I’m lying in bed, and I can’t sleep. Our time together is still fresh in my mind. Having had to drop you off at the airport was one of the hardest things I’ve had to do. I roll to your side of the bed and still smell you. I’m sad because I need to change and wash my bed sheets. Soon, they’ll lose your smell altogether. I inhale deeply as I think about the time we spent together. I stretched farther and grabbed my phone from the bedside table.  

When I unlock the screen there’s a message from you. Your morning messages are always innocent, and this one simply says, “Good Morning, Beautiful.”

I receive this message daily, though it’s often worded differently. The essence of the message is always the same. In its many forms, the statement says clearly and plainly, ‘It’s a new day, and I am thinking of you.’ 

Our contact had always conversational with friendly banter during our work conversations. We had never met in person, but we’d developed a great rapport via Zoom meetings. 

We started to private message each other, and eventually, we shared our phone numbers because some topics were unsafe for work. Our friendship developed over several months. We spoke about how I’m not currently in a relationship, and while you say you are single, who knows? I guess that’s the anonymity we all enjoy online.

I hope for my sake you are telling the truth.

We developed a friendship that was full of laughs. Laughing at ourselves and at each other. Sitting through our Zoom meetings, messaging each other, and usually snidely critiquing the meetings is the highlight of our working days. 

Outside of work, we talk daily about all sorts of topics, and funnily enough, no theme is off-limits. We are often left marvelling about how similar our ideas are. We find ourselves left shaking our heads at the insane synchronicity of our thoughts. Usually, we find ourselves saying the same things at the same time or you saying things moments before me, and me scolding you and telling you to get out of my head and to stop reading my mind. 

Eventually, our chat topics changed. We started talking about different subjects, including likes and dislikes of a sexual nature. We found ourselves discussing our hard noes and our excited yeses.

Again, we were comfortable openly discussing such matters as if we’d been friends our whole lives or longer. There are sometimes embarrassing moments, but essentially, we laugh it off jokingly and start conversing about a new hilarious topic to see if we are similar in any other ways (we usually are).

We sent each other pictures, and our photographs became playful over time. Our messages, along with the pictures, became flirty. Our photographs and messages eventually turned into calls and FaceTimes, which became provocative and seductive. While the sexual components of our relationship were prevalent, they weren't centre stage, making what we had even more rare and just as thrilling. 

We would find ourselves battling wills and messaging each other well after meetings and after you’ve finished your working day. I was sometimes still working because we were in opposite time zones, and when I looked at the clock, it was nearly four in the afternoon; I know it’s nearing midnight for you. It’s a challenge we find ourselves in every day.  Me encouraging you to head to bed, or you telling my sleepy ass to go to sleep. Always one of us enticing the other to rest. It’s a battle of the stubborn. 

Ok, I’ll admit it. I’m the challenge in our whole relationship. You telling me I should sleep turns me into a stubborn, defiant creature, and I end up saying, “Nope, not ready”, and you, the big softie, allow me to stay up a bit longer because you don’t want to say no to me. I’m on to you, Mr.

I also like to make sure you get to sleep, though, because I don’t want you to wake up tired, and I don’t like to hear that you’re sleepy throughout the day. I know. We have a weird dynamic. I see you looking tired in meetings, and I’ll message you saying so. You’ll message me back saying that some pretty girl kept you up late chatting, and I’ll get all embarrassed. I’ll see you laugh on camera. I will send you an embarrassed emoji and see you laugh again. Such is life working on the same team and different sides of the globe. 

I still remember one exchange when it was hitting that dreaded hour.

“Well, it’s that time of the night for you”, I’d affectionately messaged you.

“I know. I don’t want to, but I do need to go to bed”, you replied, and I immediately wished I hadn’t reminded you of the time.

“Goodnight, kind Sir,” I tell you anyway.

I watched those three dots bounce and flash back and forth in that little bubble and await your reply. They do this and stop a few times. I’m expecting some long story or even some change of topic, which we sometimes do because this distracts us from the task of one of us going to bed. The message that popped up next wasn’t what I expected.

“Good Night, Baby Girl.”

I looked at it somewhat disappointed because you were going to bed and somehow excited because you called me your ‘Baby Girl.’ I hit a thumbs up on your comment and put down my phone, unsure how to respond. 

Our company brought us together to coordinate a project, and I am grateful it kept us connected long enough for us to see much more than a colleague in each other.  I took extra time looking in the mirror before meetings. We would start pre-banter messaging before the meeting and carry on throughout the meeting. It was wild how reliant on your presence I was becoming. I’d never had these feelings before.

