by Lena Little
Little does she know she’s always going to be a little girl…my little girl.
She belongs to me, and Daddy’s not letting her go. Ever.
4
Gabriella
“I learn things quickly.”
“No,” the strip club owner says, crossing his arms and leaning back in his chair. “We never put girls on stage without a proper tryout.”
I think he’s talking about watching girls dance first until his eyes drift down to his midsection. I gulp, but there’s nothing to swallow, my mouth feeling like it’s filled with cotton.
“If that makes you nervous, then I already know you’re not going to be comfortable shaking your tits in front of a bunch of, drunk, horny, potentially grabby guys during your shifts.”
“An eighteen-year-old like me will bring in big money for the club.”
“Aaaaand you clearly don’t know how this business works. You pay us to dance, young lady. Dancers are independent contractors who are basically renting the time on stage and in the backroom. And speaking of time you’ve wasted enough of mine. Come back when you’re ready to…complete your application,” he adds for good measure, his hips thrusting up in his chair and a devious grin spreading across his face.
I roll my eyes just as there’s a single knock on the door and another girl sticks her head in. “Sorry to interrupt,” she says, holding a hand up before bringing it to her chest in some sort of peace offering, “but Mercedes called in sick, Bentley’s boyfriend just got thrown in jail so she can’t make it, and Caprice skipped town.”
I whistle audibly and pretend to file my fingernails. “You running a used car dealership or a gentleman’s club here?” I cut.
“Bitch, I don’t know who the hell you are or who you think you are but my patience tonight is the only thing that’s used, as in up, and if you press me I will shank you whore.”
Welcome to the big leagues. I keep my mouth shut.
“All right, Cinnamon. I’ll see what I can do,” the manager says and the girl behind me exhales hard and shuts the door, before opening it again. “Cayenne just fell and twisted her ankle. She’s gonna need crutches to get outta here,” she adds before shutting the door a second time.
“Or maybe a spice shop.”
“You think anyone is dumb enough to dance under their own name, Malibu?” he says.
“Malibu?” I groan.
“Yeah, like Malibu barbie,” his eyes lingering on my chest disapprovingly, “without the tits.” He pauses. “Now get the fuck outta my office and onto the side stage before I change my mind.”
I spin on my heel and prepare to high tail it outta there, “Just remember. The first night I keep everything, as a thank you. And you can thank me after your shift’s over too. Remember, you still haven’t completed your application.”
“But you’ve definitely completed yours for Creepy Asshole of the Year,” I say, slamming the door and ducking into the dressing room where I grab a nurse’s outfit and more importantly a mask, so I can hide my identity.
Not ten minutes later I’m tapping another of the dancer’s on the shoulder offering to trade her all the money I make during the next song, which is scheduled to be Ariana Grande, a young tiny thing like me, in exchange for her doing a favor for me.
“Everyone knows those girly pop songs suck to dance to and for tips too. Trade me for two Mötley Crüe songs and Ginuwine’s song ‘Pony’, and you’re on Tiny.”
“Deal,” I say and we walk into the club together as I adjust my mask making sure it’s covering as much of my face as possible. “See that guy over there?”
“He’s hot.”
“Yeah, and he’s mine,” I breathe fire in her direction. “Tell him his free lap dance is waiting and it’s time to cash it in in the champagne room.”
“I might just give it to him myself.”
“You do and I’ll shank you, bitch,” I blurt out.
“Fuck off,” she says, flipping her hair at me but moving in the direction I want. I guess you can learn something from everybody in this world, even if their name was chosen as my favorite spice to insert inside a gooey iced roll.
I hide behind a pillar, knowing damn well I’m not going to shake my stuff on stage. I’m here to give one lap dance and that’s it. Well, that’s not it, but the only other thing that’s going down tonight is me…on Giovanni, who’s currently got his wallet off to the side of him so my dad can’t see. And he’s staring right at it. I grin wolfishly, knowing he must have found the picture I planted there when he took a shower upon first arriving at our house.
My heart pounds and my pulse races as I realize I’ll never be allowed back in my house if my dad finds out about this stunt I’m pulling. Then again, dad’s a pushover, not that I want to test him.
The only man I want to test is the one here, who’s resolve I’m about to break…and as the holder of the hymen, I want him to break. Tonight.
My dad’s piss drunk, waving at strippers and tossing singles, making a complete fool of himself. Gio on the other hand looks stone-cold sober and not even the slightest bit happy to be here. His eyes haven't’ looked up once and it takes my new bff a full three minutes to convince him to leave his seat as she drags him toward the back room, making me wonder how much money in tips those Mötley Crüe songs really bring in…not that I plan on sticking around long enough to find out.
There’s something else that’s sticky that’s on my mind, and hopefully soon to be inside of me. Gio isn’t readily giving in, but he also doesn’t want to make a scene in front of other guys here who might recognize him later in public. I, on the other hand, am ready to give in. Give him everything as he slides inside me.
And I’ll be damned if that’s not happening tonight, or at the latest before I head off to college.
