“I think so too. We met another daddy and his Little at a munch, and I’m hoping Daddy will invite them over.”
She nods. “I’ve heard of munches. Donna explained … oh, sorry. I shouldn’t have said that.”
“I don’t know her and if I meet her, I won’t say anything,” I assure her. “Is she a Little too?”
“No. But she explained munches to me. But we’re not in the lifestyle or anything. We just like to all be together. Still, I understand more than people think I do.” She grins. “But that explains the milk.”
I giggle. “Yeah! He prefers I drink milk, and I’ve grown to like it a lot.”
“That’s really good. I hope you guys will be very happy here. Gloria notwithstanding, it’s a very nice neighborhood.”
“Seems like it. Very quiet.”
“Oh, and if you ever need someone to talk to, Cheryl and Samuel Danvers are the ministers at the church up the street. They’re very nice and not judgmental at all. I’m sure they’d love to sit down and chat with you.” She takes another swig of water and sets the glass down. “I suppose I should go. I’ve imposed enough,” she says and stands.
“No! No imposition at all! You saved me! Thanks so much,” I tell her and stick out my hand, but she opens her arms and I fall right into them, hugging her just like she’s hugging me. It’s very nice; she’s very nice. “I’m so glad you came over.”
“Me too!” She picks up her gift bag. “So let me out the back and I’ll sneak home!” she says with a laugh.
“Okie-dokie!” When she’s halfway across the backyard, she turns and points at one of the fencing guys, then shakes her hand palm down and makes a whew! with her mouth to let me know she thinks he’s hot.
Actually, he is kinda hot. I should go in and get myself another glass of milk.
10
Gloria
First thing I do when I get home is make myself a cocktail because I’m so angry. That loudmouth Karen Reynolds. I swear, that woman is always sticking her nose into everyone else’s business. How rude! We were having a perfectly nice conversation until she showed up.
And she never has left. You’d think that poor girl would get tired of blabbermouth Reynolds being there. They were working on something. Wonder if they already knew each other when the Owens moved into the neighborhood? I suppose it’s possible, but no one ever said anything about that.
Well, you can bet one thing: If they’re friends, those new neighbors are up to no good too. I don’t understand. This is a nice neighborhood. Why are we a magnet for all the crazies in the world? I know other neighborhoods don’t have these problems, so many weirdos in one place and people sneaking around to do nasty things.
Do they?
He’s only been home about an hour. Where he spent the day, I have no idea. “Russell,” I say, “I went over to visit that Owens lady today and you won’t guess what happened.”
“Gloria.” His voice is very, very harsh. “What did you do?”
“I didn’t do anything! I just went over to say hello! I was simply being friendly, that’s all,” I bark back. Gosh, apparently I have an ulterior motive for everything I do, according to him!
“And to pump her for information about what they’re doing out back, I suppose?”
I shake my head―hard. “No! I just went over to chat, that’s all.”
“I see. Since when have you ever gone to a neighbor’s house to just chat? That’s something new,” he says, never looking up at me from his car magazine.
“I’m a sociable person, Russell. I like to have friends, to visit with friends, to spend time with friends.” Then something hits me. “We’ve never had any couple friends. Why is that, Russell? Hmmm? Why?”
He stops reading and stares up at me. “I dunno. Could it be because no one wants to be around you?”
“And why wouldn’t they want to be around me?”
“Gee, I don’t know. Maybe because most of the time, you can’t even sit up without falling out of a chair,” he growls.
I can’t help it. Big tears leak out of my eyes and I glare at him. “Could you be more hurtful, Russell? I mean, really?”
He sits there for a second like he doesn’t know what to do, then looks up at me, one eyebrow cocked. “I’m telling you now. One more time of a neighbor calling me or coming by here and telling me you’ve been meddling and snooping, and I swear, Gloria, I’m sending you to rehab. It’s ridiculous that you’re still up to this.”
“But Russell, the people in this neighborhood, they’re all kinds of perverted! Do you know what some of them are doing?” I shriek.