I finished my pre-meeting inspection for a meeting one day, ensuring I was presentable, knowing you would be there. I messaged you to start our pre-meeting messages, but you didn’t respond. It’s unusual for you not to reply. I wondered if you would be attending the Zoom meeting. 

You were there when I joined the meeting.  

“Hey, Pretty Girl”, you texted me on my phone.  

“Hey yourself!” I immediately replied.

“I won’t be online for our meeting next Thursday.” You replied. I looked at you on screen, and you looked everywhere except the screen.

“What do you mean? Where will you be?”

My heart sank as I watched the three little message dots cycling through my screen. The dots stopped and started again; I impatiently waited for your response. 

The whole meeting passed, and I was waiting for you to tell me why you wouldn’t attend our next meeting. Our meeting ended, and finally, your text box appeared.

“Gotta go. See ya, Pretty Girl.”

What the hell was that? Why did you tell me you weren’t coming to the Zoom meeting but not why? I was curious, and I couldn’t determine what you were playing at.  

I waited throughout the afternoon, hoping for any message, but nothing. I sat my phone down, resigned to the fact that you would not be messaging me, sad that I would have to wait until bedtime for you to wake up and possibly explain what you meant. My bedtime is your waking up time, so we’d developed a schedule around timezones, sleep, and work. We make the most of whatever time we can spare.

Sadly, I didn’t see you that night before going to bed. I sent you a message, but nothing came in reply. After days of radio silence, I couldn’t help but wonder if I’d been ghosted. My mind was in overdrive the whole time, thinking of whatever scenario my brain could think of. You had a new girlfriend; you already had one, or the worst…you were married, and your wife found out.  

Workplace romances are dicey business, let alone catching feelings for a fellow work colleague. I selfishly needed some closure. I messaged you on our work platform, asking a question I knew the answer to and trying to solicit some communication from you. You didn’t respond. I’d fallen for you hard, and I was devastated. 

I was such a fool.

I arrived at the office on the fifth day with no contact, and on my desk was a vase of flowers—lilies, roses, daisies—what the hell was this?   

“Did you see where these came from?” I asked my co-worker as he got up from his desk beside me. 

“No, sorry. The flowers were sitting there when I came in.” I watched him walk away and stare back at the flowers, trying to guess where they came from.

“Hey there, Baby Girl,” you say quietly, walking behind me. “Someone sent you flowers, huh?”

I stood there half puzzled, half pissed. I was angry that you hadn’t replied to my messages but happy that you were standing so close to me that I could smell you. God, you smelled terrific. 

“Where did you come from?” I finally asked you, grasping for a hold on the moment. I looked up at you, taking in your handsome face in front of me in real life. Fuck you were a big dude.

“I didn’t want to miss our Thursday meeting,” you replied, looking down at me. “Hmm, you are a bit of a shorty, hey? I am a beast of a man, but you're really short.” 

I scoffed at the shorty remark, exaggerated an eye roll, and looked from the flowers on my desk to your face, which had a huge smile.

“I still don’t understand,” I say, confused.

“I’m so angry at you,” I said, overcome by emotion. Your smile faltered, and you tried to grab my hand, but I pulled mine away. “You haven’t replied to any of my messages.”

“You know I would never have been able to keep a secret like my coming here from you. I wanted it to be a surprise. Not messaging you was the only way. I stopped myself several times from telling you as soon as I found out last Thursday before the meeting. The last few days have been tough.”

I looked at you and saw the truth on your face. As mad as I was at you for not replying to my messages, I loved the forethought of the flowers you knew I would adore and that you were standing in my office. 

“Thanks for the flowers.” 

“You're quite welcome, Pretty Girl.” 

Our first meeting is called, and I sit next to you, where my supervisor properly introduced us. She had no idea just how well acquainted we had become in our time working on this project and all of our after-hours chats, calls and photos.

“I’m sorry for not getting back to you sooner, Baby Girl,” you messaged me during the meeting as our shoulders were nearly touching.

“Sorry…it appears I keep developing pet names for you. The latest one is ‘Baby Girl’. I’ve called you that a few times now. If you don’t like it, just let me know.”

I read the message and felt my cheeks flush. “I don’t mind; I like being called your baby girl.”

“That’s good,” you replied, “I like thinking of you as my baby girl.”

Our meeting continued for what seemed like days. We chatted via message, catching up on the last few days as you told me of your twenty-plus-hour plane trip to get to me. I understand why you haven’t been reachable now.

