Daddy Issues

by Evangeline Anderson

  Salt looked up at me sternly.

  “Be still, mishka. How else can I kiss you prop­erly?”

  “Papa,” I moaned. “I…I’m try­ing. It just feels so…it’s al­most too good.”

  “Very well, I will stop but only for a mo­ment.” To my mingled re­lief and dis­ap­point­ment, he straightened up, lick­ing his lips. Then he stepped over to the rolling metal tray and lif­ted the black plug that Berkley had left there.

  My eyes widened.

  “Salt?” I whispered un­cer­tainly. Ap­par­ently we were chan­ging gears here.

  “Tell me now, Andi,” he mur­mured, break­ing char­ac­ter. “How much do you want to stay here?”

  “I…” I didn’t know what to say.

  “This is dif­fi­cult—is more than any­one should be asked to bear,” he went on softly. “And so if you say no, we will stop now and we will leave. Someone else can com­plete what we have star­ted.”

  “That won’t work,” I whispered. “No one else would fit here and you know it.”

  “Then you must let me do this.” He held the plug out again. “You must let me fill you in this way…pen­et­rate you, or we will be kicked out. You know this.”

  “Yes,” I said, my mouth dry and my heart pound­ing. “Yes, I…I know.”

  I was still reel­ing—still try­ing to switch from the wan­ton, will­ing mishka who was get­ting her pussy licked and kissed by her Papa back to Andi who now had to make a ser­i­ous de­cision about what she was will­ing to do in or­der to make this case.

  “Are you will­ing?” Salt asked, put­ting the ques­tion I was ask­ing my­self into words. “Can you open your­self to me and al­low me to do this?”

  “I…I…” I had to try sev­eral times be­fore I could get the words out. “I think so. As long as it’s you and no one else do­ing it to me, I think I can,” I said at last.

  He nod­ded gravely. “Very well. Then let us be­gin.”

  “What—now?” I shif­ted un­com­fort­ably on the pad­ded exam table.

  “Do you have bet­ter time in mind?” he asked, rais­ing one eye­brow. “Berkley is wait­ing to see how we leave this room. Wait­ing to see if I have done this to you.”

  “Yes…yes, I know.” I took a deep breath, try­ing to still my pound­ing heart. God, I couldn’t be­lieve I was agree­ing to this and yet, what else could I do? I didn’t want to flush the whole case down the drain—I felt like we were close here. We had a moral ob­lig­a­tion to keep go­ing and bring Berkley and every­one who was work­ing with him to justice.

  But there was an­other, darker reason I wasn’t will­ing to leave the In­sti­tute yet. I knew that once Salt and I left here, we would go back to our nor­mal work­ing re­la­tion­ship. He would just be my part­ner and my friend—noth­ing more. And as sick as it soun­ded, I found I liked be­ing mishka and hav­ing Salt as my Papa.

  Maybe “liked” wasn’t the right word—maybe it was more like I needed this. It was as though Salt was filling an empty place in­side me and giv­ing me some­thing I had been look­ing for since the age of nine when my bio­lo­gical father left. A strong man—one I could de­pend on. One who loved me more than any­thing else in the world. I knew it was an il­lu­sion but I didn’t care—I wanted the fantasy to last, at least a little bit longer.

  And so, when Salt asked me if I was will­ing to do this—will­ing to let him do what had to be done in or­der to stay—I agreed. I prob­ably would have agreed to any­thing to keep him as my Papa just a little while longer. Just to keep be­ing his darling little mishka. I knew it was wrong but the feel­ing of be­ing a Little to his Big was just too ad­dict­ive—every bit as ad­dict­ive as the drug we had come here to stop.

  Are you crazy? whispered a little voice in the back of my head. Are you really go­ing to do this? How will Salt feel about you when this is all over? How will he look at you later if you let him do this to you now? Won’t you lose his re­spect? How can he trust you to get his back in a bad situ­ation if you’re weak enough to need to be the sweet little mishka to his big strong Papa?

  I knew the voice had some valid points, but I couldn’t help my­self. I didn’t want to lose Salt. At the same time, though, I wanted to stay at the In­sti­tute and chase this feel­ing just a little while longer.

  I made my de­cision.

  “Do it, Salt,” I said again, lift­ing my chin. “Just hurry up and do it.”

  “No.” He frowned at me. “I do not wish to hurt you—we will go slowly. As slowly as you need.”

