His Babygirl

by Jane Henry

  “You think people who come here to be whipped a-a-and blindfolded are gonna judge me for having a cigarette?” She tried to sound indignant, but her voice had gone weak and breathless just from having him close. God, he smelled amazing—like musk and wood smoke. And now she was thinking about blindfolds, a kink that had always been a hard limit for her, but which, in conjunction with thoughts of Slay, made her heart pound with something that felt strangely like arousal.

  “I think the patrons of this club, like most people who really understand D/s, are all about safe and sane behavior.” His voice was a low rumble that she felt in her belly. “There’s nothing safe about smoking. And there’s nothing sane about you standing out here arguing that fact with me when you should be apologizing instead.”

  The absurdity of his words cut through her arousal and she spun to face him. “Apologizing? To you? For what? For making a choice, just because you don’t happen to agree with it?”

  Sexual frustration, sorrow, and anger were riding her, making her voice shrill. How dare he ignore her for weeks and then come after her this way!

  His eyes narrowed, not too pleased with her backtalk.

  Good.

  “For being an idiot who doesn’t take her health or her job seriously,” he told her, his eyes hot and his expression serious as a heart attack.

  “Jesus! I don’t believe you. You know what, Slay? Fuck you!” she said loudly.

  “Say again?”

  The two words vibrated with warning, but she would not heed it. She’d already given too much of herself to people like him who didn’t deserve it, apologized for too many things, like this, that didn’t require apology.

  “You heard me,” she said, narrowing her eyes. And just in case the people across the street hadn’t heard her the first time, she said it again, louder, jabbing her index finger into the hard wall of his chest as she enunciated each word. “FUCK. YOU.”

  A hot flush climbed up Slay’s neck and suffused his cheeks, and his eyes simmered like bubbling caramel. But he stood frozen, every muscle locked down, while he stared at her and breathed in and out.

  He was trying to control his temper, she realized. Why? So he could go back to ignoring her? How typical.

  She made a dismissive noise and once again tried to step around him.

  With one enormous hand, he reached out and grabbed her elbow, yanking her to his side, and then he led them both up the walkway and down the short flight of steps to the building entrance. He grabbed the heavy exterior door with his free hand and pulled it back so violently that it hit the wall of the building with a loud crash.

  Holy shit. She hadn’t thought that was possible.

  Her heart stuttered for a second before beating even faster, making her lightheaded and nauseous. She was a tiny bit scared… and just a tiny bit thrilled. I made him do that.

  He led her past the security guys, Donnie and Jace, who monitored the door between the outer bar and the members-only rooms. The guys, who always greeted Alice with a friendly joke or wisecrack, looked quickly from Slay to her, and then back again. Alice couldn’t see Slay’s expression from this angle, but whatever was there wiped the smiles off their faces. Their eyes widened and they opened the double doors without comment.

  The same process repeated as Slay led her through the main bar, the crowds parting before them. Gabby, who was working the bar during Alice’s break, caught her eye and gave her a questioning glance. Alice shook her head once—Nothing to see here!—and tried to smile. Of course, it was difficult to look nonchalant when an ogre was leading you along by the elbow.

  He led her to the back area, where the employee rooms and Blake’s office were located, and for the first time, worry wormed its way through her mind. Shit. Could he really get her fired? It wasn’t legal—she wasn’t an idiot, and she knew that much. But Slay and Blake were tight, and Blake might do it if Slay asked. Not to mention, Blake seemed to have other things on his mind lately, and left the day-to-day running of The Club to Slay more often than not. And if they did fire her, she wasn’t likely to sue The Club to get her job back, partly because she couldn’t afford an attorney and partly because she needed to avoid association with The Club for Charlie’s and her parents’ sake.

  Maybe she could get more hours at Cara, the Italian restaurant where she worked her second job. But she wasn’t sure how long that job would even extend beyond the holidays.

  “Slay, I…” she began. She was ready to apologize even though she wasn’t sorry. God knew she had plenty of practice at that.

  But Slay didn’t lead her to Blake’s office. In fact, he dragged her past it, heading to the new elevator that had been installed at the back of the building that led to the basement stock rooms and upstairs, to the private play rooms. He stretched out one long, callused finger and jabbed the Up button.

  What the heck?

  She wrenched her elbow away from him, or tried to. The man was a brick wall and his grip, while not painful, was as unbreakable as an iron shackle. But the second he felt her resistance, he spun her around, her back to the wall beside the elevator, and his big body moved in front of her, caging her in.

