Emmie's Daddy

Copyright © 2022 by Willow Bern

All rights reserved.

No portion of this book may be reproduced in any form without written permission from the publisher or author, except as permitted by U.S. copyright law.

Content Warning: The following story is an Age Play Erotic Romance, with adult themes. This work of fiction is inappropriate for those under 18. All characters involved in sexual activity are over 18. The story includes Age Play, Fantasy Themes, Spanking, Kink, Sex, Anal Sex, and Adult Interaction. All characters are consensual in the events described. Age Play involves one or more adults behaving younger than their actual age for fantasy and role play.

The Box Company claimed to make all fantasies possible. Even hers. Emmie was still having doubts. With seven more floors to go before the elevator reached the top, she let her finger hover over the lobby button. With one push, Emmie could go right back to the bottom floor and go home. It wasn’t too late to change her mind. Her mother’s disapproving voice echoed inside her head, “Don’t be ridiculous, Amelia. Leave right this minute.”

The thought of a sweet little face held her in place. How else would she get funds for Baby Emerson’s surgery? In the last few weeks, she’d maxed out her hours at the hospital and still she didn’t have enough. The family had been fund-raising hard, but they were running out of time. At her job, her smallest patients were always her favorite. His tiny body needed help immediately. Emmie gripped the smudged, bent card in her hand. Her friend, Colel, had given her the Box Company’s number a few months ago as a joke when she’d been complaining about online dating. Emmie fingered the dog-eared corner of the business card.

Since she’d given up on relationships two years ago, her sex life had been nonexistent. She wasn’t a prude. Exploring her sexuality intrigued her. It wasn’t that she was without experience. There just had never been much variety in her relationships. The Box Company offered complete confidentiality and made safety a priority.

In the security of her apartment, the Box Company Sessions had seemed like an adventure. The money had seemed like a perk, not the prime motivator. Now that she was here, her heart rattled frantically in her chest and her hands were sweating. After she signed the formal contract, they’d give her a physical, and she’d get tested for STDs. They had a whole ritualistic system.

The polite representative she’d spoken to on the phone had explained that she would arrive at appointments in the back of an unmarked delivery truck. Before she would enter a client’s home, she would transition into one of their boxes for safety reasons. The high-tech, temperature-controlled containers provided an option for escape if the fantasy went wrong. The company would know her location, but she would not. They prided themself on protecting people’s privacy.

No one would ever know about her involvement. How hard would it be?

The elevator bounced, and the doors slid open to expose the most beautiful woman Emmie had ever seen, dark and sultry as a nineteen-forties movie star. Em froze, and the doors began to shut. The starlet smiled down at her. With a jeweled hand, the woman stopped the elevator from closing.

The heavenly being asked, “Is this your floor?”

Em nodded and stepped awkwardly past her. The woman’s adorable shoes appeared vintage. The starlet glided into the elevator as if adoration was what she expected. Emmie’s heart sank. They would never hire her. She had no curves and epitomized dinky by any standard. How could she compete with a roster of goddesses?

“Ms. Martin?”

“Yes.” Em turned toward the voice.

Crisp in a navy suit, a middle-aged woman stepped toward her with a folder in hand. “Aren’t you adorable? You are going to be perfect. My name is Ann and I’m here to make sure you love your experience with us. Ageplay, right?”

An electric jolt moved through Emmie. Hearing the word out loud flooded Em’s face with heat. Hoping her makeup hid her blush, she nodded. Her fantasies were not why she was here, not the real reason. She was trying to do something good. Emmie’s stuffed animals and all the pretty dresses she collected were just a hobby. She had survived nursing school, relatively intact. How much would five box sessions change her?