Chapter Four

By the time they'd reached Essie and Charlie's flat, the two of them had been stealing touches the whole way home. Fingers grazing accidentally on purpose against wrists, kisses pressed to cheeks and jawlines and almost to throats. They were so wrapped up in each other that when they stumbled into the kitchen and saw Charlie standing there, they froze.

Essie had a panic for a moment, before remembering that she had sent a text, back at Covent Garden, letting her flatmate know about Ben coming round.

"So," said Charlie, looking Ben up and down. "You are Ben."

"That's right," said Ben. "Ben Jyles. I work at Hope's Department Store."

That deflated Charlie slightly, but he bounced back pretty darn quickly. "What makes you like Essie so much?"

"Charlie," Essie protested, but Ben didn't even hesitate in his answer.

"She's really interesting, a talented artist, clearly driven, kind, queer, and she didn't blink when I told her I was trans."

"Yeah," said Charlie. "She's a good one. And queers are always superior. Okay." He turned to Essie. "I approve. For now. I'm going to retire to my room, so you two deviants go wild. Though no shagging on the table; we eat there."

Essie flushed and shoved him away, rolling her eyes. "There really is no pressure to…you know," she said to Ben.

Ben slipped his arms around her from behind and kissed her neck. "I know. Why don't we pop dinner on, and then we can chat?"

Lobster mac cheese in the oven—they'd splashed out and gone for one of the fancier supermarkets— and veg prepped to be steamed, they sat at the kitchen table together.

Essie curled her legs up underneath her and beamed at Ben. "So, you're a Daddy Dom."

"And you're a Little."

There was a slightly awkward moment, before they started talking over each other.

"I haven't really—"

"I don't have—"

They paused and Ben gestured for her to go first.

"I've never had a Daddy Dom," she said, awkwardly. "I mean, I've called partners Daddy during sex, but it's never been…more than that."

"Well, weirdly enough," said Ben. "I have, back before I transitioned. It was…strange. Like we were both playing the wrong parts. I'm not a Little," he clarified. "But I was drawn to the Daddy title; I just realise now that I wanted to be called Daddy myself."

"So, we're both relatively new to this, then," said Essie.

"Yes," said Ben. "I've never had someone call me Daddy before, and I've never called someone…babygirl? Princess? What would you like to be called?"

Essie wriggled. When he'd said ‘babygirl'… well, that had almost undone her. "Babygirl, please," she whispered. "It made me feel all…tingly."

Leaning forward, Ben nipped at her lower lip. "Babygirl it is then."

She squeaked, and they both laughed. "So."

"So."

"I did say that we didn't have to have sex tonight—"

"And we don't," he reassured her.

"—but maybe we do some stuff?"

He nodded. "I'd be up for doing ‘some stuff'." Ben kissed Essie again. "Why don't we do opt in for this evening? That way we're can keep it at a slower pace."

"Perfect! Do you have an idea of what you'd like to try?"

"I'd like to feed you," he said, glancing towards the oven. "Make it a sensual thing, maybe with a blindfold?"

She shivered. That sounded nice. "Okay, yes, I'd be okay with that. And yes to more kissing, and maybe groping—but of a sensual nature." That sounded wrong. "I mean…"

"I think I know what you mean," said Ben. "I'd love that. And while the idea of you sucking my dick is so fucking hot, I'm going to suggest leaving my trousers on."

"This time?"

"There'll be another time?" He looked hopeful.

Essie smiled shyly. "Unless this evening is a complete disaster, I think there'll be another time. And probably another after that."

Ben's face lit up and she was taken aback by the joy she saw there. "That would be…I mean…yes. I would love that."

"Anything else?" she asked.

"Standard traffic lights as safewords? And, um, my dick. Dick, cock, penis…all good. Not strap on."

"Yes to traffic lights, and yes to all the ways I can refer to your cock." Their eyes met and it felt as if the very air between them sizzled.

And then the timer went off, breaking the tension. Essie laughed awkwardly and went to get up.

"That's okay, babygirl," said Ben. "You sit there; I've got this."

"Okay, Daddy," she replied, and was rewarded with a flash of pure heat in his eyes.

He dished up the food, and brought the two plates over to the table, but placed hers next to his, instead of in front of her. "Have you something you'd like to blindfolded with?"

Essie looked around, casting her eyes about for something that they could use, when they landed on his tie. Ben followed her eyes and grinned. "Tie it is, babygirl."

As he pulled it from around his neck, she flushed at the flash of skin beneath his shirt collar. He was fully clothed and she was all flustered.

Carefully, he tied it around her eyes, tugging to make sure that it wasn't too tight, but tight enough that it wouldn't fall down.

"How's that?"

