Juliet
I can’t believe I’ve never stepped foot in this room for three years. I don’t even know why. I’ve been hiding. Wallowing. Maybe I thought if I didn’t touch anything or change anything, it wouldn’t be true. They wouldn’t be gone. I wouldn’t be alone with no parents.
Except I’m not alone, and I’ve never been alone. Not for one minute. Not even the first moment. Aldric knew my parents had died. He was the one who drove to my school, met with the dean of my department, and waited for me to be brought to the office to tell me.
Aldric—Daddy—was the one to hold me while I collapsed from grief and overwhelming pain. He arranged for my dorm room to be packed up and my stuff shipped back home. He held me while I cried for days. He made sure I ate. He made sure I got out of bed. He was my rock.
Days turned into weeks that turned into months that turned into years. He’s still here. He loves me. And not like a child. He loves me like a woman. He may be my Daddy, but he’s going to be my lover too.
As I stand in the doorway to my parents’ bedroom, Daddy is with me. His hand is on my back. He’s still my strength.
I take a deep breath. “I can do this.”
“Of course you can, and I’m right here with you.”
I step over the threshold and the world doesn’t implode. We’re still here. The earth is still spinning. The sun is still shining. The snowflakes are still falling.
“It feels weird,” I say.
“I know. It’s hard.” He sets his hands on my shoulders, comforting me more than he can know.
“They’re not coming back.”
“No, baby girl, they’re not. But they loved you so much, and they would want you to move on. To live. To love. To be at peace.”
A tear falls and I swipe it away. I can do this. I head for my mother’s side of the bed and drag my fingers over her nightstand. The book she was reading is still sitting there. Her spare reading glasses. Her lip balm. I reach for her drawer and glance at Daddy. “Maybe I don’t want to look in here.”
He chuckles. “Not if she had the same affinity for sex toys as you. Want me to look?”
I nod and turn around. “I don’t think I need to know what sex toys my parents used.”
Daddy slides the drawer open. I hear a scuffling noise and then he reaches around me to hand me a book. No. It’s a journal. My mother’s journal.
My hands are shaking. “Oh my.” I stare at it.
“It might be cathartic, baby girl.”
I hug it to my chest. More tears fall. This is going to be a hard day.
Daddy eases it from my arms. “Let’s save this for later, yeah?”
“Yes, please.” I glance around and then head toward my father’s side of the bed. His nightstand is much like hers. I love that they were both reading a book. I hate that they will never know how it ended. Why does that bother me so much?
I shuffle around the room, uncertain where to start. Daddy is taping boxes together. He labels them for donation, storage, and trash. He opens the closet. I’m glad he’s taking charge. It makes things easier.
If it weren’t for him, I might stand in here for hours or days without touching anything. If it weren’t for him, I might never do this at all.
He reaches into the closet and returns with a pile of clothes on hangers. “Do you think you want any of your mother’s clothes, honey?”
I shake my head but then step forward and walk past him. I run my hand along the edge of her clothes. My chest tightens. They’re gone. They’re not coming back. How is that possible?
I stop when I come to her favorite comfy robe. It’s thick and white and so soft. I remember when my father gave it to her for Christmas. It seemed so silly, but she loved it. I want to keep it.
I pull it off the hanger and bring it to my face, inhaling, hoping for her scent, but it’s not there. It’s gone. Long gone. “I want this one,” I whisper.
“Of course.” Daddy sets it on the bed. It doesn’t belong in the storage box. I want it in my room. He understands.
I turn my gaze toward him and rush forward, slamming my body into his and hugging him tightly. I start crying, and the tears grow heavier with each passing moment. I can’t stop. I’m sobbing. Huge ugly sobs as if my parents died last night instead of three years ago.
Daddy picks me up and holds me against his chest as I wrap my arms and legs around him. He rubs my back. “Let it all out, baby girl. It’s okay.” He rocks me back and forth, hugging me so tight, never letting me go.
God, I love him. Does he know that? I can’t possibly say those words out loud. They would sound ludicrous in the middle of my sobbing fest. I’m too emotional for that kind of proclamation. But it’s true.
When the tears are finally spent, I take a deep breath and slide down his body until I’m standing on my own feet.
He tips my head back and searches my gaze. “Better?”
