by Dani Wyatt
Even as I think about it, I know we are not like other couples. We are a partnership, that’s true. But Daddy is in charge. The power balance is different.
I give him my trust, my adoration and respect. In turn, he takes care of me like I could only dream. But in the end, it’s his decision and his word that is trump and it’s all part of the beauty of what we have, even if other people don’t understand.
It all churns around inside of me. It doesn’t help I’m so ass over teakettle for him that I can’t see straight. The way I fell into the Daddy part of him has me more vulnerable than I’ve ever felt in my life.
We’d been on just three dates when I came back to my apartment from a gardening job. It was about a hundred degrees that day, I was filthy, probably stinky, my hair in a mess on top of my head, no makeup and a worn-out pair of overalls with a white T-shirt.
I looked like Jethro from the Beverly Hillbillies. Only without the Beverly Hills part.
When I’d first left home, I tried cleaning houses, but truth was I was horrible. I’m messy by nature, it’s in my DNA I’m sure. But my customers found their plants and gardens flourishing, so I switched my tactic and became a plant whisperer.
That was actually the ad I placed on Craigslist and on some flyers I printed. Before long, I had a handful of clients and was able to pay my modest bills while doing something I loved. Since I only accepted cash payments, it limited the number of customers that would trust me, so I barely scraped by every month. But it was better than going home.
When I’d arrived back at my tiny apartment that day and found it packed up and empty with Stas standing there telling me I didn’t live there anymore, half of me nearly cried with joy and the other half was insulted.
I’d fought for my independence and even though in my heart I knew I loved him, I was scared. I mean, it all screamed “danger, Will Robinson”, right? So I fought him good and hard until he picked me up and carried me to the car.
It wasn’t that I didn’t want to go with him. In my heart and soul I did. I valued the fact that I didn’t need anyone anymore. The irony is, now I need him like I need each and every breath. He’s shown me the little girl inside that I pushed away for so long who needs her Daddy.
Even though he moved me into his home, he never rushed our sex. In fact, he was painfully patient. I was the one pushing him for more within a week or so and he would drive me crazy holding back.
He started by eating my pussy for hours on end. Using his fingers and mouth on me like a master painting a masterpiece.
But for his pleasure? He was in acutely frustrating control. I watched his erection from behind the fabric of his trousers for nearly a month before he finally took my virginity. And I must admit, that hurt like heck. Because he’s a monster down there.
I can say, since then he’s made up for lost time. He took care of me those first weeks, trained me to orgasm for him at a single word or look, which I didn’t think could ever happen.
But it can. And it did.
Once, in the first weeks we were together, I faked an orgasm. I’m not sure how Daddy knew but he did. He stopped what we were doing, it was his mouth on me at that time and I had already cum about a gazillion times, but I knew he wanted more.
I thought I was doing the right thing. I was spent, my body aching. So, I faked it.
Wrong answer.
I won’t go into the details of what happened next, but I will say this: I was so sorry and ashamed after we were done. It hurt him deeply and he explained to me that my pleasure is his joy and our truth, and if we can’t trust each other with those most important moments in our lives, what trust will we have?
Enter Rule number two. Never lie to Daddy.
I just don’t know that much about him. Outside of this house, outside of our relationship, I know next to nothing. The only person that’s a common factor between this and his other life is George, and he’s every bit as secretive. All I know is that when we are together, I’m more joyful than I thought possible and everything feels perfect.
The man, the Daddy, the protector, the friend, the lover...he’s everything. And when I think of not having him, I can barely breathe. We fit in ways I never imagined. Not that I’ve had any real-life experience with relationships outside of a school dance with Dylan Cheney in my Junior year.
The only thing I keep thinking is I’m either the luckiest or the stupidest girl in the world.
T H R E E
Stas
“JUST PACK YOUR SHIT and get over there. You said you’re just about finished.” I run my palm around the leather steering wheel as I take a left toward the private airport where my flight is waiting. The sun is just coming up, the hour drive to the airport taking the last of the night from the sky.
“Don’t be a dick.” George snaps. “Rushing me isn’t going to make me go any faster. How long will you be gone?” His voice sounds hollow, echoing in the empty space of the warehouse where he answered my call. He still has more than a hint of an accent, a reminder that he hasn’t lived in this country his whole life the way I have.
He’s finishing a job, cleaning up someone else’s mess, and thank goodness he’s available to go stay with Ginger.
