Super Daddies

by Maren Smith

  “Hello, is anyone there?” I asked and waited.

  “Good morning, Angela.” Marshall’s voice came back over the speaker. “Can I help you with something?”

  “Yeah. My door is locked and I can’t figure out how to unlock it.”

  “That’s because you can’t.”

  My jaw dropped. “What?”

  “Brian engaged the lock and only he can disengage it.”

  “Well, then you can tell Brian to get his happy ass over here and let me out!”

  “He’s not here at the moment, he left about an hour ago to meet with the chief to discuss your case.”

  “What? Why would he do that? He was supposed to take me with him. I’m supposed to be at that meeting. I have questions, dammit!”

  Marshall ignored my rant. “Before he left, he retrieved some of your clothing from your apartment, it’s in the closet. If you tell me what you’d like to eat this morning I can deliver it to your room.”

  I was in no mood to be placated with niceties. “I want to leave this room,” I demanded.

  “I’m sure Brian will allow that once he gets home. It shouldn’t be too much longer.”

  “Allow it? I am not some criminal that he can keep locked up. This is unlawful imprisonment and it’s illegal whether he is a cop or not.”

  “Brian is not a police officer. He merely assists them on difficult cases. Or in your case, with difficult people.”

  I took that personally. “Oh, I have not yet begun to be difficult, buster. It’s still fucking illegal and I will have his job!”

  “Brian works for himself.”

  “He’s breaking the law! And you’re helping him!”

  “I am a house,” Marshall reminded me. It sounded like he was smirking. “I can be neither tried for a crime nor incarcerated. As for Brian, whatever is required to complete a mission, that is what he’ll do.”

  “I just can’t even right now!” I shrieked. “Open this goddamn door!” I beat on it with both fists until it hurt too much to continue.

  “I’m not permitted to do that, Angela,” Marshall said calmly, over my mini tantrum, “but I can get you something to eat. Would you like a bagel?”

  “No, I don’t want a bagel. I want coffee and a smoke!”

  “Coffee is doable. Smoking is not permitted on the premises.”

  “Of course, it isn’t. Mister High and Mighty, who breaks whatever laws he wants, would never allow such a hideous health violation to occur on his property. Fuck that. Fuck him, and fuck you too!”

  I stalked to my backpack where I remembered I had a pack of cigarettes and a lighter and went back to the door.

  “Let me out or I’m going to smoke right here.” I wasn’t bluffing.

  To hell with the sanctimonious Super Prick who had locked me in here instead of letting me go to a meeting about my own god damn life.

  Who the hell died and made him Super King? No one, that’s who. I would light up in the middle of the room and enjoy the hell out of every drag.

  “That’s not a wise choice, Angela,” Marshall warned.

  “Yeah well, I’ve never been accused of having too much wisdom. Let me out.”

  “I’m not permitted to do that,” he repeated.

  “Permitted or not, you can let me out,” I argued. “You just don’t want to because you’re being a dick.”

  “I’m following orders. You should consider doing the same.”

  “Brian didn’t give me any orders, probably because he knows I’ll tell him where to shove them.”

  I made the house sigh.

  “Suit yourself,” Marshall said. “If you slide the panel to your left, you will find your coffee. From here on, whatever choices you make are your own. Do let me know if you decide to have some breakfast.”

  I hadn’t even noticed the little door until he mentioned it. Sliding it open, I found a steaming cup of creamy, sweet coffee, made to my exact preferences.

  “You even know how I drink my coffee? What are you some kind of creepy stalker?” I mumbled, not expecting an answer.

  “It’s my job to acquire every bit of information possible about a case.”

  I rolled my eyes, but I was too busy enjoying that first sip to reply. It was delicious. Possibly the best cup of coffee I’d ever drank, but it made me want a cigarette even more.

  “Last chance, Marshall,” I called out. “Are you going to unlock this door or not?”

  “Not, Angela.”

  “Alrighty, then.” I flopped myself down on the side of my bed, set my cup on the nightstand and lit my cigarette.

