Daddy's Little Whore
Daddy’s Little Whore – Part 15

My session with Clint was scheduled two days after our last one. I got home after yoga and changed out of my yoga clothes, dumping them into the washing machine in case Natasha decided to do laundry later.

I checked on Papa on my way to Clint’s office, leaving him a quick text to remind him I still existed. I wondered how he would react when he found out I was having the hots for a man way older than I am. Papa was not one to concern himself with my personal life and I would like it if we could leave it that way.

I walked briskly into the building as the receptionist welcomed me with a smile.

“Welcome,” she beamed. “You are just in time for your session. Please make your way into Dr. Homer’s office.”

My smile grew wider, satisfaction washing over me. “Thank you.”

I made my way to his office and took in a deep, calming breath.

“Keira, you are early.” Clint had opened the door, standing in the hallway looking good as always. He looked so casual this time. He wore a white fitted shirt tucked into his black pants. He had a watch on his wrist going along with the silver rings on his left and two on his right hand.

He moved out of the way so I could go in. Stepping inside, the office was cold making the goosebumps on my body rise. His office smelled good like him today, and he stood in front of his desk, crossing his arms, waiting for me to say something.

“First, I would like to apologise for leaving that way at our last session.” I mentally scowled at myself for that and made sure to tell myself how bratty I must have been.

“There is no need for an apology. You were not comfortable discussing a topic, so you left.” Clint opened the mini refrigerator and offered me a water bottle which I politely declined. He opened the cap, took large gulps of the liquid, and gave me a good look at his veiny neck. His Adam’s apple bobbed.

Focus, Keira.

“Let us add that to the list of things to be put behind us,” I said.

He placed the water bottle on his desk, moved to the chair in front of me, and took a seat. Clint leaned over his arms now on his knees and just stared at me.

“If that is what you want, then I do not remember what you are talking about,” he smiled. “But just to be clear, we would still visit the topic sometime in the future. It will help with your healing process, trust me.” I scowled in return as he continued. “With that being settled, why don’t we get on with today’s session?.”

I moved quickly on my feet, slumping down on the chair with my legs crossed over the other. I was ready to hear what he had to say. No bratty attitude this time.

“How has your week been?” Clint asked.

“Splendid. I joined a yoga class as you advised.”

Clint nodded at me like a proud father. “And how did it feel?”

“Besides the fact that I think my instructor is trying to f**k me, it kind of felt liberating.”

A single eyebrow shot up at my response. “How many people have you had s*x with since our last session?”

“Zero.” He waited for me to add something else to my reply. “Well, I had an almost s*x encounter with my professor.”

“Let us talk more about this yoga instructor.”

Why was he interested in my yoga instructor, I wondered. “Sure.”

“Are there any chances you feel sexually attracted to him?”

I did not find just any man with a d**k between his legs attractive. I had a type, and I was not quite sure my yoga instructor fitted into someone I would want inside me.

I rolled my tongue into my cheeks, thinking about it. “I am having mixed feelings.”

“If he came up to you intending to have s*x, would you let him?”

That was the question I needed to ask myself. And I already knew the answer.

“Keira, we are trying to reduce your s****l partners here and limit your impulses,” Clint said. “If you are in an environment where it is hard for you to make progress, I will advice you to stop going there.”

Funny he would say that. Following his advice also meant I would have to stop coming here. Clint was my biggest distraction and he knew it.

“Easy for you to say,” I murmured. “Fine. I will try not to f**k my yoga instructor. Though, it would not be the easiest of tasks.”

I should tell him sitting opposite him too without doing anything drastic was the hardest task of them all. But then again, no acting up today.

“So tell me how you feel after s*x. Is it satisfying? Does it always leave you wanting more?” Clint went on to ask.

“If you are talking about o*****s, then I can say I have tons of them that are addictive at this point.” Which only makes more sense because the more satisfying s*x was, the more likely I was going to engage in them.

“What is it you desire your s****l partners do to fulfil your wishes in bed?” I was pretty sure his voice just went an octave deeper. “Because I believe you have a unique s****l taste.”

I promised myself I was not going to act up today, but his voice was already making me squirm in my seat, and heat built up between my legs. I suddenly felt hot. “Are you talking about kinks? Because I do not know which one I am into.”

Clint leaned back in his chair and cuffed his sleeves to his forearms, revealing his bulgy hand veins. My nails tightened around his leather chair. Damn me to hell.

“I do.” He told me, his eyes slowly taking over me. And when it landed on my face, my cheeks went hot. “You want control. You wished they would wrap their hands around your neck, squeezing the sides when you act like a brat. You do not want to hear them stay silent when they are f*****g you. You want them to tell you how good you are doing, how pretty you look on top of them…” he paused. “Is that not right, Keira?”

I nodded, not trusting my voice to speak for me as my throat had gone dry.

“What you are looking for is a dominant. You are a natural submissive but the people you have been with are not dominants,” he stated. “So you are on a quest, a long search for something.”

“And what is that?”

“There is no one answer. But in your case, I think it is therapy to help you overcome some trauma. From a young age, you have had s****l fantasies that revolved around power. You get off on the idea of being overwhelmed by and surrendering to another person’s desire. Not exactly rape fantasies, but close enough.”

I played with the ends of my skirt, taking in what he had just said. “How do I overcome it?”

“In this context, you have to learn that your submission is a form of trauma magic, a space in which you heal on deep psychological and spiritual levels. It is in this context that you learn that your submission, if freely chosen, and carried out in a safe, consensual way is a feminist act. Your pleasure is inherently good. Kink is a space where you can safely explore power and powerlessness.”

Licking my lips, I thought about what he had said. Clint’s eyes zeroed in on my mouth, and I could not stop myself from swiping my bottom l*p, seeing his pupils dilate.

How badly I wanted to k**s him.

How f*****g badly.

Self control, and patience were virtue I struggled to possess. And when it came to Clint, it was hard to hold myself back. But f**k, I had to. Looking at him, sitting there, his hardened face and the hair that fell to his forehead.

He was driving me insane and he did not even know it. Or maybe he did.

His mouth was moving but his words became inaudible to my ears until he repeatedly called out my name.

Then I snapped back to reality.

“Daydreaming, are we?” A ghost of a smile appeared on his lips like he knew what I had been thinking about. Who wouldn’t? It was shamelessly written all over my face. I might as well just drool all over him. “Let us refrain from that.”

“Sorry. What were you saying?”

“Cases like yours intrigue me, Keira.” How did my name always roll off his tongue so easily? “The way you approach your fantasies may be slightly unhealthy, but I am here to guide you.”

I liked the sound of that. Because if there was anyone with experience capable of good guidance, it would be Clint.