by Maren Smith
“Such a sweet, baby-pink color. I like it.”
Then he leans over and kisses my toes, just a sweet press of his lips, before he moves up and kisses my mouth. I sink into the kiss, into him, as always, and my body is on fire with need. I spread my thighs and he pulls back.
“Naughty little girl, aren’t you? Luckily, I like a naughty girl.”
Keeping his gaze on mine, he slips a hand up my thigh and under my little white dress, and his hand on my skin is mesmerizing. My mind is emptying out already, and he’s barely touched me.
He reaches the lacy edge of my panties and pauses. “What have we here? What have you worn for me, little one?”
I watch him, unable to speak. I swear this is the hottest moment of my life as my body fills with the keen pleasure of his touch, and I grow dizzy with anticipation.
There’s a small smile on his handsome face as he pushes the hem of my dress up, then his smile widens.
“Very nice, little one. Oh, yeah. Very nice.”
My pussy is aching to be touched—I feel as if I need it more than I’ve needed anything in my life.
“Spread those pretty thighs for me, baby.”
I do as I’m told instantly, and he slips a finger under the lacy edge. I bite my lip as he slides it right into the damp folds, and when he presses gently at the entrance, I moan softly.
“Do you want me to touch you, my girl?”
I nod, and he immediately takes his hand away.
“No!” I cry. I can’t help it.
He chuckles. “You will answer me when I ask you a question, little one. Is that clear?”
“Yes, Sir,” I answer, swallowing my profuse disappointment.
But he asks me again. “Do you want me to touch you?”
“Oh, yes, please, Sir.”
“Much better.”
He moves his hand back, slipping his fingers beneath my panties, and feathers his fingertips over my clit, and I am really about to lose my mind.
He leans in close and whispers against my ear, “You are soaking wet, baby, and shaved clean. Do you know how much I love that, all of it? That your sweet pussy is so naked, that I’ve barely touched you and you are so ready for me? But do you know what I think will make you even more ready?”
I’m not sure if I’m supposed to answer, so I’m quiet as he stares into my eyes, his incredible green-and-blue gaze intense as hell. And I’m feeling smaller and smaller and turned on and safe.
Suddenly, he picks me up as though I weigh nothing and carries me to the big chair. He quickly lays me face down over his lap and my entire body is tight with need: my poor pussy, my nipples, even my legs are tensed.
He strokes a hand over my thighs, then pulls my dress up and my panties down, and God, I am about to die of pleasure. He presses a finger into my wet opening, not going inside, but simply holding it there, making me need him to fuck me with his hand, which I’m sure he knows. And then he begins to spank me.
The strikes are easy at first, then gradually harder and harder, the stinging pain making my blood sing, making me squirm in his lap, making pleasure course through me. When I try to squeeze my thighs together, he forces them wide with one big hand. Then his finger slips away and he spanks my pussy!
I’m panting, moaning, and I need more, so much more I can barely stand it. My mind gets lost in the ether as he spanks my sore butt and strokes my clit, all the while singing a nursery song to me.
“Little one, you’re doing so good,” he tells me. “So good that I want to give you everything. I want to give you an orgasm—actually, I want you to give it to me, because it’s a gift for your Daddy. Will you do that for me? Give me your orgasm?”
“Yes, Sir,” I pant, barely able to get the words out, my body shivering.
“Such a good little girl,” he murmurs, his fingers pressing inside me and stroking my g-spot.
“Ah, God!”
Pleasure is overwhelming, a tide of heat and pleasure and tingling and…I’m coming and coming and coming into his hand.
“Such a good girl. Yes, that’s it, give it all to me. Give me more of your come.”
He spanks me again, harder this time, and the stinging feels so, so good. He goes back to stroking my clit, pinching it, singing to me in his low baritone, and I’m coming again, pleasure like an electrical storm surging through me, making me shiver and cry out, and almost cry.
“Yes, come for Daddy,” he murmurs. “My good little girl.”
I really do cry then, and he pulls me upright on his lap, holds my head to his broad shoulder, and rocks me.
