The Institute: Daddy Issues (27 page)

“The chance to hold you,” he said ser­i­ously. “The chance to care for you and pro­tect you the way I have wanted to al­most from the mo­ment I first saw you.”

“You…you really feel that way?” I asked, my breath catch­ing in my throat.

Slowly, he nod­ded.

“When the Cap­tain first put us to­gether, you re­minded me of my young­est sis­ter. Not in looks—she has black hair and blue eyes, like me,” he ad­ded hast­ily. “But in size. You were so tiny—so del­ic­ate. I wanted at once to pro­tect you. But then…” He shrugged, his broad shoulders rolling with the move­ment. “Then I learned that you do not need pro­tec­tion. Nor do you want it. You wish only to be in­de­pend­ent wo­man who does not need any­one—who does not need a man. So what could I do?”

“I don’t know,” I whispered. “I guess…just be my friend?”

“This is what I did,” he said, nod­ding. “I did not think you would let me treat you in the way I wished to.”

“What way was that?” I whispered. I thought I knew but I needed to hear it from him.

Salt sighed. “I know you do not like to hear this but you are so little. So…per­fect. I wanted al­ways to pick you up and hold you—to cuddle you and stroke your hair as I am do­ing now.”

He stroked one big, warm hand over my hair and I shivered at the depth of need that simple touch stirred in me.

“Really?” I whispered.

“
Da.”
He nod­ded. “You said over and over how sick it was, this ‘Age Play’, while we were on our as­sign­ment. But then…you changed. At first I thought you were simply act­ing as we must in or­der to avoid sus­pi­cion. But then I began to hope…to be­lieve that you were act­ing in a way you truly wanted to act.”

“I was,” I ad­mit­ted in a low voice. “But I thought the same about you—that you were just act­ing.”

“I was at first.” He shrugged again. “But then I found that I liked it. I liked be­ing able to hold you and pet you as I al­ways wished to. And of course…” He looked at me dir­ectly, his eyes cap­tur­ing mine. “I have al­ways wanted to touch and taste you. Oh yes, I liked it—liked it very much.”

I felt my breath catch in my throat.

“I…I didn’t know you felt that way.”

“Now you do.” His eyes still held mine. “What do you wish to do about it…
mishka?”

“I…I don’t know,” I con­fessed. I felt like I had been given a present I had never ex­pec­ted and most cer­tainly didn’t de­serve. The idea that my part­ner was really into this kind of re­la­tion­ship seemed strange and un­likely but I wanted badly to be­lieve it was true.

Salt must have seen the ques­tions and doubts in my eyes be­cause he brushed his knuckles lightly over my cheek and mur­mured, “What is it, my darling? Tell me, what is the prob­lem?”

“There’s no prob­lem only…” I bit my lip. “You…you’re really into this? I mean, the whole ‘Papa and
mishka’
thing? You’re not just go­ing along with it for me—be­cause of what I told you?”

Salt pulled me closer—so close our fore­heads touched and we were look­ing deeply into each other’s eyes.

“I love be­ing your Papa,” he mur­mured, slip­ping his hand un­der my t-shirt to stroke the small of my back. “In any way you need. I love to hold you and cuddle you, to bathe you and wash your hair and take care of you in every way, if only you will let me.”

“And what about…other ways?” I whispered breath­lessly, pulling back so I could study his whole face. “What about the other ways you took care of me while we were at the In­sti­tute?”

He raised an eye­brow. “You mean the way I take care of you sexu­ally?”

“Well…yeah,” I said. “Don’t you think it’s, I don’t know,
weird
for me to call you ‘Papa’ while you go down on me or…or do other things?”

He shook his head.

“Not at all. We are two con­sent­ing adults—why should we not play this way if it gives us pleas­ure?”

“But maybe it shouldn’t give us pleas­ure,” I ar­gued. “Maybe it’s wrong…
sick
…”

“Andi,” he said ser­i­ously. “Are you think­ing of your bio­lo­gical father while we are do­ing these things? An­swer me hon­estly.”

“What? No!” I shivered. “Of
course
not.”

“Of course not,” he re­peated. “Which is one reason we de­cided you would call me Papa and not ‘Daddy’ as you called him. But you
are
want­ing a man to act in the way he did—to be pro­tect­ive, to give you se­cur­ity, af­fec­tion, safety. To give you
love,
” he said gently.

