Daddy’s Healing Little Girl by Scott Wylder
CHAPTER FIVE
Candy
“Are we in a relationship?” I ask. Thaddeus looks up from his newspaper and raises an eyebrow. “Or are we just fucking?”
He frowns and says, “Watch your language, little girl.”
I smile. After something in the neighborhood of four months of sex nearly every day, he finally calls me that. “So, you do know how to call me that, Daddy,” I say, “and since you’re calling me that while we’re sitting at the dining room table, I guess it’s fair to say we’re in a relationship and not just having sex.”
He puts his paper down and lifts his coffee to his lips. He winces and puts the mug down and then stands up and gets the pot. “Warm up?” he asks as he pours coffee into his cup.
“You’re avoiding the subject, Daddy,” I say.
He sighs and says, “Can’t we just let things happen and see where they go?”
“We already know where it goes, Daddy,” I say, “It goes in my mouth just about every morning. It goes in my cunt just about every night and I figure eventually we’re going to try to put it in my asshole, too. That’s what happens when two people fuck all the time.”
“Damn it, little girl!” he says. “I just…” He chuckles when he realizes I’ve gotten him to call me little girl a second time. “I’m not going to stand here with the coffee pot in my hand,” he says, “so, tell me if you want a warm up and then I’ll sit down again and we can talk about it.”
“Yes, please, Daddy,” I say.
He pours coffee into my mug and puts the carafe back on the hot plate. He sits down and takes a deep breath. “I’ve really enjoyed the last few months with you,” he says. “You’re a very special girl.”
“Little girl,” I insist, “I’m a little girl, not just a girl.”
He nods. “I know, and I…” He takes another sip of coffee. “It’s hard for me to talk about this. I’m… What’s the word? I’m…”
“You’re hurt, Daddy. You’re hurt because of what your last little girl did to you.” I can see the shock on his face and I say, “When Lyrica picked me up, she told me you broke up with your last little girl and that’s why you were here, trying to get a fresh new start. We’ve talked about a little since then, and now I know you were engaged and she left you.”
He gets over his shock and nods. “Yes. Jocelyn was—”
“I’m not Jocelyn,” I say, “I’m Candace. Candy. I’m not her.”
“I know that,” he says, “but you have to understand something. She didn’t break up with me because she didn’t love me or because I did anything wrong. I was the Daddy she needed and she was the little girl I thought I needed. Then, her parents, who were thrilled about us getting married, somehow found out about the kink and she was so ashamed she broke it off.”
“I know that must have hurt a lot, Daddy,” I say, “but I’m not Jocelyn.”
“You’re missing the point,” he says, “because it’s not about how I feel about you or how you feel about me. It’s about how society sees us.
“No,” I say, “You’re wrong. That’s exactly the point. It isn’t about society and it wouldn’t be about society if it were just the two of us in a normal… not, not normal. They call it something else. God, what is it?”
“Vanilla?”
“Right. Even if we just had a vanilla relationship, it would be about the two of us and not society.”
“It’s not that simple.”
“Of course it is! I wouldn’t give a damn if people thought you were too old for me or I was too inexperienced. I wouldn’t care if someone said we were foolish or anything. None of that would fucking matter, and it doesn’t fucking matter that we have the Daddy/little girl relationship we have.”
“Watch your language,” he says.
“I don’t think I will,” I reply. “You’re so afraid of losing me that you’re losing me. If you want this, you need to go all in, it’s that simple. You don’t get to correct my language when you’re not even my Daddy. No. No more.”
“What are you saying?”
“Don’t play dumb,” I said. “If you want me, you can have me but you get me. You don’t get a girl to fuck and fall in love with but never take the next step with.”
“Watch your…” There’s silence and I shake my head and get up. “Can we at least talk about this?” he asks.
“I don’t know what there is to talk about,” I reply. “You’re either going to be my Daddy and I’m going to be your little girl or that isn’t going to happen. Unless you can find a magical way to do that without having to do that, I don’t know what to tell you.”
“But I love you Candy!”
I nod. I say softly, “And I love you, too, Thaddeus. That’s what makes this all so sad and so unnecessary. You and I could be happy together if you weren’t so afraid of being sad.” I start to walk to my room and then stop and turn around. “I remember when I was in fourth grade and my grandfather was sick. She’s gone now, Gramps, too.”
He looks at me and his face is pale. I understand he’s afraid of losing me, and I don’t have the slightest idea how to get through to him. I certainly don’t think the story about my grandma and grandpa is going to change anything. I give it a try anyway.
“So, he had a breathing problem. I was little. I don’t know all the details. It was very painful, though. In the hospital, the doctors gave him pain medication. Probably morphine back then, I guess. It helped things to stop hurting.”
“Okay,” he says.
“Anyway, one day she was talking to my mom. I was in the backseat. She said she was tired of him still being sick when the medication wore off. The medication made him feel better but the doctors weren’t working on fixing him.” He looks at me and I realize he doesn’t see the point. “I need you to listen to me,” I say.
“I’m listening.”
“I’m not going to be morphine anymore. It takes away your pain but it doesn’t heal you. Worse, you just get addicted to morphine and you don’t even care about getting healed. I can’t do that anymore.” I can’t bear to look at him anymore so I turn around and head up to my room.
I feel sick inside.
I feel horrible.
And that’s probably when he knocks on my door, I’m open to him when he says, “I understand what you’re saying. I don’t think I can change it but can we end on a good note? Can we maybe spend one last night together?”
I know it’s foolish. Hell, it’s more than foolish. It’s downright stupid. I say, “I’d like that,” and I resolve this will be it.
Period.
Last time.
After all, tonight isn’t just morphine for him but for me, too, and that’s no good. This will be the very last time. It has to be that way and I can’t back down from that.
And in the morning I decide the wake me up blowjob will be the last time.
What the hell is wrong with me?