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Meg was perfect. Beautiful and strong with an underlying current of innocence that made me want to do all manner of depraved things to her. My shaft was still rock hard from how brightly she’d flushed when I’d announced she would call me Daddy.
I meant it, too. I wanted a woman who would be vulnerable with me, a woman who would allow me to take care of her in every possible way. Before the apocalypse, I’d enjoyed a few DDlg relationships, and I longed for the deep intimacy of a daddy-little girl dynamic again.
Meg was all alone. Just like me. Did she crave companionship? Given the hope that had sparked in her eyes when I’d spilled my guts and announced I was looking for a life partner, I thought perhaps she did.
There was a dark part of me that wanted to lock her in my bunker and keep her there forever, never allowing her to venture to the surface again, just so I could keep her all to myself.
So I could keep her completely safe.
But while I might keep her locked in the bunker during a zombie horde migration or a raider attack, I couldn’t in good conscience keep her as a prisoner year-round. However, I vowed to do whatever it took to keep her safe and healthy and happy.
I realized we’d just met—we were strangers—but I couldn’t deny the possessiveness I already felt for this tiny young woman who’d tried to steal carrots. There was something about her mere presence that made the world feel less desolate.
Hell, when I was touching her, I could almost forget about the zombies, the collapse of society, and the massive asteroid that was due to hit Earth in a few decades. Somehow, none of those terrible things mattered if only I could be near her, basking in the softness of her skin as I listened to her steady breaths.
I continued holding her hand as I guided her inside the farmhouse. “The bunker is just this way,” I said, glancing down to admire her lovely features. Her face was sun-kissed and lightly freckled, and she had the cutest little upturned nose.
Once we were better acquainted, I imagined I would plant many a spontaneous kiss on that nose of hers. Truth be told, everything about her was adorable.
I wanted to cuddle her on my lap and read her a story while brushing my hands through her golden hair. Then I wanted to take her to bed and ravish her to completion again and again, to make her good and tired so she would sleep through the night.
My mind conjured all manner of intimacies we could enjoy, including how I might handle her if she misbehaved. If she agreed to be my little girl, I would be a strict but loving daddy to her. If she broke a rule, put herself in danger, or showed me disrespect, I wouldn’t hesitate to take her over my knee and redden her bottom.
Once I guided Meg to the center of the living room, I set her backpack down and gestured at the wooden floor. Normally, I kept this area covered by a rug, but in my haste to intercept the beautiful carrot thief, I hadn’t taken the time to hide the secret entrance of my underground lair.
“Right here. Welcome to my bunker.” I gave her hand a quick squeeze.
She squinted at the floor. “Wow. I can barely see it. In fact, I wouldn’t have noticed the tiny door unless I was looking for it. So far, I’m impressed.” She extracted her hand from mine and knelt on the floor, running her fingers over the tiny, circular ring that would pull open the hatch. She gave it a huge tug, only for nothing to happen.
“You have to type in the secret code before it’ll open,” I say with a nod at a painting that hung a bit crookedly on the wall.
She rose to her feet and sashayed over to the painting, then pushed it aside to reveal the control panel. “This had to have been installed before the zombie outbreak,” she said with awe tinging her voice.
“Indeed it was. I’m what people used to call a prepper, I guess you could say. Before the zombie outbreak, that is.”
“A prepper?” She turned to face me, confusion flitting across her face. “Never heard the term before.”
“Well, I imagine you were quite young when the outbreak happened. I was about thirty years old back then, and I’d recently inherited my grandfather’s farm. I fixed the place up and turned the cellar into a top-of-the-line bunker. It was always my plan to ride out the end of the world here.”
“You knew the zombie outbreak would happen?” She shot me a disbelieving look.
“Not exactly, but I always thought society would collapse one day, or that perhaps there would be a great war or maybe a terrible plague, and I wanted to be prepared.” Sadness panged in my chest as I remembered how most of my friends used to tease me about my prepper ways. And how my last relationship had ended because my girlfriend thought I was too preoccupied with conspiracy theories and stocking my bunker with nonperishable foods. She’d wanted me to sell the farm so we could move closer to the city. When I’d refused, she’d packed her bags and left. I gave my head a brief shake, trying to banish the dark memories.
“You okay?” Meg asked, stepping closer.
“I’m fine,” I said, not wanting to admit what an outsider I used to be. “Would you like to see the bunker? Or would you prefer a tour of the house first?”
She tilted her head to the side for a few seconds, appearing deep in thought. God, I loved how expressive she was. I couldn’t look away. “Well,” she said in a humorous tone, her luscious pink lips forming a smirk, “how about a tour of your house first. While I’m very curious about your bunker, I think it’s best I get to know you a little better first. How do I know you won’t try to lock me down there and keep me as your pleasure slave?”
I chuckled, and the sensation felt strange. How long had it been since I’d truly laughed? A long damn time. I peered at Meg with a growing sense of wonder and hope, as though she were my salvation.
“Between you and me, I think I’d make a terrible pleasure slave. I don’t follow instructions very well and I’ve been told I’m argumentative.”
I laughed again, and I soon found myself closing the space between us and grasping her hands. I peered down at her calloused hands, so tiny in my grip. To my gratification, not only did she remain still and allow me to keep touching her, but she flushed and her breath caught.
Hope soared within me knowing she felt it too—that spark between us. The buzzing chemistry that promised to be explosive.
“As much as the idea of you becoming my pleasure slave makes my dick hard, Meg, that’s not the kind of relationship I want. I’m a daddy to my core. It’s in my nature to cherish and nurture the woman who belongs to me. The little girl who belongs to me. I very much hope you’ll be that little girl. I hope that by the end of this interview, you’ll agree to be my babygirl.”