“You did good, little one. So good. You’re my good girl, aren’t you? Daddy is so pleased with you. And you don’t need to call me that, baby, but you know that’s what I am, don’t you? I’m your Daddy. I’ve got you. And I promise I’ll take such good care of my little girl.”
I can’t speak, don’t know what to say. Everything feels so wonderful, but those words… The last man who said he had me left me when I needed him most. Even hearing the words makes me freeze up inside.
He tilts my chin with his fingers. “Baby? What’s going on? Can you tell me?”
All I can do is shake my head as the tears slide down my cheeks. He pulls me in, his strong arms holding me tight, and at first it only reminds me more of how let down I’ve been, going through cancer and being bailed on by my Daddy. But he keeps murmuring to me—I don’t even know what he’s saying, but it doesn’t matter. Finally, he soothes me into a quiet space, and when I lay my head on his shoulder, he dries my tears with his sleeve, exactly as a Daddy should.
Between the spanking and role play I’m so exhausted, I fall asleep, safe in his arms as he rocks me.
Chapter Five
I wake in the middle of the night in his bed. I’m naked, but he’s wrapped a soft blanket around me like a cocoon. When I stir, I find he’s awake, lying next to me. In the dim moonlight coming through the windows I can see he’s wearing a white t-shirt. I want to curl into him, want to feel his skin against mine, but I feel too shy to ask.
Instead I say, “I’m sorry.”
“There’s nothing to be sorry about, baby girl.”
“I…I don’t know what happened…” I trail off, because the truth is, I know exactly what happened and I don’t like being a liar.
“I think I do,” he says gently, stroking my hair. “The play triggered you in some way, yes?”
“Yes.”
“Do you want to tell me about it?”
“To be honest, not really, but I think I have to.”
“Alright. Do you want to get up? Have some tea, or hot chocolate, or do you want to be in your own room?”
I shake my head. “No, we can stay right here.” I have to stop to take a breath, but even the air filling my lungs hurts. “I do know what happened. I do. It was when you said ‘I’ve got you.’”
He’s quiet for a long moment. “Because someone else said that to you and it wasn’t true, is that it?”
“Yes. That was it exactly. He…he told me that all the time. And it was a sweet part of role play at first, you know? Until I actually needed him to have me. Until I got cancer and the whole thing was just too messy or repulsive or hard for him. I needed him so much, and when he left I was completely wrecked. I was already so devastated by the fact that I had cancer. It’s such a scary thing. And he minimized it at first, like it was no big deal, even though my doctor said I was lucky to have found it so early, that it was the deadliest form of skin cancer. I mean, that just scared the shit out of me, and I…”
I have to stop, my throat too choked with more tears.
Kane strokes my cheek. “It’s okay, baby girl. It really is. You can finish telling me, or not. I have the gist now, and we can figure this out, okay?”
“But is it ugly?” I ask him, instantly horrified at myself.
“Your scar? I told you before how I feel about scars.”
“But this is my scar.” It comes out on a sob, and I have to press my
clenched hands to my eyes.
“Nono, I’m going to turn on the lamp.”
I hear him moving, then he gently pulls my fists from my damp eyes.
“I want you to show me. I know it’s not easy. I know you’ve been pretending it doesn’t exist so that maybe I won’t notice it so much. But you need to let me look at it, really look. We need to get this out of the way, because I think it’s holding you back.”
I let out another sob, knowing how childish I sound. “I don’t want to!” He’s silent, allowing me to process, until I’m able to tell him, “Okay. Okay.”
I stretch out my left arm, and he bends over me, examining my scar closely. It’s about three inches long, and you can still see the tiny marks where the stitches went in. The center of it is raised a bit, with uneven lines of flesh running down the middle and it’s still red and angry looking, even after more than two years. It’s so awful. Too awful. But just as I’m about to yank my arm back, he does something totally unexpected—he leans in and kisses my scar. And I’m frightened at first, but he keeps kissing it, over and over, soft, sweet kisses, almost as if he’s worshipping this thing that’s made me feel undesirable for too long. And as he kisses it, I begin to understand that it has been too long. That it’s time to move on, and accept it for what it is.