  I shif­ted again, mak­ing the white pa­per of the exam table crackle. I was try­ing hard not to think about what was about to hap­pen, try­ing not to dread it…and I was fail­ing miser­ably.

  Are you really go­ing to let him do this? whispered an in­cred­u­lous voice in­side my head. Are you ser­i­ous? Have you seen the size of that thing he’s about to put in you?

  “Mishka?” Salt mur­mured, look­ing down at me. “Are you all right?”

  “I don’t know—I’m try­ing to be,” I said hon­estly. “I just want to get it over with. But Salt—”

  “Call me Papa,” he said firmly. “While we do this, I am Papa and you are mishka. Is bet­ter that way. Easier to sep­ar­ate this from…the rest of our lives.”

  So he had picked up on how the names changed the game too. I felt a little shiver run through me.

  “Now start again,” Salt said sooth­ingly. “Tell me what is wrong, but tell me as mishka would.”

  I closed my eyes for a mo­ment and took a deep breath. When I spoke again, my voice soun­ded higher in my own ears. Younger.

  “I’m scared, Papa,” I heard my­self say. “Scared that this will change things.”

  “Change things how, my little mishka?” he mur­mured, strok­ing my hair.

  “Change…change how you feel about me,” I ad­mit­ted. “Change how we are to­gether.”

  “How we are to­gether is good—per­fect,” Salt as­sured me. “And noth­ing will change that.” He cupped my chin and looked into my eyes. “Noth­ing could make your Papa stop lov­ing you, mishka. You know this.”

  My heart stuttered pain­fully in my chest. Was Salt be­ing ser­i­ous…or just play­ing a part? It was im­possible to know, es­pe­cially when I found my­self get­ting lost in my own role as we spoke.

  “What other fears do you have?” Salt in­quired gently. “Tell your Papa, my darling. Do not be afraid.”

  “I…” I licked my lips, eye­ing the plug in his hand nervously. “I’m afraid it’s go­ing to hurt,” I ad­mit­ted at last. “I…I’ve never had any­thing, um, up there be­fore.”

  “But today you will,” Salt mur­mured sooth­ingly. “Do not worry, though—I will pre­pare you thor­oughly, I swear it.”

  “Pre­pare me? How?” I asked.

  “Like this.” He put down the plug and picked up the bottle of lube. Care­fully, he coated two fin­gers in the slip­pery stuff and held them out for me to see.

  “I don’t’ know, Salt—” I began but he shook his head.

  “Papa. I am Papa now and you are my mishka. Are you ready, mishka? Ready to spread your legs for your Papa and let me in?”

  “Yes,” I whispered. “All right. But do you really think you should…you know, with your fin­gers? Don’t you want to just use the plug?”

  “What I want is never to hurt you,” Salt said softly. “And so I must pre­pare you first. Come, mishka, spread your­self for Papa.”

  There was noth­ing else I could do. And in some strange way, noth­ing else I wanted to do. I wanted to give my­self to him—even if it was pain­ful—even if it hurt. I wanted to be open enough to give him everything, just this once.

  Ly­ing back against the table, I closed my eyes and waited.

  To my sur­prise, Salt didn’t start by in­vad­ing me with his fin­gers or the plug. In­stead, he leaned down and star­ted kiss­ing me again. Slowly, at first—prob­ably be­cause he knew I h
ad cooled down con­sid­er­ably. But as I felt him nuzz­ling my mound and kiss­ing and suck­ing my outer pussy lips, I felt the fire be­gin to build again and my hips began to twitch.

  I don’t know how long Salt spent lick­ing and suck­ing me…bathing me with his tongue…but it seemed like an etern­ity. A long, slow, de­li­cious etern­ity. At last I felt my­self loosen­ing up, felt my thighs spread­ing nat­ur­ally for him as I tilted my pel­vis up, try­ing to get more of those sweet, ad­dict­ive kisses.

  And then Salt touched me. Very gently at first, he began to circle my rose­bud with just the tip of one fin­ger. I gave a little gasp and tried to jump away from him but he placed his other big hand on my ab­do­men and shook his head firmly.

  “No, mishka,” he mur­mured. “Just re­lax. You must hold still and let me do this.”

  The au­thor­ity in his deep voice couldn’t be denied. Bit­ing my lip, I tried to do as he said and re­lax.

  Salt con­tin­ued to circle my nether en­trance with his fin­ger but as he did, he went back to lick­ing and suck­ing me as well. As his broad, hot tongue bathed my swollen clit, I found my­self open­ing to him once more and when he fi­nally slipped one fin­ger­tip in­side me, I barely no­ticed it, I was con­cen­trat­ing so fiercely on what he was do­ing to my tingling pussy.

