thing.” He drives straight to the parking area near the playground and parks. “Let’s take advantage of it since we’re here.” I pop my door open and head out to the playground equipment. It’s a very nice park, plenty of things to do, and I notice there’s a Frisbee golf course too. Very cool. While I’m swinging and Daddy’s pushing me, a car pulls up over by the dugout at the ballfield, and a teenage boy gets out. Then the car drives away. That seems odd.
Less than ten minutes later, another car pulls up and the boy talks to the driver through the passenger-side window, then gets in and the driver pulls away. I go on playing, but in about fifteen minutes, the car comes back, the boy gets out, and that car drives away. I go over to the slide and I’m having a good time going down over and over when another car pulls up and another teenage boy gets out to stand with the first one. In minutes, yet another car pulls up. They talk to the driver through the passenger-side window, then one of the boys gets in. That’s when I get it. “Daddy?”
He looks up at me where I’m sitting at the top of the slide and rolls his eyes. “I’m pretty sure I know what’s going on there.”
“Me too. Is it what I think it is?”
“Yeah, that’s my guess. They must do this all the time.” We watch as a brown car comes in, stops, and the second boy gets into it. “Yep. I’d say they do.”
Lily and Brock at 343 Harper's Cove Page 3