by Lucy Wild
“I don’t know. To help people, I guess.”
“A noble cause. But what do you want.” He put the emphasis on the word ‘you.’
I shrugged. “I’m not sure.”
“I think I know.”
“Then why not share, as you’re such an expert.”
“Sarcasm suits you as well as that outfit you wore to the restaurant. I think you want someone to look after you. I think that’s why you agreed to this.”
“I don’t need anyone to look after me.”
“Yes, you do.” He said it so sternly, it brought me up short. I looked across at him and he didn’t look angry, though his brow was furrowed. “I don’t think anyone has ever looked after you before, have they?”
I wanted to tell him he was wrong but instead I just shook my head in silence.
“I’m going to look after you for a weekend. At the end of that time, you can decide if you’d like me to continue taking care of you or head for the horizon and not look back.”
“What do you mean when you say you’ll take care of me.”
“You’ll see when we get there. Hold on.” His phone was ringing in his pocket. He dug it out and began talking to someone about some deadline or other at the Frankfurt office. I tuned out after a while, turning to look out of the window. We were heading out of the city centre, the streets widening, traffic thinning. A couple of minutes later, we stopped by a wrought iron gate. It opened slowly as we waited and then we rolled up a gravel drive towards a huge detached house that looked like something out of Gormenghast. There were chimneys everywhere, bits of building sticking out left and right, the roof divided at every possible height, and at some that didn’t seem possible. It was as if someone had taken a giant Lego kit of houses and just mashed them all together. But somehow it worked.
“What do you think?”
I turned to find Mr Radcliffe was finally off the phone. The car came to a halt by the front door and he stepped out, beckoning for me to follow him.
“You live here?” I asked, marvelling at the building.
“What were you expecting?”
“I don’t know. Some penthouse with a helipad somewhere. All glass windows and white furniture. Gene Hackman throwing someone off the landing to shatter your coffee table.”
“There’d be no way out of a place like that.”
“Very good,” I said with a grin. “Didn’t think you’d get that reference. Not a lot of people have seen that one.”
“All us Russian spies have,” he said with a wink. “Shall we go inside?”
“Just tell me one thing.”
“What?”
“Which wardrobe leads to Narnia?”
“The guest bedroom on the third floor. Mr Tumnus is a close friend of mine.”
“How close?”
“The wedding is next week.”
I laughed as we went inside. I stopped dead in the hallway and just marvelled at the space around me. “How old is this place?”
“About four hundred years, give or take. It’s had bits fall down and replaced so often, there’s not much of the original left.”
“Wow.”
“You like it?”
“It looks incredible. I still can’t picture you living here though. Is this a trick? Have you just rented this for the weekend?”
“That’s exactly what I’ve done. Rented this place, filled it with my clothes and paintings, just so you can’t see the pot noodle strewn bedsit I actually live in.”
He turned and locked the front door before waving towards the stairs. “Let’s go choose you a bedroom, shall we?”
The stairs were broad, the banister smooth and cold under my hand. I reached the first floor and looked along the undulating corridor towards a suit of armour that stood in front of the window at the far end. “Friend of yours?” I asked.
“Old Flynn. Bought him at auction from a club in London. Bit rude, really. He never speaks to me.”
I walked across to it. “That’s because he has no mouth.”
“Stupid of me. Should have checked. What do you think of this room?”
He pushed the nearest door open and I stepped into something out of a medieval fairytale. There was a four poster bed with white drapes hanging down. A fireplace was piled high with logs ready for lighting. Over by the window was a dressing table and if some woman in a wimple had been sat there, I would not have been surprised. “Have I gone back in time?” I asked, spinning round in the middle of the room.
“You like it?”
“I love it.”
“Well, don’t make your mind up yet. There’s more to choose from. Come and have a look next door.”
Chapter Ten
Each bedroom looked prettier than the last and my mind whirled as I tried to choose. Finally, Mason stopped by the top of the stairs. “That’s all of them,” he said, watching as I shuffled on the spot in excitement. “Which one do you want?”
“That’s not all of them,” I replied. “We haven’t looked in the one behind you.”
“That’s not an option.”
“Why, what’s in there? Skeletons of your enemies? Meth lab?”
“Nothing like that.”
“Then let me look.”
“You’re being greedy. You’ve plenty to choose from already.”
“All right, all right.” I took a step backwards and he followed me. It was enough space for me to dart past him and push open the door nearest the days. I gasped at the sight of the room, turning to look at him as he froze on the landing. “How could you not let me see this one?”
“You just disobeyed me.”
“You lied. You told me you’d shown me all the bedrooms.”
“I told you I’d shown you all the ones you could choose between.”
“I choose this one.”
“What? You’re kidding.”
“If I’m staying here for the weekend, I am sleeping in this room.”
“You would willingly stay in the Princess room?” he said, giving me another one of his strange looks.
