Daddy's Little Whore
Daddy’s Little Whore – Part 13

Keira’s POV

I wore a thong for my next meeting with Clint as promised. I was excited therapy was not as boring as I originally thought it would be. It gave me something to look forward to. My fantasies about Clint filled my head all through even when I was in a class.

Today was the day I quenched the heat that had been burning in me for days. With his tongue, of course.

I was already parked out in front of the clinic and checked the time on my wristwatch. I did not want to go in too early so as not to seem desperate, but the anticipation of today’s session made my legs work faster than my brain.

So what if I was desperate? A girl wants what she wants.

I walked into his office and greeted him with a coy smile. Clint returned it briefly.

“How are you doing today, Miss Temple?” he asked. I did not like the sudden formality. Two days ago, I was called his ‘good girl’. Why was he addressing me by my last name now?

I took off my jacket and lay it on the chair, crossing over to where he sat with slow, calculated steps. “I do not want you calling me that.”

“What would you prefer I address you as?”

My hands reached out to his knotted tie and tugged at it, expecting some sort of reaction from him. One that involved flipping me over his desk with his fingers around my throat.

“I am your good girl, aren’t I?” I popped open a shirt button. Then another.

“Not during a session,” he replied. “Please, have your seat.”

I frowned down at him. “Why are you acting differently?”

“Because this is not someplace you come for a quickie,” Clint said coolly. “This is a therapy clinic to help you get better.”

Walking back to the seat opposite him, I buttoned my shirt up. “You had a different opinion last time, Mr. Homer.” I used his last name but it did not tick him off as it did to me.

“I hate what we did. I let myself succumb to the desires of wanting you when I should have had more control of the situation.”

He hated that we had s*x? Had I been the only one fantasising about our next meeting? “I thought there was an attraction, that we shared a common ground.”

“You are mistaken, Keira. You are undeniably the most alluring girl I have ever met.” I let myself bask in his flattery before listening to his next words. “But I ask that you put all that behind us while I work hard to help you heal.”

I admired Clint’s steadfastness and loyalty to his job, but I did not like it at the same time. I had high expectations for today’s session and he would not succumb to his need because of his ‘job’.

“If you suggest we keep our genitals out of this, then that would be a hard task,” I said in response. “It does not mean I would force you to have s*x with me. But I would not stop trying to get in your pants.”

He stared back at me with a faint smile on his lips. “You are the first client I have met with a lot of guts.”

“I can show you I have more than guts if you let me.”

I could see him having an inner battle with himself, fighting his infatuation with me and his responsibilities as a therapist. I was curious to know which would win.

Moments passed before he spoke again. “Let us start our session, shall we?”

I had my answer. It was not a favorable one. To me, that is.

“Fine.”

Clint picked up my file and flipped it open, oblivious to my dissatisfaction. “So tell me, Keira, when did your addiction to s*x begin?”

I knew what his reaction would be if I gave him the actual age, so I went for a lie. “Eighteen.”

“Are you certain?”

Clint’s assessing gaze burned into mine.

“Fifteen.”

“Keira, I need you to be honest with me.”

What was he? A lie detector? “fifteen.” I said more firmly.

It was the truth and somehow, he believed me this time. Whenever I told people that, they gave me this look of disgust and judgement and I got it. A fifteen year old was at most still a kid.

They would be so quick to judge or lay their two cents without knowing the full story. I kind of expected the same reaction from Clint.

“What exposed you to s*x?” he questioned, devoid of any form of judgment in his tone.

“Movies. Books.”

His expression had shifted from curious to awareness. “It is normal for kids that age to be inquisitive about topics like s*x. I know I was. And when they have the resources, they are more likely to abuse it.”

“I did not abuse it.”

“Fine. If that is what you feel.” Clint wrote in his book. “But if what you feel contradicts life’s principle of behaviour, then there is a need for reassessment.”

I shrugged nonchalantly. “Okay then. What do you suggest is wrong with me?”

He dropped the pen he had been using and snapped my file shut. “We will get to that in our next meeting. Let us go deeper into how it felt the first time you had s*x and why it created an addiction.”

I did not want to talk about it yet. I saw no point digging up shit that happened eleven years ago.

Clint noticed my discomfort as his eyebrows furrowed. “Are you okay?”

No. I came here to get f****d but he would rather discuss boring stuff. I picked up my jacket and shrugged it on. “I need to leave.”

“Our session remains for another twenty minutes. We are not done yet.”

“I say we are,” I stubbornly replied. “Have a good day. And jerk off that bulge in your pants while you are at it.”

Even though I would rather have him jerk off in my mouth instead, I walked out of his office without another glance.

Clint might be trying to help me heal like he claimed, but to me, he was only doing more harm than good.