Daddy's Little Bait

by Celia Crown

  I tread lightly, guiding her shaking hand up and down while I sink into the cushion with a sigh. This is exactly how I imagine her hand would feel, soft and delicately tiny as she can't wrap her fingers around me.

  Our size difference is vast; she stands up to my chest, supple youth exuding with susceptibility to lies, and a need to have freedom yet want to be tied down so she can be taken care of.

  “I-I don’t know how to do this,” she murmurs, wide eyes unable to look away from the bead of precum falling down.

  “That’s fine,” I said, grunting as she twists her wrist.

  Trapping her wrist under my palm, I instruct her on how to pleasure me. Pushing her hand up and down on my shaft, making sure her grip is strong and doesn’t falter if she gets tired.

  She wouldn’t get to that point because I’m already so close to coming with just the curious expression on her face with a touch of fear from her inexperience.

  “Get to work, little princess, and change up your pace too.” I reach back and spank her perky ass, “Don’t let Daddy get bored.”

  She nods with doe-eyes, concentrating heavily on her pace to find a rhythm that suits her and her liking.

  I lean back, kneading her ass with both my hands while I let her toy with my pulsing shaft in slow strokes before turning up her pace with a small gasp, another bead of cum form on my cockhead and she swipes it away with her thumb.

  Looking at it with bright eyes, she taps the head with her finger to see if there would be more cum spilling out. Instincts get led by her natural curiosity as her other hand joins in to rub me. Suing my precum to get a nice pace going, the hand on my shaft strokes up and down while her other hand wraps around the head and twists it to get a husky groan from me.

  God, she is a natural at this.

  I know her little ass is a virgin. Her medical records show she still has her hymen attached and she isn’t sexually active, but they could be falsified. Though, through my surveillance of her, she can’t lie to save her own life.

  “You’re doing good, little princess. Just a bit more and you’ll get the rest.” I tip my head back when I hear her voice.

  “Get what, Daddy?” she asks, naïve and interested.

  “Something that will be inside your pretty cunt later.”

  She flushes, awkwardly looks down, and resumes playing with my thick shaft. Her hands are so small and it’s obscene to see that my massive cock throbs in a red of frustration between her working tiny fingers.

  Her pace goes slow and I growl loudly, snapping my hand around hers and taking over her slacking ministration. I furiously rub her hand down my cock and hisses as my balls draw up tight, shaft thickening as the first spurt of cum shoots out.

  I aim it at her clothes, smearing creamy whites on her shirt as she squeaks in shock. Too stunned to look away from the other strong sprays that leave our joining hands in a sticky mess.

  “W-what’s this, Daddy?” she stammers.

  I grunt, licking my dried lips. “Daddy’s cum, little princess. Those will be inside your pussy later and I want you to keep them in, understand?”

  She hiccups, blinking out of her stupor. “I understand, Daddy.”

  I nod in satisfaction, “Good, take off your shirt.”

  Her hands fly to the bottom of her shirt and she held them down while her pebbled nibbles point the shirt outwards.

  “But I—”

  I crack my hand over her ass again as she winces and tearily glances at me through her lashes. If I was a better man, I would have caved into her beauty.

  Hell, if I was a decent man, she would not be here in the first place.

  “You can’t sleep in a wet shirt,” I tell her, her eyes were cleared of any mortification and replaced with embarrassment as she doesn’t question me twice.

  Her flawless patches of skin teasingly get more exposed as she tries to cover her tits while stripping off the shirt. Not graceful at all, but Romy is the last person I expect any finesse from. She’ll trip over her own feet if I don’t carry her, I’d hate to see her pretty face scratched up from the glass that no one bothered to clean up.

  My cock gives a jerk in my hand as I ignore the build-up of desire in my stomach again, I’m not going to get a break until I empty my cum into her small yet fertile body.

