by Rose, Renee
He narrowed his eyes. Leaning to the right, he looked at the dial on the oven. She’d cranked it all the way to the hottest setting. Grabbing her by the waist, he picked her up and moved her away from the oven, throwing open the door on the smoking chicken.
“What in the hell has come over you, young lady?” he demanded, grabbing a pair of hot mitts and yanking the food out to set it on top of the stove.
Her jaw thrust forward at a stubborn angle and she shrugged.
“You burned our dinner on purpose, didn’t you?”
Her lips tightened.
He folded his own arms across his chest, mimicking her body language. “What is this about? Dottie? Because she is nothing to me.”
“Right, and I’m just your stepsister.”
Ah. Now, he understood. He reached for her, but she darted out of the way, her lower lip trembling. “Am I still just mouse, your gangly kid sister to you?” Tears began to spill down her cheeks. “Because I’ll have you know, I’m a full-grown woman now. I’m old enough to marry, and do...the things married people do. And you just keep treating me like a baby.”
He advanced slowly, and this time, she let him touch her. Picking her up, he sat her on the kitchen counter and cupped her face.
“Baby girl, I only said that to Dottie to save your reputation. How would it look to have an unmarried woman living with me? It would be a scandal. You know that. Believe me, I wanted to get rid of Dottie as quickly as possible, and if I could’ve told her you’re my girl, I would have.” He stroked her hair back from her face. “Mouse, the feelings I have for you are not even remotely brotherly. I know I’ve been treating you like a little girl, but it’s not because I don’t know you’re a full grown woman. It’s because it turns me on to play daddy to you. I like thinking of your entire body belonging to me. Mine to take care of, mine to pleasure. Mine to punish.” He nudged her chin until she looked at him. “I thought maybe you liked it too?”
She flushed and lowered her eyes. “Yes,” she whispered. “I like it. Very much.”
“But?”
“But what about Dottie?” she asked.
“It’s over with Dottie. I promise you.”
“What about…”
This was the one question he’d been turning over and over in his mind. “What about us?” he helped her finish.
They’d cause a scandal, even if he married her and made her his little wife, the way he’d been imagining. Their parents would be mortified, and LuAnn’s father had the heart condition. Bottom line—their parents would never approve, which meant if he wanted to keep LuAnn as his own, he’d be cutting ties to her closest family—and his.
“What do you think?” he asked.
Her look shone with utter vulnerability—one part pleading, one part mortification. She dropped her eyes.
“Mouse, I want to keep you as my own. I want you to be my baby girl and my wife, but I’m having a hard time reconciling what that would do to your reputation and your relationship with your father.”
Her lips parted and he watched understanding dawn.
To his shock, she pushed herself from the countertop into his arms, straddling his waist and clinging to his neck, like a child.
He laughed. “What does this mean, little mouse? You’ll have me?”
“I’ve always been yours.”
“It’s settled then,” he said against her soft hair. “But we still have this little matter of the burned dinner to discuss.” He carried her to the Davenport where he sat her down and rotated her legs so they dangled over the arm of the sofa. Lifting her ankles into the air, he pulled her bottom up to rest on the arm of the sofa, raised for him.
Her skirts fell away, revealing a pair of silk stockings attached to garters.
He ran his hands along her thighs. “My, you do look all grown up tonight, don’t you?”
She giggled.
“From now on, no more bobby socks and saddle shoes. I want you in heels and stockings at all times.” He slid her panties off. “But the panties are optional.”
“Dad-dee,” she said, reaching up to cover her bared bottom.
He reveled in the fact that she’d called him that without prompting, accepting her role as his baby girl. “Now, you must clasp your hands behind your knees to hold your legs back. If you move them or drop your legs, I will give you a second spanking when this one is over for disobedience. Understand?”
She looked petrified, which shouldn’t turn him on so much. But she must have trusted him, because she obeyed. “Yes, Daddy.”
