Total pages in book: 38
Estimated words: 35304 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 177(@200wpm)___ 141(@250wpm)___ 118(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 35304 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 177(@200wpm)___ 141(@250wpm)___ 118(@300wpm)
On hooks against the opposite wall, there are various pink and black leather straps, gags, and blindfolds. There’s a short, white little-girl nightgown, and what I think are onesies...
There are also coloring books on a low wooden table with child sized chairs, and about ten stuffed animals in a basket in the corner.
Rye heaves an exhale from behind me. “Are you ready for your dare?”
I whip back around to find him staring. There’s a challenge in his eyes, like he still thinks I’m about to chicken out and run sobbing for the front door.
Would he be relieved if I did?
Or would he run after me? dragging me back, forcing himself on me, the weight of his body pinning me down as I struggle and scream.
I’m curiously annoyed with the idea that I won’t know his reaction to my imaginary escape attempt but in another way, I just want to crawl in his lap and take a nap.
The way he gives me the hard stare the way his voice takes on that stern hardness his chest puffing up and down as he looks at me, I'm ready for whatever is coming in this unusual but oddly comforting play space. “I'm here, aren't I?” I say, keeping my chin raised, voice neutral.
“You are.” He steps up to me, and I’m suddenly very aware of the difference in our heights. Even in these ridiculous high heels, he towers over me. “Call me daddy”, he demands.
My insides start to ripple that he’s just thrown a boulder into the center of a still pond.
I know this man would never hurt me. I’ve known him my whole life.
But do I really know him?
Because he has the face of my Uncle Rye, and a body identical to my father’s, but he’s not the man I thought he was. Or maybe this person I’m with now, is more him than I ever realized.
When he finally steps back, it’s impossible to miss the tent on the front of his slacks. I'm giving up control, and yet clearly there is something about me that controls something inside of him.
He can demand I do things, but if I refuse and use my safe word, he has to stop. That’s what the other man said.
I watch his Adam's apple move in his throat as he waits. For me to make a decision. For me to give up my control.
Because, it is mine to give.
“I'm ready, Daddy,” I say quietly, and it feels… euphoric. Erotic. I try the word again. “Daddy. Daddy, Daddy, Daddy,” I repeat, harder and harder until he grabs my hand and I fall silent.
His gaze locks on my mouth. “You have a little girl inside you. But you have the body of a woman. That's a combination that men would pay for with their very lives just to have one quick taste, one chance to get their cocks out in the same hemisphere as you. Every man in this place wants to find out what you have there between your sweet little legs. You have no idea how the world works, Dautie.”
“Jeremy wouldn’t want that from me. And he’s here,” I smirk darting my eyes toward the door.
Uncle Rye snort chuckles. “Okay, maybe not every man. But most of them and some of the women, too. Dommes are more intense than most Dom’s. They’d love a taste of you as well. You are the definition of beauty and innocence and unspoiled grace that is a rare commodity in this world.”
My nipples stiffen into peaks as he trails his knuckles across my shoulders.
I want to goad him. I want to push him. Compliance has basically been my middle name my whole life, but here, in this anonymous black walled room, the urge for me to be something else is magnetic.
“All right, Daddy, now what?” I add a hefty helping of sass to my question.
I want to see how far I can push.
Before what? I don't know.
Rye turns away, stepping towards the wall where the garments hang. “Take off your dress,” he orders without looking back.
“Take off my—”
I start to question, but he spins and stomps my way, in two seconds we're nose to nose, within a breath of each other.
“Did you not understand what you agreed to for your little dare? I’m Daddy, and you do what I say. You do not question. Your only out is your safe word. Do you understand?”
His warm breath puffs against my mouth as I swallow. A wave of fear prickles over my skin.
All I can do is nod.
There's something about the calm, definitive way he speaks that melts things inside of me.
“Good girl.” Those two words do something to me that takes a blow torch to any remnants of feminism left inside me.
I want to hear him call me that almost more than I would like to hear those other three words that most girls long for.