  I manage to shove my cock inside my pants and zip up; she has gotten her shirt off and is covering her round tits with her arms. Romy doesn’t realize that it makes me want to bite those perky delicacies and watch a row of my teeth mark turn a nice shade of inflamed red.

  “Let me see,” I growl, her shoulders jump and her arms fall to her side automatically.

  Her body is getting used to my orders, she’s beginning to connect my orders with some form of punishment and the freshest one stays in her head as she has no choice but to obey me.

  Rosy nipples are taut and her tits sway with every inhale she takes, she doesn’t dare to cover them back up as I watch her cheeks burn with humiliation. She wants to shield her body from my prying eyes, but her fear solidifies her need to be safe so she sits with good behaviors.

  I cup her tits, weighing them in my palm as I run my thumbs over her tight nipple. She sucks her bottom lip in and turns her face into her shoulder, shivering from the cold and the hotness of my palm.

  Tweaking her buds in my finger and rolling them to see where she stands with me touching her so intimately. Her hitched breaths and blurry eyes as she opens them only for them to close shut again when I pinch harshly.

  I tip forward and run a tongue over the bud, earning me a gasp and a choked mewl. I suck and lick her nipple up to my teeth so as to let it scrape across while it falls back down. Her nails dig into my thighs, but I hardly feel anything other than the need to hum. Her body vibrates along with my noise, driving her to arch her back so her tits smoosh into my face.

  I reluctantly let go and play with her nipples with my fingers, “How does your little pussy feel?”

  She fidgets, nose scrunching as she peers at me. “Weird.”

  “Tell me,” I encourage her.

  She hesitates, stammering her words through clumsy vocals. “I-I feel empty, I don’t know what it is. I’ve never felt something like this.”

  Romy blinks, fluttery flashes bats flirtatiously at me. “Is that bad, Daddy?”

  “No, no,” I coo, soothing her worries. “That’s a good thing.”

  “Is it?” she cocks her head while I let her tits fall from my palms.

  Needy noises tumble from her throat and she puts her hands in front of herself and tips forward. While trying to not look desperate for my touch, she’s not backing away from me as her arms squish those two roundness together.

  “It means you want me,” I explain.

  Her face erupts into another cycle of blushes, from dark mortification to light self-consciousness.

  I take my shirt off, feeling her eyes on my muscles as I intentionally flex in disguise while taking it off. Her eyes fly from one arm to the other with attentiveness to the lines and designs that run on each arm. Inky patterns are hypnotic as her doe-eyes dart side to side as she can't decide which arm is more interesting.

  Tattoos seem to capture her attention the moment she saw me walk into the room when she first woke up; I never forgot the little dusting of pink on her cheeks.

  “Put this on.” I hand her my shirt; the cold has never bothered me before.

  I blame it on the cold weathers that I grew up in, Alaska in a world of its own while the world is tumbling into global warming.

  She hurriedly wiggles through the holes, unaware that her actions caused her tits to jiggle and gave my cock a reason to stay hard. The shirt is too big, sliding off one shoulder as she adjusts it so that both shoulders are equally bare.

  “What about you?” she asks, her voice going soft from shyness.

  Precious princess, my mind purrs.

  “Worried about me?” I tease, yanking her down as we resume to our previous position.

 
Her legs move back to perch above my thigh as she sits between my legs, putting her head on my chest and listening to my heartbeat. Romy’s nail traces the ink on my arm as I pat her thigh, quietness settles around us as the forgotten rolling thunder crackles above the sky once more.

  I turn my attention to the entryway, staring into the darkness as another boom of loudness shocks Romy further into my embrace, tucking her head in my chest to block out the noise. She’s not shaking as much, but her legs curl up so she looks like a ball of softness in my arms.

  The windowless room allows for a bigger and louder echo of thunder because the sound has nowhere to escape, and it can only travel up towards the ceiling where it’s wide and rumbling hollowly.