He walked to the kitchen and picked out a wooden spoon from the drawer. By the time he returned, her sex, protruding and on display between her legs, had plumped and opened, dewy moisture showing along her lips. He longed to touch her there, but discipline came first.
He brought the wooden spoon down on her right sit spot, then her left. Her bottom jerked with each one, but she stayed in position, as he’d instructed. “LuAnn, this morning you asked Daddy for money, didn’t you?”
“Yes, sir.”
He applied the spoon again, ten times in rapid succession, alternating right and left cheeks.
She mewled.
“What did you want the money for?”
“To make you a nice dinner.”
He began to spank her left sit spot, bringing the spoon down on the same spot, over and over again, until she howled in pain.
“And what happened to my dinner?”
She whimpered.
He waited.
“I burned it,” she said at last. “I’m sorry, Daddy. I was a bad girl.”
His cock went rock hard. “You were a very naughty little girl.” He applied the spoon to the right sit spot and this time she began vocalizing immediately.
“Ooh, ooh, ahhh, ow, ohhh….please, Daddy!”
He gave her pussy a light tap and she shrieked. Holding her hands to control her legs, he began to apply the spoon with real vigor, first right, then left in a relentless rhythm.
LuAnn let out a continuous scream through closed lips.
“You wasted Daddy’s money and burned our dinner on purpose. Daddy will not tolerate your fits, little girl.”
“I’m sorr-ee,” she howled.
He did not slow down or stop. “If you are upset with Daddy, you will talk to him about it, understand, little girl?”
“No fits,” she babbled frantically. “No fits, I promise. I’m so sorry. I’ll never do it again. Please, Daddy!”
He stopped and tapped her bottom with the spoon, surveying his work. Her skin had turned a dark shade of pink that promised to leave her sore the following day. “You were very naughty.”
Tears ran down from the outer corners of her eyes. “I’m really sorry. I really am.” She looked beautiful to him. He should not wish to see the girl he loved in such a state, but to him it was an intensely erotic sight. And judging by the liquid freely coating her nether lips, some part of her enjoyed it as well.
“When you displease Daddy, you take it in the bottom,” he said, arriving at a decision. He wouldn’t take her virginity until they married—which they needed to do straight away—but he felt comfortable exercising anal discipline, considering she’d made her decision plain.
Her eyes rounded and her hands came unclasped.
“Whoops.” He caught one wrist. “Did I say you could let go?”
“Bra—Daddy, no,” she whined.
He began to spank her rapidly again with the spoon. “Do you need more spanking to be compliant?”
“Ooh,” she shrieked. “No, Daddy. I’m compliant.”
* * *
“That’s better,” Brad said, looking every inch the stern disciplinarian. “Stay there.” He left for the bedroom.
Thrills of fear and excitement slithered through her.
When he returned, he carried the baby oil. Brad unbuckled his belt and his cock sprang out.
Her inner thighs quivered—no, her entire body trembled. The position he’d put her in was
beyond humiliating with her legs up in the air like a baby having her diaper changed, her bottom not just bared to him, but spread with her female parts protruding lewdly.
Her cheeks throbbed from the paddling with the spoon—not quite as much as the hairbrushing he’d given her that first night, but nearly so.
She stared at his manhood, a bit shocked to finally see how a man’s private parts looked. She wondered how the rest of his body looked naked. She licked her lips.
He rubbed the baby oil over his cock, then put some on his fingers and massaged it into her most private hole.
She moaned like a hussy. Her sex ached for his touch, but he had yet to pay it any attention.
“Spread your cheeks for me, little girl.”
“I—” She couldn’t believe he asked that of her. “I can’t.”
“Yes, you can, baby girl. Do you trust your Daddy?”
“Yes, Daddy,” she whispered. Squeezing her eyes closed with embarrassment, she parted her cheeks.
Brad pressed the head of his manhood against her back hole. Gripping her waist, he held her immobile as he pushed against the tight ring of muscle. “Take a deep breath, sweetheart.”
She drew in air and held it.
“Now, blow it out and push back at me.”
