Page 23 of Daddy's Lesson

But Lennon wasn’t perturbed by my hesitation, and just kept saying the most delicious bossy things. “Lean back against your pillows, put the phone next to you on speaker, and slide your hand down the front of those sexy little shorts.”

As if I was a marionette and he was the puppeteer pulling the strings, I obeyed. Slowly. In order. The first two things were easy, but the third one gave me pause.

He really wants me to touch myself? While he’s still on the phone?

Before I could question it, Lennon started to talk, and I let his sexy-smooth voice lull me into complacent obedience.

My hand rested with my fingers just inside the waistband of my shorts and I had to remind myself that he couldn’t see me through the phone as I slowly slid it beneath the fabric. Unsure of what to do, I cupped myself.

“Are you touching yourself yet?” he asked.

“Sort of,” I answered, forcing myself to keep my tone even.

If he thought it was a strange answer, he didn’t comment. “You know what I've spent the last two days doing?”

“What?” I slid a finger between my pussy lips, marveling at the wetness I found there. This man had managed to arouse me with his voice and a few text messages far more effectively than my ex ever had actually being there.

“I’ve been reading over your application and committing your answers to memory.” He paused. “I also looked over the first one. There’s a lot of difference between the two. How do you feel about your answers on the second one? Do you want to change anything before we get together?”

My fingers stilled just as I started to touch myself. I wasn't expecting to be interrogated while being forced to play with myself, but I saw what he was doing by distracting me this way. I paused to think over what he was asking.

“Monday was full of emotion and change, and I don’t want to keep you beholden to anything you may have decided without thinking it through.”

I forced myself to relax, reminding myself that him asking me to be sure wasn’t him rejecting me. I wasn’t forcing anything on him that he didn’t want to do. The questions were on there for a reason, and what he chose to do with that information was up to him. My stomach knotted, though, at the thought of actually having to follow through with some of my answers. Not because I didn’t want to…

“I don’t need to change anything,” I whispered. “But… I mean, I can always use a safeword if I don’t like something, right?”

“Absolutely you can. That’s what safewords are for.”

The real question was on the tip of my tongue and I lightly stroked my folds as I pushed it past my lips. “Do you want to do those things, though? Because… we don’t have to. Just because I said I would be okay with it doesn’t mean…”

His answer was a warm chuckle that made me picture his dimples popping up as his smile spread across his face. “Oh babygirl, but I do want to. So much.” As if to prove it, he asked, “Are you touching yourself now?”

“Yes,” I admitted. “Just a little.”

“A little, huh? Are you wet?”

I could feel the heat flushing my chest and cheeks at being asked such intimate questions. It was strange to me, but I liked it. “Yes, Daddy.”

“Good. Since this is all new to you, would you like it if Daddy took charge for a little?”

I was still trying to figure out what he meant by that when he spoke again.

“Unbutton your top. Are you wearing a bra?”

“No, Sir. No panties, either.” My voice shook as I answered him. My fingers trembled as I unbuttoned my pajama top.

“With your free hand, I want you to touch your breast.”

I let out a soft sigh as I did what I was told. My breasts had never been my favorite. They were too small, the nipples were too big, and now the skin was too soft, but I knew better than to voice any of that.

“Is your hand on your breast?” he asked, after a beat.

“Yes, Daddy.” It didn’t feel as bad as I thought it would. With one hand between my legs, the other on my breast, and Lennon’s voice in my ear, I could almost pretend I was enjoying myself. The soft, slightly saggy skin felt good under my fingers, and I brushed the pad of my thumb over my nipple. I sucked in a breath, cringing as I waited to hear what he would say next. I wasn’t sure I would be able to do it.

Phone sex—or rather the idea of it, because of course, this was my first foray into that experience—had always seemed like it would be so awkward, like a badly scripted porn movie.

I just knew that if Lennon said something crazy, like “oh your nipple feels so good in my mouth,” or “I’m touching your breast, my fingers are in your hair” describing things that certainly were not happening, I’d burst into laughter.

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