I took a step further into the room, marvelling at the sight of it. There was a four poster bed, like the others, but this one was draped in pink and covered in stuffed animals. The duvet cover had a huge pink heart in the middle of it. The carpet was thick white, the bookcases filled with dolls and colouring books and here and there were princess figurines, as if they were hiding from the dragon mural on the wall to my left. In front of me, the wall was painted too, a detailed castle with turrets and archers and a moat, the countryside falling away behind it towards the window. To my right was the fireplace and around it was a knight on horseback, lance in hand as he rode home towards his love. Even the ceiling had been painted blue to match the theme. “Who painted this?” I asked, running my hand over the wall.
“I did.”
“You painted all this?”
He nodded. “You look surprised.”
“I am surprised. Do you have a daughter?”
He shook his head.
“So why paint a room like this?”
“Come downstairs, I’ve got something for you.”
I noticed he’d ignored my question but I didn’t push it. As my excitement at the sight of the room subsided, a thought occurred to me. This was perfectly in keeping with the magazine I’d found in the limo. Did he bring women back home to play in that room? To play some Daddy Dom game with them? Was that why he hadn’t wanted me to see it?
“What’s this?” I asked as he passed me a black bag in the hallway.
“Have a look.”
I opened the bag and saw it was full of clothes. “Are these for me?”
“You will only wear things in that bag while you’re under my roof.”
“Won’t I look a bit strange standing in the bag?”
“Very funny. There is a bathroom next to your room. I’ll show you the button to open the door.”
He took me back upstairs to my new room and I watched with a grin on my face as
he pulled one of the books on the shelf nearest the bed. There was a click and then he pushed the bookcase and it swung away from him, revealing a hidden bathroom. “A secret door,” I said. “Wow, how much did that cost to put in?”
“It was here when I moved in. The bathroom too. Do you like it?”
“It’s like living in a fairytale.”
“Good. You shower and put on some night attire then we’ll talk about what’s going to happen this weekend.”
“Some night attire?”
“You’ll find a few choices in the bag. The towels are in that wardrobe over there.”
He turned, pulling the hidden door closed, leaving me shut in the bathroom with the bag in my hand, wondering if I was dreaming. I set the bag down and pulled out one outfit after another. The one thing they had in common was that they were all suitable for someone far younger than me. He was a Daddy Dom. There couldn’t be any doubt about it.
A flash of suspicion crossed my mind, reining in my excitement. Was it possible that I was reading too much into things? Looking at the clothes again, I frowned. There were pinafore dresses, frilly nighties, frilly frocks, lots of pastel colours, white socks, even knickers that looked just like those Alison had given me. I wondered how I would look in them. There was no doubt in my mind I was going to wear them for him. Somehow, in the time it had taken to choose a bedroom, I had already accepted the role of his little girl. I couldn’t even explain why. It had just happened.
I began to undress, turning on the shower a minute later and stepping under the steaming water, enjoying the heat with a long, deep sigh.
The shower at my house was an unpredictable beast at the best of times, shifting from icy cold to boiling hot, randomly reducing to a few drops for no apparent reason whilst the pipes in the wall screamed in protest. But this was something else. An ocean of water poured out at once, with jets in the wall of the cubicle as well as above my head. On a glass shelf I found several bottles of shower gel and shampoo. Picking up a bottle, I squirted a generous portion of gel onto my hand and began massaging it into my skin.
I thought about Mr Radcliffe, about how close he might be to me at that moment. I was naked in his house. I hadn’t locked the door. I didn’t even know if there was a lock. If he so chose, he could come bursting in at any moment. Not only that but he was far stronger than me. He could grab me and push me up against the wall, his mouth pressing to mine, his hands sliding down my slippery skin, finding the v between my legs, pushing his fingers up into me. There would be nothing I could do about it and the thought took my breath away.
My hands slid over my chest and I felt my nipples hardening. Tweaking them slightly, I winced at the intensity of the sensation. He could be just feet away from me. Was that a creak of a floorboard or was that me being paranoid? He might be spying on me, watching me as I played with my chest, my hands moving down my stomach, finding their way between my legs as the thought of him bursting in took over my mind.
I could not stop thinking about him. I pictured myself wearing one of those frocks, standing before him as he told me off for some infraction or other. Perhaps for touching myself as I was doing at that moment, my hand stroking slowly between my legs, trying to convince myself I was just being thorough with the shower.
“You know that my little girls are only allowed to touch themselves with my permission,” he’d say.
I’d nod back at him, knowing what was coming.
“Bend over and touch your toes.”
I’d lean down and he’d yank my knickers to the floor, spanking me so hard I’d almost fall over.
The water of the shower washed the bubbles from my skin as I dipped a finger into myself, picturing him spanking me, his hand roughly groping my bottom, calling me a bad girl whilst I begged him to fuck me.
The index finger of my left hand continued to thrust up into me as I moved my right hand to my clit, circling it whilst moving my hips so the nearest jet of water hit it in just the right place. Opening my mouth, I began to gasp, shuffling in place whilst wishing he would come in, wanting him to spy on me, wanting him to burst in, unable to resist me any longer. He’d tear off his clothes and join me in the shower, push himself inside me for the first time. It would feel exquisite, no pain, just desire coursing through us both as he’d lift me up and push me against the wall.
