What did I do last night?
I remember going out.
I remember ordering drinks.
After that, nothing.
It’s not the first time I’ve blacked out, but this time it’s different, because of the man who found me, because of what I told him. Now he knows my secret desire. He knows I want a Daddy. He knows he can use my secret to make me obey him, to make me squirm with need.
I’m his little girl now, and his little girl is about to get it.
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“You treat me like a little girl,” I say. “Like your little girl. You’re better to me than I deserve. When I screwed up today, I was sure you’d throw me out. But you didn’t. You spanked me.” Fresh tears trickle from my eyes. “It hurts so bad…” I drop my hands to my bottom and rub. “But it also makes me feel…” A flush creeps over my cheek and my teeth worry my bottom lip. Even as my ass is burning, I can feel the throb between my legs. “Maybe I shouldn’t be here. You’re trying to teach me. I know that. But since the first spanking, all I can think of is…being with you. But if you’re my daddy…”
“Not your daddy,” he says. “I’m your daddy dom.” He pulls me to him, kisses me on the top of my head. “There’s a difference.” Now he steps back, taking me by the arms as he looks into my eyes. “When you’re bad, and I spank your ass, I’m spanking you as my little girl. But understand, young lady, if I fuck you, I fuck you as a woman. You’re both, Jill. You’re a little girl on the inside, but a woman on the outside. To deny both parts of who you are would be wrong.”
I look up at him. “Do you want me?” I ask boldly. I must know.
“That’s a loaded question, baby.” He pauses. “Yeah. Yeah, I do. I wanted you the moment I saw you. But at the time, you needed a firm hand more than a hard fucking.”
“I want both,” I say. “Does that make me awful?”
He shakes his head. “No, but baby, I don’t think you know what you’re asking for. I’m not a tender lover.”
“I don’t want tender,” I say. Between my legs, my pussy is pulsing wetness. I don’t care that my ass feels like it’s on fire. I want this. I want it. I need it. “Please,” I say.
He steps back, undoes his tie and removes it. His eyes are riveted on me. I start to lift the hem of my sweater.
“No,” he says. “Don’t undress. You just stand there. You don’t do a thing until I tell you, understand?”
I nod. My nipples are rock hard and aching. The throb between my legs is fierce. He’s unbuttoning his shirt. I watch as the muscles of his broad, bare chest are revealed once again. Pectoralis major. Rectus abdominus. External oblique. My fingers ache to touch them, but I stand obediently in place, my hands at my side — a well-spanked child about to flip the switch and have Max Iver treat me as a woman.
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About the Author:
Variety is the spice of life and Ava Sinclair writes a little something for everyone, from dark romance to menage to kinky AF age play. But the one thing that is consistent in her books are strong storylines, alpha males, and strong women whose hearts and bodies aren’t given up without a fight.
Ava lives in southern Virginia, where she enjoys hoarding books, hiking, running, spoiling her cats, and spending time with her Eurasian eagle owl, Lucius.
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