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“I was going to say high-handed. But we could go with weird, but sweet too.” She giggles.
“He gave me rules.”
“Rules.” She laughs. “What kind of rules?”
Sighing, I rest my cheek in my hand. “If he texts, I have to reply, if he calls, I have to answer, and he seems to have a thing about making sure I eat, because he says I have to eat three meals a day, and he wants me to send him pictures.”
“Oh my god, he’s daddying you, that’s so freaking hot,” Octy gasps.
“He is not…daddying me. That’s not…no.”
“Oh my god, you could call him daddy. Does that do it for you? Do you think it does it for him?”
“Octy, you really have to stop reading all those daddy dom books,” I chide softly, rolling my eyes at her.
“Pah, you think they’re hot too. But you didn’t answer my questions,” she singsongs. “So, where’s Daddy Oz now?”
“Stop!” I shriek, but I’m laughing so hard there’s no real force in my words. “I am not and will never call him daddy. That’s definitely not something I’m interested in.”
“Urgh, boring,” Octy exaggeratedly scowls. “Daddy doms are the absolute hottest in books. If I can get Wednesday online again, the next time I hook up with a guy, I’m going to call him daddy to see if it does anything for me in real life.”
“Wednesday?” I question.
Arching her eyebrows, she smirks, then lifts her hand so it’s visible on the screen and points straight down. “I’ve renamed my pussy Wednesday, because right now she is really not perky.”
“Oh my god, Octy,” I shriek, then we both laugh so hard that tears fill our eyes.
Once we’ve calmed down, Octy waves her hands, fanning herself. “Okay, back to you. So, Oz is bossy?”
“He kissed me,” I blurt, unable to keep the truth to myself any longer.
“Oh my god, he kissed you?”
I nod. “And his dick was hard and…huge.” I let my eyes go dramatically wide, and Octy echoes my expression back to me.
“Remind me why you haven’t fucked him? Maybe if you took a ride on his massive cock, he could stop being the bogeyman for you.”
“I can’t fuck him. He was so awful to me when we were kids. I still can’t fly because of him, and I get panic attacks just thinking about the shit he did back then.”
“I can hear the but coming,” Octy prompts.
“But when he calls me a good girl, it does something to me,” I admit, immediately blushing.
“He called you a good girl?” Her voice is soft and kind of dreamy.
I nod. “He told me to behave too.”
“Wow. Why is that hot?”
“I don’t know, but it is, isn’t it?”
She nods emphatically. “So hot.”
“But now he’s gone.”
“Gone where?” she asks.
“Work. He left this morning before I woke up, and he’s gone until Wednesday, and I’m stuck in his house, doing what he tells me to and letting him watch me eat.”