  Romy was asleep by the time I looked back down on her, it’s no surprise that she is tired. This day was an emotional rollercoaster for her; somewhere along the way, she trusts her fear of me to be the foundation of her mindset as she is not allowed to have her own opinion once I come into the picture.

  I don’t want her to have a mind of her own, I want her to be my good little girl so I can reward and punish her when the occasional arises.

  Everyone has their own agenda, leaving Romy unprotected and roaming with bad people at every corner she turns would be a huge mistake. She trusts too easily and listens to any authoritative figure that she comes across. It is an unhealthy way of living her life, but hypocrisy demands that I be the one to use both matters against her.

  Not to hurt her, of course.

  I need her to know that there is nothing in my life that I’m willing to die for, but I would do anything for her. Keeping her safe and happy in my arms is my number one priority, she doesn’t have to believe me now, but she will understand that her home is no longer safe.

  She’s only truly safe with me, her biggest nightmare.

  I chuckle, stretching across the old couch and get my phone. The screen illuminates my face, highlighting Romy’s hair as I bury my nose to smell her.

  She has no scent on her other than her natural pheromones; it suits her better than the artificial shampoos that I saw in her apartment and it irked me to know that she shared a shower with her roommate as there were men hygienic products lined with hers.

  Speaking of her roommate, I believe he is the one that reported Romy missing. The alerts on my phone will tell me if any news had come up from local news and the FBI website where anyone can get alerts on what the latest update on crime is.

  I don’t have to worry about them tracking my location as my computer expert has a knack for doing the most extra shit when it comes to security. It’s his meticulousness that benefits this team and our ten-year bank heists.

  I read up on the latest update and the police think that this is a strangers kidnapping because she doesn’t have family in the area or any immediate relatives that could do this, also her habit of staying out of a high-risk lifestyle contributes to that point as no one would be going after Romy if they don’t know her.

  That doesn’t rule out a psychopath who saw her and decided that she was theirs.

  I think that would be me.

  I am a stranger to her, but I know all about her life and personal details that no one knows. I have stalked her for six months; I’d like to say that we have established a routine and a familiar relationship, albeit one-sided for now.

  Loving someone is hard, especially when Romy doesn’t know anything about relationships. She’s that awkward, and I fucking love it.

  Love is a concept that I didn’t understand, I thought it was for weak people who succumb to their failed brain wires that connected wrongly.

  All that lovey-dovey nonsense makes me sick, and whenever I see anyone having an intimate moment, I have to physically fight the urge to drop-kick their asses.

  Everything changes when I saw Romy Quinn. How could I not love an angel?

  She is made to soothe the demon in me, love the hideous monster that resides in my heart.

  I know these things because I know myself, and Romy will know soon too. She just needs a little time to get used to me, I am intense after all.

  I press a kiss to her forehead, “Goodnight, little princess.”

  Chapter Six

  Romy

  Is this day three or week three?

  Time eludes me whenever I drink water at night and sometimes in the morning too. I get overly tired and when I wake up, it would be groggy and exhaustion filling my body. I hate feeling like this when I wake up, but somehow Daddy makes it better when he’s there as I wake up.

  It means that he didn’t leave my side when I slept, just as he had promised.

  This went on night after night, and I can’t figure out where this change is coming from.

  That was until tonight where Daddy had given me a glass of water again, watching me drink all of it before taking it away from me. The couch is my bed now, the other room that I hated was the last place I went into.

  It’s big enough to fit two people tightly, but I like feeling his buff arms pulling me deeper into his chest while his heartbeat lures me to sleep. I never had a problem sleeping after drinking that cup of water; it could just be the dust that caused dehydration.

  It’s the same logic as eating too much that I get tired, I could be getting sleepy from a tummy full of water.

  I lay on the couch, listening to the steady rhythm of his heart as I take in his scent. Comforting and alluring, it’s an intoxicating smell that whispers a lullaby in my ears, however, I stay away far longer than I expected. I could have sworn I would have been knocked out by now, but I’m just not tired.