She exhaled, but didn’t understand the second part of his instructions. Nevertheless, he breached her entrance, causing a burning sensation. She tightened against the intrusion, which only increased the ring of fire. “Oh,” she gasped.
“Relax, baby girl. Let Daddy in.”
Anxious to please, she willed her body to relax and allow his plunder.
He brought the pad of his thumb to the sensitive nub at the apex of her nether lips and rubbed. Pleasure shot through her.
He pushed in further, bringing more pleasure, mingled with the burning sensation that frightened her, but didn’t really hurt.
“Oh Daddy,” she moaned. She loved calling him Daddy—it felt so wrong and yet so right.
He filled her, moving slowly in and out, while he circled the sweet spot on her pussy.
The intensity made her frantic for release, and she thrashed her head back and forth, whimpering and babbling an incoherent plea for release. It contained many Oh’s, Ah’s and Ooh’s, culminating in a long string of “please, please, please, please, please.”
Brad vibrated his thumb over her raw pussy and her body convulsed, fireworks shooting behind her eyes.
“Oh, hell, you’re so hot, LuAnn,” Brad cried in a roughened voice and shoved deep inside her, stretching her back hole wide. He remained buried in her ass, eyes closed, his hot fluid filling her.
She knew how these things worked from hanging out with some faster girls at Sarah Wharton. She hadn’t known about females also secreting fluid, but for this part, at least, she’d been prepared.
Brad eased out of her. “I’ll be right back, sweetheart,” he said, running his hand over her hip with a light caress.
She didn’t want him to leave, but he returned just moments later with a warm washcloth, which he used to clean her. It embarrassed her to have him wiping her bottom like a baby, but it tweaked her, too. Her nipples grew hard again and every nerve ending tingled.
Brad picked up the throw blanket her mother had crocheted for him from the Davenport and wrapped her in it, settling her on the sofa in a more comfortable position. “I’m going to see what I can salvage of dinner, sweets.”
“I’ll do it. It’s my fault.” She jumped to her feet.
He gently pushed her back down. “Daddy will do it. I want my baby girl to rest.”
Warmth slid down her chest like a sip of hot cocoa on a winter’s night. Being cared for this way made her feel so important, so special. She soaked up Brad’s attentions like a sponge.
Brad returned a few minutes later and scooped her into his arms, blanket and all. He carried her to the kitchen, where he sat in a chair at the table and settled her in his lap. He’d made one plate of food and he fed her from it with his fingers, pulling bits of meat from the overcooked chicken and slipping them between her lips.
She ate what he fed her and sighed, beyond content. The throbbing in her bottom and back-hole only served as a pleasant reminder of being utterly claimed by Brad. He planned to make her his wife. She could scarcely believe it—all her teenage fantasies come to fruition.
* * *
Brad spent the night on the couch again, determined not to take LuAnn’s virginity before he made her his bride. Of course, he’d more than taken her innocence already, but it seemed important to leave the last act for consummating their marriage.
LuAnn woke before he did, looking picture perfect as she stood in the kitchen making him breakfast. She’d pulled her hair into two pigtails tied up with ribbons and he had a feeling she knew exactly what that did to him. He wrapped his arms around her from behind and kissed her neck. “Good morning, mouse. You look adorable.”
She turned her face into his kiss, melting back against him. “Why do you like me as a little girl?”
“Because you are—by nature. You’re sweet and bubbly and full of life. And because I want to be your daddy—the man who controls every part of your life, from the clothes you wear, to the things you do. The man who bares your bottom and spanks you raw when you disobey.” He squeezed her ass, noticing her quickened breath.
“A husband controls, doesn’t he?”
“A daddy-husband controls more. He controls everything.” He palmed her breasts, squeezing and lifting them. “Plus, he protects, comforts and nurtures. Do you like the way Daddy takes care of you?”
She gave a little moan. “Yes, Daddy.”
He forced himself to release her or he’d be carrying her off to the bed before breakfast. “What did you make Daddy for breakfast?”