  “That’s good, mishka. Just re­lax and open for your Papa,” Salt mur­mured, tak­ing a break to glance up at me. I couldn’t help no­ti­cing that his lips and chin and jaw were all shiny with my juices. God, was I really that wet? Ap­par­ently so but Salt seemed to love it. He went back to bathing my pussy with his tongue as one long fin­ger worked its way slowly deeper into my rose­bud.

  It was a new sen­sa­tion for me—a very strange one at first. But I can’t lie—it was erotic too. Ly­ing there open for him as he licked and sucked my pussy and slowly pen­et­rated my de­fense­less ass made me feel owned by him—I was com­pletely in his power and there was no place else I wanted to be.

  “Papa,” I heard my­self moan­ing and my hips were shift­ing in time to his lick­ing, want­ing some­thing else…some­thing more.

  “Gently, my mishka,” he mur­mured and then I felt an­other long fin­ger en­ter­ing me.

  I stiffened up a bit—one fin­ger was erotic, two was scary. But Salt never stopped lick­ing and suck­ing me, never stopped tra­cing ma­gical pat­terns around my throb­bing clit with his tongue. After he got two fin­gers into me, I felt him mov­ing them some—scis­sor­ing, I guessed to help me open up. It sent all kinds of strange and con­fus­ing sen­sa­tions through my body but my pleas­ure was grow­ing too—pleas­ure that felt like it might drown me if I let it.

  Then, just as I felt I was get­ting near the peak, Salt with­drew his fin­gers and re­placed them with the blunt, cold tip of the plug.

  I froze at once, un­cer­tain of what to do. But Salt just kept lick­ing, teas­ing my clit with the tip of his tongue, tast­ing me as though he couldn’t get enough of my secret fla­vor. I moaned and bucked my hips up to meet him be­cause I couldn’t help it. When my pel­vis came back down again, I felt the head of the plug move in just a little fur­ther.

  “Papa,” I moaned, press­ing to­wards him. “Papa, please…” I didn’t know what to do with my hands—they had been clenched into fists at my sides but now, some­how, they found their way into my part­ner’s thick, black hair. I tugged at him rest­lessly, un­able to help my­self.

  Salt licked me even harder, suck­ing my clit into his mouth and lash­ing it mer­ci­lessly with his tongue. I felt the plug slide in even fur­ther but at this point I didn’t care. All I wanted was more of Salt’s mouth on my pussy, all I wanted was to come.

  “Papa,” I cried, arch­ing my back. “I’m close…so close.”

  Salt re­placed his tongue with his fin­gers, slid­ing lightly but rap­idly around and around my swollen but­ton as he pushed the plug even deeper into me.

  “That’s right, my darling…my mishka,” he mur­mured, his deep voice hoarse and his pale eyes half-lid­ded with de­sire. “That’s right, open for your Papa. Open your­self and let me fill you.”

  His hot words as well as the pleas­ure he was giv­ing me was driv­ing me to the peak. But there was some­thing more that was push­ing me there—it was the feel­ing of be­ing owned. The feel­ing of be­long­ing to my Papa so com­pletely that I would al­low any­thing—any­thing at all. Even this. Es­pe­cially this.

  “Now, mishka, who do you be­long to?” Salt asked, echo­ing my thoughts and I felt the broad middle part of the plug—the widest part—slide into me.

  “Ahh!” I gasped, arch­ing my back again. “Oh, Papa!”

  “Tell me,” he in­sisted, rub­bing my swollen clit even faster, slid­ing lightly but firmly over my tender flesh. “Tell me, who do you be­long to?”

  “You,” I gasped and began to come, my whole body clench­ing around the thick in­vader that Salt had slipped deep in­side me. “You, Papa—I only be­long to you!” The words were a moan—a cry from the cen­ter of my be­ing. At that mo­ment he owned me and I wanted to be owned. Wanted to be­long to him forever.

  “Good girl,” Salt growled ap­prov­ingly. He never stopped strok­ing me as the or­gasm hit and rolled me un­der like a tidal wave at the beach, drench­ing me with pleas­ure and mak­ing me gasp for breath. “Such a good girl to open your­self to your Papa—to come so hard on my fin­gers and tongue.”

