Good Little Girl

“I feel sick and you’re cooking dead pig in front of me, it’s you who has bad manners.”

“It’s called making breakfast. A totally normal occurrence in a kitchen last time I checked. Clear off if you don’t like it.”

She made no attempt to move while I dished up my food, granting me just a cursory glance as I took a seat opposite. Angry fingers jabbed at her mobile phone as it buzzed and flashed in her hand.

“Have you made up with your friends?” I asked her.

“They’re not my friends. I don’t give a shit about them.”

“That’s not how it appeared last night.”

“Yeah, well, I was drunk,” she groaned. “Fuck those losers, anyway. I need some cash, please. Fifty should do.”

“What for?”

“None of your business.”

“Fine, then it’s not my business to give you any.”

She didn’t even look up. “You’re supposed to be taking care of me, aren’t you? Dads give their daughters money. Mum isn’t around right now to give me an allowance, so I guess it’s up to you to cough up the cash.”

That pushed me too far. My voice was low and loud when I answered her.

“Dads give their daughters whatever they deserve. All you deserve is a sore backside, sweetheart. Maybe I should cough one of those up instead.” The fact she was still in her nightdress made that idea even more appealing. “Call your mother if you want cash. If you ask me for a handout like that again, I’ll give your ass a decent fucking slapping for your cheek.”

Blue eyes finally met mine. There was long moment of silence as she stared across at me. Her mouth was still set in an angry little pout, but her demeanour had shifted. Her words from the night before echoed around my brain. Maybe I hope that one day someone will care enough to stop me... to put me in my place and make me behave.

“You wouldn’t dare spank my ass,” she said. “I’m twenty years old.”

“Try me,” I goaded. “You’re never too old for the belt, princess. It made a fine man out of me.”

“Yeah, sure it did. A real fine man, Daddy.”

“Watch your mouth, Aimee.”

She laughed, a bitchy little cackle, and I swear it was on purpose to goad me. I felt my hackles rise, the urge to put the little bitch over my knee threatening to boil over.

“I don’t need your money anyway.” She shrugged, like it meant shit to her. “I’ll get some from Mikey. He’s picking me up this afternoon.”

“The same Mikey who’s dating someone else? Some other darling instead of you?” I said. “Oh, I forgot, you don’t give a fuck about him, do you?”

She folded her arms, eyes like thunder. “I don’t actually. I’m using him for sex, and the sex will be a lot better now that he owes me. He wouldn’t want his precious girlfriend to find out he’s been fucking my tight little ass, would he? He works for her father in some posh gig down Piccadilly Circus. My silence will be worth even more to him than my pussy.”

“You’re a classy girl, Aimee, you know that?”

“It’s not a crime to enjoy sex, Kyle. And I’ve seen your internet browsing history. You’re not all that classy yourself.”

My blood turned to stone. “You’ve been on my laptop, have you? You sneaky little bitch.”

A sly grin lit up her face. “It was enlightening. What a big, bad boy you are, Kyle Priestley. Not quite so Priestley, are you?”

“What the fuck were you looking at?”

“Aww, did I make you angry? Shame.” She turned her attention back to her phone, still grinning. My mind whirred, speeding through the contents of my laptop, the scanned paperwork in my documents folder. Embarrassment burned like a motherfucker, burned me up with the thought of what she’d found in there. The thought of her laughing. Laughing at me, laughing at my misfortune. Did she laugh with her friends? Laugh at what a stinking loser Kyle Priestley really was. Laugh about my dirty little secret.

I overloaded without warning, striking like a cobra to wrench her from her seat. Her phone clattered to the floor, and her eyes flew wide and wild, mouth open. I didn’t give her time to fight me, twisting her wrist behind her back and slamming her chest down on the tabletop.

“You’ve pushed it too far this time, Aimee, too fucking far. You think I was joking about the belt? Think I’m a fucking joke, do you? Is that it? It’s time you learned some fucking manners, little girl.”

“What are you doing?” she hissed. “Kyle, what the hell are you doing?!”

I pinned her hard, my chest against her back. Her body was so small, crushed under my weight so tight I could feel her breathing.

“You asked for this, sweetheart, you’ve been asking for this every fucking day I’ve known you.” I straightened up, pressing hard between her shoulder blades to keep her in position. “Don’t you dare move, Aimee, don’t you fucking dare.”