Daddy's Girl: A Daddy Issues Novel by Rebel Wild (books to read for 13 year olds .TXT) 📕

around Mr. Garrett. I don’t even find him all that attractive. I lie. He’s hot, but he’s a sex freak. Who the hell knows how many women he’s had tied up in that playroom? It’s disgusting. So why do I want him to touch me so damn bad? It must be because I’m so starved for an orgasm, but that all ends in a few hours. I’m determined to have one tonight, with or without him.

I’m helping Bree in the kitchen when Mr. Garrett comes in. I have the biggest grin on my face from his reaction to this dress. I can almost see his chin hit the floor and his tongue rolling out of his mouth.

“You have a little drool,” Bree says, handing him a napkin.

He snatches it from her and wipes his mouth before going into the dining room, with her trying not to laugh at him. She’s made stuffed eggplant from a recipe she got online. She doesn’t like the way it came out, but it smells delicious.

I serve Mr. Garrett the way I always do and then sit down to join him. My eyes are downcast, but I can feel him on my skin. He eye-fucks me for several excruciatingly long minutes before he snaps out of it and starts eating.

“What do you think of the meal?” he asks me and I try to hurry up and swallow so I can answer him.

“Very delicious, sir.” I’ve never had stuffed eggplant before, but it’s good.

“Try the wine,” he says, and I take a sip. He’s watching me so closely that I’m fighting not to become self-conscious and clumsy. “Well?” I can hear a tinge of curiosity in his voice.

“It’s… excellent, sir.”

If allowed, I would have told him it’s surprisingly sweet as well. I don’t have much to go on when it comes to alcohol, though. Daddy let me have a glass of champagne on New Year’s Eve and my birthday this year, but he always kept the liquor cabinet locked.

“It’s a Merlot blend,” he tells me like I would have a clue as to what that meant. “It goes well with the eggplant.”

“Yes, sir,” I say, as it truly does complement the meal.

“How’s your dad?” He asks me the same way he does every night since I ended up a blubbering mess in his office.

I know I took all the fun out of him wanting to yell at me by telling him my problems. I don’t think he wants a submissive with problems, even though those problems are the only reason I’m here. Thinking about it makes me cringe. I need to push that out of my mind.

“He’s the same, sir. He’s still not willing to take the advice of his lawyer.”

“I’m sure he’ll come around. Clear.” I quickly and gladly clear the table of our empty plates and wine glasses because I know what’s coming next. “I want you in the playroom, now,” he tells me when I stand before him once again in the dining room, waiting for my dismissal.

“Sir?”

I wasn’t expecting this. He usually gives me at least twenty minutes to get ready. I think my “need an orgasm” dress just backfired on me. Maybe it’s worked a little too well.

“Is there a problem?”

“I haven’t gotten ready,” I tell him, mentally kicking myself that I didn’t shower. I just know I smell.

“You forgot to say, sir,” he reminds me. “That alone is going to get you a paddling.” Just the word ‘paddling’ coming from him sounds ominous. I can tell by the way he’s raping me with his eyes, he’s going to enjoy it. How the hell can I get out of this? I’m eight-fucking-teen! Why am I standing here trying to think of a way out of getting a spanking? It’s ridiculous. Who the hell does he think he is? “Are you going to continue to stand there disobeying me because I don’t mind? I can think of many other ways to punish that body of yours.”

Oh, shit!

“No, sir,” I say, and quickly go up to the playroom.

“And take off the heels,” he calls after me.

“Yes, sir,” I say to him.

I do as he says and take off my heels. I leave them in an unused corner of the room before I get into position. Like the first time, I’m nervous to be in here, but it isn’t out of fear so much anymore. It’s the anticipation that has me wound up. I try to breathe normally as he enters the room with his usual confident swagger. Over the last three sessions, he’s let me look at him. I haven’t been able to touch him, but I can tell by the size and definition of his muscles that he’s rock solid. His skin is flawless and when he presses his pelvis into my rear end, I know he is well-defined in that area too.

“Over here,” he says to me and I join him in the middle of the room.

He binds my wrists with the usual restraints and ties my hands above my head. He slips a blindfold on, making it impossible for me to see anything.

“Do you know why you’re being punished?”

“I didn’t address you properly, sir.”

“What are your safewords?”

“Bunnies and spiders, sir.”

I listen as he walks away from me only to come back a few seconds later. I feel him behind me. He runs his hands under my dress, pushing it up my thighs to above my waist. My heart races from the feel of him on my skin. I hear him growl when he sees my red satin and lace panties. He gathers my dress up in front of me and tucks it between my legs to keep it from sliding back down again.

“Keep your legs together.”

“Yes, sir.”

The cold, bare wood of a paddle is on my ass and I stiffen up, tucking in my cheeks, trying to get them away from it. He’s punished me with it once before when I didn’t respond to his text fast enough.