  “What’s wrong, little princess?” Daddy asks above my head.

  I sling my arm over his waist and snuggle deeper down the couch, “I don’t know, I’m not tired.”

  There is a silence; I stay in the suspense of the echoing wind down the halls as the abandoned building has no barrier to keep away the haunting moans of cracks.

  He weaves his fingers through my hair, scratching lightly against my scalp. I become a boneless puddle, eyes fluttering shut at the pleasurable sensation.

  “You need more water,” he said, pulling out of my arms as I feebly try to stop him.

  My eyes snap open, meeting his starling dark eyes. “It’s okay, Daddy. I’m not thirsty.”

  He cocks an eyebrow, the camping light is too white and it hurts my eyes. I don’t care if Daddy is here with me, I can't shake the fear away from being in total darkness. I really need to have the lights on as I was practically crying when he turned it off the first night we cuddled on the couch.

  I learned that lights are a privilege given by him and if I misbehave, he would take it away and leave me in the dark while he leaves too.

  Safe to safe I was on my best behavior to ensure that the thunderstorm night never repeats.

  “Not tired. Not thirsty.” he’s talking to himself and staring intensely at me.

  “Well, I have something else,” he said, and it’s somewhat under his breath, but I caught it.

  “Daddy?” I call, sitting up from the couch as the scratchy blanket falls off my shoulders.

  “You have been a good girl lately,” he muses.

  I nod vigorously.

  I didn’t talk back to him, didn’t say no to anything he asks, and I didn’t try to do anything that would make him disappointed in me.

  “Good girls get rewards,” he said.

  My eyes brighten; I arch my back as happiness blooms in my chest at his words. A sense of accomplishment hits me, puffing its aphroditic at me to make me drunk on his praise.

  His chest rumbles strangely, “You want Daddy to make you feel good?”

  My eyes are wide, “How?”

  “It’s better if you feel it,” he suggests, cupping my cheek as he kneels on the couch.

  Taking my lips in a passionate kiss, heat warms my chilled skin as he groans throatily.

  “Pretty girl, you’re so good to me. Nothing matters, little princess, only you are important.”
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br />   I giggle, smiling happily against his lips as he flicks his tongue through my teeth and curling sensually with mine. I make sure to remember to breath, keeping up with his pace as he devours my moans.

  My nipples tighten, scraping against the bristly material of my shirt as my panties feel uncomfortable. I squirm, kissing him back with the same passion as he is kissing me.

  There’s a touch of pain at the nape of my neck, stinging and annoying me with the constant ache. I break the kiss half-heartedly, sitting back on my butt as I tug insistently at his hand. I pucker my lips and pout at him, ready for him to give me kisses with my big eyes gazing expectantly at him.

  “Take your clothes off,” he commands.

  My hands have a mind of their own, yanking the shirt over my head before I could blink and they are going for my pants with one swoop. I kick off the pants to the ground that has been cleared of glass and cleaned with a pungent-scented cleaner that stayed even now. It must have seeped into the concrete, but that thought is forgotten when Daddy peels his shirt off so sexily.

  His muscles are tight and bulky; they are for me to admire and to protect me from the scary ghosts that haunt this building. No ghost of villainous entity can hurt me when Daddy is made of steel and iron determination with a mean streak.

  He will love me, but he won’t hesitate to smack my butt if I act out.

  I can't help it when he has meetings with the people I met just that one time.

  The meetings vary in time, and more than likely I would be left by myself in another room where there is no bed and no chain around my ankle. I have upgraded from being a girl being held against her will to Daddy’s little princess.

  He’s so kind to me, also grouchy but he’s fair. He won’t punish for no reason, but he will put the other men of his group in their place when they poke their heads in to see what I would be doing.

  They would look at me as if I’m a zoo animal and Daddy is the zookeeper who brings me food and water, but at least he comes in and checks on me while the meeting takes all of his time during daytime.