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“Down here we have our lowest-tier rooms,” she begins as we enter a brightly lit hallway. “They are very simple, filled with basic amenities and very private, meeting the needs of many of our clients. This level gives you access to the room, along with any girl you please. If you decide you want moreindividual, tailored experience, we can discuss what upgrades are available to you.”
“Upgrades?” I repeat, half expecting her to ask me if I’d like fries with that.
She nods. “We have many variations to enhance your experience here. You can upgrade the room, the props, the girl, the number of girls. Or boys…you can even pay to have a girl or boy exclusively yours.” She smiles. “Some people don’t like sharing their toys. Some like sharing their toys withmanyother people.”
We go up to the second level where the rooms are bigger, fancier, and a shitload more expensive. One whole wall is lined with every kind of prop you could imagine, from whips and paddles to every type of toy invented. As nice as the rooms on this floor are, there is something about the floor below that really resonates with me.
There is one particular fantasy I haven’t been able to get out of my mind for days. Layla is sixteen and I’m sneaking into her room while her mum is fast asleep in our bed. Poor Layla is scared, her eyes clamped shut under her blindfold, as she bends over that little bed, waiting for Daddy to come in and fuck her hard from behind.
“Do you have any questions?”
Marianne’s voice knocks me back to reality. Shifting my position to hide my arousal. I shake my head, my lips tilting upward into a smirk. “How soon can I start?”
“Do you have the forms I gave you and your clean STD report?”
I pull out the results I received from my doctor earlier today, along with the forms she had given me to fill out yesterday, and hand them to her. She scans them and then gives me a satisfied nod.
“Then you can begin right now. What are you in the mood for?”
“Someone young, inexperienced and eager to please, preferably petite, dark hair and blue eyes, though I know she’ll be blindfolded. And I want her in one of the rooms downstairs.”
I press my lips tightly together, it not lost on me that I had pretty much just described my stepdaughter. I looked her up on social media the other night. Found her profile and stalked through a few of her pictures. Hell, I even stroked one out while scrolling through a few pics of her in a bikini. The damn thing was so tiny it barely covered her sweet little pussy.
Fuck, I hadn’t come that hard in a long time.
Now that I’m here, I thought why not make the most of these sick little fantasies I’ve been playing over in my mind with someone I can pretend is Layla?
Marianne nods confidently. “I think I know just the girl.”
* * *
I pause brieflyoutside the room, a flutter of anticipation rushing through me. I’m not nervous about what to expect behind this door—more curious than anything else. Honestly, I am just looking forward to being able to play out this fantasy and not having to feel ashamed about it. Turning the handle, I push open the door and step inside the small room. My eyes widen as I suck in a breath, because fuck me. This girl doesn’t just look like Layla.
Itisher.
Even with her eyes covered with a thick black satin ribbon, I know it’s her. No fucking doubt about it. She kneels before me, naked, apart from the blindfold tightly wrapped around her eyes, her beautiful curves, firm, rounded breasts taunting me, her sweet little nipples jutting out. She bites her lip, like she’s hesitantly waiting for me to say or do something, but I’m frozen on the spot. I’m so fucking turned on I can’t think straight.
How the fuck is this happening?
“Hello?”
Her raspy voice floats out from between her full, red lips, sounding somewhere between a question and a statement. I don’t reply, instead, l slowly circle her, taking her all in, my mind processing what I’m seeing before me.
My sweet little Layla…this isnothow I imagined running into you again.
It’s pointless even pretending that I am not going through with this, because I am. It’s the perfect scenario because she’ll never know it’s me and I will be able to do every little thing I've ever dreamed of doing to her since she was old enough to start looking like the woman she is now.
Does it make me a creep that I used to fantasise about my own stepdaughter like that?
Probably.
But at least back then, I was man enough to stop myself from taking it any further than my thoughts. Now things are different. She’s legal, for one. She’s here consensually, even if she has no idea it’s her stepdaddy who’s about to fuck her like she’s never been fucked. Who cares if I was the closest thing she had to a father while growing up?
My mouth waters; my fingers itch to reach out and touch her. She's mine for the taking, in this sterile room with people fucking and dancing and drinking behind every wall.
Her head tilts as I circle her, just following the sound of the motion. There are goose bumps on her upper arms and her nipples are hard against the cold air. I resist the urge to cover her with my jacket because I can't stand the thought of losing sight of any piece of her.
Besides…there are much better ways to warm her up.