I felt my body tense up as the fantasy took over. A moan escaped my lips as my muscles tensed up, my hand moving faster between my legs which began to give way as seconds later an orgasm tore through me, making me gasp with pleasure, the muscles inside me twitching and contracting around my finger.
I heard a creak again. That was definitely a floorboard. How could I hear it over the shower? Was I imagining it? My climax had barely had time to fade away before I felt guilty. What if he had heard? What would he think of me?
I turned off the shower, climbing out and wrapping a towel round me. With the bag in one hand, I gripped the towel in the other, looking for a way to get the secret door to open. There was a button that when I pressed it, the door swung towards me and I was able to pass through to the bedroom.
The door to the landing was open and I pushed it closed before turning back to the bed, emptying the bag out onto it. The nighty I chose was a silvery white and once I was dry, I slipped it on, looking at myself in the mirror on the dressing table. It sat just above my knees and if it wasn’t for the towel around my head, I could have looked quite sexy. The only problem was it was far too see through. I could easily make out the outline of my nipples, the darkness of the areola visible through the thin fabric.
I was about to pull it off and choose something else when the door to the landing opened and he appeared, sticking his head in through the gap. “Are you decent?”
“You could knock,” I snapped, freezing on the spot as his eyes moved down my body.
“You’re not in charge while you’re here,” he replied, taking a step towards me before stopping. “You look wonderful.”
“I do not,” I replied, pointing at the towel on my head. “I look ridiculous.”
“I like it,” he said, reaching across and unwrapping the towel, tossing it aside. “I like this.”
His hand slid down to the nighty. He brushed lightly down, the tip of his finger just catching my nipple and sending a jolt of electricity through me. “It suits you, Tilly.”
“Does it?” I asked, my voice barely a whisper. His hand had moved away and he was looking down at my body again. I could hardly breathe, the air in the room had all vanished. My chest heaved as I fought for breath, trying to keep my hands from shaking as he reached up and brushed a lock of wet hair away from my eyes.
“It does,” he said, crossing to the dressing table and pulling out the chair. “Let me dry your hair for you.”
He patted the seat and I sat down, listening as he plugged in a hair dryer behind me. A second later, a blast of hot air hit the top of my head and moments after that, I felt his hand running across my scalp. I looked in the mirror and could see him diligently drying my hair. I felt doted on, I felt cared for, I felt looked after. All because of that one small thing. My nipple ached from his touch, the fabric of my nighty brushing across it was enough for my breath to catch in my throat. I’d never wanted anyone so much in my entire life and yet he showed no sign of doing anything about it.
Yes, he’d just touched me but he could have just been feeling the fabric rather than me. Was I hoping for too much? Wanting him to bend me over the dressing table and take me for the first time in my life?
“I know what you’re thinking,” he said over the sound of the hair dryer.
“What am I thinking?” I asked, trying not to blush.
“You’re thinking about what to tell Mr Mitchell about me.”
“I’m not.”
“It’s all right, I understand.” He turned the hair dryer off, putting it down on the dresser before sitting on the edge of the bed, a half smile playing across his face. “While you’re here, I want y
ou to promise me something. I want you to trust me and I’m going to trust you with a secret. Do you think you can keep it for me?”
Chapter Eleven
“It depends what it is,” she said, looking more innocent than ever.
It was almost impossible not to touch her. The way her body looked in that nighty, the way her nipples jutted through the fabric. My cock strained at my trousers as I looked at her, thinking of the feel of her nipple under my finger when I’d run my hand down her chest. I thought of the sound I’d heard from the landing. The moans she’d made in the shower, the moans that could only mean one thing, she had come in there, just a few feet from where I was standing.
I could have walked in, I could have grabbed her, dragged her over to the bed, fucked her before she even knew what was happening. But I didn’t do it, despite the yearning cries of my body. She was far too innocent, far too young, far too scared of me. She was poison, she was dynamite, she was a fire that I had to avoid playing with. Make one wrong move and she’d run to Mitchell with my secrets. I had to take my time with her, I had to show her who she really was. She was my little Tilly and I wanted to be her Daddy. I couldn’t ruin it by letting my cock make my decisions for me.
“I want you to be my little girl while you’re here,” I said, watching closely to see how she reacted. When she smiled, my heart soared. The first step was taken and she hadn’t run. She hadn’t slapped me either. That was a good sign.
“I would love that,” she said.
“You will call me Daddy,” I continued. “I will take care of you. I will give you everything you could possibly need, even the things you don’t know that you need.”
“Like what?”
“Like telling you when it’s your bedtime. Come on, in you get.”
I stood up and held up the blankets, watching as she fought with herself to decide what to do. “But it’s not even seven yet.”
“Good little girls go to bed early,” I replied as she got up and walked slowly towards me. Did she have any idea how good she looked? Just how fucking sexy she was?
I kissed her forehead once she was laid down, wrapping the blankets around her before heading over to the door. “Good night, little Tilly.”