I duck down and race my way toward the champagne room, luckily finding it unused. I lower the lights and check my mask, just before I hear, “He’s all yours,” as Gio stands in front of me.
“This really isn’t necessary. I’m not interested in anyone other than—“
“Oh yes, it is,” I say, as the door shuts behind him, but wish I’d waited another second before cutting him off, knowing he was about to say my name.
But I’m not interested in hearing my name right now. I’m much more interested in Daddy calling me something else.
Something Italian.
Something no one has ever called me before.
Showtime.
5
Giovanni
I tap my foot audibly, making it clear I don’t want to be here.
“What? A little thing like you going to try and hold me hostage in this backroom?” I question.
If the lights weren’t as low as they are and she was shorter, I’d damn near mistake this girl for Gabriella. But no way in hell she grew four inches since lunch, nor would her dad ever allow her to work in a place like this. Nor would her Daddy.
Not only that, but I’d never mistake my angel for another woman, despite how similar this practically too young to be in here girl with the nurse’s outfit and the mask looks.
I wiggle the handle but the damn thing is locked.
“Look, I’m sure you’re a nice young lady and I don’t mean any offense, but I’m not interested. There’s only one girl for me in this world and one girl only.”
Nothing, she doesn’t move. Now I’m really getting annoyed.
“And this was my friend’s idea anyway.”
“That’s what they all say…Daddy” she counters.
My head spins taking my gaze from the door handle to the girl as she slowly pulls down the mask.
“Gabriella! What the fuck are you doing here?”
“I…I…,” but she can’t get the rest out.
“I just came here today, because of you.”
“Bull crap. You just said ‘that’s what they all say’, so you’ve clearly been working here for a while. If your dad finds out,” I grit my teeth. “Hell, that doesn’t ev
en matter. I know and I’m pissed.”
I grab her arm and yank her toward the door. “Let’s go. I’m taking you out of here.”
But when I turn back and see she’s trying to dig in her incredibly high heels, thus explaining the sudden growth spurt, I catch a look at her face and she looks down at my hand, grinning from ear to ear. “I like it when you’re angry…when you’re rough with me.”
“Oh, I’m gonna get rough with you, piccolina.”
“What? Are you going to walk me through the club on full display, without my mask, so every other man in here can see me, recognize me, and hold that over my head forever?”
She’s right, but I also know she’s playing two games at once. She knows I don’t want another man holding it above my head, having seen what’s mine.
“There’s gotta be a back entrance here somewhere.”
“Oh, I’ve got the back entrance you’re looking for.”
“That’s it,” I say, picking her up and carrying her back to the couch in the room, bending her right over my knee. “You clearly didn’t learn anything in the kitchen so I’m going to teach you now.”
I raise my hand to spank her, but then realize that surely this place has cameras, just like the establishments run by the mafia do back in Italy.
I flop her onto the couch and quickly look toward the ceiling and all the obvious areas, finding the cameras I twist them free and toss them to the ground. I whip out my phone and open an app that searches specifically for live feeds or cameras trying to connect to Wi-Fi. One more pops up and I track it down…a fake charger plugged into the wall. Of course. Yanking it out I toss it to the ground and stomp on it.
“Now it’s just the two of us,” I growl, grabbing her off the couch and bending her right back over my knee. The second I hike up her dress my dick goes instantly hard, my anger mixing with aggression topped off with extreme desire. I yank her panties down and before she has time to know what’s happening I slap her bare ass, the feel of her flesh in my palm causing my balls and stomach to tighten to levels I didn’t know were possible.
Damn, I’m practically ready to come now and I’m just touching her. This never happens, not that I’ve been touching women lately, or at all. I’ve always avoided them, partly because there was something there that never quite inspired me, never quite got me going. And partly because they can be used against you as a weakness.
“Daddy,” she says as if reading my mind. Fuck, that word is my weakness, and am I ever inspired, both my mental and physical needs complete at the sound of it, almost like that single word gives me permission to be who I’ve always wanted to be, but never quite understood that person was inside of me. “I want to learn, Daddy. I want you to teach me…from my knees.”
I unbutton a button on my shirt, the temperature inside this air-conditioned room scorching.
“Tell Daddy exactly what you mean by that, bambi,” I command.
Looking back over her shoulder at me, my hand still firmly planted on her ass, she replies, “I want to take out that big hard cock that’s pressing into my stomach and ram it into my dripping wet pussy.”
“Your virgin pussy?” I question on a hard swallow.
“I’m not a virgin,” she denies way too quickly, giving herself away that she’s never given herself to another man.
“You’re as innocent as the day you were born, Bellissima.”
She can only whimper at my Italian word for her.
“What did you expect coming here tonight?”
“I told you. I want to learn from you.”
“You didn’t even know I was going to be here. I didn’t even know I was going to be here.”
“I was naughty, Daddy. I snuck into my father's room and saw all the one-dollar bills and the free lap dance voucher. Then I came up with a plan.”
“Has anyone else seen you in this outfit tonight?” I snarl, the thought of it makes me want to storm the club and rip every figlio di puttana’s eyes out and wipe their memories clean.
