Daddy's Girl: A Daddy Issues Novel

by Rebel Wild

  “Did that hurt?”

  His voice is husky, and his breathing is shallow. I know he just enjoyed himself. A feeling of pride rushes through me that I’ve affected him so much.

  “No, sir.”

  “Were you expecting it to?”

  The feel of his warm breath in my ear makes me swallow a little bit too hard as it sends fluttering butterflies right to my groin. I can tell he’s pleased that he is affecting me just as much.

  “Yes, sir.”

  “Next time, I’ll do that to your bare ass and you’ll like it even more.”

  What does he mean like it? I didn’t like it at all.

  The thought goes out the window when I feel the tip of his fingers slowly inch up the center of my back. I gasp when he unhooks my bra. The palms of his large hands move to splay across my belly. I try to squirm away as he moves them slowly up my body, but I end up leaning flush against his broad chest. He holds me tighter against him so I’m unable to move. His soft skin contrasts against the hard muscles I feel pressed into my back as he uses them to hold me steady.

  “Your safewords,” he demands me to tell him.

  “Bunnies and spiders, sir.”

  “That’s very fitting,” he says. “Do you need to use them? Just say one and this stops.”

  “No, sir,” I answer, allowing him to continue to his destination.

  “Remember, it isn’t all about pain,” he says, but I can’t concentrate on his words as he now has my breasts cupped in his hands, kneading them. “I’m more in the mood to pleasure you.” The pads of his thumbs are brushing against my nipples and I can’t believe how sensitive they are. “Is this from fear, Foxy?” he asks me of them as he takes each one in between his thumb and finger to tweak them.

  “No, sir,” I whisper.

  I look down at my breasts that are still covered by my bra cups. I can see the imprint of his hands working underneath the soft material.

  “Tell me,” he demands, his lips still at my ear. “If I were to feel between your legs, would I be pleased to find you wet or disappointed to find you dry?”

  “Pleased.”

  “Pleased what?” he asks me as he squeezes my nipples a little harder.

  “Pleased, sir,” I tell him, with my voice noticeably higher from the feeling.

  “I’m very pleased to hear that,” he says, pressing his lips to my ear.

  It causes a tickling sensation, so I scrunch my shoulders to move him away. His hands slide from underneath my bra before reaching up to unhook my hands.

  “I didn’t realize you were so horny, Foxy. Unfortunately for both of us, you won’t be coming tonight.” He turns me around to unbuckle my restraints and notices my mouth is open in shock. He smirks at me for the second time tonight and I close it. “Nothing to be ashamed of,” he tells me in good humor. “You have no idea how much it pleases me to turn you on. Do you like to play with yourself?”

  “Som… Sometimes… Yes, sir,” I answer him. No one’s ever asked me that before.

  “How?”

  “Sir?”

  “What do you use to make yourself come?”

  “Uh, I use… my fingers, sir,” I tell him, wanting the ground to swallow me up.

  He goes over to retrieve my robe from behind the door and helps me slip it on.

  “Have you played with yourself since you’ve arrived?”

  “No, sir,” I tell him. I couldn’t possibly do that in someone else’s bed.

  “I don’t want you pleasuring yourself any longer. That’s now my job and I plan to enjoy it, Foxy.”

  “Sir?”

  “What?” he asks, examining my wrists.

  “Why are you calling me Foxy? What happened to Miss Warren?”

  “We’ve established that this is a business agreement well enough for me to drop that formality.”

  “Then why not call me Sydney?” I ask and he looks up at me so fast my racing heart almost stops. “Sir,” I quickly add, but it’s too late. He’s already pissed.

  “Whatever the hell I call you, you will answer to it. Understand?”

  “Yes, sir, I do. It’s just… never mind.”

  “What? You found the nerve to question me in here, so you damn well better spit it all out.”

  “I didn’t mean to question you, especially here. To be honest, sir, I was just wondering why the change in my name and to Foxy of all things. No one ever calls me that because I really hate it.”

