What can I do other than obey?
I force the shameful words from my mouth. “Yes, sir.”
He gives another groan like when my ass rubbed against him. He likes that. When I call him sir, when I obey.
“Now run home to daddy and tell him what you’ve done.”
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Doesn’t every good girl need a daddy?
It’s him. The man from the textsiswatching me. I mean… I knew he would eventually contact me but I wasn’t expecting…
My fingers shake as I tap back a reply.
Who are you
I wait. Prickles rise on my forearms. I can’t tear my gaze away from the screen.
I’ll be your daddy now
Little Reece
Doesn’t every good girl need a daddy
What. The. Actual.
Fear and angst rise in my throat.“Daddy?What the heck…”
It’s sick.
And wrong.
And scary…
But somehow mixed in with the fear is a delicious thread of danger…
One that trickles through my core like a hot lick of a flame.
I should delete this number. I should tell someone. I should probably call the police.
But I don’t do any of that.
Instead, I reply.
How far will I let this go?
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Felicity
I’ve dreamedof my wedding day since I was a little girl. I knew I would wear a white dress with longs sleeves and a full skirt. I would dance with my father to his favorite song,Figlia Mia: My Daughter,and I would carry a bouquet of deep red roses.
And my groom—my prince charming, my knight in shining armor—I didn’t know who he would be, but I knewwhathe would be. A warm, funny man with a crooked smile and an easy laugh. One that would hold me tight, kiss my forehead, shower me with his love.