“By the way…” I saw your message appear on my screen. “I just wanted you to know that when you called me Sir the other night, it made me feel special things. I think of myself more as a Daddy than a Sir, but you can decide what you want to call me.”

I stared at the message and read it a few times.  Daddy, as in Daddy Dom? I was intrigued to know more, though. What the hell? I was forever learning new things anyway.

“I've never had any experience with a Daddy Dom. I’ve read a lot of stories about BDSM. What’s the difference?”

I sighed as I sent the message and glanced at you, my cheeks hot as your foot touched mine under the table.

It’s here that you explained why you liked being a Daddy. You talked about how you wanted to show care, love, and support towards your person. Because of your big size, you wished to envelop your person in your arms and protect them. We’d already spoken about our size differences when it came to height. You were a lot taller than I was, and we’d laughed about this and what we would look like together if we ever met in person. Yes, I am short.

Trying to turn the tables and make you blush in front of everyone, I asked you what it looked like for you sexually.

You didn’t miss a beat; you told me it was about following directions. You liked it when your little girl did what she was told, and she'd get a lot of praise and reward when she did so. You also said that you enjoyed a firm grip when you took what was yours. You liked to hold on tight to your baby girl, so there was no mistake about who her Daddy was.

I blushed even more and started squirming in my seat. Ok, I think I’ve officially embarrassed myself more than you. I took my hands off my laptop keyboard and placed them in my lap, looking down at my fidgeting fingers. Your foot tapped mine, and I peeked at your face, but you looked at my screen. My eyes go to the message waiting for me.

“Does my Baby Girl think she’ll like to follow directions like a good girl? Does that excite her?”

My heartbeat feels like it's doubled in time as it clashes with my flashing cursor. The cursor prompts me repeatedly, encouraging me to type a reply. 

My hands move back to my keyboard, and I slowly type my response, 

“…yes.”

“Yes, what?” The question appears quickly

. 

I’m so confused.

“Who am I?” appears next. 

I looked around our meeting room. Everyone is focused on the screen ahead of us. When had they turned down the lights? I contemplate what my response will be. I looked back at my screen and felt your foot touch mine. I don’t dare try to look at you this time. I took a deep breath and released it, but it came out shakily. I felt your foot slowly rub up and down my leg through my work pants, helping calm my nerves. 

I thought about my options. You’d given me two. I’d easily called you Sir in the past. I wasn’t sure I was comfortable using Daddy, but I liked the idea of exploring the subject with you further. I typed out my reply and hit enter.

I heard you exhale next to me. I knew I’d said the right one when I heard that exhale.

“You’re a Good Girl. I’m so proud of you.”

I felt an overwhelming sense of pride as I read my previous message of ‘Yes, Daddy’ and your reply.

I dropped my head and smiled to myself. The lights were turned back up, and we were dismissed from the meeting for a break. I stood and closed the screen on my laptop and saw you do the same. I looked down at my feet as I struggled to make eye contact with you. 

“Too late to get shy now, Baby Girl. We practically know every single thing about each other. We've told fart jokes and all.”

I looked up at you nervously. Your hand brushed mine as you looked around the nearly empty room. 

“It's a lot different in person. I feel like I've lost all my keyboard confidence. Plus, your big dorky head is here in person. I'm a little overwhelmed.”

“Oh Honey, there's no need to be. Nothing has changed. We're still the same people who have spent many hours talking, except now it's not just my idea of you or my thoughts. I get the real-life in-the-flesh version of you. The one I've desired, the one I've missed without ever having, and the one I want with all my heart and soul.” 

“Oh!” escaped my mouth as my insides tightened with excitement. 

“You have no idea how much I want to take you in my arms and hold you right now,” you said as you took my hand. We both looked around and saw we were by ourselves. 

“I'm not game to take you in my arms yet, Baby Girl. It will happen later. I will bide my time.” 

We finished our day with lunch and another meeting, but the boss let us go home early. Since you had one whole week in my country, we decided to grab your bag from the hotel and head to my house.

***

Your arms were around me as soon as I shut my front door. My head was in your hand, and my cheek was against your chest. We stood like this for what felt like hours. I could feel you kiss the top of my head every so often. 

You took my chin in your hand and directed my face up, and your lips came down to meet mine. Our lips are like powerful magnets, and they lock onto each other. Your hands moved to either side of my head, and I moaned as your lips just kept taking mine. They moulded mine to yours as you bit my lips lightly and nibbled and soothed them simultaneously. 