  “What about your father?”

  “That’s different. He’s allowed to because he’s my daddy.”

  For the first time in eighteen years, I understand why people say it’s better to just shut up sometimes because that glint in his eye says I’m in some weird kind of trouble.

  “Well, you’ve just solved your problem.”

  “I don’t understand.”

  “It’s quite simple. I plan on calling you Foxy and since your daddy is the only one you’ll ‘allow’ to use the name, then from now on, that’s who I am.”

  “What?” I frown at him. He can’t be serious. “Sir, no, that’s not… no—”

  “It’s settled. You’ll call me Daddy while I fuck the shit out of you and I don’t want to hear any more about it.”

  “But sir, I can’t call you Daddy.”

  “You can and you will.”

  “No.”

  “Foxy, one more word out of your defiant little mouth and I’ll have you on your hands and knees crawling down Sunset Boulevard calling me Daddy for the whole fucking world to see. Do you understand?”

  He stares at me, daring me to say that one word to him, almost begging me to say it, but I don’t. I keep my mouth shut and literally bite my tongue. I’ll be damned if I give him the satisfaction of humiliating me any more than he already has.

  “Good,” he says, finally blinking.

  And just like that, it’s over. I don’t know how he turns his emotions on and off so fast like that. I don’t even know if he wants me to be turned on, afraid, or ashamed, by what he just said. Judging by what I’ve seen on those porn sites, being degraded is supposed to turn me on. I really don’t get this whole Dom/sub thing.

  “I want you in bed early tonight. You have a busy day ahead of you with visiting your father and I won’t have you tired.”

  He must really want me to be ashamed if he thinks I want to talk about my father after what he just said.

  “Um, am I allowed to go alone, sir?”

  “Joe will drive you, but yes, you’ll see him alone.”

  “Thank you, sir.”

  “Put the toys away before you go to bed and have a good night.”

  “Sir, I’m to still call you Mr. Garrett when we’re outside of here, right?”

  “Now you’re just being stupid,” he says and leaves me to my night.

  I go to my room and undress, starting with my panties because the wetness has become uncomfortable. I just don’t understand how I reacted the way I did in the playroom. How could I be so terrified and turned on at the same time?

  My hot shower lifts the horny fog I was in and the more I think about me having to call him Daddy, the more pissed I become. I may just commit murder before this whole thing is done. I dress for bed in pink silk pajamas and like a good little submissive, I go and clean the playroom. He really does have me trained.

  The door was left ajar, so I pocket the key. I go about tidying up the large room, putting the restraints in their proper place before retrieving the riding crop from where it was dropped on the floor. I pick it up and test the weight of it in my hand, running my fingers along the coiled leather handle. I smack the palm of my hand with it a few times, but feeling silly, I return it to its place on the wall. Suddenly feeling like an intruder, I leave the room, locking the door behind me. I slip the key back into my pajama pocket
and go downstairs for a drink of water.

  “I would kill for a Coke,” I say out loud to myself as I screw the water bottle open and take a drink, but it isn’t satisfying me like a Coke would. “How can something so bad for you be so good?”

  “You’d be surprised,” I hear Mr. Garrett behind me. I slowly turn around, hoping it was just my imagination, but nope, he’s there. “What are you still doing up?”

  “Sir,” I say to him as I remember to lower my eyes when I face him. “I was just thirsty.”

  “I see,” he says as he takes my water. “But for soda?”

  “Yes, sir,” I tell him, as he sits the bottle on the counter.

  “Look at me,” he demands and I obey. “How can something so good for you be so bad?” He tucks my hair behind my ears, seeming almost human. His hand lingers on my cheek. His being gentle confuses the hell out of me, and I try in vain to figure him out. He seems exhausted like he’s stressed about something. “What?”

  “Are you okay?”

  “Why would you ask me that?” He says, snatching his hands from me.

  His walls are flying up so fast I can almost hear them.