“Sweet baby girl, this is what makes you a survivor. You need to celebrate that. You survived. And I’m so damn glad you did. But you also need to celebrate your beauty, because you’re beautiful not just in spite of that scar, but because of it. It’s not only your looks—although you are one of the most enticing women I’ve ever seen—but it’s also in who you are. And I’ll keep telling you that until you believe it, until those old messages from that asshole have been erased.”
I’m crying again, but this time the tears are more of a simple release. He takes me in his arms, cradling my head to his strong chest, and he lets me cry all over him until I’m all cried out, then he gently wipes my face with the edge of the sheet.
I look up at him, at his too-handsome face, and see the real concern in his blue-and-green eyes. I can feel the caring and sincerity radiating from him like heat. I can barely believe I’m here, that I get to have this.
“Thank you.”
“Nothing to thank me for, baby. I want to be here for you. And to be honest, I don’t really understand why—not why I want to support you through something difficult, but why I feel so…connected. So fiercely protective of you. I know kink connections can move more quickly. I know the Daddy and little girl relationships also move quickly. Whatever is happening here with you, it feels a little crazy to me, but I want it—the intensity and responsibility and everything that comes with the Daddy-and-little-girl dynamic. I want it for the first time since I lost…her. Didi. And for once, all of that is fading away, and my focus is solely on you. I want you. Nono, when I tell you I’ve got you, I promise I do. Can you trust me?”
“I trust you. And I feel the same way. I trust you, and I’m not even sure why, but I feel that I can.”
He smiles, then he leans in to kiss me. He’s gentle with me at first, as though he doesn’t want to break me. Then, as I kiss him harder, he deepens the kiss, and soon the sweetness turns to white-hot passion, and my body is melting with need.
I wrap my arms around his neck, holding on tight as he moves me on the bed, laying me down, then I watch as he pulls his shirt over his head. His body is as amazing as the rest of him—rippling muscles under golden skin and a tight six-pack, and I love that I can finally see the strong shoulders I’ve been able to rest my head on. I love that I finally get to feel his body against mine, really feel it, despite his cotton pajama bottoms. His skin is so warm, and my nipples are already hardening, my pussy practically weeping with need, and I feel so small and safe, yet like a woman all at the same time. Maybe more than I ever have in my life.
He takes my breast in his hand, cupping it, smoothing his palm over the nipple, and pleasure shimmers through me, goosebumps rising on my skin. When he takes my nipple in his mouth, it’s a shock of pleasure, searing me, and I arch into him—I can’t help myself. But right now the role play is in the background, and it’s just the two of us, simply who we are, my Daddy and me.
My Daddy.
My heart surges as his hand slides down my body, his lips following with hot kisses down my stomach. No one has ever treated my body like this. I feel adored. Worshipped. And it’s so incredibly powerful, I feel my smallness more than ever. No, I slide into it, like a warm blanket, and it’s all because he’s made me feel safe enough.
I prop myself up on my elbows, and he pauses to look up at me.
“Baby?”
I want to weep with pure happiness, but I don’t, because he’s right here.
“Yes, Daddy,” I say quietly, as if my mouth has to get used to the words.
His eyes widen, then he smiles and pulls himself over me, wrapping me up in his strong embrace and burying his face in my neck.
“My baby girl,” he murmurs. Then he raises his head and locks his gaze with mine. “You’re my baby now. Mine. Thank you, Nono. I know what a gift this is. What a gift you are.”
I grab his face and kiss him, wanting to show him my gratitude. And his mouth is warm and sweet and commanding, tasting of him. Tasting of trust.
He deepens the kiss, taking me back into that pool of hot, liquid desire, and this time I can dive in fully.
When his hand slips between my thighs to caress my clit, I cry out. He teases the tip, and desire builds, aching, needy. He moves back down my body to kiss my swollen clit, and I think I may actually die of pleasure when he trails his tongue down my wet slit, then back up, so slowly it almost hurts, it feels so good.
He pauses only long enough to murmur, “This is what my baby girl needs.”
