Chapter 7
CHAPTER SEVEN
The dress felt wrong the moment Daisy pulled it over her head.
Not because it didn’t fit. In fact, it fit too well.
The pastel blue clung to her ribs, the skirt so short it fluttered around her thighs when she moved.
She never would have chosen it for herself, but that was the point.
King had chosen it. He’d told her to wear it, an expectation she hadn’t been given permission to question.
She stood in her apartment’s bathroom, hands braced on the sink, staring at herself. The color made her look softer. Younger. Owned.
Daisy told herself to stop thinking that word.
By the time she reached the office, she was already exhausted. Her body felt heavy in strange places, sore in a way she couldn’t explain. She moved with care, conscious of every mincing step, every shift of fabric against her thighs. It made her self-aware in a way that bordered on panic.
King noticed at once.
Daisy hadn’t even reached her desk before his door opened. There was no need for him to call her name to gain her attention. Like a flower to the sun, she turned towards him, wide blue eyes blinking slowly.
His bright blue gaze wandered over her, taking her in from head to toe.
King didn’t even try to hide his hunger, the approval gleaming deep within his eyes.
There were no words between them for a long stretch of moments before he let out a low sound.
An almost growl that reverberated through her, crackling down her spine until the long muscles of her back drew taut. Arching her towards him.
“Turn,” King husked, a single finger enacting a tight circle.
Daisy pulled her lower lip between her teeth as her stomach enacted a lazy somersault. Still, she twirled around, the flowy skirt tickling against her thighs before it flared out around her. Showing even more of her skin before it came to settle back once she faced King again.
“Very good, princess.”
With that, he went back into his office, closing the door behind him. Leaving Daisy there, lost and alone, before she gathered her thoughts into some semblance of control. At her desk, she tucked her things away.
The morning passed in broken fragments.
Daisy struggled to focus on her tasks, her attention snagging on the way the dress rode up when she sat.
The way her body felt unfamiliar, tender, changed.
She was wholly aware of King even when he wasn’t near, as if his focus remained settled over her.
An invisible thread that seemed to pull her attention back toward his office again and again.
By mid-morning, he summoned her. King had her come stand beside him at his desk. His fingers curled around her thigh beneath the short skirt. Massaging the tense muscle, stroking her warm flesh.
King’s thumb traced slow, deliberate circles high on the inside of her thigh, just shy of the fabric of her panties that were fast growing moist with her sweet nectar. Daisy’s breath hitched, but she remained still, palms flat on his desk.
Leaning back in his chair, his startling blue eyes never left her face.
“You know what I keep thinking about?” His voice was low, almost lazy, but the satisfaction underneath it was razor-sharp.
Daisy swallowed hard, working back her trepidation and that incredible heat gathering low in her belly. “What… King?”
“That I’m the only man who’s ever been inside you.” Fingers tightening around her thigh, his lips curled at the tremble there, the way heat gathered in her cheeks. “Not a single cock before mine. Not a single finger. Nothing. Just… pure, tight little Daisy, waiting like she was made for me.”
He slid his hand higher, cupping her sex now, palm warm and possessive. Daisy jolted, a tiny sound slipping out before she could stop it.
“Look at me,” he husked.
Lashes fluttering, she met his molten gaze. Saw the pride shining in their depths.
“I popped your cherry, princess. Me.” His middle finger parted her vulva through the lacy fabric of her panties, just resting there, feeling how slick she already was. “And you bled for me. You cried for me. You came so hard on my cock. All of it was mine. First. Last. Only.”
Daisy’s knees threatened to buckle. She gripped the edge of the desk harder, nails scoring the polished wood.
King tilted his head, studying her like she was something precious and filthy at the same time.
“Most girls your age?” he said, voice dropping into something darker, predatory.
“They’ve already been passed around. They’ve learned how to fake it, how to moan on cue.
Sluts with mileage. Not you. You didn’t know what you were doing.
You just… opened for me. Let me teach you.
Let me ruin you for anyone else before anyone else even got the chance to try. ”
Daisy whimpered as he pressed hard against her slit, sliding the damp fabric back and forth.
“That makes me so fucking proud, baby girl,” he murmured, almost tender. “Knowing I got every first. Knowing no one else will ever know how you sounded when you came the very first time. How your cunt fluttered around me like it was scared and greedy all at once. That’s mine. You’re mine.”
A hushed whined slipped over her parted lips, her hips rocking forward despite herself.