  I got as far as that first glorious drag before the screeching of the smoke detectors went off and suddenly it was pouring rain inside my bedroom. This was not a gentle sprinkle. This was more like being sprayed directly above my head with a firehose. I sputtered and ducked to get out of the way, but the hose-like stream of water followed me. Coughing, I dropped my cigarette to shield my face. The stream of water didn’t stop, but it stopped assaulting me and when I wiped my eyes clear enough to see, I found it once more aimed at the now soggy cigarette on the floor.

  “Are you fucking kidding me right now?” I yelled into the empty room. “If you don’t want me to smoke in your precious house, then let me out! I will gladly take my ass outside for a nice long walk.”

  “I’m not permitted to let you out.”

  “Then fuck off.” Soaking wet and more pissed than I had ever been in my life, I turned my back to where the water spray had come from and defiantly lit another cigarette.

  Another stream of water smacked me in the face from the opposite side of the room. I turned to block that one too, only to be hit by a third stream coming from another direction. I dropped my now broken, dripping cigarette and screamed.

  Stomping back to where I had set the box, rage overcame me. The entire box was soaked and un-smokable. I threw it across the room, followed by my watered-down coffee cup and the bedside lamp. I was looking for more shit to throw when the door slid open and a very pissed off Brian stepped inside. He took one look at the mess, then me, and his arms crossed over his chest, testing the quality of the shirt as it stretched like a second skin over his rippling muscles.

  The sight of it momentarily stunned me. For a moment, I forgot all about the locked door, being left behind and the cigarettes. I licked my lips, but then my eyes met his and suddenly I remembered I was supposed to be pissed. Really pissed.

  “Don’t you dare look at me like that,” I snapped. “You don’t get to be mad. I’m the only one that gets to be mad! You can’t keep me prisoner here. I haven’t done anything to deserve this kind of treatment and I demand you let me go.”

  “This kind of treatment?” he replied, his voice low and buttery and menacing all at once. “You mean the kind of treatment where I saved you from being kidnapped and sold as a sex slave? The kind of treatment where I brought you into my home to keep you out of harm's way while the police and I figured some things out? Or do you mean the kind of treatment where you were offered breakfast and coffee and instead chose to throw a tantrum?”

  I was dripping too hard to let myself be mollified by logic. I opened my mouth to sound off again, but he cut me off before I could say a word.

  “You are not being held prisoner. You are being protected. You are also acting like a spoiled little brat, and if the next words out of your mouth aren’t a truly heartfelt ‘I am sorry, Brian,’ you’re going to get the sound bare bottomed spanking you’ve been asking for.”

  I laughed at him.

  “Right,” he said, and started toward me.

  What happened after that was kind of surreal. I was a grown woman and no one was going to threaten me like that. He may be a sexy superhero, but I threw up a hand to stop his advance, fully prepared to rip him a new one. “Who in the hell do you think you are?”

  “I’m the man that, until further notice, will be keeping an eye on you,” he snapped back, coming right up to my hand before voluntarily pausing hi
s advance. “You have no idea the amount of trouble you are in, and I don’t just mean because of your little fit. The chief is concerned about a leak at the station. Someone in the precinct must be on Patel’s payroll. Right now, the only place we can guarantee your safety is right here.”

  “Guarantee my safety why?” I was so frustrated I could scream. “Just tell me already. You promised me answers this morning and then you left me here!”

  He made a visible effort both to stifle his temper and a sigh. “I had no choice. A bounty was put on your head last night. The city’s underground is buzzing with the news, everyone is going to be looking for you. You are going to have to learn some patience, Angela, and trust that we are trying to do what's best and safest for everyone involved.”

  “Everyone involved? Who is this ‘everyone’? And what is this trust you keep talking about? I don’t fucking know you. How can I blindly trust some random man that breaks into my house and forces me to go with him?”

  “Have I given you any reason at all not to trust me?” He tipped his head as if genuinely curious how I would answer.

