Page 35 of Bound to the Daddy

In the background, I still hear the annoying beeping but try to ignore it as I attempt to recapture the image burned into my brain. He loomed above me, one hand on my throat and his other playing with my pussy. It was rough, raw, and the best damn pleasure I’ve ever had… even if it was fictional.

But it’s gone.

Like a puff of smoke, it drifts off into the ether, leaving me feeling confused and guilt-ridden. I shouldn’t be thinking of him like that. I should be lusting after Brody. My boyfriend Brody. Not his father. Ugh. When did everything get so complicated?

Well… not like it takes a genius to figure that one out. From the moment he spanked me about a week ago, I’ve been a wreck. And now, every time I’m in his space, all I can think about is his hands on my body again.

It’s an insanity so intense I wonder if I need to find a therapist again. I’m sure Mr. Rothsbourne won’t mind paying for that. He seems certainly content with paying for everything else.

I crack my eyes open and peer about the room, groaning as I fumble for my phone to turn it off. For a split second, I debate glaring at the thing, but that won’t do me any good. Even though my body begs for me to go back to sleep and think delicious thoughts of Daddy Rothsbourne, my mind is a whirl.

Definitely not a good sign. Things had quieted down for a bit, but now, my brain just can’t shut off. Try as I might, I continue to go about in circles until my breath catches in my throat and my muscles seize up. Am I bad enough for my pills?

It’s the question I ask myself every time I go into a panic spiral. I only have so many left. Once they’re gone… I’d like to think Mr. Rothsbourne would help me get an appointment and more meds, but I don’t know him well enough to trust him like that.

It doesn’t matter that he’s buying me everything I could ever hope to want to have. In my mind, they’re all rather expensive strings tying me to him. But why? That’s what keeps me up at night. What makes him want to take care of me like this when even Brody doesn’t seem to care?

Shaking my head, I glance about the room, my stomach in knots. Though so many things in here are familiar, it’s stillnot the same. It’s not my old apartment. The south wing is monumentally bigger than where I lived before, overshadowing it by far.

Some of the things in here are mine, but most aren’t. Mr. Rothsbourne only allowed me to grab the things most important to me. It’s sad how little in that small apartment actually felt important. Photographs and small memory tokens only take up so much room.

The bed isn’t mine. The sheets aren’t mine. For the most part, the clothes aren’t mine.

But who am I to complain? Who in their right mind would be upset about leaving meaningless junk behind? The problem is, it’s my junk. It’s what’s familiar. I can certainly live without it, but now that it’s all probably trashed and discarded, I find that I miss it.

He did his best. He asked me to list everything I left behind so I could get something newer and better. The hulking Alpha claims everything in here now belongs to me… but these things still don’t feel like mine. They will probably never feel like mine.

A ragged cry drifts from my lips as I fist the sheets in my hands. The thread count is so high, I usually hate even sleeping on them. Unfortunately, it’s the only thing in reach. If I chew my nails, he’ll know. If I claw at my skin, even if it’s hidden by clothes, somehow, he’ll know.

I’m trapped in a gilded cage with no lock on it. Yet it’s confining all the same. Turning to my side, I stare out the window, watching the sun play against the leaves. The shifting colors give my mind something to latch onto, something that’s not destructive.

By the time my phone buzzes, my breathing comes a bit easier. Nine AM. Like clockwork.

Rex

Good morning, Stephanie

Do not forget that you have your massage appointment at 12. At 1:15, you have your manicure and pedicure. I will be out for most of the day, so feel free to just relax and enjoy yourself. We will have dinner promptly at 6. If you require anything, one of the servants will attend you.

A soft smile tilts up my lips as I run my finger over the screen. As much as I hate being confined like this, it does help to know that Mr. Rothsbourne has me in his thoughts.

Gone are the frantic days of rushing out the door to be somewhere. Gone are the times where I’m almost late just because things slipped by without me noticing. Now, he’s prompt to remind me, allowing my brain to relax and not have to worry about what I’m forgetting.

Stephanie

Thank you. Is my car repaired yet?

Where do you need to go? My driver will take you after he drops me off at work.

The smile quickly turns into a frown. This is certainly one of the main downsides.

What if I wanted to go somewhere scandalous? I’d prefer my own car for that.

Again, where would you go? Perhaps it’s somewhere I know. I can get you VIP seating.

Ugh. So not the point.

Forget it. I’ll just hang out here all day. I guess.

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