by Daisy March
“What if I want you to be my Daddy?”
“That’s the milk talking.”
She shook her head. “No jokes. I’m being serious.”
He wanted to tell her it was a bad idea, that she was just confused and no wonder. In the last couple of days she’d seen two people die.
She’d been spanked on stage in front of a roomful of strangers, she’d had a plug in her ass, she’d been shaved by him and now they were in bed together and he had a cock so stiff it was painful in his boxer shorts.
“If you want me to be your Daddy, sweetheart, that suits me just fine.”
“Really?”
“Beth, I’ll level with you. When I first met you, I just saw someone who could get me into The Milk Bar.”
“And what do you see now?”
“I see a beautiful woman who’s scared to admit she wants to be a Little.”
“I’m not scared anymore,” she said, her hand sliding into his. “You make me not scared.”
“That’s what a Daddy does.”
“It wasn’t what mine did.”
“That guy wasn’t a Daddy. He was your father.”
“What’s the difference?”
“A Daddy would never do the things he did. Any punishment from a Daddy comes from a place of love and compassion. If I were to spank you, it would be because you overstepped the boundaries we had agreed together.”
“What was your father like?”
A lot of memories flashed through Slater’s mind at once. Aged four, being taught how to ride a bicycle. Age twelve, riding along with his father into the countryside to go fishing.
Age sixteen, working with him on their first smuggling operation. Then age nineteen, the funeral. “He died,” he said at last.
“Oh, I’m sorry. When was that?”
“A long time ago.”
“Was he a good man?”
“He was.”
“What about your mom?”
“Died last year.”
“Oh, Slater. I’m sorry.”
He grunted. “That’s life. Now time you quit stalling with these questions. You’re going to settle down and your Daddy is going to tell you a bedtime story.”
11
Beth
Beth settled down into the blankets but there was no chance of her going to sleep. It wasn’t just because the plug was continuing to remind her of its presence whenever she shifted position.
It wasn’t just because her ass was still stinging from the spanking despite the wonderfully soothing cream that Slater had applied.
It was because he was half naked in bed with her. Every now and then she could feel the tip of his cock brushing her side through the fabric of his boxer shorts and if it was as big as it felt, she wasn’t sure she could handle being near it much longer, her whole body aching for it to be inside her.
It had been hard enough to watch him undress. His body was covered in scars just like hers. Were they from the same things?
The scars had made her feel sorry for him but those muscles had made her feel very different things. He was huge. She was glad he’d kept his boxer shorts on. She was wet enough just from seeing the outline of his cock.
Her entire soul yearned to kiss him, to run her tongue down his body, to kiss his scars, his taut stomach, to run along the shaft of his cock, take him into her mouth.
She wasn’t sure where all these feelings had come from. It was as if his permission that he’d given for her to feel things had been taken onboard by her subconscious
Now all manner of desires were overflowing from wherever she kept them, washing over her, making her whole body want him.
He began the story but she was barely listening. She was too busy trying to keep her breathing under control. He shifted in place again and there was the tip of his cock against her side. She could feel the heat of it. Was that real or was she imagining it?
“Are you listening?” he asked, drawing her out of her thoughts.
“I guess not, sorry,” she replied, feeling guilty.
“What are you thinking about?”
“Just stuff.”
“The truth, remember. Tell your Daddy the truth.”
“I can’t.”
“Yes, you can. You can tell me anything. What is it?”
She said the first thing that came into her head to try and distract him. “Why do you care so much about getting rid of Cake? What does it matter to you?”
He took a deep breath. “I just do.”
She wagged a finger. “You don’t get to shut down like that. You want the truth from me. That goes both ways. Tell me.”
He managed a smile. “I guess I deserved that. All right, here goes.” He sat up a little in bed, looking into the distance. “It was a couple of years ago when Cake was first starting to crop up here. I had a girl at the time.”
“What was her name?”
“Nancy.”
“The hairdryer was hers, wasn’t it?”
“Uh-huh. Anyway, do you know what Cake does to people?”
She shook her head. “Not really. Why?”
“If you’d taken the pill in the club you’d have found out quickly enough. It makes you compliant to commands. I didn’t know what was happening to Nancy.
“She just stopped having opinions about things. She stopped caring what happened to her. She’d do what anyone told her, especially if they offered to give her more Cake. I only found out when it was too late.
“She was getting stranger and stranger and I didn’t know what was going on. I’d left her in the bar while I went to get a doctor because she was really spaced out but she kept saying she was fine.”
“What happened?”
Slater looked in pain.
“You don’t have to tell me if you don’t want to. I was only kidding about telling me everything.”
“No, it’s good to get it out. I haven’t talked about it with anyone before. The Backwoods Boys rocked up just as she wandered outside in a daze. She let them take her with them.
