House sitting is a trust exercise, and Daddy trusted me with his house for a whole weekend while he was away on business. His plants. His mail. His big quiet house with the locked liquor cabinet and the bed that smells like him. I watered the plants. I brought in the mail. And then, because I am me and this was always going to happen, I did a few things that were not on the list.
It starts innocent in my head. It always starts innocent in my head. I told myself I would just nap in his bed because it is softer than the guest bed, and that was even true, technically, the way a match is technically just a stick. I showered in his shower. I wrapped myself in his robe, the heavy one, still warm with his smell. I laid in the middle of his bed like a cat claiming the sunniest spot in the house, and I fell asleep sliding my hand down between my legs, rubbing myself through the robe while I imagined him finding me exactly like that. A girl can dream. Sometimes a girl dreams so specifically that the universe just gives up and arranges it.
His flight got cancelled. I found this out at midnight, in the dark, when his key turned in the front door downstairs.
My heart tried to leave my body through my throat. I could have run. The guest room was right there. I did not run. I stayed in his bed, in his robe, hair spread on his pillow, one leg bent so the robe fell open exactly where I wanted his eyes to go, and I listened to him climb the stairs tired and unsuspecting. Because if you read about the night I waited up for him in his shirt, you already know. Getting caught is not my accident. It is my art form.
He opened his bedroom door and stopped breathing. The trip, the airport, all of it fell off his face, replaced by his house sitter in his robe in his bed, already wet from dreaming about him.
"You were supposed to be in the guest room, little girl."
"I know, Daddy," I said, and let the robe fall all the way open. "Punish me."
The punishment came first, over his knee on the edge of that bed, his hand cracking down on my bare ass while I counted out loud into his mattress, one, thank you Daddy, two, thank you Daddy, until my skin was burning and my pussy was throbbing and I was grinding against his thigh between every smack, leaving a wet stripe on his pants like a confession. He stopped at ten, flipped me onto my back, and spread my legs apart with his knee, looking down at what his punishment had done to me. "Look how sorry you are," he said, and slid two thick fingers straight into me, curling them while his thumb worked my clit, until I was bucking off his bed and begging with his name in every breath.
Then he stood up, undid his belt slow, and told me to get on my hands and knees and face his headboard. I scrambled. I have never scrambled so fast in my life. He pushed into me from behind in one long thrust that knocked the air out of me, his hands gripping my hips hard enough to bruise, and he fucked me into his own mattress like he was claiming the bed back one stroke at a time. Every thrust shoved me toward that headboard, my tits swinging, my ass stinging fresh with every slap of his body against it, and I begged him not to stop in a voice that did not sound like a good girl at all. He pulled my hair, made me look back at him, and made me say whose bed it was, whose girl I was, whose pussy was dripping all over his sheets. Mine to use, Daddy. Yours. He fucked me until I came screaming into his pillow, and then he flipped me over, hooked my legs over his shoulders, and took me face to face for the finish, deep and slow and looking right into my eyes while he filled me up, pulse after pulse, until I felt it leaking out of me onto the bed I was supposed to be house sitting.
He travels again next month. He has already asked me to house sit, and this time he did not mention the guest room at all. So let me ask you something, Daddy. Do you need a bad girl like me, one who sleeps in your bed, ruins your sheets, and begs for her punishment when you catch her? Because I am right here on PhoneBuckFuck for a dollar a minute of taboo phone sex, and I am very, very good at being caught. Come home early. I will be in your bed, waiting, with the robe already open.