Page 7 of Daddy's Bad Girl
Holy shit, that was amazing. It was beyond amazing. It was fucking filthy, and I still can’t believe what I saw because the blonde girl was sweet, sensual, and innocent while at the same time doing one of the craziest acts I’ve ever seen.
Of course, it wasn’t that crazy, don’t get me wrong. I’ve been around the block a couple times now, and I’ve seen shit that would make a grown man cry. But my tastes run towards the young and curvy, and not the old and decrepit. I like big breasts, a wet twat, and most of all ... the willingness to explore your innermost desires.
After all, modern society has fucked people up. They stay behind their phones all day, afraid to show their faces except in anonymous forums. They become incels, devoid of sunlight and raging at the world from behind a screen. Even worse, a lot of people are afraid to honestly acknowledge what they want from life. They’re so afraid of being judged that they wear masks to hide themselves. I don’t mean an actual mask made of paper and cardboard. I mean a mask consisting of a fake smile, a polite nod, and a willingness to go along with the spiel of marriage, two point five children, and a house with a white picket fence. I think that’s why there’s such an epidemic of depression, anxiety, and other mental illnesses. People need to be honest with themselves about who they are, what they want, and how to go about it.
Of course, it’s easier said than done when you’re a billionaire who doesn’t give a fuck what other people think. White picket fence? Two point five kids? I just hope I don’t have a hundred illegitimate bastards running around town that I’m unaware of. But still, I’d say that a lot of people, despite having the means, don’t even know what they want. They spend their lives seeking this and that, hoping to god to find direction. It’s a fucking shame, if you ask me, when there’s so much to enjoy in the world. Relax, my man, I want to tell them. Live a little. Indulge.
But it’s clear that the beautiful blonde doesn’t have that particular problem. She’s gorgeous. Uninhibited. Desirable. She’s a woman in touch with her womanly needs, and I respect that. In fact, I adore it and I have to have it.
Slowly, I make my way up the stairs, visions of the sassy girl still playing in my mind. I need to find her again, but how? Fortunately, at the top of the stairs, a male attendant awaits me.
“Mr. Blackshaw,” he says in a low voice, bowing his head. “Greetings. I’m sorry to disturb you, but a woman inquired about you.”
I pause for a moment, my foot already on the last step.
“Really,” I muse. “Which one?”
“The young one,” he says immediately. “Blonde and beautiful.”
I shoot him a wry look.
“Casper, my friend, young, blonde and beautiful describes a lot of the ladies at this joint. Which one specifically?”
The attendant nods deferentially, clasping his hands.
“The one in the restraint chair, using a machine with a dildo attachment. She departed the Red Room just two minutes ago.”
I nod slowly, a plan coming to mind.
“Ah yes. Her. What did she want?”
“She just wanted to know your identity,” the attendant murmurs, his eyes still fixed on the ground. “But I didn’t say.”
I nod.
“Thank you,” I say before pressing a hundred dollar bill into his hand. “Fortunately, I found her attractive as well. What did you say her name was?”
“I didn’t,” Casper murmurs, palming the Benjamin. “But she’s Emma Kincaid, and I believe you can find her in the second floor lounge momentarily. She’s about to go on shift.”
“Thank you,” I nod again before making my way down the hall and into the first floor smoking room. Fortunately, the fucking chimneys who usually light up aren’t there at the moment, although the place still smells like smokestack. I pause for a moment before formulating my plan. Then, a smile creeps over my face because Emma Kincaid is about to get the ride of her life ... and it’s not going to be on a machine this time.
6
Emma
I inhale deeply, my eyes closed, in the women’s locker room. My scene in the Red Room was intense, but it was much-needed, and I’ve never felt better. My body is loose and relaxed, and my mind clear. I feel reenergized, rejuvenated, and restored too. I feel like I could go for another all-nighter of Red Bulls and studying, but instead, I’m headed to the second floor lounge of the club in order to begin my waitressing shift. Ah, the irony of life.
But it’s okay because I appreciate what Club Z does for me. These sessions center me, and I feel like I’m the most authentic version of myself when I’m at the club. The other Emma Kincaid who lives in the outside world is practically a stranger to me at this point. She’s someone who smiles, talks, and laughs, but it’s all fake. She does what people expect, while on the inside, the real Emma Kincaid is dying a slow death.
But in Club Z, the walls come down. I’m me. The real me. I don’t have to pretend about what I want, or how I’m going to go about getting it. I still have to smile and laugh with the clientele, don’t get me wrong, but it’s not forced because this is what I want to do, and I’m happy to come to work, if that makes any sense. I look forward to my time here, and become the best version of myself when I’m on shift. It’s sad because working at Club Z is the opposite of what would be considered “appropriate” for a woman my age. Hell, it’s inappropriate for anyone, period. Instead, it’s my life outside that gets all the accolades, from my pre-med studies to the volunteer work that I do at the hospital, to the road races that I run as my hobby. Obviously, it’s all about appearing normal, whereas the real Emma Kincaid is kinky, naughty, and off-the-wall. But I can’t show it for fear of being judged.
A slight sigh escapes my lips. These thoughts are only getting me down, and I shake my head in the mirror before checking my outfit one last time. I can’t think like this because it’ll only make me hate myself and my life, even more than I already do. Better to put it out of my mind for now, at least. With another wry smile at my reflection, my fingers adjust my outfit, ensuring that everything’s in place.
At least my appearance is on point. My skin is glowy and flushed from the orgasm earlier, and my blue eyes are wide and inviting. Plus, I’m dressed sexy, but not over the top by Club Z standards. A plaid mini-skirt decorates my hips, stopping a few inches below my sweetest spot, and my girls are contained in a leather bralette that shows off their size and swing. My hair flows in a golden river down my back, and my make-up is light, with just a touch of lipstick and blush. But most of all, it’s my energy. I’m so happy and relaxed after the Red Room scene that I feel that I can conquer the world. Clients will be able to feel it too. They’ll be drawn to me like bees to honey, and I’m expecting to fend off quite a few men tonight.
With that, I exit the women’s locker room and walk down the carpeted hallway to an elevator at the end. Then, I get into the gilded cage, which pops me out at the staff entrance of the Lily Lounge on the second floor. Perfect. Taking a deep breath, I enter the darkened space and smile.
“Hey girl,” Julia greets over by the bar. “You look amazing.”
