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“Is it going to hurt when you rape me?” I whimpered, unable to stop the way my voice shook and my lower lip quivered with terror. My fingers curled into tight little fists and my nails dug deep into my palms.
“No, little girl. I won’t take you against your will,” he replied softly. There he was again. The Dean I knew. The Dean I’d stood at the altar with over a year ago.
“What are you going to do?” I pressed. I needed to know what was going to happen next.
His fingers flittered across the naked skin of my bottom and I jerked away the tiniest bit. I didn’t want him to touch me. I wanted him to touch me.
I didn’t know what I wanted.
What he wanted…
“You lied to me. You faked your story, your name, every single detail of your life was fabricated. You made everything up and then you stole from me. You were a very bad girl and now Daddy has to punish you,” he replied firmly.
Did he just say Daddy?
“What? Please, Dean. Just let me go. We can figure this out together.”
“No. I think it’s about time I stopped allowing you to call the shots. It’s time Daddy took control,” he added, and I could have sworn my belly dropped straight to my toes.
What the fuck did that mean?
His palm dragged over my naked cheeks and I pressed my thighs together even more firmly.
“You are a beautiful little thing, but you know that, don’t you?” he asked.
I didn’t answer.
He continued exploring my exposed backside, tracing his fingertips along the gentle curve of my hip and the lower arch of my spine before a single finger dragged down the cleft of my ass. My breath hitched in surprise.
“Has anyone ever taken you here before, little girl?” he questioned.
“No,” I balked. Of course no one had. I don’t know why I even dignified him with an answer.
“That’s not a proper answer, little girl,” he drawled. I grimaced. The pet name irritated me, but at the same time my pussy clenched hard every time that he said it.
“What the fuck do you mean?”
“Such terrible language coming from such a pretty little mouth,” he purred, and I didn’t like that insinuation in his tone. His fingers kept relentlessly touching me, stoking whatever sick arousal was rolling inside me. My chest shuddered as I struggled to draw in a breath, and it was with a mortifying tremble that I realized that I was beginning to press up against him. My body was seeking his touch.
I was responding to his cruelty and I didn’t know why.
“Please, just let me go,” I begged. I didn’t want him to know I liked this.
“When you’re being punished, little girl, you will refer to me as Daddy. If you don’t, you’re only going to make this worse,” he murmured.
His palm patted my left cheek, just lightly enough for it to echo all around me. I wasn’t sure why that made my heart seemingly stop, but it did.
He wanted me to call him Daddy.
“What?”
His words almost didn’t compute in my head. It made no sense. Maybe this wasn’t Dean after all. Maybe this was his evil twin, and this was all an elaborate ploy to get inside my head too.
“You will call me Daddy, little girl,” he repeated.
“Or else what?” I goaded.
“Have you ever been spanked?”
