Chapter 122: Sugar daddy Chronicles 01

I still remember the exact moment I decided to stop pretending I could make it on my own.

It was a rainy Thursday evening in late autumn. My shoes were soaked through from the walk home, my phone showed a negative account balance, and the landlord had left another polite-but-firm reminder taped to my door. I was twenty-three, drowning in student loans, and the only thing between me and eviction was another week of double shifts at the café.

That night I downloaded an app. It was a common one between my mates,they were always talking about it. I created a profile in twenty minutes—three carefully chosen pictures, a short bio that said “young, ambitious, open-minded,” and a smile that looked more confident than I felt.

The messages started popping within an hour. Most were predictable,ones I had expected from an app like this.

Then came his:

Victor Kane.

Forty-six.

Founder and CEO of a fintech company I’d actually heard of.

He had a really nice profile picture,not something sexual like the others.

His first message was short. “You’re beautiful. Dinner tomorrow? 8 pm. La Lumière. I’ll send a car. —V”

No dick pic, no crude proposition. Just quiet confidence.

I said yes before I could overthink it.

The next day, a sleek black Mercedes came to pick me up, with a driver who called me “Miss Sophia” without being prompted. I wore the only dress I owned that could pass for expensive: deep emerald green, fitted through the bodice, with a high slit on one thigh. I wore no bra, and only a black lace thong under the dress.

Victor was already at the table when I arrived. He stood as I approached—he was tall, broad-shouldered, and had the kind of presence that made the room rearrange itself around him. He kissed my cheek, lingering just long enough for me to catch the scent of his expensive cologne and clean skin.

“You look stunning,” he said.

We ordered wine and talked. Or rather—he asked questions and I answered, feeling strangely naked even though I was fully clothed. He wanted to know what I studied, what I dreamed about, why I was on the app. I told him the truth: I was tired of being broke, I wanted freedom, and I wasn’t afraid of what that might cost.

He listened like every word mattered. After dessert he leaned back, his hands positioned elegantly on the table.

“I don’t do games, Sophia. I want companionship, discretion, and exclusivity. In return I’ll take care of your rent, your bills, your wardrobe, and give you an allowance of eight thousand a month. Plus extras when the mood strikes.”

He paused, eyes steady on mine. “And I expect intimacy, often. On my terms.”

My pulse thundered in my ears. I ran my tongue over my lips. “What kind of terms?”

A small, dangerous smile touched his mouth. “The kind where you say ‘yes, Daddy’ and mean it.”

Heat bloomed low in my belly.

He paid the bill without looking at the total. We finished up and headed outside towards the car, but instead of taking me home, he gave the driver a quiet instruction and we headed toward the riverfront towers.

His penthouse was exactly what I’d imagined: glass walls, dark wood, city lights glittering like scattered diamonds. The moment the elevator doors closed he stepped close, backing me against the mirrored wall.

He looked closely at me, studying my face.

He traced one knuckle down the side of my throat, and watched my breathing change.

Then he kissed me slowly.

Like he had all night to learn the shape of my mouth.

By the time we reached the top floor my thong was soaked and my knees felt unsteady.

He flicked on only the low lights above the bar when we got in, while the rest of the space stayed in soft shadow.

“Take off the dress,” he said quietly.

I let the straps fall from my shoulders, and the fabric slid down my body and pooled at my feet.

He looked at me for a long moment. I was naked except for the black lace between my legs and the heels I hadn’t taken off.

“Beautiful,” he murmured.

Then he closed the distance. His hands were warm and sure, they mapped my waist, my hips, the curve of my ass and literally everywhere. When he cupped my breasts his thumbs brushed my nipples and I gasped into his mouth.

He walked me backward slowly until the backs of my knees hit the wide leather sofa. He eased me down, then knelt between my thighs. He was still fully dressed except for the top two buttons of his shirt that were undone.

He hooked his fingers in the sides of my thong and slowly dragged it down my legs.

The cool air hit my wet folds and I shivered. Victor spread me open with gentle thumbs, studying me like I was art.

“Look at you,” he said, his voice rougher now. “Already so wet for me.”

He leaned in and licked a slow, broad stripe from my entrance to my clit.

I arched off the leather with a broken moan.

He licked me again, slower this time, teasing me. When he finally closed his lips around my clit and sucked gently, I nearly sobbed. My hands instinctively flew to his hair.

He ate me until my thighs shook, until I was begging for him to let me cum.

He pulled back just as he felt the pleasure building. “Not yet,” he said against my inner thigh. “I want to feel you cum around my cock the first time.”

He stood, and unbuckled his belt. The sound of the leather sliding free made my core clench. When he freed himself I couldn’t look away.

His cock was thick, long, veined and already leaking at the tip. He was nothing like I had imagined.

He stroked himself, while his eyes were locked on mine. Then he stepped between my thighs again.

He rubbed the head through my folds, coating himself in my wetness, teasing my entrance until I was lifting my hips, desperate.

“Please,” I whispered.

“Please what, baby?”

“Please fuck me, Daddy.” The word felt filthy and perfect on my tongue.

He pushed in slowly, inch by thick inch.

I felt every bit of the stretch, the fullness, and the way my body had to open for him. When he bottomed out I let out a shaky breath I hadn’t realized I was holding.

He stayed there a moment, letting me adjust, letting me feel him throb inside me.

Then he started to move, in long, measured strokes, that were deep enough to make my toes curl, and slow enough to drive me insane.

I wrapped my legs around his waist, he leaned down and kissed me, tasting myself on his tongue.

He fucked me like that until I was trembling, until the pleasure coiled so tight I could barely breathe.

“Cum for me,” he murmured against my mouth. “Cum on Daddy’s cock.”

I shattered, my walls pulsing, thighs shaking, and crying out his name.

He fucked me through it, harder now, chasing his own release.

When he came it was with a low, guttural groan—hips flush against mine, pulsing deep inside me, filling me until I felt the warmth spill out around him.

Afterward he didn’t pull away immediately.

He stayed buried in me, softening slowly, kissing my throat, my jaw, and the corner of my mouth.

When he finally eased out, I watched his cum leak from me with quiet satisfaction. He scooped me up like I weighed nothing and carried me to the bedroom.

He kissed my temple.

“Sleep,” he said softly. “Tomorrow we go shopping. And tonight was just the beginning.”

I curled against his chest, still sticky, still aching in the best way. And for the first time in years, I was glad

I made the decision to download the app.

I felt claimed, I felt wanted, and I felt like I was finally where I belonged.