He stands up, and I’ve forgotten how tall he is until he’s looking down at me. “I. Don’t. Care. Do you understand? It’s none of my business, and it’s also none of yours!”
“I was about to tell you, Karen Reynolds showed up over there out of nowhere. Do you really think that was just coincidence?” I can feel my face getting hot and I don’t care. Nobody cares what happens here but me, and I’m getting tired of it. “They’re all doing horrible things, and this one is no different!”
Russell stands there, hands on hips, his lips pursed. I’m trying to figure out what’s about to happen when he finally says, “You know what? You do whatever you want. I mean it. Go crazy spying on people and nosing into their business. But the first time somebody catches you again,” he says, with an emphasis on that last word, “I’m not bailing you out of jail. I’m not. You’ll sit there until you learn your lesson. Do you understand?”
“Nobody’s caught me in the first place!” I blurt out, and then realize what I’ve said. So I try to cover with, “There’s nothing to catch me at.”
He shakes his head and lets out this horrible, sarcastic laugh before he says, “Okay then. I give up. I’m going out.”
“But it’s almost dinnertime,” I remind him.
“I’m sure I can find something to eat somewhere else.” I stand there, dumbstruck, as he grabs his jacket and heads for the door. “I don’t know when I’ll be back.”
“Russell!” I run to the door and watch him getting into the car. “Russell! You come back here!” But he can’t hear me. In seconds, the car disappears around the corner at the end of the block.
Nice. Leave me here in a neighborhood full of perverts to eat by myself. Well, then, I’m sure I can find myself something to eat. And I’m certainly glad I bought that new bottle of vodka. I’ll most likely need it.
11
Lily
It’s been ten days and the fence is almost finished. The guys came yesterday and started putting together all the outside play equipment. I’m so excited! There’s a swing and a see-saw and a small carousel, plus some monkey bars. I’m glad this fence is going to be extra-tall. I wish I could have a slide, but Daddy was right―someone would see me at the top of it.
But that’s not the best part. Right before the last few posts were installed, a big truck pulled up and it had a building behind it! Daddy bought one of those portable buildings, but it’s not your average portable building. It’s a playhouse! I think that’s going to be a lot of fun. I can put furniture in there and my toys and dolls and have a blast.
When Daddy gets home that evening, he goes out to look at everything they’ve done. I wish I could go out there with him, but I’ve got on my onesie pajamas and the neighbors might see me. Of course, when this fence is finished, I can go out there in anything I want!
At bedtime, Daddy takes me into his room and tells me to pull off my onesie. “You like lollipops, don’t you?” he smiles.
“Yes! I love lollipops!”
“Then you’ll love this.” He has a small bottle of pink stuff and he rubs it on his daddy parts. “Now kneel down in front of me and lick this off.”
I do and it tastes like bubblegum. I lick and lick and lick, and then I suck it into my mouth. Oh, I love it when Daddy moans like that, so I suck it on down. And I love it when he takes hold of my pigtails and uses them to hold my head. Pleasing him i
s my number one goal, it’s my reason for being. Nobody’s ever loved me as much as he does, and it’s for sure nobody’s ever taken care of me the way he does. Everything he does is for me.
Wait―everything he does is for me. That’s the first time it’s really hit home. His job, this house, that stuff in the back yard―he’s done all of it for me. Sure, he likes nice things too, but he’s spending a lot of money to make this place safe and comfortable for me, for both of us. Knowing that just makes me work harder, and in a few minutes he’s crying out and begging me to stop as I swallow down all of his bitter, salty gift.
He grabs me and pulls me up on the bed with him, then runs his hand down inside my panties. When he puts his fingers where he likes to put them, it makes me giggle, but he rubs a spot on me that makes me want him to do it more. “Oh, Daddy, I’m such a bad girl,” I whisper.
“You’re a good girl, angel. A really good girl. You want Daddy to make you come, don’t you?”
“Oh, yeah, Daddy. Please do it. Please?” Everything inside me is clawing and churning, and in seconds I give in to the feelings and my body explodes.