  “Did you miss the part where you kidnapped me and refused to answer my questions?”

  His eyes darkened to narrow slits, his temper flaring again. It was nowhere near as hot as mine. “I saved you,” he reminded me. “Twice, as a matter of fact.”

  “Buster,” I snarled, getting right up into his face. “Nobody shot at me until after you ripped me from my home. For all I know, every word coming out of your mouth is a lie, and I’m all done listening to it. I’m also all done cooperating. You think I’ve been a bitch up until now? Buddy, you have no idea the whoop ass I’ll open up on you unless I start getting what I want.”

  His jaw clenched, that tic of muscle leaping into a steady, ominous pulse. “Is that a fact?”

  “Try me,” I dared him.

  He was just quiet long enough for me to think he might actually give in to what was, in retrospect, a pretty ludicrous demand. But I’ve been on my own for a very long time. Sometimes I let my temper get the best of me, and I’ve learned that people don’t like confrontation. If I force one, I’m far more likely to get my way than by being mousy and meek. Women get walked on when they’re weak. I’ve learned that the hard way.

  “All right,” Brian grimly said. “So be it.”

  I almost smiled, thinking I’d won. Right up until he grabbed my arm.

  Brian

  I’d had it. This angry little woman had pushed me past the point of reason and I was done. The next thing I knew, I’d caught her by the arm and only just subdued the urge to shake some sense into her. That wasn't what she needed most right now. I knew that, just like I knew I was doing the right thing. All of my precautions were designed to keep her safe and out of harm's way, but I knew this wasn’t easy for her. Anybody would be scared by all this. Anyone would be lost and upset. I was more than man enough to withstand her bursts of temper, especially those born of sass and frustration. What I could not—would not stand, however, was my best efforts being blocked, mocked, and complained about. While not exactly part of the mission, I knew how to handle self-destructive little ladies in need of a nudge to get them back to obeying the orders meant to keep them safe. Angela had just provoked the Daddy in me, and now she was going to get some long-overdue firm-handed attention.

  “Angela,” I said, giving her one chance only to lessen the severity of the discipline she had just earned, “let me give you a little insight into the amount of trouble you have just walked into. You have disrespected me and my home, but worst of all, you have disrespected yourself. I cannot and will not let any of this behavior continue. You, little angel, have earned yourself a spanking.”

  Her eyes which had widened the moment I grabbed her arm, now widened even more. But it was her body’s reaction that I keyed in on.

  “A-a what?” she stammered, the tension in her shoulders lessening and her cheeks flushed a subtle shade of pink. What I noticed most of all, however, was that from the moment I touched her, she had stopped fighting me. That would change once I started spanking her, but that was all right. Her reactions to me right now were exactly what I needed them to be.

  “A spanking. Bare bottomed. Over my knee.”

  She tried to take a step back, but I tightened my grip in warning and she stopped again. Her mouth rounded. We stared at one another unmoving, unblinking. I think she may even have stopped breathing for a time as she processed what I’d just said. Then, with three rapid blinks, I knew the exact moment when she hit that ‘is he serious’ and ‘now what do I do’ mental wall. Her trance-like state broke and she decided to bolt.

  The last-ditch efforts of a condemned woman, fighting against something she wasn’t ready to admit that she wanted. Unfortunately for her, I was ready for it.

  She stomped on my foot and tried to yank her arm from my grasp, but I was wearing steel-toed boots and she wasn’t going anywhere. Grabbing her around her slender waist, I dropped far enough to throw her over my shoulder and picked her up.

  “Put me down.” She screeched and kicked, but she could fuss all she wanted, it had zero effect on me. Looking around the room, every available surface I found was sopping wet from her little act of rebellion.

  “Marshall, deal with this mess, please.”

  “On it, Boss.”

  Stiffening, Angela froze at the sound of Marshall’s voice.

  “Oh my god, Brian. Put me down. This is ridiculous,” she hissed.

  “I agree,” I said as I carried her out the door. “The fact that your bedroom is saturated in water because you tried to start a fire in here is absolutely ridiculous.”

