Daddy Issues

Author's Note:

This story contains daddy kink and light BDSM (domination, spanking, bondage, toys). Enjoy.

_______

Daddy! Oh God, fuck me, Daddy!

I yank my pillow over my head, but it does nothing to hide the noises from next door. The walls are thin in this building.

It's after midnight, and an unprecedented series of moans and groans have been spilling from my neighbor James's apartment. Now that we're into the wee hours, the dirty talk is kicking into high gear.

And it's making me wet.

Please, Daddy, shove it in me.

I have a case going to trial in the morning, for God's sake. My briefcase and purse sit on a chair next to the suit hanging on my closet door. I need to clear my head and get some fucking sleep, but all I can hear are another girl's moans.

All I want is to be in her place.

Daddy, ow. OW! Ooooh, that hurts so good.

My thighs part, and I stroke my damp pussy. My fingers slide to my swollen clit. I'm in a state of shock that my nice, polite neighbor, a forty-something guy who's a chef at a fancy restaurant, is into this kinky shit.

James is fit. He wears cute little glasses. His brown hair is touched with gray at the temples, and his hazel eyes crinkle adorably when he smiles.

But I bet he's not smiling right now. His face is contorted with lust as he looks down at me — no, her. Thrusting...pounding...maybe slapping. Would he do that?

A Tinder hookup. That's my best guess. She's half his age and I saw them introduce themselves to each other right outside his door.

Make me your SLUT, Daddy!

Jesus. I can't concentrate. She keeps jolting me out of my own fantasy. Maybe it's because the dirty talk sounds so chipper. So oddly impersonal.

Checking the time on my phone, I chuck it onto the nightstand. I can't perform on less than six hours of sleep anymore, much less bounce out of bed bright-eyed and bushy-tailed.

I'm thirty-five years old, I don't have time for this shit.

I roll out of bed, my pussy throbbing for release. I'm tired. I'm annoyed. And I'm dangerously excited to think of James all dominant and mean in bed. Precisely because he's always been such a good neighbor.

Whenever he bakes — basically every weekend — he leaves a plate of goodies on my doorstep. He invited our entire floor for a dinner party when he moved in, featuring spaghetti carbonara that caused me to die several ecstatic deaths and really good Chianti. He gets the paper delivered and always gives me the Sunday Times when he's finished. He even leaves the crossword for me.

I've had a crush on James for months and done nothing about it. Because we're both consumed by our jobs. Because we're neighbors. Because he's ten years older.

And now he's screwing someone literally young enough to be his daughter.

Who's screaming too loudly to let me sleep or fantasize.

Uhhh! Yeah Daddy, spank me! Harder, harder!

Stomping across my apartment, I grab my stereo speakers and drag them right up against the offending wall. I cue up the sassiest, perkiest dance music I can find and crank the volume way, way up.

Then I let out my frustration in a one-girl dance party — flailing, shimmying, singing at the top of my lungs.

It doesn't take long. In under a minute, there's a firm, pissed-off knock at my door.

Rap. Rap.

I switch off the music and catch a glimpse of myself in the full-length mirror as I go to answer that ominous knock. My short dark hair is practically standing on end. I rake my fingers through it. My heart is pounding, and it accelerates when I open the door to see James. Shirtless, wearing plaid boxers and the body God gave him. No sign of the glasses.

He's in excellent shape. The man has done good things with the material he's been given. His hair is damp with sweat, and irritation rolls off him.

"Can I help you?" I chirp.

His eyes drift to the mess of my curly dark hair, then down to my bare shoulders. I cross my arms, which pushes up my ample cleavage in my short, sheer lilac nightie.

I'm tall and curvy — thick. No one would call me a little girl by any stretch of the imagination. But I suddenly want to be one for James, and it takes my breath away.

"Care to explain the meaning of that loud music after quiet hours?" he asks, low and curt. "You're a lawyer, Kori. You know what the noise ordinances are."

Oooh, do I love that lecturing tone. Even if it's left over from the show in his bedroom.

"I'm sorry." I widen my eyes. "I just couldn't sleep, what with all the noise coming from

your

place. It was so distracting, I had to put on my favorite song to drown it out."

His mouth opens and closes.

"I apologize," he finally says. "I didn't realize the walls were that thin."

"Don't worry," I assure him. "I didn't hear you. Just her."

His eyes darken. He says nothing.

"She's awfully bossy, isn't she?" I ask sweetly. "Considering you're the one in charge."

