Total pages in book: 94
Estimated words: 88447 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 442(@200wpm)___ 354(@250wpm)___ 295(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 88447 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 442(@200wpm)___ 354(@250wpm)___ 295(@300wpm)
That was the image I’d chosen for Mark’s chat avatar.
Because he was my Daddy Bear.
It was about time he admitted it.
I’d had a long talk with Hannah and Joy, two amazing women who were friends with both myself and Mark. They told me I needed to lay it on the line with him. To go after what I wanted.
I’d given him eight weeks to fix things between us, eight weeks to take the initiative and invite me for once. I stupidly believed that, because Mark was so dominant, he needed to be the one to make the first move. So, I’d dropped hints that all he had to do was ask me, that I wanted to go to various places, but didn’t want to go alone. Not once did he suggest he could take me anywhere. I knew I was being obvious about hinting for a date, but either he was oblivious or he pretended not to notice.
Closing my eyes, I tried to push back the hollow, empty feeling that overcame me when I thought too much about Mark.
I ached for him. Ached for his touch, ached to be held in his arms, ached for a kiss. I was a healthy young woman who hadn’t been laid in far too long, and I had needs just like anyone else. Needs Mark was probably getting filled elsewhere. I wasn’t stupid—a man as sexual and commanding as Mark had to attract women everywhere he went. He just had this…aura about him.
I burped, grimacing at the taste of alcohol fumes.
I tried to date other men a couple times in the beginning of our…whatever the hell was going on between us. Mark acted jealous, not that he had much to be jealous of. Neither relationship ended up working out, and I found myself once again alone. When each relationship crashed and burned, Mark would be there for me. He’d dote on me and spoil me with compliments, make me feel pampered and cherished, before vanishing once again for whatever business came up.
Hot, cold.
On, off.
I was tired of riding the merry-go-round of his emotions.
For once, I would confront him and find out if there was any hope for us.
My heart ached as I imagined how good of a life we could have together. How nice it would be just to feel his hand in mine. What it would be like to submit to my Daddy Bear. A wash of heat went through me that had nothing to do with the booze in my belly. No, this heat was desire so thick, I found myself masturbating at least twice a day to rid myself of my tension.
Dreaming of Mark doing all kinds of wonderfully naughty things to me.
I stood up and moved over to my bookshelf, running my fingers along the brightly colored spines of various anime and graphic novels.
My fingernails, painted a sparkly pink with blue polka dots, paused on the title The Lord and His Mercy. It was an amazing steampunk graphic novel about a dominant old-fashioned English Lord—who solved crimes using his amazing inventions—and his assistant, Mercy, who was also his sub. Actually, she was his little girl—and I don’t mean that in a familial way. Mercy, a fully-grown adult woman, liked to play the role of a naïve young lady. She dressed up in uber frilly Victorian costumes, always paired with a latex corset, and looked like a doll with her big eyes and rosebud mouth. The effect was extremely erotic to me, as was the dynamic between the Lord and Mercy.
Out in the world, they were partners fighting crime, but behind closed doors, he demanded her complete submission and obedience. He’d dress her in these amazing fetish outfits, somehow made all the more obscene by her sweet, innocent looks. Images from the novel flashed through my mind—clamps on rosy pink nipples, a thick cock stretching her lush, little mouth.
It was one of the hottest things I’d ever read, and the illustrations were both graphic and painfully erotic.
A week ago, I’d sent Mark a copy and suggested he read it while he was in Miami.
I told him it was one of my favorite series.
Today, he finally returned home, and I was awaiting his call.
The butterflies in my stomach furiously beat their wings as I heard the familiar chime alerting me that ‘Daddy Bear’—as I’d labeled him on my computer—wanted to chat.
This was it. There could be no misunderstanding the message I sent when I recommended The Lord and His Mercy to Mark. It was pretty much BDSM fetish porn with a really good plot. For sure not something you’d send someone who you considered just a friend. I’d hinted my interest in BDSM to him before, in a joking manner, and he’d hinted back that he was into it. At least, I think he did. Once again, it was hard to say what was real and what my heart hoped to hear with Mark.