He dips his head once more, his tongue pressing into me like some small, sinuous cock, pushing deep inside me while his fingers play with my clit. Pleasure is a series of jolts, hard and deep.
“I’m going to come,” I gasp.
He keeps working me, his fingers plunging inside me while he uses his mouth on my clit, sucking greedily. I barely have the chance to draw another breath before my body shatters, pleasure lancing through me: my pussy, my belly, my soul. And I come apart, shivering beneath him, even as pleasure builds again, spirals, and comes crashing down on me like a wall, breaking me apart.
“Daddy!”
When it stops, he gathers me in his arms and cradles me, kissing my face, the tip of my nose and my eyelids as I burrow into him.
“You are amazing, my baby. The most amazing little girl I could ever hope to have.”
I sigh with contentment, and something that goes far beyond that. But I’m too relaxed to try to figure it out. Instead I murmur over and over, simply to take the pleasure in saying it, “Daddy. Daddy…Daddy…my Daddy.”
“Baby? Can I get up for just a moment? Will you be okay?”
“Okay,” I agree, even though I don’t want him to move, don’t want to be away from him for a single second.
He gets up, goes to his closet, and comes back to the bed with his hands behind his back, and sits beside me.
“I want you to have this. It’s a present for you.”
“A present?” I squeal.
“For you. And for me. Sit up for me, Nono.”
I do as he asks, my heart racing.
“I want you to wear this for me,” he says, holding out a narrow collar. It’s baby-pink patent leather, with a heart-shaped charm in the center, the prettiest collar I’ve ever seen. And with it are a pair of small, fuzzy pink kitty ears.
“Oh, Daddy! Really? For me?”
“Hold up your hair,” he tells me, and buckles the pretty collar around my neck.
My mind is doing something new, emptying out and filling with pure joy at the same time.
“Do you like it, Kitten?” he asks.
My hand goes to the smooth collar around my neck, and I feel so damn proud, so decora
ted.
“I love it so much.”
He smiles, leans in to give me a quick kiss. “You’re my kitten now, as well as my baby girl. But every kitten needs her ears.”
“Yes, please.”
I bend my head and he settles the ears onto my hair. Then I look up, smiling so hard my cheeks hurt.
“Do you want to see what you look like?”
“Yes, please, Daddy.”
He leads me to a tall standing mirror, and there I am, naked except for my kitty finery. I have never felt more beautiful in my life. I’ve never felt more treasured.
He’s tall and strong and beautiful behind me, and I lean back against him, loving the sensation of his skin against mine. It makes me want to purr, so I do.
“Ah, I love to hear that.”
His hands come around me and he cups my breasts, then he gently caresses my skin all over, every single place he can touch: my stomach, my thighs, then back up to my breasts, my throat, my shoulders, my face. And it feels so wonderful, all I can do is sway and undulate under his touch while my pussy clenches, needing to be touched, to be filled. Then he presses down on my shoulders, and I know from the pressure exactly what he wants from me.
I sink to my knees, turning to face him as I do, and bend down to place a kiss on the top of his foot.
“You are my perfect girl, Kitten,” he says.
I beam because Daddy’s pleased with me.
“Come with me, Kitten.”
I follow on hands and knees to the big chair. When he sits, pushing the ottoman aside and gesturing to the spot at his feet, I kneel there, my hands on his knees, gazing up at him adoringly, because I do adore him, my Daddy.
“We’re going to talk about you being a kitten,” he says, and I pay close attention. “I’m going to give you your own saucer to drink from. And do you think you’ll want kitty toys?”
“Oh! Yes, please.”
“Do you understand that you can be a baby girl, a little, and a kitten all at the same time? That those roles can merge and shift? We’ll let it happen organically, and after some time, I think we’ll find a natural rhythm. Meanwhile, I am so proud of you. You are so important to me. And this collar?” He touches it, then wraps his fingers around it, and I love the sensation of his fist pressing against my throat. “It signifies not only you being a kitten, but my kitten. You belong to me. I want you to, need you to, because I already can’t imagine what I’d do without you. And I know you’re deep in subspace and little space and now kitten space, so you don’t have to tell me how you feel about all this until later, okay?”