My heart began to beat harder but I tried to stay cas­ual.

“Well, I guess so.” I shrugged.

“And when are you able to open your­self to these other feel­ings?” Salt asked reas­on­ably. “When are you able to re­lax and let your­self feel sexual? When you feel safe, se­cure, pro­tec­ted and loved. Would you agree?”

“Yes. Yes, of course.” I was sur­prised that he’d ana­lyzed our situ­ation in such de­tail but maybe he had been think­ing about this as long as I had. “But what about what you told Berkley?” I asked, re­mem­ber­ing his words to the Dir­ector of the In­sti­tute. “You said everything they did there was sick and that it dis­gus­ted you.”

“I was speak­ing of the Please pro­duc­tion,” Salt said pa­tiently. “Of the way they were pump­ing out poison date rape drugs. This is what dis­gus­ted me—not the Age Play. Though they did take it to—how do you say? To the ex­treme.”

“Yes, they did.” I re­membered the thick black plug he had put in­side me and shivered a little.

In that un­canny way of his, my part­ner seemed to read my mind.

“You are think­ing of the plug,” he mur­mured, strok­ing a strand of hair away from my heated cheeks. “Or maybe the spank­ings I gave you—the ones where I used only my hand.”

“Yes,” I ad­mit­ted, bit­ing my lip.

“Tell me ex­actly what you are think­ing,
mishka,”
he dir­ec­ted in a low voice. “Tell me about the spank­ings first. Did you dis­like them?”

“I don’t know…” I looked down at my hands, feel­ing sud­denly shy. “I thought I did but…but they made me feel so…” I didn’t know how to put it. “They made my body re­act,” I ad­mit­ted softly.

“Did your pussy get wet?” Salt asked dir­ectly, his voice a low growl.

“Yes,” I whispered. “But I don’t know why.”

“Maybe be­cause Baby­girls need to be pun­ished at times.” He stroked my cheek. “But I do not think I wish to pun­ish you for a while. Not un­til you are over what I did with my belt.” He looked sud­denly ser­i­ous. “I still re­gret that deeply, you know.”

“I know,” I whispered. “And it hurt. But it was all you could do at the time.”

“I will not do this to you again,” he vowed grimly. “I would rather die than give you such harsh pun­ish­ment again, my darling.”

“Well…there
are
other ways to pun­ish,” I poin­ted out, feel­ing my face get hot again.

“So we are back to the plug.” He looked at me spec­u­lat­ively. “How did you feel about that,
mishka?”

“I felt…” I cleared my throat, feel­ing nervous. “I was scared at first,” I ad­mit­ted. “But then you made me feel so
good…”

“You mean when I tasted you?” he mur­mured.

“Yes,” I whispered. “Yes, when you tasted me.”

“And do you like it when your Papa goes down on you,
mishka?”
His voice was a deep, soft growl. “Do you like to spread your pussy for your Papa and let him lick and suck your sweet little clit?”

“Oh God…” Sud­denly I could hardly breathe, I was so turned on. My nipples were tight little points at the ends of my breasts and I could feel my­self get­ting wet and hot un­der the jeans and white silk panties I was wear­ing. I wanted to look away from Salt’s burn­ing eyes but some­how I couldn’t—I was caught in that pale blue gaze and un­able to free my­self.

“An­swer me,
mishka,”
he mur­mured. “Tell me if you like it when your Papa licks your pussy.”

“Yes,” I whispered, hav­ing a hard time get­ting the words out. “Yes, Papa, I…I like it very much. I
love
it.”

“And would you like to take off your jeans now and let Papa ex­am­ine your pussy and see if it needs to be licked?” he mur­mured.

“Ex…ex­am­ine me?” I whispered un­cer­tainly.

“Da—
it will not hurt, I prom­ise. I simply need to see if your sweet little pussy is get­ting wet and swollen—ready to be tasted.” Salt traced a slow, lazy pat­tern with his long fin­gers on my in­ner thigh as he spoke. I shivered as sparks of pleas­ure shot down my spine at his gentle touch.

