Page 22 of Daddy's Lesson

The thought of Lennon being here filled me with anxious excitement, while also making me want to run around in a frenzy cleaning everything, which was ridiculous since I kept an immaculate home. I sat frozen, unsure how to respond.

Zoe?

Hmmm?

That’s three.

I stared down at the message on my screen, wondering what he meant by that, racking my brain for something that made sense, and coming up empty.

Three what?

Three times I’ve asked you a question and had you not respond appropriately. You need to get in the habit of calling me Daddy before I get there, little girl.

A shiver ran down my spine, both at the veiled threat, and the endearment. I’d discovered I loved it when he called me ‘little girl’, even though I was anything but little.

Or maybe that was why.

My fingers hovered above my phone, my bottom clenching as I remembered the last time I had earned a consequence for not calling him Daddy. He’d made me wear that plug all day, until I’d gotten ready for bed that evening. After I’d pulled it out, he’d told me to wash it and put it in my nightstand so it would be there the next time I needed it. I wondered when that would be, and hoped it wouldn't be now. I didn’t think I could put it in myself.

As I contemplated what to write another text came through.

Have you been a good girl and refrained from touching yourself?

Yes, Daddy.

With a soft sigh, I sent him the answer I knew he wanted to hear. It was also the truth. Monday had been torturous, but not touching myself hadn’t been the bad part, because I’d never been one to do much of that, either. Ladies didn’t and all that.

Can I call?

Before I could say yes, the phone rang. My heart actually skipped a beat as I rushed to answer it.

“Hello?” My voice came out huskier than I expected, and I grimaced. I sounded like a phone-sex operator, I was sure.

Lennon didn’t seem to mind. “Well, hello there, little one.”

Oh god. It was even better when he spoke it in that honey-smooth voice of his. Wetness pooled between my legs, dampening the silk fabric of my pajamas.

“Hi,” I squeaked, cringing when my voice came out sounding like a teenage girl whose first crush had just noticed her.

“So you really haven’t touched yourself?” Lennon asked. There was a hint of disbelief in his voice, like this was the one rule he’d been expecting me to break.

“I really haven’t,” I confirmed. My voice lowered to a near whisper. “I don’t really… do that.”

There was silence over the line, like he either didn’t hear me at all, or he was still processing what I’d just said. I couldn’t decide which would be worse.

“Holy shit.”

It was an awe-filled exclamation, and my stomach sank.

Well, he definitely heard me, and now he’s going to decide he’s way out of my league and I'm too inexperienced to be bothered with.

“I just… never really got into it,” I defended.

“Do it now,” he commanded.

I’d just opened my mouth to speak, and it froze half-open. Surely, he didn’t really say that. I was imagining things, right? I had to be.

“I’m sorry?” I croaked. This certainly wasn’t how I saw our first phone call going.