He’s beside me and then inside me in an instant, and all I want to do is feel him pounding into me. It’s hot and raw and crazy, and more than anything else, it’s his skin against mine that makes it so sweet and intense. “Oh, angel, my god, you’re something, know that?” he whispers in my ear as his cock warms me from the inside out.
“I love you.” The words are honey on my tongue, and I can’t say them enough. “I love you, I love you, I love you.” I wait, then whisper back, “Do you love me?”
“Baby, I don’t just love you. I adore you. I never get enough of you, girl. Never.” His lips drop to my neck and he hunches into me, forgetting who he is and taking me like we’re animals, and I want it that way. In a couple of minutes, I feel him stiffen and cry out, and then he stills on top of me. His hands slide from my waist underneath me to cup my ass, and I sigh into his chest.
We lie there like that for I don’t know how long, and then he rolls me with him onto our sides. We’re both trying to catch our breath, and one of his hands comes up and brushes my hair back out of my face. My pigtails are long gone, their ribbons all crazy and knotted, and I almost laugh as he smiles at the mess I must be now. There’s a question I’ve got to ask, and I don’t know what the answer will be. That scares me. He must be able to tell I’ve got something going on in my head, because he asks, “Lily? Is something wrong?”
I shake my head against the pillow. “No. Maybe. Can I ask you something?”
“Sure.”
“I’m your baby girl, right?”
“Yes. Of course.”
“Brock?” His eyes question me as surely as if he’d spoken. “Brock, if I decided I didn’t want to be a Little anymore …” I’m scared to finish that sentence, afraid of how he’s going to answer it.
But a smile breaks across his face before he says, “I know what you’re going to ask me. And the answer is yes. I’d still love you, Lily. I love that you’re my baby girl, but it’s not about the hair ribbons or teddy bears or ruffled petticoats. It’s about you, girl. It’s all about you.”
I snuggle into him and let him hold me tight. Brock loves me. He’s my daddy, but he’s also my husband and my best friend. He loves me for me. I’m so damn lucky.
I step outside the back door in the early afternoon and see that the guys are finishing up the small gate at the side of the house. Good. It’s finished!
Better yet, the equipment’s all in place and it looks great! I left a note asking Daddy if I could go out this afternoon and get some curtains for my playhouse, and he said yes. The delivery man brought my packages yesterday and I got my pony curtains for my bedroom! They’re so cute.
When Daddy gets home, I’m out in the playhouse hanging up the miniature lace curtains I found. The guys who worked on the fence and the equipment didn’t say anything about any of the things they saw in the back yard. I’m pretty sure they’ve seen stranger stuff. “This is looking very nice!” he says when he finds me out here.
“Thank you! It’s very pretty, huh, Daddy?” I ask, moving the curtains until they’re evenly spaced on the rods.
“Yes, it is. You’ve done a great job. So what kind of furniture are you thinking?”
“I think a futon and bunkbed combination maybe?” I tell him, straightening a picture of kitties on the wall.
“That would be a good choice. Then you and your Little friends could have a sleepover out here if you wanted to,” he says, and I almost jump up and down.
“We could? That would be so much fun!”
“I think I should call Bonnie’s daddy and see if they want to come over on Saturday, if you’d like that,” he says. “And I’m going to have a real door installed in this place, something we can lock.”
“Then maybe I can have a TV out here!” I sing out.
“No. No TV out here. This is a place for imaginative play, not sitting like a zombie in front of the TV.” I frown. “You know how I feel about too much TV. If you have a friend here and you’ve got the TV on, you’re not paying enough attention to your friend.”
My lower lip pooches out into a pout. “I know. I’m sorry, Daddy. I just like TV so much.”
“I know. Let’s eat.” He grins a really, really big grin. “I brought home pizza.”
“Yay! Pizza! I love pizza!” I sing out and dance around the little playhouse, then let him take my hand and lead me back into the house. The pizza smells so good that my mouth waters, and it’s pepperoni, one of my favorites!