“No. Just one other girl in the changing room.”
“Not the manager?”
“No, he’s creepy.”
“What did he do to you?”
“Nothing.”
“What did he try to do to you, and don’t lie to Daddy.”
“He wanted me to put his hard thing in his mouth.”
“Did he show it to you?” This figlio di puttana is going to pay for what he did.
“No, Daddy. I promise. I was too smart for him.”
“Yes, you are smart, aren’t you little girl.”
She nods.
“That naughty little head of yours always coming up with ideas.”
“Coming, Daddy? What do you mean by that?”
Madonna e dio, this perfect little girl is going to be the death of me.
“You want me to be your Daddy?”
She nods.
“You want to learn about the birds and the bees, principessa?”
She nods again, more vigorously this time.
“Speak to Daddy when he asks you a question. Don’t just nod your head. Be a good girl.”
“Yes, Daddy. I want to learn.”
“About what?” I eagerly wait, wanting to hear it straight from her mouth.
“About the birds and the bees.”
“Do you know what the birds and the bees mean, piccolina?”
“Uh-huh. It’s when Daddy puts his hard thing between his legs in-between my legs and hides it there while I give it a special hug.”
“Baby girl, you have to understand that Daddy is absolutely consumed by thoughts of you…everything about you. Your safety. Your body. Your future in college and after.” I pause. “This pussy,” I add, cupping her mound, causing her to whimper. “Daddy isn’t some boy who just wants you for one night or for a short time. Being your Daddy means being your Daddy forever. It means he needs to know where you are at all times. It means you will obey him and if you don’t there will be punishment, maybe even resorting to tying you up to make sure you don’t go off and do something Daddy doesn’t like. You need to mind your manners, and you will obey.”
“And if I don’t, Daddy?”
“Daddy will bring you to heel.”
She swallows hard.
“Anytime you’re not studying, making yourself better, then we’ll be having our secret playtime.”
“What happens in secret playtime, Daddy.”
“We play games, tesoro mio.”
“What kind of games, Daddy?”
“Baby girl’s honey-coated sticky hugs,” I say, cupping her cunt yet again. “Quiet time where Daddy’s inside you, going as deep as he can go without you making a sound because maybe your father is in the other room.”
“We can’t tell my father?”
“Nooooo. No, no, no, no, no. Father can never know. Only Daddy can know about what his little girl does when her father’s not looking.”
“Will I be Daddy’s girlfriend?”
“You’ll be so much more than that, princess. You’ll be exactly that, my principessa, and one day you’ll be Daddy’s queen. Daddy will always put you first, and always keep you happy and safe, plain and simple. You’ll belong to Daddy, all of you. And whenever Daddy wants to play games, like cowgirl, then we’ll play…no exceptions.”
“What game is cowgirl?”
“That’s when you ride Daddy’s white horse until Daddy’s horse can’t stand up anymore.”
“Daddy has a pony?”
“No, baby girl. Daddy has a mustang, a wild mustang at that. But Daddy can get you a pony one day.”
“Yay! I want a pony, Daddy.”
“Then a pony you’ll get, little one. But right now Daddy needs something.”
“What Daddy?”
“Your first orgasm smeared all over my face.”
“But Daddy…wouldn’t you rather have it smeared all over your hard white mustang?”
“That’s where it belongs, but not here. This place isn’
t special enough, it’s not fit for a principessa…my principessa. But Daddy knows you have a needy pussy that needs attention now, and Daddy’s thirsty. He hasn’t drunk a drop of alcohol, but he’s ready to get drunk in another way.”
“How can you get drunk if you don’t drink alcohol? That doesn’t make sense. You’re silly, Daddy,” she says, tickling me, but I grab both her wrists and lock them down behind her back.
“Daddy can get intoxicated on your special drink, yours, and yours alone. See, little girl, you have the fountain of youth between your legs, and drinking from it will always keep Daddy young.”
“Really?”
“Really. It’s that special, and it’s only for me. Capisce?”
“Yes, Daddy. I never want to share what we have or tell our secrets.”
“Good, because if you share our secrets Daddy will get angry and he’ll have to destroy anyone who knows because then they won’t be secrets anymore. Right?”
“Right, Daddy! That’s how secrets work.”
“Now let me show you how this works,” I transition, my need too great as I give her mound a firm pat just before I spin her in a way that would make figure skaters jealous.
And just like that, her hamstrings are on my shoulders, her sopping wet pussy in my face as her hands grip my hair from above as she’s positioned in a reverse of me carrying her on my shoulders. I’m going to carry her all right…right through to her first orgasm.
My fingers dig into her globes as I push her middle into my face, licking straight up her folds before taking her nub in my mouth, twirling it, sucking on it, and then releasing it only to repeat the process over and over and over again.
She cries out and I damn near bust, the texture of her sex on my tongue too much to take especially when mixed with the hoarse sounds escaping her lips.
“Fuck, piccolina. Your pussy is even sweeter than I imagined,” I say, my tongue diving inside, pushing deeper and deeper to the point my jaw bone is grinding against her pelvis.