  “No reason, sir,” I tell him, lowering my head from being chastised.

  He’s right, I am being stupid. I really need to learn to just shut up. I hear him sigh and I raise my head again, but I can’t bring myself to look him in the eye.

  “It’s been a very long and nonproductive workday. Figuring out how to get your father off without ruining my career is problematic.”

  “But you’ll do it?”

  “As soon as you give me what I want,” he says, waving a folded-up piece of paper at me before putting it on the counter for me to see. I unfold it. It’s the test results from his doctor’s office. He’s clean. “Now, that’s all out of the way, it should be easy for you to give it up.”

  “I will give it up, but do we have to wait the entire time? If I give it to you now, make it so you can savor it or whatever, will you drop the charges right now?”

  “No. He’ll be freed when we’re done. Once he’s out, he’ll have all your attention. I don’t want to share my time with your damn daddy.”

  “You won’t. I promise.”

  “No, and I don’t want to hear any more about it. Once we’re done, he’ll be released and the two of you can ride off into the sunset together. Until then, you agreed to work for me and I expect you to stick to the contract or this will be the end of it.”

  “But how can I guarantee that? Once you get what you want, how can I be sure you’ll give me what I want?”

  “That’s how business works. It’s called trust.”

  “Yes, sir,” I say, not wanting to piss him off to where he drops the whole thing.

  “Go now,” he demands, giving me back my water and I run back to my room.

  Trust. He’s asking for too much.

  Chapter Eight

  I’m just finishing up getting ready to see Daddy when someone knocks on my door.

  “Come in.”

  “I picked up your mail,” Joe says, coming in and handing me a large stack of envelopes. “No cops to harass me this time.”

  “That’s good.” I laugh.

  “Tristan wants you to give him all of your bills.”

  I nod as I shuffle through it all, taking out my utility bills and handing them over to a patiently waiting Joe. I toss the junk mail on my bed.

  “Um, did you happen to see Mrs. Leland?”

  “She’s doing okay. Bree’s including her in the grocery shopping and I delivered more than enough food and stuff to last until I see her again.”

  “Thank you, Joe.”

  “Not a problem,” he says. “I’m ready to take you to see your old man when you are.”

  “Okay, just let me grab my shoes.”

  “I’ll meet you downstairs.”

  I arrive at the jail a little after eight when visiting hours begin. The closer we get to the Twin Towers Correctional Facility; the more Joe hates it. He nearly broke out in hives, but he made it as far as the visitor’s gate.

  “I might catch a case with these assholes,” he said. “It’s like they can smell me coming.”

  He’s nothing like his brother.

  “I won’t be too long,” I tell him.

  After the body search, I’m allowed in. I smack my cheeks and shake out my hair so that it’s more in my face to make me seem livelier. I plaster a smile on my face, take a breath, and sit down in front of the thick glass where he’s already waiting for me.

  “Hi, Daddy.”

  I can tell he’s happy to see me, but when his eyes meet mine, all I see is sadness.

  “How are you, pumpkin?”

  “Okay, I guess.” I shrug, sitting down in the chair on my side of the glass between us.

  “You guess? That doesn’t sound like you. Come on, let me hear it. Are you getting ready for school and what about that nosy old neighbor that keeps giving you those wacky socks?”

  “She’s not nosy,” I say, rolling my eyes.

  “What are you moping around for?”

  “I just miss you.”

  “I miss you too.”

  “How’s your new lawyer?”

  “Competent. I still don’t know how we can afford him.”

  “I told you I have a job.”

  “And how many shifts at that restaurant do you have to work?”

  “I don’t work there anymore. I found something… better.”

  “Like what?”

  “Daddy, we don’t have a lot of time and I don’t want to waste it talking about my stupid job.”

  “I’m going to hate it that much? Let me hear it.”

  “Okay, but don’t get mad,” I tell him. He just stares at me. “I’m working for the DA’s office.”