I hate fucking leaving her, and that admission is hard for me. Work has always been my salvation. I liked to be away. Distracted. But now... Jesus, like I told her, by the time my car hits the end of the driveway I wonder what the fuck I’m doing ever leaving her.
“I’m hoping in the morning I’ll be flying back. But you know, it’s not a nine to five gig. If everything goes well, no one gets their panties in a wad and does what I fucking tell them to do. But, if not, day after at the latest.”
“Alright, man. I’ll take care of her, you know I will.”
His off the cuff comment blinds me with irrational jealousy. He’s my most trusted friend, but when it comes to my Babybear I’ve become a lunatic about any other men—or boys for that matter—even glancing in her general direction.
“You know if you touch her, I’ll cut your fucking balls off.” I bark out before I can contain the rage.
“Brother.” He snaps back. There’s amusement in his voice, but something else as well. A warning. George is like a big dog: easy going, moves a little slow, likes to enjoy life. But like a big dog, he has sharp teeth and a powerful bite when necessary. “Who the fuck you talking to? I don’t want anything to do with her besides be the support you need. You fucking know that, so get your head out of your overly tight ass.”
I grip my chin with one hand as my fingers tighten around the steering wheel. “Sorry, man. I know. Fuck.” I grunt, shaking my head.
Being away from her is becoming more and more impossible with every job.
Every night as I lay in bed listening to her breathing, drinking in her scent, her softness after I’ve ravaged her body, my mind spins. I have to figure out a way out.
My work is no longer my salvation, it’s becoming my prison. But every way I turn I see danger. I stay in, it’s dangerous, just nature of the business, the people I help are the people that may very well want me gone.
Once you’re in, you’re in. It’s the theory of mutually assured destruction. In my business, we are all culpable and people get very nervous when someone in our world suddenly wants out.
And if I do even try to get out, dangerous people start to get nervous. Danger for me equals danger for her and that’s unacceptable. I’m trapped in paradoxical nightmare, searching desperately for a third option that satisfies everyone. There has to be a way and I’ll find it.
For her. For us.
I will.
“You got it bad, boss.” George’s chide interrupts my dark focus on my precarious position.
His rough chuckle has my fire dampening and a wash of her scent hits me out of nowhere. That’s another thing, I can be doing anything, and I’ll suddenly smell her. It’s fucking crazy, I can be across the ocean, just out of the shower, no trace of her anywhere and BAM. It hits me witho
ut warning and I feel my knees give.
She’s everywhere. She’s a drug. I’m addicted.
“Fuck, don’t I know it?” There’s no fighting George’s knowledge of just how different this is for me. Shit, I have to have someone that knows, otherwise I’d swear I was losing my fucking mind.
“Never seen you like this. How long we’ve known each other?” His voice softens on the other end of the line. “I’ve barely seen you date the same girl more than a half dozen times. And even then, don’t take this wrong, brother, but you were kind of a dick. I remember one time, you’d been dating this girl and I bumped into you at Regents. You remember that?”
My throat tightens. Even thinking about anyone else I dated turns my stomach. “Yes. I remember.” I quickly try to change the subject. “Okay, so you’ll go over—”
“Oh no.” George cuts me off. “You didn’t even know her last name, man. You introduced us, barely got her first name out and then she asked you what her last name was. You had nothing. Chick walked out on you and you didn’t bat your lashes.”
“Fuck, man. Enough of memory lane. That shit isn’t even in the same league as what I have with Ginger. Not even close. So, stop, just do what I ask. Keep her under your thumb. Make her smile. Play Risk with her. At least you last a few hours, she has me tied up and off the board within the first ten turns. Try to keep the damn donkeys out of the fucking house.”
He laughs on the other end of the phone, then adds, “I will do my best.”
I take the turn into the private airport and roll my window down at the guard shack. The security guard knows me and waves me in.
“Oh, and get her Churches Fried Chicken on your way over if they’re open. The crazy spicy ones. I can’t handle that shit, but she loves it. It’s a treat though, so don’t let her talk you into getting it for her more than just today if I’m not back in the morning. And make sure she cleans up after herself. She’ll leave a trail of destruction everywhere if you don’t keep on top of her. Oh, and no more Lucky Charms for her either.” I pull into my reserved parking spot and turn the ignition off.