“Yes, Sir.”
He smiles and kisses my forehead. “Should we continue?”
“Yes. Let’s do this.”
We work all day, only taking a break for lunch. Daddy keeps me on task, and I’m honestly surprised when we’re done. The room is empty. Bare. All that’s left is the furniture and Daddy is going to borrow a truck and take it to a donation center tomorrow.
I don’t want it. I kept everything I want. Books and pictures and photo albums. Letters my father wrote my mother when they first met. I pack all those things in a box to be saved and opened another day when I’m stronger.
We stand in the middle of the hollow room. Daddy flattens my back to his chest and wraps his arms around me. “I’ll have the floors refinished. The hardwood is in good shape.”
“Okay. I like that idea.”
“What color do you want to paint the walls?”
“Hmm. I think you should choose.” I twist my neck so I can look at him. “It’s not my room. It’s ours. Will I still keep my other room?”
“Absolutely. Little girls need a space that’s their own, filled with things that make them happy. It will become your playroom. You can take naps in there when I’m working.”
I smile. He’s making everything perfect.
“The master bathroom needs updates. I’ll have a contractor come in and look at it, okay?”
I nod. “Thank you.” I spin around in his embrace so I’m facing him and tip my head back. “Kiss me.”
He chuckles as he runs a hand up my back to cup my neck. “Demanding Little girl, aren’t you?”
“Yes.” I shrug.
He lowers his lips to mine anyway, a twinkle in his eyes as he grazes his mouth over mine.
I lean closer. “Not like that. Like you mean it.”
He chuckles again. “Kissing you is dangerous, naughty girl.”
I pout. “That’s silly. Kissing isn’t dangerous.” But I know it is. I don’t care though. I want him to kiss me anyway. “Please?”
He spins me around and slowly backs me up until I’m flat against the wall.
I’m confused as he threads his fingers with mine and plants our combined hands on the wall above my head. My libido picks up as my heart pounds.
Daddy stands several inches away from me. The only part of us touching is our hands until he lowers his lips to my neck and kisses me softly, nibbling a path to my ear before biting the lobe gently.
I moan as his lips trail around to my mouth. Suddenly, he claims my lips, switching from soft to demanding in a heartbeat. He consumes me, his mouth hard against mine, licking my lips and then stroking my tongue as soon as I part for him.
I can’t breathe. All I know is the feel of his mouth, his taste, the soft moan coming from his lips. Or maybe it’s mine.
I tug on my hands, wanting to touch him. His grip tightens. His lips leave mine to slide down to my other ear, kissing, teasing, tasting. “Stay still, baby girl.”
“Why?” I whimper. “Let me touch you.”
“Uh-uh.” He licks my neck, making me shiver. “I won’t be able to stop myself if you touch me.” He gives my hands a squeeze as a reminder. “You’re too tempting.”
“Why…must…you…stop?” My words are disjointed, breathy. It’s hard to concentrate.
He faces me again, setting his forehead against mine. “I’m not making love to you until we work through a laundry list of details, honey.”
I push my bottom lip out and pout. “I’ve waited a lifetime for you. I don’t care about the details.”
He smiles. “I care. I want your world to be perfect.”
“My world is perfect, Daddy.” I include the honorific in hopes it will soften him.
He chuckles. “Sweet talk will not help your case, baby girl.” He gives me one final kiss and steps back, releasing me. “It’s getting late. I need to make dinner. And then I know a Little girl who needs to get to bed.”
I sigh and slouch against the wall. I’m still panting from our kiss. He’s obviously not going to give me more. It’s infuriating. Perfecting my pout, I try again. “I’m not tired, Daddy.”
He chuckles. “Whiny and tired.”
“Daddy…” I groan. “That’s not true.” I’m proving it true as I speak. I even stomp a foot. I’m actually exhausted. It was a very difficult, long day. It’s late. We haven’t had dinner. I’m hungry and I could drop from exhaustion. But that’s not going to stop me from pushing him because I have a deep-seated need to see what will happen.
I cross my arms and humph. “You can’t make me go to bed.”
He lifts both brows, amusement dancing in his eyes. It’s infuriating but also I’m curious.
“I think it’s time for your bottom to become acquainted with my palm, baby girl.” He reaches for my hand and tugs it from my chest, luring me out of the master bedroom and into the great room.