“They couldn’t believe their luck, the president’s old lady willing to do whatever they told her.” He fell silent for a moment. “They found her body the next morning. The things they’d done to her, Beth, those bastards. I vowed I’d deal with them and with Cake. Found the three who took her and dealt with them myself.
“The rest of their club refused to believe why I’d done it and took out a few of ours. By the time we got a truce going there were enough dead bikers to get the police involved and I had to lay low for a while but I’m not letting this go. I made a promise to Nancy at the funeral. Told her I’d get rid of Cake or die trying.”
“Oh, Slater,” Beth said, throwing her arms around him. “I’m so sorry you had to go through that.”
He leaned his face toward her, a glimmer in his eye. “I need you,” he said quietly. “I need your help to do this.”
“I’ll do anything I can,” she replied. “You don’t need to protect me in return. I’ll do it for Nancy.”
“Thank you.”
For a moment they were both silent. Then out of nowhere they were kissing. Beth wasn’t even sure how it happened. All she knew was one moment their lips were an inch apart and then they were pressed together.
The two of them slid down into the bed, still embracing. Slater’s tongue entered her mouth, probing hungrily, like a starving man in search of a meal. She loved the feeling, her nostrils flaring as she fought to breathe through the emotions rising in her.
It had been sympathy for him a moment ago but that was swept away in a wave of lust. She was lost to him then.
His hands slid down her back, pulling her closer. She could feel the hardness of his cock against her leg as they entwined together, still kissing.
At last he pulled away but his lips weren’t gone long. They were moving to her neck, grazing her skin, kissing her ear, tugging at the lobe, still holding her tight, as if he’d never felt another person and never would again.
&n
bsp; She felt on fire with need, her pussy dripping, her clit throbbing, her soul floating up into the air to entangle with his, the two of them becoming one.
His hands moved down her body, squeezing her breasts, tugging at her nipples. His mouth followed, latching onto one and then the other, sucking roughly.
He kissed her scars just as she’d planned to do to him, his lips surprisingly gentle as he worked his way down the bed, the blankets sliding off to the floor.
Her legs parted for him and then he was kissing her thighs, feeling her skin, working ever closer to her core. She looked down at him in time to see him bury his face between her legs.
No words had been exchanged since they’d begun kissing. They didn’t need them.
His tongue ran up from her entrance to the top of her clit, lapping up her juices. She let out a groan of delight as he plunged his tongue into her, easing a little the aching emptiness she felt there.
He moved back to her clit, circling it expertly, using his hands to spread her folds wide apart. In the darkness she didn’t feel self-conscious.
She didn’t feel she needed to tell him no one had ever done this to her before. What did that matter?
All that mattered was it was happening. He was bringing her effortlessly closer to orgasm within minutes and she couldn’t believe it was happening so easily.
The few times she’d touched herself in her life, it had taken an age to achieve anything and when she had come, it had been nothing to the sensation building in her in that moment.
His tongue flicked faster across her clit, a finger dipping just inside her, widening her, stretching her pussy, filling her with a hint of what she hoped was to come.
When it happened, she knew one thing. She would never want another man for the rest of her life. What she cared about in that moment was that this feeling never ended.
His tongue had moved in just the right way until she was on the brink and he’d stopped just long enough to say, “Come for me,” before continuing.
“I’m coming!” she screamed. His permission had been enough. His command made her do it. She climaxed around his tongue, around his finger, around him.
It raced from her clit through her body, awakening every nerve ending as if they’d been asleep all her life. Her back arched, her limbs shook, her mouth fell open and all the tension left her body.
She collapsed back onto the bed and was still gasping in recovery when he straddled her chest, pushing his cock straight into her mouth.
The heat of it made her tingle all the more with desire and she became hungry for another orgasm even as her first was still fading.
The tip of him was salty tasting, the flesh of his shaft hard but giving at the same time. He thrust hard into her face, leaving her lungs burning with need to breath.
When he pulled out, she had to wipe saliva from her chin, taking several desperate breaths before he thrust in once again.
This time he was gentler, giving her chance to run her tongue over him, enjoy the bumps of his veins, the way the head almost touched the back of her throat but not quite.
When he pulled out a second time she felt strangely disappointed but not for long. He was moving himself until his body was over hers.
“Birth control?” he asked, the first words either of them had spoken since it had begun.
“Coil,” she said, clawing at his back. “Don’t stop, please, Daddy.”
The word drove him to new heights of lust. He pushed his cock into her in a single slow movement. She thought it would be too big, that it wouldn’t fit. It almost didn’t.
She was stretched as wide as she thought possible, filled to a depth that left not an inch to spare and still he had more. Her insides were completely stuffed by his huge length and then just when she thought no more pleasure was possible, he began to rock in place, his pelvis rubbing her clit.
He pulled back, thrusting slowly, taking his time as she felt her body approaching a second orgasm. Just as it was about to hit, he pulled out, leaving her pouting with need.
“On all fours,” he said. “Now!”