King gave her a rare smile, the edges of it sharp and exacting.
“Say it.”
“I—I’m yours.”
“More.”
“I… I was pure. For you.” Cheeks burning, Daisy started to duck her head, to hide away from this overwhelming sensation, but at a low sound from King, she brought her chin back up. “Only for you.”
“Good girl.” He slipped past her panties, sliding a finger inside of her vagina, stretching her slowly. “And you’re still so fucking tight. Still feel brand new. Like your body knows who it belongs to.”
Leaning forward, his lips brushed the shell of her ear as he whispered, “I’m gonna keep reminding you, princess.
Every time I fuck you, every time I make you come, every time you wear what I tell you to wear.
I’m gonna make sure you never forget who took you first. Who owns that part of you no one else will ever touch. ”
Daisy’s breathing turned ragged, thighs shaking.
King kissed the corner of her mouth as he withdrew his hand with a parting caress against her bud.
“Now go get me my coffee, kitten.”
The rest of the morning passed by in a blur. Daisy was twitchy, jumping at every little sound. Her panties were soaked with her nectar, the slick glide of lace making her hot between her thighs. Though she was still sore and tender, a different kind of ache pulsed through her.
By noon, Daisy felt as if she was vibrating. She kept checking her reflection in the bathroom mirror, tugging the skirt down, smoothing the bodice, trying to make herself smaller inside something that refused to allow it.
When she returned from lunch, deep, rumbling voices drifted down the hall.
Steps slowing, she found herself listening to the familiar thunder drifting towards her.
“…the transition will be smoother if she’s relocated,” he said. “I don’t want unnecessary friction.”
Another voice replied, too quiet to make out.
“I’m aware of the risks,” King continued. “But stability matters more than comfort. She does better with structure. With fewer options.”
A pause.
“No,” he said. “This isn’t about preference. It’s about what works. Once she’s in the right environment, things will settle.”
Daisy’s breath froze within her lungs as she pulled her lower lip between her teeth to stifle a whimper. Pressing her back flush against the wall, she struggled to calm her pounding heart.
She.
Relocated.
The right environment.
She waited for him to clarify. To say a department. A role. Anything concrete.
He didn’t.
“All I’m asking for is discretion,” King went on. “I don’t need this questioned. I need it handled.”
In the silence that followed, Daisy moved away on unsteady legs. Her thoughts were a tangled mess, unable to pick apart the snarled knots.
Maybe it wasn’t about her.
Maybe it was.
She couldn’t tell, and that uncertainty was almost worse.
By the end of the day, she could barely concentrate. When King came out of his office, standing so close beside her she could feel his heat blasting into her, her bosom heaved with her panting breaths.
“You’ve been moving like you’re sore,” he murmured, fingers teasing over her collarbone despite the danger of everyone seeing.
Heat crept up the back of her neck, staining her cheeks. “I’m just a little tired.”
“It’s okay, kitten. I know you struggled to take my fat schlong,” King said in a low voice, the corner of his lips curling up into a devastating smirk.
The hard lines of his features softened just a touch as he caressed the delicate column of her neck.
“Tonight you can go home early. Tomorrow, you stay until I tell you otherwise.”
“Yes,” she said in a small voice.
“Good,” he murmured. “Go rest, princess.”
Daisy gathered her things, her steps awkward and overly careful as she entered the elevator. The trip home seemed to fly by until she was curled up on the ratty old couch in her apartment.
Her phone buzzed beside her, the screen flashing a picture of Claire’s smiling face. Though she hesitated, she answered it on the third ring.
“Hey,” Daisy said.
“You sound weird,” Claire said at once. “What’s going on?”
Daisy swallowed hard, the dry click of her throat loud to her ears. The words spilled out in fragments—about King, the office, the dresses, about the way everything felt decided without her ever being asked.
There was a pause on the other end.
“Oh,” Claire murmured. “Daisy. Come on.”
“What?”
“Men like that don’t fall in love,” she said gently. “They acquire. They use girls like you because you’re easy to shape.”
The words landed hard, a sucker punch to the solar plexus.
“I’m not—” Daisy stopped, not knowing how to finish that sentence.
“I’m just saying,” her friend continued. “Be careful. Don’t confuse attention with affection.”
After the call ended, Daisy sat on her bed and stared at the wall.
Use.
Manage.
Control.
The words echoed until they lost meaning.