I drag my feet, shuffling along behind him, my breaths coming faster. Is he really going to spank me? I’m not sorry. I’ve secretly wanted him to spank me for a while now. Years really. But I’m also nervous. No one has ever spanked me.
I’m wet too. I pray he won’t figure that out.
Daddy heads for the sofa, sits in the middle, and angles me to one side. He sets one hand on my thighs and cups my face with his other. “I want you to understand what it means to be my Little girl, Juliet. I know I’ve been Daddying you for years, but there’s a lot more to being my girl than me cooking and cleaning and tucking you in.”
“Yes, Sir,” I whisper when he pauses.
“Being Little means obeying Daddy’s rules and decisions. It means not arguing with me about bedtime. It means getting your bottom spanked when you’re sassy or misbehave. It means timeouts when you need to think about naughty choices.”
I swallow. “Yes, Sir.”
“I’m going to spank you because you need the reminder that it’s not okay to back talk, roll your eyes, or sass your Daddy. Understood?”
I nod. My palms are sweating, and I rub them on my thighs.
“Being Little is more than just toys and games. It’s structure and discipline too.” He lifts a brow.
I shuffle my feet and squeeze my thighs together. I’m holding my breath, trying not to let my pussy react to his words. But it’s impossible to stop the feelings coursing through me. He hasn’t touched me yet and already I’m wet and nearly panting.
What’s wrong with me? I’m embarrassed. I take a deep breath and remind myself that I’ve read about this. Some Littles like to get spanked. Some get aroused from it. I’m pretty sure Leah does and the other girls I met too. They apparently misbehave intentionally sometimes so their Daddies will spank them.
Aldric and I have not discussed this though. I don’t know how he feels about me being turned on by the idea of him swatting my bottom. I doubt I can keep it from him.
He guides me over his knees before bringing my hands to the small of my back and gripping them there in his larger one.
I rest my cheek on the couch cushion, holding my breath while he palms my butt. Suddenly, his fingers find the elastic of my sweats and he pulls them and my panties halfway down my thighs.
I gasp. Wetness floods out of me.
Daddy’s hand lands on the backs of my bare thighs. He strokes my skin with his fingers. “Your bottom will always be bare when I spank you, baby girl. I need to be able to see your skin so I know how hard to swat. I want your bottom to turn pink and hot, but I’ll never harm you. It should sting and make you wince to sit down, but I don’t want to find bruises later.”
I hold my breath, squeezing my thighs together. No toy I ordered has come close to making me as aroused as I am right now.
“Relax your muscles, Juliet. I’ll start slow.”
I can’t. I try, but I can’t. I can’t even breathe. How am I going to relax?
Daddy palms my tight cheeks, rubbing them, his hand warming against my skin. He keeps stroking me until I finally relax. “Good girl. Ready?”
“Yes, Sir,” I murmur against the cushion.
The first swat is not bad. I flinch, but it’s reflexive. The next spank lands on the other cheek with no more intensity. I can handle this. Two more swats and then he increases the force a bit, enough to make me stiffen. It stings. Not bad. Maybe even good.
My entire body vibrates from the awareness. Not just from the continued swats to my skin but the fact that I’ve never been bared to him like this. It’s heady.
When he switches to spanking lower on my bottom at the top of my thighs, I suck in a breath and purse my lips. The vibrations reach my pussy. My clit is throbbing. It’s a very strange and unnerving sensation to have my bottom on fire while my arousal is growing.
Finally, he stops. I’m panting while he rubs my heated skin. I start to tremble from the intensity and the need to come. I think I’m going to cry. I’m fighting the tears. My lip is shaking and I can’t hold it back.
“Take a deep breath, baby girl,” Daddy encourages.
He can’t know that isn’t possible. He doesn’t realize I’m fighting an onslaught of emotions ranging all over the place from intense arousal to the need to sob like a baby for the second time today.
“Inhale, Juliet,” he urges, still rubbing my naked skin, his constant attention reminding me over and over that my butt is stinging. He pulls my sweats over my bottom, being careful not to scratch my skin with the elastic of my panties.
As soon as I’m covered, he turns me over and cradles me in his arms. He cups my chin and forces me to look at him. “Juliet, you need to take a few deep breaths.”
