Olivia's Cut Scene From Surge of Lust

Olivia

I didn't hire a male escort because I had trouble finding sex partners. I hired Jax Priest because I had too many sex partners of the wrong kind.

    I started having orgasms when I was seven. It still shames me to remember the first time. It happened the day I had gone down to the corner store and stolen a Richie Rich comic book. I’d taken the comic book off of the twisty rack where all manner of comics were on display. I’d pretended to read the comic, and since I didn't have any money, I’d stuffed it underneath my jumper and jammed it into my cotton underwear, the ones that said Wednesday on the front. What I wasn't counting on was that the old man who owned the store had been keeping an eye on me and reported me to my mom.

    When I got home that day, mom was waiting for me, arms crossed, asking if there was something I wanted to tell her. No, there wasn’t. Mom lifted my jumper, and there was the comic book. Heat rushed to my head, and I felt dizzy. 

    "You think you can just go down to the store and take whatever you want, young lady? Get in your room right now. And just wait until your father gets home!"

    I slunk to my room, my face hot with shame and sat on the twin bed with the pink ruffled bedspread and the decorative canopy that always made me feel like a princess. On that day I felt like the worst criminal.

    When daddy got home from work, he knocked on my bedroom door, and I braced myself for the inevitable. The first time I got into trouble and knew a spanking was coming, I thought it would be clever to shove a book into my underwear to soften the blow. That worked out okay until daddy discovered and removed the book.

    "Olivia, your mom told me what happened today," my father said, sitting next to me on the bed. "You know you can't just go into the store and take whatever you want, right?"

    "Yes, Daddy," I said, looking up at him with a sad face.

    "And you know what this means, don't you?"

    "Yes, Daddy."

    "Sweetie, I don't want to do this," he said, standing up and unclasping his belt buckle. "But you've got to learn. Baby, when are you going to learn?"

    I hung my head, not saying a word.

    "Alright then, up you go," he said, sitting down on the bed. I already knew the routine and climbed over his lap until I was staring at the highly polished wooden floor. "No books in there today," he said. "Good girl."

    I braced myself for what would be first his hand, and then if he was in the mood, a few slaps with the leather belt. His hand came down hard. Smack! When his hand came down a second time, something about the way I was positioned over daddy's lap forced my pelvis into his knee. The feeling was altogether stimulating. What was that? Then his hand came down faster and quicker together until the feeling in my pelvis became tortuous, heavenly and my breathing got all funny. What was happening? I inhaled the aroma of the leather as Daddy ended the spanking with a quick whip of the belt on my butt.

    "You promise to be a good girl from now on?"

    "Yes, Daddy."

    He stood up and said, "Okay sweetheart. Mom says dinner's almost ready. I love you, baby."

    My first orgasm. I never quite forgave my daddy for what happened and raced to write about it in my pink diary with a lock on the front.

    After that day, I got into trouble every time the opportunity presented itself.

What do you think? Should I bring Olivia back with a story of her own?

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