Now his gaze travels over me. I uncross my arms to let him see how hard my nipples are through my nightie. Two dark buds ready for him to capture and cruelly twist. A trickle of juice slips down my thigh, because it feels so exciting — so dangerous — to be exposed to him. Especially since there's another girl waiting back in his room. My panties are still lying in my bed, and I know he can see the dark vee of my pussy through my nightgown.

"

Are

you in charge, James?" I ask softly. "Because if this going to be a regular occurrence..."

He drags his eyes back to my face. "It won't be. If you're ever bothered again, please ring my doorbell instead of resorting to measures that disturb the entire building."

I cock one hip, resting my hand on it, and flutter my lashes. "Yes, Daddy."

He does a slow blink. Then his face changes completely. His eyelids lower, and a faint smile tugs the corner of his mouth.

"Don't sass me, Kori," he says softly.

"Or what?"

The question hangs between us. Our eyes lock.

"What'll you do if I misbehave again? Will you

punish

me?"

That smile quirks his lips, sinister this time, and he tucks it away.

"I just might." Over his bare shoulder, he adds, "Don't try me."

As he walks to his door, I stare at the sexy planes of his shoulders and back. His firm ass. When the door closes with a click, I stumble into my own apartment and dive in bed.

Now my pussy is slick. I squirm and moan, getting tangled up in the sheets. Rubbing my clit in frantic circles, I slide my fingers inside my eager cunt. So tight and excited for James, begging for his attention.

All is quiet from next door, and I stifle my own noises in the pillow. Out of courtesy for the neighbors.

"Daddy," I whimper. "Show me how to behave."

Oh, I will, little girl.

I haven't been a little girl in decades. But I want to be, for him.

***

Over the next week, I bide my time. There are no further visits from Tinder Girl. No moans or

Oh Daddy

s from James's apartment. I focus on work, but every night, I feel James over me. Behind me. Surrounding me. Taking charge, punishing me, while I moan in embarrassment and delight. I rub myself like mad, coming on my fingers in orgasms that only leaving me wanting more.

Wanting him.

On Sunday, I get my chance. I hear a thump on my doorstep in the afternoon. When I open the door, there's James's Sunday paper, all neatly folded and ready for me to enjoy. I page through it feverishly.

But it's just a newspaper. There's no sign that anything other than good-neighborliness has passed between us.

I open to the crossword, which he always leaves blank. I'm hoping for some message. Maybe "Be a good girl, Kori" scrawled in the first few spaces. "Or else." But there's nothing.

His silence riles me up, even though the ball is clearly in my court.

I scribble my own message in the crossword, heedless of the spacing.

Oh Daddy James, I can't help but be bad. I try so hard, but I keep touching my little pussy and thinking of you. I need your discipline. I need your COCK. Please, Daddy.

Holy shit. I'm not a shy girl, but I've never been this brazen. Before I lose my nerve, I march to his door and rip the paper apart. Page after page of the Sunday Times flutters into the air and lands on his welcome mat. I'm so bratty, I take my own breath away. It's an unbelievable mess. As a crowning touch, I leave the crossword on top like a cherry for him to pick. I consider folding it, for decency's sake, but don't.

Then I ring his bell three times, quick, and dash into my own apartment, giggling like a madwoman.

Rap. Rap.

I open the door, all innocence. James towers in front of me, his arms folded.

"Yeeessss?" I carol.

"Kori." His eyes are hard behind his glasses. It's a James I've never seen before; the lecture last night was just a glimpse. "Did you make that spectacular mess in front of my door?"

"Yes, Daddy," I murmur. Just saying it makes me shiver. "What are you going to do about it?"

"Be back at my door in five minutes," he barks. No trace of a smile on his face. "Oh, and take off those ratty sweats and put on a pretty dress for me. Don't even think of being late."

He walks away and his door closes firmly.

I gasp, heat washing my cheeks. I've never been spoken to that way. If it were anyone else, I'd give them a verbal backhand they'd never forget.

But James's words leave me tingling. Hot. Aching for his hands all over my body.

Off come the comfy gray sweatpants and law-school hoodie I lounge around in on the weekends. I rush to my closet and yank out my dresses for consideration. Most of them say

power. Take me seriously. No nonsense here.

Finally I pull out a pale yellow sundress from the back — an impulse buy — and slip it over my head. It's patterned with sunflowers. Sweet and girly, it bares my arms, hints at my cleavage, and comes to mid-thigh.

Perfect. I finger-comb my hair and whip out the lipgloss, pouting at the mirror. Then I dash to James's apartment and knock — politely.

