Page 12 of Daddy's Lesson

I also wasn’t sure that I cared. Giving consent would be so easy. Blanket consent would take the agony of choices away from me. The thought was both freeing and terrifying.

Finally I found my voice to ask the one question that would determine how I moved forward. “Would I… have a safeword?”

“Of course.” His reassurance was instantaneous. “I’d never do anything without one. And you could stop me at any time, if I did something you didn’t like, or even if you were just unsure and wanted to stop and talk about it, or just think. But I’m not a monster, Zoe. I’m pretty intuitive, actually, and I’m a good Daddy. I doubt you’d ever need to use it.”

It seemed like an overconfident, arrogant statement, but somehow I believed him, and before I knew it the words he wanted to hear were coming out of my mouth before I could stop them, as if my pulsating pussy was controlling my brain and my body was betraying my common sense. “Okay, yes, I give you consent.”

There was a part of me that expected him to take me in his arms right then and strip me naked, parting my legs for his touch. Or maybe I thought he’d pull me back over his knee, pull my skirt and panties down again, and let his hands work their magic somewhere besides my aching ass.

But Lennon did neither of those things. Instead, he just smiled. “How much vacation do you have saved up at work?”

“I… what?” The question was not in the realm of anything I expected. “Lots.”

“Good. Take it. And as soon as possible. At least a week.”

“What? Lennon, I can’t just take time off at will for no reason!”

He was unmoved by my protests. “It’s not finals season, or even midterms. I’m certain that you can. In fact, I’m certain your students would be thrilled.”

“Okay, I can. But why should I? I really don’t need to. My schedule is not that strenuous. I’m sure we can work around it.”

He gave a soft sigh and took my hands, sending a jolt through my body. Why was the chemistry between us so electric? I was sure it had to be a fluke, leftover adrenaline and emotions from the very intense spanking he’d given me.

“It’s not about your schedule, Zoe. It’s about you taking time to heal and be kind to yourself. Did you take any sort of break when your husband left? Or when your divorce went through?”

“No, of course not. Why would I? He left; he didn’t die.”

I thought I’d made a good point, but Lennon just shook his head from side to side and looked disappointed. “See, this is the problem with your generation. You’re so trained to be okay, to not rock the boat, to power through. It’s ingrained.”

“My generation!” I gasped indignantly, pulling my hands away. The glaring difference between our ages had become apparent with those two little words. Embarrassment burned through me, and it was on the tip of my tongue to call the whole thing off and admit that this was a bad idea. Except it wasn’t. And I didn’t.

“Yes, Zoe, your generation. They don’t seem to account for things like mental health or self-care. It’s just ‘be okay, power through, no one died, it could be worse, pull yourself up by your bootstrap.’”

He wasn’t wrong. I’d used every one of those phrases since my divorce, except maybe the last one. I pressed my lips together tightly.

“I want you to learn to take care of yourself, to put yourself first, to check in with yourself, to do things that are just for you. I need you to know that self-care isn’t a dirty word.”

That last one hurt. He was right; that was exactly how I saw it. Putting myself first, doing things for myself, checking in with myself; all those things seemed like foreign concepts. And yet, they sounded… nice. There was a part of me that wanted to know, deep down, what it would be like to buck the things I’d been ingrained with, to admit when I wasn’t okay, and to truly do things just for me without feeling guilty. I just didn’t know how.

Lennon was staring at me intently, and he seemed to sense what I was thinking. “I know it goes against everything you’ve been taught your whole life. It probably seems like I’m asking for the impossible.”

I nodded shyly. “I wouldn’t even know where to begin.”

“That’s the beauty of our arrangement. You don’t have to. Daddy’s got you. All you have to do is obey and follow my lead.”

I looked at Lennon. It was clear he led the kind of life he preached about, as did so many his age. It was something I, like many in my generation, had always found irresponsible. But maybe he had it right all along. I had a feeling that with him, my preconceived notions barely scratched the surface.

“Take the time off. I won’t ask again. If you don’t email or call whoever you need to, you’ll be getting a punishment.” He paused and softened. “I don’t think that what I’m asking is unreasonable, nor do I think your protests are sincere, but if you have a real problem with something I ask of you, ever, well, that’s what you have a safeword for. Use it and we will renegotiate.” He peered at me intently. “Do you need to use it?”

I shook my head with zero hesitation, and dug in my purse for my phone. The gentle firmness with which he spoke to me had my pussy humming and begging for his touch. I’d given my consent and, I hoped, that once I did what he wanted, we could move on to whatever that meant.

With Lennon’s gaze on me, I quickly shot off an email to both my students and the head of the department. “Okay, done. I’m off all next week, plus this Thursday and Friday since I don’t have any Friday classes and I normally go in just to have office hours for my students. Now what?”

“Now, come with me.” He grabbed my hands and pulled me to my feet, leading me, I hoped, to the bedroom.

But no, instead he grabbed his jacket, and we went out the front door and down the hall toward the elevators. “Lennon, where are we going?”

“No questions. Follow Daddy’s lead.”

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