Page 73 of Ashes of Sin and Stardust

He was sitting there, holding his beautiful cock in his hand. And it really was beautiful. Maybe that was just because it was him. I pushed myself up and made to crawl to him, but he stopped me.

“No, you lay there and let me look at you while I get off. You bad little girl. You don’t listen, you don’t get... You... Alice, no, back off. Sit down. Bad, bad girl... Lay... Fuck. Fuck... Oh.Oh babygirl.”

After that, we hada ton of sex. I spent ninety percent of my time at home wearing naughty lingerie and being bad on purpose so he would spank me and fuck me like a little whore. We were both exploratory, and he had fantasies he’d never been able to indulge in with his ex-wife that I was all too willing to try. About a year after we started screwing each other senseless, we went to a munch, were introduced to the BDSM lifestyle, and we were hooked.

We played all the time. Bratting made me feel less like a victim and more like my own empowered self, and he indulged me. Through watching scenes and talking to other experienced lifestyles, we learned that he was a caregiver and a Daddy Dom, and was incredibly fulfilled by simply being my rock. We learned I was a hardcore masochist, and that after a heavy session, I felt level-headed and emotionally anchored for days after.

We tried toys and played games and bought leather gear. We got closer, and better at talking about what we wanted and needed. And that extended past sex; I began honestly telling him what I needed without being a bitch about it, and he did everything in his power to take care of me and make me happy. He opened up about his emotional needs and the hurt of not being enough for his wife and kids, and started going to counseling. Eventually he reconnected with his oldest daughter and their relationship began to heal, and his son even started answering his texts. And I went out of my way to serve him rather than manipulate him into giving me what I wanted.

As he aged, though, we danced lightly around the harder conversations. When he was about fifty-six, he wondered out loud if we should get married, so that I would inherit his estate. I said if he ever talked about his death again, I would never suck his dick again. That of course led to me being forced to my knees with his cock in my throat, which was the desired result of the conversation, but even after we finished, he brought it back up again.

We decided not to get married, but that he would include me in his will. His kids all had large amounts of money and trust funds set aside for when they grew up and they would be taken care of. I didn’t want him to leave me everything, but I also admitted that if he did pass away and leave me nothing, I would be hurt.

He said he’d take care of it, and he left it at that. He never brought it up again.

For the next few years, we were happy. I was taken care of. He helped me get my bachelors and I started taking math and science courses with the intent to study astronomy, which I had discovered an undying passion for. Everything was beautiful and happy, and I thought I’d made it. I thought that, at least for the time being, until my old man got a little older, I’d be happy.

What a fucking lie that was.

Chapter 18

On the first day ofAstronomy class, my phone buzzed. I kept my phone on silent with the exception of Daddy’s calls, and he knew not to call unless it was an emergency, so I grabbed my phone and quietly snuck out of the room, hoping not to make a bad first impression on my first day class. I was twenty-seven, finally making my way and following my dreams, and I had the whole world going for me, and I didn’t want to ruin it with a phone call.

But Daddy didn’t call during my classes unless it was important.

When I answered it wasn’t his voice. “Miss Benson?” a woman asked.

“This is she.”

“This is Margaret Jones from Central Memorial Hospital. We need you to come down to the emergency room as quickly as you can.”

I ran back into the classroom, gathered my things as fast as I could, and ran from the classroom without an explanation.

At the hospital, I gave my name and was ushered into a private office. Left alone to wait for the doctor, I found myself panicking and pacing. I couldn’t breathe. I was going to pass out or vomit, and they’d view me as incompetent, and then something horrible would happen–

“Miss Benson, I’m so sorry to have to bring you in like this. Please, have a seat.” The doctor seemed kind and empathetic.

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