He opens the door. Instead of ushering me in, he stands in the doorway and lifts my chin with one finger.

"Are you sure about this, Kori?" he asks very softly. "Do you want to be punished? By me?"

Thank God the hall is empty.

"Yes," I whisper.

"What's your safe word?"

Excellent question. If only I could think straight right now.

"Chianti," I blurt, spying the wine rack behind him.

He nods. His voice hardens. "Clean up the mess you made."

Not what I was expecting. My cheeks burn as I bend over to gather the spilled newspapers and stuff them in the paper bag he's set out. I know he can see my panties as my short dress rides up. He can see the dampness, my excitement through the silky fabric — all for him. I let him look instead of kneeling down.

James stands with his arms folded, radiating disapproval, as I hustle to clean up. But the tent in his sweatpants —

he

didn't feel obliged to change — makes it clear that he's enjoying the show.

When his welcome mat is spick and span, he takes the bag and opens his door.

"In you go."

I scurry inside and the door closes behind me with ominous finality.

"Stand on the carpet." He points to his immaculate cream-colored carpet. "There."

My face flames. I do as I'm told.

James circles me, inspecting my body from every angle.

"Very good."

With one finger, he tugs down the strap of my light dress to expose my bra. I shiver from the fleeting touch.

"Take your bra off. You don't need that here."

Holy shit. One touch on my shoulder and he's telling me to take my bra off?

Flushing, I unzip my dress partway and slide the straps off my shoulders. I duck my head girlishly, letting my curly hair fall over my face, as I unhook my bra.

"Look at me, Kori," he orders. "Don't take your eyes off me."

A whimper escapes my lips. I'm already unbearably aroused. I raise my head to meet his hazel eyes, which are narrowed in concentration. On me. Only me.

Slowly I peel off my bra and let the lacy cups fall to the floor, baring my breasts.

"Later, you'll pick that up," he says softly. "Right now, don't move."

I hold onto my pretty yellow dress, bunched around my waist, as he stares at my full, heavy breasts. He traces one finger over my tight, sensitive nipple, teasing the dark bud, and I jump. When his warm hands close over my breasts, a long, wanton moan drops from me.

"Such sweet little tits," he murmurs. "I'm very pleased."

I squirm, crossing my legs, trying to rub my thighs together. "Little" is the last word that's applicable here. And yet it's so fucking perfect at the same time.

I cry out as he cups my breasts fully, massaging them. Too soon, he lets go.

"Put your dress back on and get over my knee."

Jesus. Oh, Jesus. I scramble to obey, zipping up my flimsy dress up to cover my bare tits. James sits down on his couch in his T-shirt and sweatpants like he has all the time in the world. Meanwhile, I'm shaking with arousal and we've barely started. Trembling, I lie down across his lap, my ass curving into the air.

In a sudden, breathtaking motion, my panties are pulled down to my knees.

Slap! Slap!

He spanks one round cheek, then the other. Over and over. Faster and faster. Not hard, but enough to sting.

"This is what Daddy does when you've been a bad girl," he says, in that low, menacing voice. More spanks. As I wriggle, he drops a firm arm across my waist to keep me in place. "This is what you need. Have you ever gotten the discipline you deserve, Kori?"

"Never," I quaver, shuddering with arousal.

"Then we have a lot of making up to do for such a naughty girl."

"No, Daddy, I'm good," I moan, and it turns into a gasp when his big hand slides between my legs.

"What do we have here, baby girl? I'm feeling a very wet, horny little pussy. Don't tell me you're turned on by your punishment. Are you creaming yourself on my lap because I'm

spanking

you?" Knowing fingers stroke my clit. I wriggle against him, angling my ass for more of his touch. I gasp when one finger gently probes my pussy, massaging the opening. "My, what a naughty little cunt you have." Another slap reddens my ass, just as a second finger works into my pussy, penetrating me, opening me. "Aren't you tight. Let me in, baby."

I moan with need. More spanks rain down on the curvy cheeks of my ass. James's hand on my pussy feels so good, and his hand on my ass stings so bad. I'm caught on a tightrope between pain and pleasure.

"Horny little girls deserve to be taught a lesson." His voice is soft and dangerous. "Especially my little girl."

My head bounces up. I peek over my shoulder.

"Oh really?

Your

little girl? I'm yours?"

He breaks character for an instant, his face first startled, then flooded with the sweet grin I know and love. It warms me with delicious heat, making me crave whatever he has to give. Then his eyes narrow, and his words smolder.

