She whimpers, and I capture her lips as we come down together. I kiss the top of her head, brushing my thumb against her bottom lip.
“You did so well, babygirl,” I say. “Just look at the way you just took my cock. And did it feel good, baby?”
“Yes, Daddy.” She nods, her voice a whisper.
“Callista…”
She looks up at me in curiosity. “Yes?”
I cup her cheek. “Nothing.” My voice is gentle now. “You’re just so good, so beautiful, so perfect.”
She sniffles, like her emotions are swirling inside her. “Did I please you?” she whispers, vulnerability evident in her voice.
I lean down to kiss her. “Yes, you have.”
She steadies her breathing, looks into my eyes with clear, tender sincerity, and shows me how much she appreciates me. “Can you just do me a favor?” she asks. “Don't leave me tonight, okay?”
I rise and brush my lips against hers. “Anything for you.”
ELEVEN
Callista
The morning lightpours through my open curtains, brushing across my skin as I pull my shirt over my head. I should close them, but I don’t. I never do anymore.
It’s ridiculous, I know. But part of me hopes he’s out there somewhere, watching.
Knowing Dmitry is keeping an eye on me—seeing me move through my morning, catching the little pieces of my life no one else notices—gives me a strange kind of comfort. The thought that he might be out there, eyes fixed on me, makes the world feel less lonely.
I tell myself I hate it, but I don’t. Not really.
My mind keeps circling back to our date. The soft hum of the city as we drove, the way his fingers brushed my neck when he fastened my seatbelt, the way he kissed me at the traffic light like he couldn’t hold back anymore.
I trusted him that night. Completely.
When he touched me, it wasn’t like before—with anyone else, it was always about performance, about pretending I waswanted. With him, it felt like surrender. Like I didn’t have to do anything but breathe.
He made all my secret fantasies come alive. He took control, but in a way that made me feel safe, seen, and accepted for the first time.
Now I want it again. That feeling of floating somewhere between trust and danger.
I grab my bag and decide to get coffee before class. I didn’t sleep much. My thoughts kept replaying every glance, every word, every touch. I need a hit of caffeine or I’ll fall asleep during the lecture.
So I head to my favorite café.
The café near campus smells like roasted beans and warm croissants. Students fill the tables, their laptops open, their voices buzzing in a low murmur. I step up to the counter and smile at the barista, a guy with slick hair and a bored expression.
“Medium caramel latte, please,” I say, pulling out my card. I tap it on the card machine, but the big red cross and message that comes up makes my heart stop.
Declined.
Fear and panic jam through my veins like a rock song. I knew this was going to happen one of these days. I used the money I got from lying to Dmitry about the shoes to pay rent. I knew I was running low on cash, but I thought I could manage. I thought Dad would deposit money into my account like he used to.
I’m an idiot.
The barista swipes it again, but there’s an irritated expression on his face. “Declined.”
I frown. “That can’t be right.”