George laughs into the receiver before acknowledging, “Jesus, she’s worse than a damn Gremlin, man. No food or water after midnight or she’ll go from Magpie to monster. It’s a lot of responsibility taking care of one little princess, you know.”
“Yeah, yeah.” He’s busting my chops. “Oh, and don’t call her princess, she hates that for some reason. And one more thing, if I’m not back in the morning, she has an appointment at the salon at eleven. She wants to get this unicorn color in her hair. Take her if she still wants to go without me. But make sure the stylist knows, do not trim off more than half an inch and if they fuck up her hair, I will not be happy. And explain to them what my not being happy could mean.”
I’m stepping up into the Learjet as the captain nods at me. Sarah, my assistant and flight attendant is there waiting, offering me a cup of steaming hot Earl Grey as I pass and make my way to my seat.
“Got it.” George answers. “Okay, get to work. Get your shit done because fucking beauty salons scare the crap out of me. Chicks get their hair screwed up, they fucking cry man. I can’t handle crying. Especially if it’s Ginger and I know the stylist is going to have to deal with you. Then she’s going to cry. Fuck it, just be home in the morning, okay?”
“I’ll do my best.”
With that we sign off and I settle into my oversize seat and open up my briefcase on the flat desk top in front of me.
Sarah folds her arms over her chest. “You ready to go?” She is more like a motherly sister than an assistant, to be perfectly honest. I trust her with everything. She’s the only person in my life I let in even a bit and she’s never broken that trust. “Because we’ve all been waiting, you know. You’re an hour and a half late. I was about to send out a search party, it’s not like you to be late and it’s beginning to be a habit the last month. Got your man business running the show these days instead of your brain.” She reaches over and pokes a finger at my forehead.
“Aaaaand I’m waiting on you guys now.” I grit out, knowing she’s right but not willing to open the discussion about my newly found personal life.
“How was your extra bowl of grouchy flakes this morning?” Sarah snaps. “Runway is clear for us. Wheels up in five, your highness. Oh, and here’s your envelope.”
She hands me the plain manila envelope and spins on her heel, barking orders toward the open door of the cockpit. She’s my personal pit bull and outside of George and now my Babybear, one of the few people I know has my back in this world.
I unclasp the metal holding the flap closed and slip the contents out onto the desk in front of me, before starting to analyze the additional information on my current client, along with double checking every detail of the package I’ve put together for him.
I fish my phone out of the inner pocket of my suit coat with one hand while holding up the top page and re-reading the details of the job.
With my thumb, I unlock the phone and set it down, ready to send a quick text to Ginger before we take off and I go full on into my work persona.
In my line of work, I need to concentrate and watch my every thought and movement. And when I’ve got that game face on, I’m not always the me I like to be for her.
As I type out the text, a stab of guilt hits me in the heart. She doesn’t know what I do for a living and if I have any power over it she never will.
Over the two months we’ve been together, she’s asked questions of course—about me, at first, but then about what I do. And I can’t blame her for being curious. I have a beautiful home. I have expensive things. She had to wonder why I would disappear for days at a time, I get that.
Unfortunately, I could give her very little. The less she knows, the safer she is, and that’s my number one priority. Eventually, when I’d worn her down with refusals to discuss that part of my life, she only asked me to promise her three things.
That what I did wasn’t illegal. Because she couldn’t handle it if I went to jail. That it wasn’t dangerous. Because she would die if I got hurt or god forbid, killed. And that I didn’t have someone else. Because that would kill her.
I lied, of course. On two of the three things at least. I looked into her eyes and swore she had nothing to worry about. I had no choice. When I promised her that there was no one else, that was the truth.
There could never be anyone else. God knows I can’t even fathom the thought of another woman. That part is true and always will be. But on the other two promises, I broke the cardinal rule, the one I gave her and made her swear to always follow, no matter what.
Never lie.
I fucking suck.
I shake away the thought, knowing there’s not much I can do about it right now. It’s what I do and keeping her with me trumped me telling the truth at that moment. Every night I lie in bed and try to figure out my way out of the corner into which I’ve painted myself, but the solution still eludes.
Me: Hi, Babybear. Daddy’s thinking about you. George will be there soon to hang out with you and stay over. The guest suite is all ready for him.
There’s a long pause and the seconds feel like forever before my phone dings and her reply pops up.
Her: Hi back, Daddybear. Yes, he texted me. Told me to set up Risk and he will bring me spicy Churches chicken strips as soon as the store opens. He says he’s waiting outside.