  “You’re working for that asshole Garrett?”

  “I’m just helping Mona around the office. I hardly ever see him.”

  “I don’t want you working for him.”

  “But it’s easy money and I’m not working for him, I’m helping Mona.”

  “Stay the hell away from him, Foxy. I mean it.”

  “I am. I will. Don’t worry about it, okay? I’m just glad you like the lawyer. What’s his plan?”

  He covers the phone receiver with his hand, but I can still hear him cursing through the phone. He takes a deep breath, shaking his head at me before he answers.

  “He thinks I have a chance,” he finally says.

  “But?”

  “He thinks he can get me a plea deal that could get me out of here in six months, but it’s risky.”

  “Take it.”

  “I can’t. If I admit guilt to what they’re accusing me of I’ll lose my license.”

  “But you’ll be free, right?”

  “Free to what? Starve to death, be homeless on Skid Row? What kind of life would I have? I may as well stay in here where I can at least eat.”

  “You’re being ridiculous. You can fight to get your license back. There must be ways around that. The priority is to get you the heck out of here.”

  “You’re too young to understand. I had plans for us, big plans. We were going to own the world. If being broke and miserable is what’s going to be left of my life, I’d rather not have one. I might not have one anyway if I agree to this deal.”

  “Don’t say that.”

  I spend the whole time trying to talk sense into him, but there’s no changing his mind. He let it slip that it’s because Mr. Garrett offered him the deal personally. He doesn’t want to have anything to do with him, and he made me promise not to speak a word to him. He hates the man with a passion, not that I blame him. It takes a special kind of asshole to lock a person up for making a mistake on the job. Unfortunately, he’s the only shot w
e have at getting our lives back. I hate to lie to Daddy, but he’s determined not to listen to a word I say, and what’s worse, he uses every lawyer trick he knows to talk me down. I don’t know if he’s in denial or he just doesn’t care about coming home.

  By the time I leave him, I’m feeling angry, exhausted, and frustrated. I’m barely holding myself together in the car as Joe drives. He has to call my name several times to let me know we’ve made it back to Mr. Garrett’s place. Coming back to this big, empty house just makes it worse. I’ve never felt so alone.

  I pick at the veggie burger Bree made me for lunch, then spend the remainder of the afternoon in my room researching how Daddy can still be a convicted criminal and practice law. The Bar is very clear about the actions they deem as unfit to practice. I think what Daddy’s charged with falls under abuse of the legal process, but there must be some statute of limitations. I long to have someone to help me with all of this, or at the very least someone to talk to about it. I’ve kept it inside for so long, it just drains the energy from me. I’m hit by the crushing blow of the weight of the world and an overwhelming sense of sadness. Giving up, I grab my stuffed rabbit from under my pillow and hold it close as I cry it all out on my bed until I fall asleep.

  I wake with a pounding headache, confused as to where I am. The sun is completely down and my room is dark except for the dim little bedside lamp that someone’s turned on. I look at my phone for the time. It’s already eight p.m. Scared because I’m late for dinner, I rush downstairs into the kitchen. The faint, delicious smells that still linger let me know dinner has not only been served, but eaten, and cleared. Mr. Garrett’s probably pissed off at me for missing the time allotted for him. I want to find him and apologize, but I’d better not disturb him. That might piss him off more. Joe comes in the kitchen where I’m sure I look stupid just standing doing nothing

  “Hey,” he says. “He wants you in his office.”

  “I should change,” I tell him, looking down at my jeans and bare feet.

  “Too late. He’s already seen you.”

  I wonder how he could have possibly seen me until I realize that Mr. Control Freak with the crazy fetishes must have cameras in here. So, he’s seen me standing here like an idiot. Well, that’s just great. I force myself to walk to his office. My heart sinks lower in my chest the closer I get to it. I know he’s going to chew me out. One daddy has already made me cry and I’m in no mood to be yelled at by this other one, especially since I don’t even want him as my daddy.