Page 19 of Dear Glory

“I’m still debating honestly…” I glance back at him and he smirks but I glare. “More than this party that you’ve brought me too… why do you keep calling me a princess when I told you I don’t like it?” I purse my lips and his eyes run over me with question.

“Why do you hate being called princess? I think it fits you well,” he counters.

“Because princesses get trapped in towers and oppressed. I hate that kind of thing,” I spit, thinking he’ll get mad. To my surprise, he sits up, takes my head in his hands, and kisses my lips sweetly, staring at me intently. “W-what?” I stammer, trying to look away, but he forces me to keep eye contact.

“You are precious, just like a princess. You deserve to be adored, worshiped and doted on.”

“Th-then why not a queen?”

“Because queens have duty and obligations, Princesses get to sit around, play, and get fucked for being good girls,” he winks before letting me go and I feel my already dipping wet pussy juices soak his pants.Well… I guess being a princess doesn’t sound so bad.

I’m still dazed and in my thoughts when a group of women come over.

“Mr. O’Hara! Hi!” They gather around us, giggling in all sizes and ethnicities. Tall, big, small, short, Black, Asian… they’re beautiful, and their confidence is on another level.

“Babies,” he nods in greeting, and my body goes stiff.Did he just call women baby in front of me?

“We were standing by when you told Wolf that you’ll share later, and we were wondering when and if we can play too?!” the tall Asian lady with pigtails steps forward, clasping her hands together, pleading.

“Sorry ladies. I’m only making room for one time slot today so as not to overwhelm her… maybe next time.” He gives a thin-lipped apologetic smile and they deflate with a groan.

“Awww, maybe next time.” They grab hands and walk off, mingling with others.

“What was that about?” I question, but instead of answering, he lifts me so that I’m facing him and eyes me intently.

“What?”

“You just called them baby I front of me… I don’t like it,” I cross my arms pouting and he gently places kisses all over me.

“It’s not what you think Princess. In this lifestyle, a baby is just term used to identify a position a person carries. It is not necessarily a term of endearment, though for their partners it can indeed be used as a term of endearment.”

“Hmm, I see…”Is this some kind of club that only freaky people participate in?“S-so is Princess a moniker o-or a term of endearment with you?” I inquire and his eyes blaze.

“Both. You’re my Bratty Princess and it’s what I like to call you along with other things, like Glory, Glorious, Sir’s little slut,” he smirks but my mouth falls open, faltering, like the blue and grey loading bars on my computer when I try to boot that son of a bitch up…Did he just call me a slut?

“I don’t like being called out my name,” I warn him. “That will be your only warning,” I glare and he laughs like what I’m saying is funny or something, but I’m serious. I really hate being called out of my name. It’s one of my biggest pet peeves.

“My little slut isn’t me calling you out of your name. It’s well… it’s a term of endearment. You might not like it now, but when it is time and you’re in the moment, you’ll bask in it,” he winks and I don’t get him at all, but I know one thing… I like him…probably more than I should, considering he’s married.

But his cool confidence, his mysterious aura, and the way he never backs down even if I challenge him... the power the man wields over me without completely taking away my free will and choice makes my pussy quiver and drool for him.

He’s a man my dad could never intimidate. More than anything, he makes me drunk on him without having to have even the smallest sip of wine.

“Someone looks starved,” he chuckles, running his thumb over my lip, and stomach tightens…I want him…

“I am, Sir.”

“For what?”

“You, Sir,” I purr, laying my head against him, shaking, wanting him to touch me again.

“Well then, tell me what you want me to do.” He’s teasing me… he knows exactly what I want from him without voicing it, but like I said, I’m not one to back down from a challenge… even if it is embarrassing.

“I…I want Sir to touch me,” I answer.

“Where?” he fires off huskily with heavily lidded eyes.

“I—” I falter once again.Does he really want me to say it out loud?

---