by John Benson
"You're just doing this to spite me," Daddy grumped. "The gossip divas are already feasting on my flesh."
Typical Daddy, somewhat clueless, utterly self-absorbed. "Not everything's about you, Daddy," Kaylee said. "If I didn't really want to do this, if I was hurting myself just to spite you that would be... ick. I'm not that vindictive. Not that crazy."
"If you want to have a sexual experience, why don't you just contact a licensed professional. I'm not a prude, honey, I'd understand. Or if you want a real affair you could always just hook up with some nice boy from school, register a temporary arrangement. It would be a one-liner in the tabloids and blow over before lunch. But to spend your whole summer vacation in temporary slavery? Why? It's not as if you need the money. I just don't get it."
He never did get her, at least since Mom went away. "I know, Daddy," Kaylee said. "You always gave me everything. But you did it for your own reasons. To try to make up to me that Mom was gone. To say sorry for being too busy so we didn't have time to hang out. So I grew up with all this stuff but it wasn't because I deserved it. It never mattered what I did. I could be as nice as anything, or be a spiteful little shit and I'd still get stuff. You just gave and gave, but it was never the two things I really wanted. Love and discipline."
"Love," said Daddy. He looked deflated, like someone had let some of the air out. "I know I wasn't there for you. Guess I was selfish, but when Carla went, I grieved. Wasn't much room left for you, I guess. And the only thing that seemed to take the ache away was work. So okay, let's admit it. I was a shitty dad. But please don't rent yourself out as someone's sex toy. What if you wake up and find you don't like it? You'd still have to fulfill the contract."
"You just see sex for money," Kaylee said. "Maybe the guy will, too. But for me what really matters is the discipline. The being punished. The having to obey. I've never had that in my life. Ever. I need to know what it's like. Maybe I'm just doing research, Daddy. Exploring the recesses of my twisted little mind. Maybe I just need to do this to get it out of my system. But it's been a dream of mine for a very long time. As soon as I was eighteen, I told myself. But then it wasn't a good time because I'd put off the college search thing and had to do that. And then I was nineteen and had to go to summer school to re-take a course I messed up. So then I told myself, okay. If I buckled down. If I got a 3.0. If I didn't have to do any summer make-up, I'd do it. Well, now I'm twenty and I'm all caught up and I promised myself I was going to do this and it doesn't really matter if you understand or not."
"Wait," said Daddy. "You're doing this to reward yourself for finally succeeding in school?"
Was that it? "In a way," said Kaylee. "In a way I'm doing it because I've wanted it ever since I was little. Not the sex. That's there, but it's not the main thing at all. The discipline. The punishment. Cheer up, Daddy. Maybe once I'm really living it I'll find out I really hate it, and you can say 'I told you so.' It's one of your most favorite things to say."
She hadn't wanted to choose the man. It was all about making herself helpless, and that meant not choosing. She sat in the little conference room alone and struggled through the forms.
"I understand that for the duration of my ordeal my civil and basic human rights will be suspended. That I will be subject to my master's will. That he may visit upon me whatever indignities he chooses, be they pain, humiliation, sodomy, or rape..."
Kaylee didn't like it to be stated quite that baldly. Of course that's what this was and of course that's exactly what she expected to happen. But she'd rather it just happen. Gee. Reading the words was scaring her, but it was also doing a number on her crotch.
"I understand that this constitutes the sole contract between the parties irrespective of what I may have been alleged by agents. I understand that my rights include the right to be paid, the right to be kept in good physical health, the right not to be damaged in any way which would take more than two weeks to heal..."
Oh crap. Her buttocks clenched. Two weeks to heal? This was really nasty. Might be really nasty. Maybe more than she'd wanted. She didn't have to sign. She could just walk out, forget it. Yeah. And admit that she was too chicken to do what she really wanted. And hear her dad say 'I told you so' without even experiencing any of the drama she was craving. Fuck that. Maybe more than she wanted was what she really wanted. It's about being helpless, right? Not in control? Kaylee squirmed on a moulded plastic chair. Her breath came ragged as she sighed.
Kaylee kept checking the address. Nice house, upscale, not one of those bloated things that took up the whole lot. There was room for a lawn, shrubs and flowers, some pretty big trees. Her hand shook as she rang the bell. She'd spent so long wondering what to wear, like, should she come all tarted up? Dress down so the neighbors wouldn't gossip? In the end she just wore a skirt that wouldn't have been out of place at school. Made her feel more girly dressing in a skirt. Not usually, but now wasn't usual, was it? She was going to be owned now, and that was making her feel sexy.