I pulled away, gasping for breath.

“Take me to your bedroom, Baby Girl.” 

I led you into my bedroom and sat on the edge of the bed as you relaxed back into a single-seater couch near the bed. The lights were dimmed, except for a lamp on my bedside table, which seemed to highlight the bed. It was like I was sitting in a spotlight. 

“Are you going to follow my directions, Baby Girl?” Your deep voice came to me from the shadows.

I nervously nodded my head and looked down shyly. 

“Nope, you’ll have to answer me, Pretty Girl. I want you to say the words so that I know you understand me and don't forget who you are speaking to,” you said in your deep voice. 

“I'll do anything that you want me to, Daddy.” 

“You're so good to me, Baby Girl. Can you take off your top?” 

I fumbled with my buttons, removed my top, and let it slide to the floor. 

“Well done. Can you be a good girl and reach inside your bra and give your nipples a gentle pinch? Softly at first.”

I did as I was told.

“Trace your fingers around your nipples, and I want you to make them stand up for me. Make them hard, just for me. You’ll need to be a little firmer now. Pinch them harder. I want you to make them a little uncomfortable. Twist them if that’s what it takes.” 

I squirmed on the bed but continued to do what you wanted me to do. 

“Reach back, undo your bra, and slowly take it off. Hmmm, oh yes, Pretty Girl. Now, using one hand, starting at your bottom lip, trace your fingers down to your chin, across your neck, and down to the tops of your breasts. Now, keep pinching those nipples. You follow directions well, Baby Girl. I can see how pink and hard those nipples are. You have beautiful breasts.” 

“Thank you, Daddy,” I said in return. 

“Such lovely manners, Baby Girl. I think we can move on. You can stand up, slowly undo your pants, and slip them off.”

I stood up slowly, undid my pants and pushed them down over my hips. I slightly turned so that I was side-on to you and bent as I pushed my pants down to the ground. 

“That was lovely to watch. Rub your hand over that sweet pussy. Tell me just how hot my pussy feels, baby, because it’s Daddy’s kitty now.”

I can’t help but sigh when I heard how possessive your words were. They made me want to give you everything. I followed your directions, and my hand rubbed my pussy over my white lace panties. As my hand moved over my mound, I remembered to tell you all about it.

“I can already feel my wetness through my panties. My pussy is on fire with need.”

“Who’s pussy, Baby Girl?” You scolded me.

“It’s your pussy, Daddy. My pussy belongs to you.” 

“You're a quick learner, Pretty Girl. You can put your hand inside your panties. I want you to run your fingers over your outer lips. Feel the heat from yourself as you rub your soft lips. You can push those cute little white panties down. Show me that beautiful pussy that belongs to me, Baby.” 

My fingertips grasped the band of my panties, and I dragged them down over my hips and down my thighs. Once they hit my knees, they fell to the ground. 

“Such a pretty pussy baby. I want you to lie back on the bed and show me what's mine. Don't forget to spread those puffy lips and give me what I want.”

“Yes, Daddy,” I answered, feeling my tummy tighten.

“Put those fingers inside and be my naughty girl,” you encouraged.

My fingers parted my lips, and I heard the wetness between my legs as I played with myself in my quiet bedroom. I saw you watching me, and I anxiously awaited for more instructions. Your voice motivated me, and I wanted to misbehave for some reason.

“You’re doing very well, Baby Girl,” you said.

“Let Daddy taste you,” your low voice instructed.

I lay back and spread my legs, waiting for your mouth on my nervous pussy.

“No, bring me a taste of what’s mine, silly girl,” you corrected me.

Standing up, I walked to you and stood before you, unsure exactly what to do. My nakedness felt stark as I stood in front of you. The bare flesh of my breasts and bottom felt different as I offered myself to you. 

“Let me taste what’s mine, Baby Girl,” you said. “Your fingers will do nicely.” 

I placed my fingers between my legs and pushed them deep inside, feeling for any bastion of moisture I could offer you. I had no reason to be worried because I was excited, so there was plenty of myself to give. Taking my coated fingers from my slit, I offered them to you. Your beard tickled my hand as you sucked my wetness from my first two fingers.

“You are quite yummy, my Pretty Girl,” you said, praising my offering. 

“Thank you, Daddy,” I replied bashfully. Putting my fingers up to my lips and licking off your saliva and my juices. I seductively smiled and ran my fingers through my pussy lips again and brought them back to my lips, licking them and sucking them into my mouth. I heard you inhale, and it threw you off for a mere second.