“Well…I guess that would be okay,” I whispered. “If…if you really think it’s ne­ces­sary…Papa.”

“I do.” He nod­ded gravely. “Come, why do we not go into the bed­room?”

Without wait­ing for my an­swer, he stood with me still in his arms and car­ried me out of the liv­ing room and up the stairs to my bed­room.

I had a blue and green and gold quilt on my queen sized bed. Salt laid me on it and turned on the bed­side lamp. It bathed the dim room in a warm golden glow.

“Mmm…” Salt sat be­side me and stroked a hand between my breasts. “You’re so beau­ti­ful ly­ing here on the bed, my Baby­girl,” he rumbled. “Tell me, would you like to un­dress your­self or do you want your Papa to un­dress you?”

“You do it…Papa,” I whispered, look­ing up at him. I wanted more of his hands on me, more of his touch all over my body.

Salt seemed to un­der­stand. Slowly he pulled my red t-shirt over my head, bar­ing my lacy white bra.

“This is very pretty, my darling,” he mur­mured, tra­cing the curve of one breasts with his fin­ger­tip. “But Baby­girls do not need to hide any­thing from their Papas. I think we will take this off.”

“Okay, Papa,” I whispered, arch­ing my back to thrust my breasts up to him. The lacy bra snapped in the front and Salt had it un­fastened in no time. Slowly, he peeled it open, bar­ing my breasts for him and re­veal­ing my tight, achy nipples.

“Look at these pretty little nipples,” he mur­mured, tra­cing one with his fin­ger­tip and mak­ing me shiver. “Tell me,
mishka,
would you like your Papa to suck your pretty nipples and make you feel good?”

“God, yes,” I whispered, and some­thing low in­side me clenched with de­sire. “Please, Papa—I want your mouth on me.”

Salt gave a low, aroused growl and leaned down to suck my right nipple deeply into his mouth.

I gasped as I felt his wet heat en­vel­ope me. God, it felt good—felt
right
to fi­nally give my­self to my part­ner this way. He’d said that he wanted me from the first—now I knew I had felt the same way about him. But the prickly wall I had built around my­self—my fear of ever trust­ing any man again after my father had aban­doned me—had kept me from real­iz­ing and ac­know­ledging it. Now I was able to let my­self feel for my part­ner—to open my­self to him both emo­tion­ally and sexu­ally. It was still scary but it was also ex­cit­ing.
God
, I wanted him!

“Oh,
Papa,”
I moaned as he sucked me deep, tak­ing as much of my breast into his mouth as he could at once. He toyed with the other nipple, flick­ing it idly and send­ing sparks of pleas­ure through my en­tire body. Then he switched and sucked even harder on my left bud. I writhed un­der him, a sob of pure pleas­ure build­ing in my throat.

“Mmm,” he mur­mured at last, re­leas­ing my tight little point just when I thought I couldn’t take much more. “You do not know how long I have wished to do that. You have such a sexy little body, my sweet
mishka.
Your Papa en­joys suck­ing your nipples very much.”

“And I like it when you suck me, Papa,” I whispered. “But I need more…
please.”

“That’s right,” he mur­mured. “I prom­ised you I would ex­am­ine your pussy and see if it needs to be tasted. Come,
mishka
, let us take off your jeans.”

I was eager to get his tal­en­ted tongue between my thighs again. I reached up to push down my jeans and I would have pushed down my panties too but Salt stopped me.

“No, no,” he mur­mured, keep­ing my panties in place as he di­vested me of my jeans only. “Let us keep these on a little while. I want to see them on you.”

“Papa,” I whispered. “Please…”

“All in good time,
mishka,”
he mur­mured. “Now, let me see…”

He was lean­ing down again, look­ing closely at the junc­ture between my thighs. Des­pite my eager­ness, I found my­self sud­denly nervous and shy again. Without think­ing about it, I star­ted to close my legs.

“Mishka…”
Salt looked up at me sternly. “No, my darling—you must not try to hide your­self. Come now, open up. Spread your legs for Papa.”

I felt my heart stut­ter in my chest and I did as he said, open­ing my thighs for his pleas­ure.

Ap­par­ently Salt liked what he saw. He made a low, ap­prov­ing sound deep in his throat as he leaned over to get a bet­ter look at me.