Daddy's Little Helper

The air in the kitchen was still.

Garrett moved calmly, rinsing his hands beneath the faucet. The sound of water was soft, steady. Controlled.

Behind him, Nia lingered in the doorway. Watching. Wanting. Needing.

She had heard everything.

The whispers behind Simone’s door. The giggles. The plan.

Amara. Marisol. Lexi. Priya.

They were setting him up.

She should tell him. She could tell him. But something deeper held her back. A test. A question. A craving.

Was he Daddy enough to **** it out of her?

"You always act like you're in control..." she said, voice low and teasing, hips shifting against the frame.

Garrett didn’t turn. Just dried his hands, methodically. Clean. Focused. Like she wasn’t even a threat.

"...like you already know what I’m about to say."

Still nothing.

She stepped into the kitchen, closer. Her breath shallow now. Heart racing.

"What if I told you I knew something that could ruin everything?"

He turned at last. His gaze burned through her.

"Why tell me?"

Nia hesitated, lips parted.

"Maybe because my dumb sister and her bitches are planning something shady," she said with a little pout, voice sugary sweet.

Garrett didn’t even glance at her. “Oh? And what would that be?”

Nia smirked, tilting her head like an overconfident brat. “Mmmhhh… forgot.”

She giggled.

Like it was a joke. Like it was a dare."

Garrett didn't blink.

"Bend over the counter."

"W-what?"

"Now. Hands flat. Pants down."

Nia raised her chin, bratty to the end. "You can't hit me. I’ll tell Mommy."

Garrett chuckled, low and cold. "Do that. I’m sure she’ll love hearing it."

That caught her. Nia blinked, uncertain. He stepped forward, brushing a knuckle slowly across her cheek.

"Don’t worry your pretty little head about it, princess."

Then, firmer: "Over the counter. Now."

The heat rushed through her. Shame. Excitement. Fear. She obeyed.

Her leggings dropped to her knees. Her panties followed. Cold marble met bare skin.

Then his hand came down.

Crack.

A gasp. Her legs twitched.

Crack.

Harder.

Crack.

He wasn’t spanking her. He was breaking her.

And she felt it. In her bones. In her breath. In the aching heat that bloomed with every strike.

This isn’t discipline, she thought, he just wants to show me who’s in charge.

Why do I want this? Why does it feel so good? Her thoughts raced. Please... please just break me. I've been on edge since two whole days...

Each impact peeled something away. Her bratty shield. Her fake confidence. Her resistance. All stripped, bare, raw.

Is this what I wanted? she wondered. But her soaked thighs and trembling moans already knew the answer.

He wasn’t punishing her. He was remaking her.

She yelped, bit her lip. But he grabbed a towel, shoved it between her lips.

"Bite."

She whimpered, biting down as his hand crashed down again, and again, her ass glowing hot under his dominance. Her eyes filled with tears.

She arched her back, grinding against the edge of the counter, drooling around the cloth. Her hips betrayed her. She loved it.

"You think you're ready to talk?" he whispered into her ear, breath dark and steady.

She moaned into the towel, nodding.

He pulled it out. Her mouth opened, wet, lips trembling.

"Y-Yes... Daddy."

He smiled. But it wasn’t kind.

She looked up at him, dazed, hopeful, breathless. She thought this was it—that he’d take her now. That she’d finally get what she was aching for.

But Garrett just chuckled.

"Oh, baby girl... you think you’ve earned that?"

She blinked. Confused.

He dragged a thumb slowly over her swollen lips.

"These lips... so much fuller than your mom’s. I’m going to train you to come just from sucking Daddy’s cock."

Her eyes widened.

"But not yet. You don’t get Daddy’s big white cock until you’re a good girl."

He leaned in close. Growled against her skin.

"For now... you come from this. From getting tought discipline."

Nia’s breath caught. Her body trembled. Shocked. Aroused. Overwhelmed.

But she nodded.

"Anything you want, Daddy."

The next strikes were brutal. Heavy. Her thighs shook. Her body writhed. Each impact pushed her closer until she shattered around it—legs giving out, moaning deep, feral.

When she could speak:

"They’re looking for you. They want to make it look like you’re attacking them—and film the whole thing."

Garrett wiped his hands clean.

He crouched slightly, face close to hers. "Now tell me, baby girl—where exactly are they?"

"In the office," Nia breathed, still trembling.

"Good." Garrett grinned. "I have a mission for you. Come here."

He gently tapped her forehead. "Sleepy time, princess."

She blinked as his fingers slid to her temple. He leaned in, whispered something low into her ear—something only for her—and then... her eyes fluttered.

When she opened them again, his voice was louder, clear:

"If you do this for Daddy..."

"Will I be a good girl? Will I get rewarded?" Nia asked, hopeful.

Garrett smirked and gave her a solid smack on her glowing ass.

"So easy to break. So eager," he murmured. "Yes, baby girl. If you succeed, you’ll start learning how to really make Daddy happy."

She pouted.

"Oh, princess... you still have so much to learn," he teased. "Be good—and maybe, just maybe—I’ll let you come while you watch me fuck Simone."

He paused. "Or Marisol. That dumb bimbo needs correction."

Nia lit up—giddy, **** to please—and ran off without another word.

Garrett stayed in the kitchen, silent for a moment. He poured himself a glass of water, rinsed his hands again, slower this time. Everything about him was calm. Precise.

He set the towel down, leaned back against the counter, and waited.

Footsteps.

Soft. Slow. Confident.

Then she was there.

Marisol.

Leaning in the doorway like she owned it. One hand on the frame, one on her hip. Her eyes gleamed with something unreadable.

She tilted her head.

"Hello, Doctor Sexy."