After dinner, I sit and listen as Daddy calls Bonnie’s daddy and they make plans for Saturday. I can hardly wait! I’m so excited that I’m having trouble calming down. Then I do a bad thing.
I sneak an extra piece of chocolate from the bag in the cabinet.
When Daddy finds the wrapper in the trash, he calls out, “Angel, did you have more than one piece of chocolate?”
It’s too late―I know he’s found it. “N-n-n-no. Well, um, yeah. I mean, yes, sir,” I stutter out.
“And you tried to lie about it?”
“Uh, um, yes, sir.”
The look on his face isn’t one I really want to see. “First, you ate extra chocolate. Then you tried to lie about it. I will say, I’m glad you told the truth, but if you could’ve lied well enough, you wouldn’t have.”
“I’m sorry, Daddy. But I love chocolate!”
“You’re a little too worked up. Come over here.” Plopping down on the sofa, he takes my hands as I stand in front of him. “Lying to me won’t be tolerated. I don’t lie to you. I don’t appreciate that at all, not after everything I’ve done for you.”
It’s hard not to cry as I stand there, and I feel the tears coming. “Oh, Daddy, I’m so sorry. Really, I am. I shouldn’t have had that chocolate and then tried to lie.”
“No. You shouldn’t. I’m not holding you to one chocolate to be mean; I’m holding you to one chocolate for your health. You know that.” There’s a pause before he says, “So what do you think your punishment should be?”
“No more chocolate?” I offer, knowing full well that’s not what’s about to happen here.
“I don’t think that’s going to be an adequate punishment. If you’d gotten caught eating two and told me straight up, that would’ve been fine. But that’s not what you did.” He drops my hands and stares up at me. “Across my knees. Right now.”
“But Daddy …” I wail.
“No ‘buts.’ I’d rather your butt sting for a few days than for your teeth to rot out, or your blood sugar to go up, or your face break out.” Sugar does make my face break out. His hands land on my waist. “Come on, down with you,” he growls and helps me get into position.
Now I’m actually crying. Daddy’s spankings really do hurt. It’s not about play, and he’s not doing it for show. He only spanks me when I behave badly or could’ve hurt myself, and this qualifies as both. I hope it’s not twice as bad a
s it usually is. The cool air swirls across my skin as he pulls my skirt up and my panties down, and he rubs the skin for a few seconds to make it tingle and bring the blood flow up. That’s going to make it hurt even worse.
The first SMACK! rings out and I squeal. The longer he spanks, the worse it hurts. My head is hanging down and every time he swats me, I bounce a little. After about six swats, my ass is on fire; after ten, it’s like molten lava and my skin’s humming. He lets me up at what I think is fifteen, but I’m not sure. My brain is mush and my eyes are swollen from crying. It even hurts when my panties snap down over my skin. Daddy helps me up and lets me sit on his lap, but my butt hurts sitting there. “Are you going to try to lie to me again?”
“No, Daddy,” I sniffle.
“Good. And no more sneaking candy.”
“Yes, Daddy. I’m sorry.” I burst into tears again and he picks me up and carries me to his room. Once I’m on the bed, he undresses me carefully until I have no clothes on at all, then undresses himself, and I start to cry again. “Do I have to do this? My butt hurts.”
“Yes. You do. I didn’t deserve to be lied to, and this is a good way for you to make it up to me. Get on your elbows and knees. Come on―up with you,” he says, rolling me to my stomach and helping me get situated.
I think I know what’s coming, and I know I’m right when I hear the snap of a condom and feel the lube on my tight little hole. I don’t like this. I never have, and I don’t really want to do it, but I want Daddy to be happy with me, so I hold very still. Even though I know he’s used the lube, he’s not slow and careful. Instead, he just rams into me and I squeal out, “Oh! Daddy, no! That hurts!”
“I know, angel. You’ll have to get used to it. This is what we’re going to do tonight,” he says, then draws back and shoves into me again. When I scream out, he slaps my already-burning backside and I shriek again. “Planning to lie to me again?” he snarls, pounding into me.
Lily and Brock at 343 Harper's Cove Page 6
