Page 12 of Sugar Daddies

I cried too much that day. I can’t stand him being angry at me, and the disappointment strikes fear in me.

Mr. Stephan ignores my words as he growls. The timber hits a pitch that breathes fire on my tingling pussy.

“It’s my home too.”

What?

Chapter Four

Pepper

Coming home from that slow gathering, Daddy and Mr. Stephan went to the office room to discuss more things.

I didn’t want to bother them, and I have to get ready for bed too. My bedtime is close, and I want to let my body relax on the couch before Daddy’s booming voice yells at me for not going to bed.

My bedtime is non-negotiable. If sometimes things happen, I might go to sleep an hour or two later with Daddy forcing my body to sleep with whatever means necessary.

I go straight to the shower in my room, which is hardly used unless I want to steam in a bath while Daddy showers in the master bedroom. I figure that since they might talk a long time, I would help myself to a nice bath to relax my sore ankles.

Those heels may look comfortable; however, they are anything but. They are new shoes, so I never had the time to break into them; the back scratched my ankle, and I felt like my toes were being squished in them.

I spread my toes on the marble bathroom floor and wince at the red marks that were from the scuffling. I’m going to have to put some cooling cream on them to reduce the redness before Daddy sees them and burn the heels.

The heels are pretty, and I hate to see them gone after a single use. I can tell that they are expensive too. He doesn’t have anything cheap in the mansion; even my hairbrush costs hundreds of dollars. The need to treat everything with delicacy haunts me because they’re just too expensive; money is not a problem to Daddy, but I wasn’t born rich. The bathtub is ginormous with high-quality materials, and the water is the clearest thing apart from filtered water, but I don’t want the clarity. I want a pretty galaxy exploding with bubbles; that is the type of bath that I want to submerge myself into.

Maybe I’ll waste more time and wait for Daddy to finish his conversation with Mr. Stephan. I can never sleep without Daddy; my body is conditioned to seek out his warmth, and the iron bars of his arms are the perfect shield from the monsters under the bed.

Speaking of Mr. Stephan, he said this is his home too. The remaining mystery is if Daddy knows, but that isn’t the only mystery. My mind is so baffled that I don’t even understand what I don’t understand.

I’m going to let Daddy handle it; it is his home, so he has the final say in everything.

I hum an upbeat tune as I shimmy out of the black dress; the fabric pools around my feet as I step out with a small skip. I rummage through the cabinets for my stash of colorful bath bombs. I find the perfect one which doesn’t look all too beautiful in the ball form.

Once I drop it down on the hot water, it disintegrates into a wave of black, blue, and glittery silver for a road of the milky way.

It has a faint lavender smell that is perfect. I throw my underwear and bra to the floor. The redness on my feet stings for a moment as the hot water comes in contact with the rawness.

That doesn’t stop me from submerging into the water as it embraces me with a ton of bubbles; the magic happens when I close my eyes; my muscles quiver with the slow movements of the water, and the calming scent from the bubbles makes me love lavender even more.

Jasmine is a nice scent too. I’ll use that next time and ask Daddy to join me. He’s been working hard these days, and I want to treat him to a nice, relaxing bath.

That is if he lets me.

I always get through the routine halfway, and he’s out of the bathtub in a second. He’s not much of a stationary person. He doesn’t like wasting time when he could be working, but he likes to waste time on giving me time-out when I’m a brat for his attention.

I can’t help it; he forgets about me when he’s busy in his business. It doesn’t happen often, but I remember every second of such time, and I hate it.

It’s lonely without his attention.

I lift my hands up and watch the glittery water slip from my fingers. I close my hands around the remaining waters to trap the glitter, but it all falls back down on the water. Bubbles pop as the water hits them, but they stay relatively strong as I run my hands through them.

The tub is big enough for me to turn on my tummy and still be under the hotness; my hair is up in a bun to prevent it from getting wet as I don’t feel like blow-drying it tonight.

It’s too long and too thick; it takes me a good fifteen minutes to dry it thoroughly for bed.

I hum the tune again and kick my feet up through the bubbles while counting the little imperfections on the tile wall. Each square has a curved edge, and they have tiny specks of things mixed into the marble; it’s a galaxy in its own way, and I’m tracing the patterns with my eyes.

Some of them could be constellations if I knew what they looked like, but I don’t, and I suddenly have the urge to study the shape of Hercules.

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