"Perfect thank you, Daddy," she said, and she found her voice slipping into that airier cadence that her Little space sat in.

He laughed gruffly, and the rumble of it did funny things to her.

"Open up then, babygirl, open wide for Daddy."

He'd forked a load of the mac and cheese to start, creamy, indulgent, with the flavour of lobster running through the mouthful. Essie made a noise that sounded more sinful that she could have expected.

Next was a bite of tenderstem broccoli, its leaves zinging with the lemon and pepper they'd added.

It was wholly consuming. Essie hadn't expected that. The sensation of focusing everything on one mouthful of food. Letting the taste and smell waft across her senses, tease her with the not knowing what she could expect next.

And even when she'd had all the different combinations she could imagine—lobster and broccoli; broccoli and cheese; pasta and the broccoli dressing—it still felt luxurious, being fed by hand.

"That's it, babygirl," Ben whispered to her. "Eat up for me. Enjoy every bite."

When she'd finished her portion, he went to take her blindfold off, but she held him off with one hand, and waited, in the dark, whilst he finally ate his food.

She felt so highly attuned to him, so his senses, and when he opened the box with the profiteroles in, Essie knew what she wanted.

"Not here," she whispered, and taking him by the end, she carefully made her way to her bedroom, allowing him to help her avoid chairs and doorframes.

"Are you sure, babygirl?" he asked, and she nodded her acquiescence.

"Yes please, Daddy."

And then he was kissing her, walking her backwards until her knees hit the bedframe and she went tumbling backwards, caught in his arms and then slowly lowered onto the bed.

"Daddy?" she asked, and then he swallowed her question with a kiss, before pulling backwards.

Next thing she knew, there was the smell of chocolate orange, heady in its exquisiteness. He brushed the profiterole against her lips, letting some of the chocolate coat them, before coaxing her mouth open so he could place it inside.

Biting down, the flavour of the cream burst out, coating her palette, complimenting the chocolate.

Heaven.

She moaned.

"Babygirl," his mouth was hot against her ear and it made her moan. "May I touch you?"

"Sensual groping, Daddy," she said with a cheeky smile, but then moaned as his hands drifted to her breasts. She tried to help him along, fumbling buttons until she got too fed up and tugged the entire shirt open. Buttons flew everywhere and she heard them pitter patter on the wooden floor of her bedroom. "Please."

"Please what, babygirl?"

"Please touch me, Daddy. Touch me, kiss me, caress me."

He dropped his mouth to her breast then, and when she urged him on—"more Daddy, please more" —licked one tight nipple into his mouth and sucked.

Essie almost arched off the bed. He'd barely touched her all evening. Suggestions of caresses, and the sweetest of kisses, and already she was strung so tight she felt that all he'd have to do was look at her and she'd shatter.

"Fuck, Daddy."

"Such grown up words, babygirl. Is that ‘cos you're feeling all grown up right now?"

She nodded, and then vocalised her thoughts. "All Big, and Big girls get to…"

"Yes, Essiegirl?"

The nickname undid her. "Big girls get to come. Please Daddy."

"You're right, Essiegirl, Big girls do get to come. How do you think I should make you come? With my fingers?" Fingertips danced across the bare skin of her belly, walking up to tweak her aching nipples. "With my mouth?" Followed by his mouth, teasing at her breasts. "Tell me Essiegirl, tell me how to make you come."

She took his hand then, moved it down her leg slowly, pausing at the hem of her skirt. "Are you green, Daddy?"

"Oh babygirl, I'm very very green."

"Good," Essie said, and then urged his hand up between her thighs, and his mouth back to her nipple.

He needed very little encouragement then, delighted by the wetness of her underwear, he teased her there until she begged and begged him to fill her up, and then one, two, three fingers entered her, she was so slick.

Gasping, she heard herself make a kind of keening sound. With the tie about her eyes there was nothing else to distract her, no sensations of glinting light to throw her out of the moment. It was blissfully dark and she could give herself over to Ben. To Daddy.

"Please, Daddy," she begged. "Please, I'm so…I'm so close."

"I got you, babygirl, he said, and just as she crested the peak of her desire, he nudged the blindfold up just a tiny bit, so she could look at him as she came.

His hair was all mussed up, but it was the look in his eyes, deep intensity and focus—all on her— that had her coming a second time, clenching tight about his fingers.

After he'd extricated his fingers, he pulled her close to him and she clung on, hands clutching at the smart collar of his shirt. "You'll stay?" she asked, suddenly, desperately, needing him. Wanting him there with her. "You'll stay the night, Daddy?"

"I'm not going anywhere," Daddy Ben said. "I've got you, Essiegirl. Sleep. Now."

"Yes, Daddy," said Essie. And closing her eyes, she realised that she'd found her Daddy at last.

The End