“Fuck…” you whispered “Daddy has a special Lollie for you. Would you like to try a taste of it?” you asked, trying to regain control.

I had teased you many times while licking lollies on video calls. My playful treats had gotten me into some mischief, though. You had promised me that when you got the chance, you’d put my talented lips and cute pink tongue to work.

I shyly nodded as you stood, and I knelt almost instinctively in front of you. Your hands unfastened your belt, and the zipper on your pants sounded strange. My focus was on your fingers, hands, and the opening of your pants, and I was transfixed.

I had seen your cock and even watched you cum many times. I had always wanted to taste you, though. As you dropped your pants to the floor, I reached for your cock. 

My hand wrapped around the base of your shaft, and I began my lollie routine. I licked and sucked just like I had so many nights while teasing you. You extended your hand, and I placed my hand on yours. I continued working on your cock while you sweetly held my hand. 

“You’re doing a perfect job, Sweet Girl,” you gently moaned.

I could feel your cock growing in my mouth. I wanted more of you, but I was beginning to get impatient. Taking my hand from yours, I started stroking you whilst sucking. 

“Slowly,” you warned.

“Yes, Daddy,” I answered.

I sucked and licked your cock. I was slowly teasing you while paying for my transgressions on the nights I’d spent teasing you with candies. 

My pussy was feeling neglected, and somehow you knew.

“Are you ready, love?” you asked.

Your cock still in my mouth, I looked up and nodded that I was indeed ready.  Ready for whatever sweet release you’d give to me. 

You took my hand and led me to the bed.  We stood there looking at one another as you bent down and kissed me. Lovingly, you touched your lips to mine so delicately.  I knew at that moment that I was forever yours.  Not because of the sex. This moment was pure, a calm spot in the turbulence of passion that you used to remind me that I am more than sex to you.

***

We had a fantastic week getting to know the real-life us. I feel your absence as I lie on your pillow, smelling your intoxicating scent. I could lie here forever and breathe you in. You're back home now, and we've supposedly settled back into our opposite sides of the world relationship. 

“Hello, Daddy,” I reply to your message.

You quickly reply, “How’s my Baby Girl today?”

“She misses you.”

“Awe, Babe, I miss you too, but I'm always just here.”

I lie on my bed, looking at my phone and feeling lost without you. 

“I can feel your sadness, Baby Girl. We discussed how hard it would be separated, but we've got this.”

“I'm ok.”

My phone starts ringing with your incoming FaceTime call. 

“You're not ok, but I'm here for you.” 

Suddenly, my mood lifts when I see your face. The look of concern leaves yours when you see me smile. 

“There she is! There's my Baby Girl. Are you getting ready for bed?” 

“Yeah, but I’m not tirrreeeed” I said, stifling a yawn. 

“Hmmm, are you sure about that? You know I can see you, right?” 

“Nope, not ready,” I say, turning onto my side and looking coyly at my phone screen. 

“I left a surprise for you in the bottom drawer of your dresser. Have you found it yet?”

“No!” I jump up from the bed and go to my dresser. Inside the drawer, I find one of your T-shirts folded neatly. I pick up the T-shirt and hold it to my face. It smells exactly like you. I take off my nightie and replace it with your shirt. I hug and pull it in tight. 

“It’s the perfect gift. Thank you” 

“While I love the manners, Baby Girl, I think you forget who you speak to,” you say, sounding amused. I take my phone back to bed with me. As I snuggle with you wrapped around me, I look at your face on my screen. 

“Thanks for my present, ya big ol’ softie.” 

“Oh, it’s like that, is it?” you laugh. “You want to be naughty tonight, hey? Well, bad little girls don’t get rewards.” 

“What are you going to do? Spank me through the phone?” I ask, giggling. 

“Oh, Baby Girl, you have no idea what you’re in for,” you say with a smirk. 

“Not sure what you think you can do on the other side of the world, Mr Softie.” 

“Oh really?! You’ll have to find somewhere to put your phone, Pretty Girl. Make sure you can still see the screen. You’re going to have to sit on your hands. You won’t be needing those tonight.” 

“Wait, what?” I ask as I prop my phone onto my bedside table.

“Naughty Girls, don’t get rewarded, Babe. Now sit on those pretty little hands because you won’t need them anytime soon.” 

I sit with an exaggerated sigh, place my hands under the bottom, and watch you take off your shirt. You smirk into the camera as you undo your pants. 

Well, shit. It’s going to be a long night.