I draw in oxygen because I have to.
“That’s a good girl. Daddy’s got you.” He holds me tight, stroking my cheek with his free hand. “Tell me what you’re feeling.”
I lick my lips and blurt it out. “I need to come and I need to cry.”
He smiles. “That’s perfectly normal. Let’s take care of the crying first. Let it go, honey. You’ve had a hard day. Sometimes Little girls need to cry. I promise you’ll feel better afterward.”
The tears fall, and once they start, they won’t stop. They keep coming and coming, running down my cheeks while I sob against his chest. I’ve already cried like this today. How is there anything left?
When I’m finally spent, yet again, Daddy keeps stroking my back, rocking me gently. “That’s my good girl. Feel better?”
I squeeze my thighs together and shake my head, squirming on his lap. Somehow the intense need to come hasn’t abated. How did the two emotions get tangled together? Both my butt and my pussy are throbbing in unison as if they’re connected.
Daddy rolls me closer to him so my head rests on his shoulder and my chest is against his—though my hands are fisted and tucked between my breasts too. He flattens one hand on my back and the other strokes the backs of my thighs.
Every brain cell rushes to my pussy. It’s pulsing now.
When Daddy’s fingers reach between my legs and stroke right over my heated, swollen center, I nearly leap off his lap. But he holds on to me. He does it again, cupping my pussy from behind and stroking through my folds even though both my sweats and my panties are in the way.
I’m so wet. I’m sure I’ve soaked through the layers.
He kisses the top of my head. “Daddy’s going to make the ache go away, baby girl.”
I whimper. My God. He really is. He’s going to make me come. Through my clothes. I fist my hands tighter. My breasts feel heavy. My nipples are hard points demanding attention. I want to cup my breasts with my hands and pinch the tight buds, but I don’t dare. Besides, it’s hard to focus with Daddy stroking my pussy over and over.
“Let it feel good, honey,” he encourages.
Nothing has ever felt so good in my life. Doesn’t he know this?
He keeps switching between pressing against my clit to flicking it through the material to stroking over my folds. It’s maddening. I need to come so badly I’m going to explode. I also don’t want him to stop. He’s never done this to me before, and I want to cherish this moment. Remember it always.
I’m trapped against him though, and the hand he has splayed on my back grips me tighter, holding me steady, not letting me escape his roaming fingers.
Part of me wants to buck him free and stop the madness before I come apart. The rest of me isn’t emotionally strong enough to stop him. I won’t. I can’t. I need this.
Suddenly, I’m right there. I arch against him, my breath caught in my throat as he presses hard against my clit. And then I shatter, my orgasm making my entire body tremble.
I’m floating somewhere in the room, unable to breathe. Pulse after pulse of my orgasm continues while Daddy holds me, his hand still flattened against my pussy. Maybe I’m not floating. He’s got me. I won’t get away. I don’t want to get away.
When my breathing finally returns to normal, Daddy slides his hand away from my pussy and tips me back to look into my eyes. “You’re such a gift, Juliet. Thank you.”
I lick my lips. “Shouldn’t I be thanking you?” I’m the one who just had an amazing orgasm.
He smiles and kisses my forehead. “Nope. I’m humbled that you trust me with your body. Trust me to see to your needs. Trust me to spank you when you need discipline and reward you when you need release.”
I don’t know what to say. I’m still shaking.
He pats my hip. “Don’t get the wrong idea though. I won’t always let you come after I spank you. You’ve had a hard day. You need both kinds of release. But Little girls who misbehave don’t usually get rewarded with orgasms.” He lifts a brow, grinning.
“Yes, Sir,” I whisper. A shudder rushes through me. I’m still aroused. I want more. But I don’t ask for it.
“I need to feed you.” He lifts me to my feet, holding my hips while I steady myself. “Go wash your hands. You can color at the table while I make dinner.”
I grin. “Color?”
“Yep. I bought you some crayons and a coloring book.”
“You did?” I haven’t colored since I was tiny. It sounds like fun.
“Coloring is cathartic. It can relieve stress,” he points out.
My heart is still racing as I pad from the room, heading for my bathroom. First spanking and then coloring. What else is Daddy going to toss at me?