Part 1: Annie’s Secret

Good girls will fool you every time, if you let them. Annie was good and no matter how much I looked for cracks in her porcelain I couldn’t find any. Never had to tell her something twice, never saw her lift her chin and look down her nose because she wasn’t happy with some declaration I’d made. I knew she was for me the moment I slipped my hand into hers. We were synergy electrified. 

More often than not she stayed with me weekends and I sent her off to school on Saturday mornings. We had a routine, I dropped her off at the train and met her in the early evening. She’d show up exhausted, tell-tale signs of paint still on her finger tips, maybe the inside of her forearm. But she always greeted me with a smile on her face, stood up on tiptoe and whispered “Daddy” in my ear. The word tumbled off her tongue and slipped in to grab me.  I could hardly wait to get her home, looking down into those dark green eyes and feeling her soft baby breath against my thumb as I pressed the pad deep into the center of her pink lip. When she was charged it was all I could do not to press her up against the car and slide my hand up her skirt and take her right there.

She knew it. Good girl she might be, but that never stopped her from teasing me. I didn’t mind it, because I always got what I wanted in the end.

Lately, though, she was restless. It wasn’t anything she said. No acting out. No misbehaving. But something was different. We were about six months into this dance and I expected there would be adjustments. I was suspicious Friday night when I nearly tripped over her messenger bag. Cursing her carelessness I shoved it to the side with my foot. It wasn’t like her; she usually put things exactly where they belonged. I teased her about her OCD that was extraordinarily selective. It didn’t extend to her cosmetics scattered over the bathroom counter, or the hair ties she was constantly putting in and out of her hair and leaving like bread crumbs all over my house. Well. I never said Annie was perfect, did I? The thought made me smile. I’d take her over my knee before bed and make her repeat the rules while I warmed her. Not for punishment, but for reinforcement. That was always good for both of us.

As I reached out to flip the bag closed I caught the flash of a blue carton and the whiff of something pungent. My fingers slipped in fishing out the tiny box. I didn’t really understand why they were here. I wanted to believe that they belonged to a friend. Isn’t that what kids tried to pass off when they thought they were in trouble? Funny thing was, Annie didn’t smoke and I knew it. I would have smelled it on her, on her clothes, tasted it on her tongue and she never tasted or smelled like any of that. I ran my thumb across the smooth cellophane still intact over the box. Gauloises. Blonde. Well, if she was going to do it, this seemed like something she would choose. French cigarettes.

I didn’t want her smoking, but I admit the thought of catching her mid-drag, the look on her face when her auburn eyebrows would shoot up to crinkle that smooth forehead, was appealing. 


That’s what she was for me in our fantasies. And I liked her that way. Still, that fantasy was a far cry from her actually damaging her health. I needed to bring it up with her, but it was late, and she had an early train ride in the morning. I dropped the box back in the bag and buckled the soft leather over the top.


I looked up from my crouch and there she was, standing in the doorway, the light from the hallway filtering through her sheer baby doll nightie. I could see the curves of her figure a dark silhouette, one hip jutted out to tempt me. She pressed the tips of her painted toes against the dark wood floorboards and arched her foot absently. Her long hair parted on either side of her head tucked behind her ears in two low ponytails, the edges curling just above the swell of her breasts.

“Ready for bed?”

She nodded slowly as I stood and walked toward her. Her gaze traveled past me and down to the bag neatly pushed against the baseboard. Her eyes narrowed for a second. She blinked and looked at me and I had to hand it to her. She played the innocent card well. I’d never caught her in anything remotely like a lie and I wondered now if she might not have me wrapped around her finger, after all. I bristled inside at that thought.

But right now, she was looking at me and pressing those perfect white teeth into the center of her lower lip. I couldn’t hold myself in anymore. I reached out and placed my palm flat against her breastbone and pressed her until she backed up against the wall, my mouth coming down over her hard. I would devour her. She tasted minty from her night time routine. Her hair smelled like lavender, but it mingled with something musky and I knew this was her desire. My knee pressed roughly between her legs and she slid onto it, grinding softly. Her lips parted under me, over me and locked us tight together.

Breaking the kiss I looked down into her eyes, lids already at half mast, eyelashes sweeping soft against her freckles. Her breathing came quick and needy. I pressed into her cleft harder and she responded, her hips rocking, her shoulders still pressed to the wall. She was hypnotic. And she was mine. All woman. All girl. When my hand closed around the soft flesh of her throat she lolled her head to the side, groaning softly. 

Whatever she was or wasn’t up to, I would figure it out later. But tonight, Daddy had needs and they were going to be satisfied.


  1. whippedcutie says:

    Love your writing! Can’t wait to read future installments!

  2. MasterMolly says:

    Amazing! Thank you for sharing this with us!

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