“Oatmeal,” she said. “Sit down and I’ll bring it to you.”
He smiled and sat, watching her move around the kitchen with a bounce in her step. “How many days until you graduate, mouse?”
“One more week of classes, then a week of finals.”
“And when do our parents return from Europe?”
“Next week.”
He rubbed his face, considering.
LuAnn brought a bowl of oatmeal to him. “Are you having second thoughts?” She twisted her fingers together as she stood by his side.
He pulled her onto his lap. “No, mouse. Definitely not. I’m just thinking about the best way to break it to them. If we were worried about your father’s heart with your trouble in the dorms, just think of what this will do to him.”
LuAnn sucked on her lip, looking adorable. “I don’t know. There’s nothing wrong with us marrying. We’re not related by blood, and we weren’t even raised together. We lived together for just a few months a long time ago.”
He nodded. “I agree.” He picked up her hand and stroked each delicate finger. “Help me decide, mouse. Should we wait until they return to tell them first, or do we elope this week and tell them when it’s done?”
Her face broke into a brilliant smile, but then her brow furrowed. “I’d love to marry you today, but I think we should tell them first.”
He squeezed her hand. “Okay, Lulu,” he said inventing a new nickname for her. “But let’s go to the courthouse to get a license and blood test.” He hoped, for her sake, their parents did not disown them both forever. If they disapproved, he would still whisk LuAnn off to elope. They’d gone too far down the path to pull back now. He loved her. He realized he always had. He’d thought it was lust, or just wanting what he couldn’t have, but it went deeper. She’d been the one perfect girl for him all along—his baby girl. She kissed his head and stood up, serving herself a bowl of oatmeal and sitting across from him.
He watched her eat, looking shy and excited, blushing the same way she had as a thirteen-year-old.
As long as he was following his dreams and eschewing convention, it seemed time to make a change with his job, as well. LuAnn deserved a husband who had
the courage to be a man, and make his own way in his career, rather than wait for a boss to give him the chance to move up.
He’d been carrying Mr. Washburn’s card in his pocket since their meeting. Calling him meant Brad should be prepared to leave his current position and now he had a future wife to consider.
“I may have my first client if I decide to go it on my own,” he said, deciding it best to be frank with her about the situation.
Her eyes lit up. “Really, Brad? That’s fantastic!”
“Yes, I’m seriously considering pursuing it. But it’s risky. If I start my own firm, I won’t have a steady income to support you.”
“I think you must,” she said, without hesitation. “It’s what you’ve always wanted. I will get my teacher’s certificate at the end of this semester, and I can work until we have children.”
His heart twisted at her willingness to sacrifice for him. “I hope that won’t be necessary, mouse, but it helps me to hear you’re not daunted by the risk.”
She drew herself up. “Of course I’m not. You were born to be your own boss.”
“And yours,” he said with a wink.
She giggled and blushed.
“Thank you, baby girl.” He pulled Mr. Washburn’s card out of his pocket and walked to the phone, asking the operator to connect him with the number.
“Mr. Washburn? It’s Brad, Brad Stanford, the architect from Jones.”
“Yes, hello, Brad. I was hoping you would call. Have you considered my offer?”
“Yes, sir. I’d like to draw up new plans for your house.”
“Wonderful. Why don’t you and your wife come over for dinner one night this week and we can discuss it more?”
“My wife?” He glanced over at LuAnn, who nodded eagerly. “I’m not married yet, but I’d love to bring my fiancée, thank you.”
“How about tomorrow night?”
“That sounds wonderful, Mr. Washburn.”
He took down the address and hung up, turning to LuAnn. “Are you ready to schmooze on my behalf?”
“Of course I am.”
He swept her into a bear hug, kissing and nibbling at her neck. She moved even closer, her firm breasts pressing against his ribs. “Good,” he said, kissing her temple. “I’d better go before I pick you up and carry you into that bedroom to have my way with you.” Another kiss fell on her soft lips. “I love you, little girl. Be good today.”