She scurried to obey despite how weak her legs felt. Pushing her ass back toward him, she loved the way he grabbed her hips, thrusting into her pussy, the plug grinding away in her ass, both holes filled to perfection.
“Daddy’s going to come in you,” he said, burying himself all the way inside yet again.
“Do it,” she replied, not recognizing her own voice. “Come in me, Daddy.”
He thrust faster and her own orgasm raced toward her. She reached under herself, touching her clit while remembering how his tongue had felt like on there.
His cock slammed home, the sound of it obscene, the air filled with the scent of sex. She felt like she’d felt on stage, like there was nothing in the world but the two of them.
“I’m coming,” she gasped as another orgasm shot through her. A second later she felt his cock twitching and then a spurt of hot wetness deep inside her. His seed.
She wished she didn’t have the coil. She wanted his babies. She wanted to be pregnant to this man-god behind her. She had made him come. Her body had done it.
Her own orgasm continued to wash over her as his cock twitched again, more cum filling her pussy as he slowly slid out of her, moving to lay on his side. He brought her down to her side, wrapping around her, him the big spoon to her Little.
“Don’t go to sleep yet,” he said as her eyes closed. “You need to pee in a minute.”
“No, I don’t. Wanna sleep.”
“You’ll get an infection if you don’t take care of yourself.” He kissed the back of her neck. “Bathroom now.”
“Don’t wanna.”
He got up, lifting her into his arms. “Then you can use the potty.”
“What? No!”
“Littles who whine don’t get to use the grown up toilet.” He reached under the bed, pulling a porcelain chamberpot out. “Pee,” he said, lowering her onto it. “Or Daddy will get cross.”
She pouted up at him but didn’t get up. Squatting over it with her limbs aching, she thought she’d never be able to go, especially not with him staring at her the entire time.
She did go though. Her pee came out along with his cum and she felt dirtier than she ever had before. She liked the feeling. It felt addictive.
“Good girl,” he said, passing her a tissue to dab herself with. A minute later she was back in bed and this time when her eyes closed, she didn’t have to do anything but sleep.
When he told her she could rest, she did. Within moments she was fast asleep with her Daddy wrapped around her, his breath warm and comforting on her neck.
She dreamed she was pregnant with his child. A smile flickered across her face as she slept.
12
Slater
Slater dreamed of the day Nancy died. He was there this time, watching as she was led into the woods where her body would later be found.
He called out to her but no sound came out. She was smiling, like she thought it was a game.
That damned drug.
He tried to run to her, to drag her away but he was attached to a tree like glue, his hands stuck to it.
All he could was watch as she vanished from sight with those three. Zeke, Abraham, and Grant. The names he would never forget. The reason his body was crisscrossed with scars.
He didn’t know it was a dream but it didn’t make sense. The three of them were right there, smoking and laughing with each other, high-fiving as they led her away.
He’d killed them. They couldn’t be alive. He’d not used guns either. He’d challenged them to take him on, three to one. All he had was his hands. They had their blades in hand.
He had walked away covered in blood and feeling that although he couldn’t bring her back, at least he had revenge for what they’d done.
It was a hollow victory. She was still dead.
But she wasn’t dead. She was just over there. Someone banged on the tree next to him. The noise
was a dull thud. Then louder. Louder still.
He sat up in bed. The noise was someone knocking on his front door.
He climbed out, glancing down at Beth. She was still fast asleep, curled up on her side, her thumb in her mouth. For a horrifying moment he thought she was dead, she was so still.
Then she stirred, rolling onto her back and he sighed with relief. He’d already lost one woman he loved. He wouldn’t let it happen again.
He would die protecting her if that was what it took to keep her safe.
Another thud on the front door as he threw on a pair of boxer shorts, heading out into the lounge.
“All right,” he growled, pulling the door open, wincing as the bright sunlight stabbed at his eyes.
“Hungover?” a man’s voice said as he blinked in the light.
“Not this time,” he replied. “Mouser, tell me you got something.”
“Not out here,” Mouser said, glancing around him. “Anyone could be listening.”
“It’s the compound,” Slater replied. “The Backwoods Boys aren’t going to be sneaking around here.”
“It’s not them I’m worried about.”
“You better come inside.”
Mouser followed him in, looking like he hadn’t slept.
“Coffee?” Slater asked.
“Make sure it’s got a shit-ton of sugar in it.”
“I’m on it. Keep your voice down though.”
“Why?” Mouser glanced toward the closed bedroom door. “You got yourself a guest?”
Slater nodded as he began to prepare the coffee. When it was done he took two mugs over to the table, sliding one toward Mouser who had placed the memory card in front of him.
“You cracked it?” Slater asked, sipping at his drink.
“A double hash military grade encryption.”
“That supposed to mean something to me?”
“Only that it takes a genius to crack that kind of thing.”
“Spare me the details. Did you crack it?”
“You don’t pay me for my company and good looks, do you?”