  She grabbed at the threshold as we went through it, but couldn’t maintain her grip. “I wasn’t starting a fire. I was lighting a cigarette. I’ve done it hundreds of times and managed to never once catch something on fire.”

  “Cigarette fires cause close to one thousand deaths and three thousand injuries each year in the United States, according to the National Fire Protection Association,” Marshall informed her as I carted her down the hallway to my front room. “As the ignition source responsible for over twenty percent of all fire fatalities, cigarettes are the nation's largest single cause of such deaths.”

  She rolled her eyes so hard at Marshall’s helpful stat recital, that I could feel it through my back. “I was not going to start a fire!”

  “I’m glad to hear it,” I told her, “but it doesn’t change the fact that I plan to ignite a fire of my own all over your bare backside.” I dropped her down in front of the couch, grabbing firm hold of her wrist so she couldn’t escape while I sat down.

  “Stop saying that,” she stammered, once more holding herself frozen where she stood, seeming more nervous than scared. Perhaps even a bit confused. She eyed my lap and pulled on her arm, but made no real effort to escape even as she said, “I-I know you’re not going to really spank me. I know you’re not.”

  “Do you now? Are you doubting me, little angel? It's never a good idea to doubt a Daddy on a mission.” I adjusted myself on the cushions, bracing my legs to take her weight.

  “It’s assault and against the law!”

  “Whose law?”

  “Everyone’s! You can’t just go around spanking people.”

  I let go of her wrist and she just stood there, staring at me with giant confused eyes. “You know what, little angel, you’re absolutely right.”

  “I am?” Tiny flickers of disappointment filtered in amongst the confusion in her gaze.

  “Yes.” I tsked. “I can’t just go off halfcocked and spank all the naughty girls in the world.”

  She looked down at my lap, making no move at all to flee. She shifted her weight from foot to foot, blinking several times before meeting my eyes again. Her face was nothing but open confusion and unhappy regret. “Y-yeah. So…” she trailed off.

  “So I’ll just focus on spanking you.” Grabbing her arm again, I tossed her down across my knees before she coul
d do more than stiffen and squeak a startled protest.

  “Wait! Wait, wait!” She reared up, twisting to look back at me over her shoulder just as I raised my hand to lay the first of many smacks upon her upturned ass. “I… You… You tricked me!”

  “I did nothing of the sort. I told you you were getting a spanking and here you are over my knee about to get a good one. Sounds pretty straightforward to me.”

  Angela twisted her body trying to fling herself off my lap, but with my arm already anchored across her back she didn’t accomplish anything except a fabulous impression of a fish caught on a hook.

  “Oh no, sweet girl.” I locked her down across my lap, pinning her in place. She didn’t swear, not once. She wanted this spanking, maybe not in all her conscious mind, but in some part of it. Good thing for her that I was intent to see she got it. “You aren’t going anywhere. You are going to feel the full repercussions of your unsavory behavior and we are going to come to a clear understanding about how the rest of your time under my protection is going to go.”

  I laid down the first heavy swat, the flat of my hand rebounding off her bottom, sparsely clad as it was in sopping wet panties and the thin stretch of the t-shirt she’d gone to sleep in. Neither offered any protection, especially not from my hand, and she sucked a loud gasp from the very start. Her feet kicked up off the floor although not far enough to cover her bottom and she snapped a hand back.

  “Oh my god,” she whispered, but she still didn’t swear, and I was starting to believe I knew why.

  “No, no,” I told her, pausing long enough to take firm hold of her wrist and tucking it into the firm grip of the arm I’d pinned her down with. “When you’ve earned a spanking over my knee, little girl, you don’t get to interfere. Feet on the floor and hands out of the way, because if I have to tell you again”—hooking the elastic waist of her underwear in my fingers, I skinned her panties all the way down to her knees, baring her lily-white bottom and the single, hot-pink handprint that marred it—“it won’t be Daddy’s very gentle hand you feel.”