"Absolutely. You came over. You put yourself in my hands. You're offering your delectable body to me. Every inch of it, to toy with and punish as I please. I've been wanting you for months, never dreaming you would have such naughty, slutty,

dirty

little needs. You're mine now. And do I ever have my work cut out for me."

I'm panting, swept up in the current of his words. He's offering so much, and I want it all.

One last smack lands on my ass. My panties are tugged over my ankles and tossed on the floor with my bra.

"Get up. Take your dress off."

I rise unsteadily, soaked and excited. Shaking, I unzip my dress and let it fall to the cream-colored carpet. James grips my hand and leads me naked into his bedroom.

The curtains are drawn. The room is dark, with only a few flickering candles for light. He must have taken those five minutes to prepare too. Beside the bed is an oddly shaped padded table, covered in a soft cloth. I can't stop looking at it.

"Lie face-down on the table, baby girl," he says softly.

He helps me up. It's something like a massage table — if a massage table had a dip where your knees go. My legs are below my upper body, but supported. My puffy nipples rub against the soft cloth. My toes curl, and I clutch the front of the table.

"Spread your legs. Show Daddy your pussy."

I obey instantly, wanting him to see how turned on I am.

"Now hold very, very still."

Rope, smooth but strong, quickly binds my wrists and ankles to the table's legs. My elbows are bent, so I can lift my head and upper body, but the restraints don't budge.

I'm a little scared, and it only sharpens my need. My pulse is pounding, and even though I'm tethered, I feel like I'm flying.

"Look at that luscious pussy." A wet slap lands on my sensitive flesh. It strikes my clit, and I gasp. "Just begging to be filled."

"Please, please..." I babble.

Something big and firm presses against my tight opening. His cock? No, it's too hard. Too smooth. I buck as the toy pushes into me, but there's nowhere to go. James twirls it, working it in and out one agonizing inch at a time. My pussy gets more and more slippery to accommodate the girth of the toy.

It's probably no thicker than a cock. But the shape and the angle — and the many months since I've had sex — all combine to make it seem huge.

It's so fucking good. So full.

"Good girl," he croons. "Taking all of that in your naughty little cunt." He strokes my ass, opening the rounded cheeks. "Now it's time for you to really learn your lesson."

I cry out when cool, slippery lube squirts onto my asshole. A rubbery tip probes the dark pucker.

"Sshhh. Trust Daddy."

His order, confident and reassuring, is exactly what I need. I sigh and relax, yielding as James slowly, firmly pushes the plug into my ass. It's slick with lube, and my ass is so sensitive, alive to the size as it flares out, then narrows and settles in place.

"How do you feel, sweetheart?"

"Stuffed," I moan.

He laughs softly. I can't believe how full my pussy and ass are. It's arousing and uncomfortable and just this side of too much. I'm beyond wet, my clit begging for his touch, and as he massages my ass, teasing my pleasure higher, I try to squirm in my bonds.

But he's tied me so securely, I can't. I'm scared and safe and shatteringly aroused all at the same time.

"James..." I gasp.

"Kori," he murmurs. "Sweetheart."

Then he turns on the vibrator in my pussy. And he starts spanking me again.

He builds up, but it's quickly overload. I'm sobbing, sweating, my hair plastered to my forehead as he sets my body aflame. The sensations blur together. He's everywhere, filling me, striking me, possessing me inside and out. He's giving me so much, more than I ever thought I could take, and yet I crave him. My need for him takes me over.

Sensations break the surface: my soaking cunt, clenching the buzzing vibrator, on the exquisite edge of coming. My sensitive asshole, eagerly clutching the plug. My needy tits, nipples tight and aching, pressing against the soft cloth and firm table. My wrists and ankles, straining their bonds. James's palms, schooling me over and over as he smacks my ass.

When he stops, my cheeks quiver and smart with hot, glowing aftershocks.

The only sound is my panting — and his. He steps in front of me, naked to the waist and soaked in sweat. His short hair is plastered down, the touches of gray glinting in the dim light.

Our eyes lock. We say nothing.

He sheds his sweatpants.

His engorged cock, flushed red, springs out and brushes my full lower lip. A hand grabs my hair, the big palm covering the back of my head.

He doesn't have to give an order. I know exactly what he needs.

His cock is deliciously thick and hot. I suck eagerly, swirling my tongue over his veined shaft, tasting his satiny skin, lapping up the salty precum at his firm, curved tip. He gasps, his control straining at the seams. I want to savor James, but he's fucking my mouth, his rhythm jerky.