The guy opened the door. Jim Sanderson, Maybe fifteen years younger than Daddy, which meant twenty older than Kaylee. What did she expect? Younger men couldn't afford the contract. Had easier ways of getting laid. "Um, hi," she said. "I'm Kaylee? They said they faxed over my contract?"
He smiled at her, quite openly, not the creepy kind one expected from some sex-crazed pervert. "Why yes," he said. "Come in. We need to talk."
"They said not to bring anything," said Kaylee. She followed him inside, though an entry way with mosaic tile and on to a living space with a vaulted ceiling, a large uncluttered room so different from home. Daddy had clutter everywhere, texts, monographs, and if she tried to tidy he'd complain he couldn't find anything. This guy was a neat freak. Of course, it's easier to keep things tidy when there's less stuff and more room, isn't there.
"Yes," the guy said. "I supply everything. You're a different person here, one I've chosen for you to be." He showed her to a seat on a leather couch. Actually comfortable. Some of them were just for show.
"I'm a little scared," she said. "But I want to do this, honest. So what kind of person am I? A courtesan? A naughty girl?"
His smile grew even broader. "Oh definitely naughty girl," he said. "We have twelve weeks. We can take this slow. For now you are twelve years old. A younger version of yourself."
She hadn't wanted to have any say picking the guy, right? "So you like doing it with underage chicks? I suppose that's one reason you'd rent a slave. At least it's legal."
He looked at her more sternly now. "I don't have sex with twelve year olds," he said. "And I don't have sex with brats."
"I'm not a brat."
"Never mind that for now. What were you like when you were twelve?"
Attention starved. Needy. Annoying just because it was the one way not to be ignored. "I was a brat. I didn't like what I was doing but I couldn't seem to stop. I kept hoping he would make me stop."
"Your father."
"Yes."
"You wished that he would punish you."
"Yes."
"Well, I never have sex with brats, Kaylee. It might encourage them. But I do punish them. I spank them. Now we both know you're not really twelve, but you can pretend that you are. And the fact that I am a person in authority over you is very real. And so I am going dress you up as a twelve year old and call you a brat and spank you. And you are going to let me. Because you signed a contract. And because it may do you some good."
This was so not what she'd expected. "Hey, something's fishy about this," Kaylee said. "Is this sexual slavery or psychological therapy?"
"It's whatever I'm wanting it to be, Kaylee. Now come on. I'll show you to your room and you can change. You're going to get a spanking, and there's nothing you can do about it. But you get to choose. Are you going to be spanked for being a stubborn twenty year old bitch, or a naughty twelve year old brat? Your call."
She heard herself say "Twelve year old brat," before she even realized she'd decided. The idea was vaguely sexual. Be that girl again, except with a different ending. Unfinished business. But this time with a surrogate daddy who knew she needed to be spanked.
The room could almost have been her room, except it was clean and bright and uncluttered. This was my room if Mom was still around, Kaylee realized. By the time she was twelve she had adopted Daddy's slobbiness if none of his better qualities and her room was a place where laundry piled up on the floor.
This one had a single bed neatly made and on it an outfit she almost remembered. A skirt and blouse in a style that was common when she was twelve. Putting it on made her feel young and vulnerable and a little bit excited. It wasn't perfectly the same. At twelve the skirt would have hung down straight. Now at twenty she still had the same waist size but a woman's hips and thighs so the skirt hugged her body tightly. Seemed a little shorter, too, but she wasn't quite sure.
The man came in. Daddy would never have done that, invaded her private space, but this guy did. Her bottom clenched. He had a hair brush. He knows, she thought. He knows I needed a spanking when I was twelve, and now I'm being twelve and he knows to do it. "Hi," she said. She sounded scared and little, which was exactly how she felt.
"Hello," he said. "Has Kaylee been a good girl?"
"No," she blurted. The part of her that wanted to get spanked was in control now, not allowing her to lie.
"Tell me."
Gulp. "She's a naughty brat. She does stuff just to get attention. She's a pain in people's butt. But, but you know how to fix it. Spank her. Spank her hard. Make the pain be in her own butt. Then she'd have to be a good girl."
"For good? Would that cure her for good?"
Blush. "Uh uh. For, oh, gee, a couple days, I guess."
"Works for me," he said.
He sat down on her bed and drew her towards him. She'd expected to be dragged across his lap but instead he pulled her in between his legs and clamped them together and made her bend over, hands on the floor. The skirt was stretched too tight to be pulled up but he knew just what to do. Unbuttoned and unzipped it and pulled it down with her panties still inside.
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