  “Ahh…God!” I moaned, still shak­ing and al­most cry­ing. It was the most in­tense or­gasm I could ever re­mem­ber hav­ing and that in­cluded the one Salt had given me the night be­fore. “Please, oh please!”

  When Berkley had first tied me down to this damn table, put­ting me into a very vul­ner­able po­s­i­tion, I had been hold­ing back tears. Even after Salt had made him leave and I had felt such in­tense re­lief that my part­ner—my Papa—was there to take care of me, I’d man­aged to hold my­self back and only let a few salty drops slip down my cheeks. But sud­denly, after the in­cred­ible or­gasm, I couldn’t hold back any more.

  As the pleas­ure ebbed, the in­tens­ity of the situ­ation hit me like a ton of bricks. All of the emo­tions I’d been hold­ing back so des­per­ately, walled off in the part of me that was Andi—the every­day part—the strong part—sud­denly came rush­ing to the sur­face. The tears poured out of me and I wept even though I didn’t know why I was weep­ing.

  “Mishka…darling.” Salt was quick to gather me in his arms. “Did I hurt you?” he whispered in my ear. “Are you hav­ing pain?”

  “No…no, noth­ing like that.” I made an at­tempt to mas­ter my­self but it was hard to do, hard to pull my­self back from the spot I had al­lowed my­self to go in or­der to ac­cept this from him. In or­der to let him do what had to be done. “I don’t know what’s wrong,” I whispered at last, brokenly. “It was just…let­ting you do that was in­tense.”

  “Is all right, my darling.” Salt stroked my hair sooth­ingly and cradled me close. “I know it was dif­fi­cult. You were so brave. I am so very, very proud of you.”

  For some reason his words made me cry all over again. I’m so proud of you…When was the last time I had heard those words from a man? From a man that I cared about and who cared for me? When was the last time I had got­ten that kind of un­con­di­tional male ap­proval?

  Not since Daddy left, whispered a little voice in my brain. Not since he left and took everything that was good and bright and happy out of my life for good.

  And now Salt had brought those good feel­ings back—at least it seemed like he had. I tried to re­mind my­self that it was all an il­lu­sion but some­how I couldn’t seem to keep the concept in my head. It felt real. In fact, what had just happened between my­self and my part­ner felt more real than any­thing I could ever re­mem­ber. I was his now—he had claimed me in a very real and con­crete way. And part of me wanted noth­ing more than to be­long to him forever.

  A sharp
rap­ping on the door in­ter­rup­ted my chaotic thoughts.

  “Ex­cuse me, Mr. Saltanov but we do not have all day and night for this,” Berkley’s waspish voice came through the thick wooden door. “Are you fin­ished yet?”

  “Just now fin­ished,” Salt growled. “Give us just a mo­ment.” He cupped my cheek and swiped gently at my stream­ing eyes with his thumb. “Are you well, my darling?” he mur­mured. “Do you think you can stand?”

  “I…I think so. If you’ll un­fasten my feet.” I nod­ded down at my Mary Janes which were still strapped to the damn stir­rups.

  “Of course.” Salt did as I asked and then helped me get down off the exam table. It felt awk­ward mov­ing with the damn plug up in­side me but I sensed it was some­thing I could get used to in time—if I had to.

  I don’t know if it was ly­ing on my back for so long or all the over­whelm­ing emo­tions I’d just been through but I felt dizzy. When I tried to take a step, I nearly fell.

  “Care­ful!” Salt caught me and held me tight against his broad chest. I breathed in his warm scent and felt com­for­ted and safe.

  “Mr. Saltanov!” came Berkley’s voice again. “I must in­sist that you let me see if you have com­plied with our rules or not. This is your last warn­ing.”

  Salt’s eyes nar­rowed. “Someday I will wring his neck,” he growled. “But today, we can­not.” He sighed. “Today I must show him that I have done this to you. Andi…mishka, can you let me show him? And then I prom­ise I will take you up to room and take care of you.”

  “All right,” I whispered. “Do…do what you have to do. I trust you…Papa.”

  “Very good.” He stroked my cheek again and then turned me to face the exam table. “Put your hands here and hold on so you do not fall,” he com­manded softly. “I will show him that we have met his de­mands and then we go.”

  I nod­ded—I had no more words in me, not then. I heard the door open and Berkley’s sharp voice, want­ing to know if we had “fol­lowed the rules” of the In­sti­tute. Salt replied that we had and, as ex­pec­ted, the dir­ector de­man­ded to see the res­ults.