Cry for Daddy by Ava Sinclair

Author:Ava Sinclair [Sinclair, Ava]
Language: eng
Format: epub
Publisher: Click here for a FREE DADDY BOOK
Published: 2019-09-22T16:00:00+00:00

Chapter 20

Maisie

In the warehouse, Daddy told me he was a monster. He told me he was capable of cruelty. When I asked him what sin he was guilty of, he told me it was the sin of being born.

I’d believed him. I’d believed him to be bad and twisted and selfish. But the man who made love to me last night is different. I’ve lived largely by instincts; as a child I could walk into a new home and immediately know who in the family was good, and who might be a danger. Last night in the rare, raw moment that I’d dropped my assumptions against Daddy, I got a glimpse of who he is. He fucked me with such sweet desperation, like a man starved of something, like a man starved of connection, of love.

Who are you?

That question remains, even if I awoke this morning feeling better than I’ve felt in years. To cry so hard had been to purge the toxins in my soul; the joining of my body with the man who pushed me to finally shed the tears I’d been holding for so long left me feeling like I was more than just a possession; I was a companion. Even if this is unconventional, it’s beginning to feel like something I can accept.

He wasn’t in bed when I woke up. He’d left a note, though. Daddy loves you, it read. I’d rolled onto my back, wincing. My bottom was sore from the spanking. My pussy was sore from the pounding of his big cock. But tears came to my eyes— tears of happiness this time— as I’d read the words he wrote.

I was happy to see breakfast arrive. Daddy must have told the cook to make it an especially sumptuous one to celebrate my return to being his pampered little girl. Belgian waffles topped with a dollop of sweet cream. Thick link sausages nearly bursting from their casings. Plump berries. Fresh squeezed orange juice.

I imagined a scowl on the cook’s face as she prepared the meal. Then I’d recalled what she’d said. Urchins and strays. It’s so tempting to put the questions raised by those words out of my mind, to return to a state of childlike faith in another person. Daddy loves me. I can feel it. But the cook alluded to others, and this bit of information is part of the mystery surrounding my situation.

My misgivings don’t stop me from enjoying the food, though. Daddy’s right. There’s nothing like a period of denial to make you appreciate luxury. The maid has laid out my clothing for the day on the bed. There’s a plaid skirt, white cashmere sweater, blue thigh high stockings and cute Mary Jane shoes. There’s even a red bow for my hair. I’d never thought I’d be okay dressing like a preppy teen, but I can hardly wait to don my new outfit. When I’m dressed and standing before the mirror, I see someone transformed. I see someone clean and pretty.

For

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