Her Daddy, Dom, and Neighbor in One

Daddy paid special attention to her throbbing little clit. Her legs were not tethered, so she was able to arch and buck and grind to please herself...and to please him. Just as her release was about to thrum through her, Daddy pulled back.

"This is going to hurt pretty badly, little one," he said, his grin at odds with his seemingly gentle words of concern. "But my little girl loves her some pain. This I know," he said, his laugh dry. "As much as I love watching you writhe with that exquisite torment."

As the third pincher clasped her clit TIGHT, she hissed in a deep breath, mewling softly. "Cum, my sweet, gentle little girl. Cum for Daddy!"

In her dream, she cummed, her eyes going blind as her scream ended in her passing out.

***********

Dreams of her new Master continue to cause her to toss and turn for much of the night. At about three a.m., she gave up the fight and walked out on her porch, a glass of swee'tea cooling her hand...and, as she took a sip...her throat. Luckily, the day that would dawn shortly would be Saturday, and she did not have to worry about being her sparkling best.

A light on the porch at Max's house surprised her. "Hello," she hissed, trying not to wake up the neighborhood but still needing to be heard.

His laconic wave was the only response. Figuring he might be thirsty—or parched, as a Southern belle might say it, she ducked back inside to retrieve another glass of ice and the pitcher of swee'tea. Plus, she considered guiltily, she HAD slammed the door in his face when he came over to do a nice, neighborly thing.

"I hope I'm not interrupting," she began as she climbed the steps of his porch with her burden. He held up one imperious finger to indicate that he was busy with something. Cassie took the opportunity to set down his glass—now filled with tea—and the pitcher beside him on the table before settling in next to him—but not touching—on the porch swing.

Her newly unleashed "little" wanted desperately to sway in the swing, but she curbed it when she saw his forbidding glare.

Max, like her brother, was nine years older. And she was sure—somehow—that he had a sense of humor. He had just never revealed it to her. Max was more an older brother in terms of watching out for her than Zander was, though. He was the one who shooed away bullies and then a boy that got too handsy at her Senior prom. Max was also the one who went with her when one of her wild experiments in college led her to buy a pregnancy test and who hugged her close as she cried when it came out negative.

And now today's—yesterday's—secret that she hoped he kept. He looked down at her, dark brows furrowed over deep set brown eyes, and said in a sleep-roughened voice, "You should be in bed, asleep, Cassandra Abigail."

"So should you," she answered back tartly.

An angry tic seemed to be her only response. Uh, oh, she thought. Another lecture. Then, a dangerous glint appeared in his eye. "Unless that new toy of yours kept you awake."

Max grinned before taking a long swallow of tea. He let out a satisfied sigh.

"No," she ground out. "That's not why I couldn't sleep. It's too hot for sleep," she continued, omitting that it was her "hot" dreams of her new Master that kept her awake. "Besides, what are you doing at home? Shouldn't you be with Lucinda or Kendall or whatever flavor of the moment has your attention?"

"Little girl, don't bring up things you don't understand. Both of them are in the past. I have a new," he paused to give his words more emphasis, "flavor of the moment now."

Cassie rolled her eyes, causing Max to growl at her. "First of all, I'm not a 'little girl!' I'm twenty-five and a grown woman. And no woman wants to be referred to as 'flavor of the moment,' anyway!"

"Those were your words, Cass, not mine. And you are still nine years younger than I am, years too young for me. Although," Max broke off, speculatively staring into space as he remembered something, "my new 'flavor,' as YOU termed her, is your age. But she's a lot better behaved than you are."

To prove his point, Cassie stuck her tongue out at him. "As I said," he chortled.

"What are you doing?" she asked, realizing that his laptop was still open and seated, as its name suggested, on his lap.

"Nothing," he reacted by slamming his laptop screen shut.

Her eyes lit up. "What is it?" She made a mad grab for his laptop and ended up brushing her hands against an impressive bulge in his lap as he moved the laptop out of the way. Blushing, she fell back, her hand behind her back as if scorched.

"It's a whole load of none-of-your-business, little girl." His tone brooked no argument, but she offered one anyway.

"I'm NOT a little girl," she growled, but he merely patted her head.

"You are to me, little girl."

She gave in with ill grace. As usual, he always seemed to get the better of her.

Cassie looked down at her phone and nearly yelped with pleasure. Her Master had e-mailed her only a few minutes ago! It read:

Dear baby girl,

I am very proud of you. You were very brave to send me that picture. It was very provocative and aroused me greatly. Now, I need you to be brave once more. I want to see your face, particularly your eyes. Your eyes are the windows of your submission to me. I will send you a picture of me when you comply with this task. I will also send you my phone number so that you may call me, as needed.

"Daddy"

Cassie quickly found a selfie on her phone that she liked. In it, her eyes were luminous, a deep velvety brown, sparkling with life. She quickly clicked "send" with a kiss on her phone.

A few moments later, she heard Max's gasp—then his growl.

"What is it, grumble puss?" she queried, oddly anxious as he turned his glare on her. Then, "Max? What's wrong?" Hesitantly, she reached out to touch his shoulder which was quickly and definitively shrugged off.

He visibly swallowed. "Tell me, Cassie, please," he enunciated, each word deliberate and ground out, "what toy arrived yesterday afternoon?"

"Why?" She blushed. Why was it so important for him to know?

"Because I—I need to know." He appeared ready to add to this cryptic statement, but then he stopped, studying her with eyes that saw too much.

"Why?" Cassie truly didn't know; in fact she was looking at her phone with anticipation, sure her Master would be sending a picture of himself shortly.

"Was it a riding crop?" he snapped, and her head jerked up.

He sighed, seeing the answer there. "I thought so. I thought I knew the shape of that box, but I discounted it, thinking 'not you.' Not Cassie."

His eyes met her suspicious ones, and he couldn't speak further. Too many thoughts, too many emotions ricocheted through his mind. "Please don't tell Zander," she wheedled. In her embarrassment, that was her chief concern—that her brother and parents not find out.

Max laughed humorlessly. "THAT'S your only concern?" He threw up his hands. "You can guarantee I won't tell them. I couldn't possibly! No, your reputation with your family will remain pristine, Cassie—or should I say, 'Abby'?"

Dawning horror darkened her eyes. When he turned to his phone to show her the e-mail message that she had just sent to her Master with her picture, she bolted. "It's not possible! You can't be him! I'm not going to believe that!"

****************

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