  “Where are you taking me?” she demanded, staring up at him. She would not notice the heat and strength of him, the way his arms bracketed her so easily, the intense determination in his beautiful eyes. Damn it, why were his eyes so beautiful?

  “Upstairs,” he told her. “I’m going to take care of you.”

  She blinked. Then she blinked again. He hadn’t said “take care of you” in a tender way. There was no implied love, no unspoken “baby” at the end of that sentence. Instead, he was imminently practical, a man with a job to do. There was a problem, and he was going to “take care” of it. If Slay had been a mobster, she’d have worried she was being sent to sleep with the fishes. If he were a doctor, he’d be doing surgery. But no, Slay was a dominant, so that meant he’d…

  He’d…

  Oh, wait a minute. Hold the fucking phone.

  “No way. N-no way,” she stuttered, just as the elevator dinged and the doors opened.

  He grabbed her elbow, hauled her inside the tiny elevator, and jabbed the button. Slay let go of her just before the doors slid shut.

  They stared at one another across the dimly lit space, both breathing heavily.

  He was going to spank her right now. Unless she said “no” clearly and forcefully, he would take her into a private room and spank her ass with those giant, rough hands. She could see the intent written on his face, plain as day, and it was like a fantasy come to life… except that in her fantasy, he’d be doing it because he wanted to, because he wanted her, not because he felt some weird protective obligation.

  Did his motives really matter, though? In a way, it would be no different than participating in a scene with some nameless guy she’d never talk to again. She was wound tighter than a spring, and her body craved the release she could find at his hands.

  But then what? Back to business as usual, being co-workers? Could he do that? Could she?

  Alice was breathing hard, swallowing convulsively, and she was mortified to find that her knees were weak. Slay… well, Slay was a wall, showing all the emotion of concrete, except for his eyes, which lit with challenge.

  You wanted this, Alice. So take it.

  She threw her head back and met his gaze defiantly, saying nothing.

  The elevator dinged again, and the doors slid open smoothly. Alice was prepared for him to take her elbow again, but he didn’t. Instead, he cocked his head to the side, waiting for her to move in front of him.

  Another challenge? Right. Nothing would happen now without her consent.

  She stepped out into the hallway.

  He did take her elbow again, then, gently leading her down the hall and pulling his master key from his pocket to unlock the door. She took a deep breath and took a step forward.

  Inside, a single weak lamp glowed in the corner, illuminating the shape of the room—the
bed, a small table, a spanking bench, the door that led to a small private bathroom. The room was bare but for the furniture, a blank canvas for a dom’s imagination. Most of the doms who rented the rooms did so in advance and for a specific purpose, to set up a specific scene. Most brought their own props and implements, though Blake would supply larger equipment on request. It was obvious that the room hadn’t been used recently… and that no one had planned to use it tonight. The air inside was chilly and stale, and Alice shivered, wishing she could feel Slay’s body heat again.

  Was she going to do this? Let him spank her? It was what she’d wanted for months, wasn’t it? Should she tell him her hard limits? That she didn’t like restraints, she wasn’t into any hardcore kink like breath play, and for some reason, she’d never been able to tolerate sensory deprivation, like blindfolds?

  Slay moved in behind her and the door shut behind him with a soft click. Without saying a word, he reached for the thermostat on the wall and bumped the temperature up several degrees.

  He’d seen her shiver and he was keeping her safe and comfortable. But without touching her, naturally. Keeping his distance.

  And that wasn’t what she wanted at all.

  Alice sighed, and felt her shoulders slump, at once tired and defeated. “Slay, I can’t do this.”

  “Face the wall and spread your legs.”

  Alice turned to find him leaning back against the door, his arms folded over his chest, his face impassive and his eyes… burning.

  She shook her head quickly. “No. This isn’t what I want.”

  Before she had time to think, he was behind her, turning her. One strong forearm wrapped around her stomach, holding her against him, while the other braced them against the wall. He tilted her head to the side with his chin and whispered in her ear.

  “Bullshit, baby. You wanted this. You wanted exactly this. That’s why you’ve defied me for the past few months, working the main bar, wearing this skimpy leather skirt. And that’s why you went outside tonight. You knew every inch of this building is covered by security cameras. You knew I’d see you, that I’d come for you, that I’d spank you. You know that you need this from me.”

  Oh, God. Where was the instant denial that should be coming to her lips? Where was the outrage? She couldn’t summon any. Maybe she had known.

  “Spread your legs for me, Alice,” he commanded softly. “Take your punishment.”

  As though her muscles obeyed his command without consulting her brain, her feet moved apart, and when he placed his hand against the small of her back and pushed gently, she arched forward.

  “That’s my girl,” he approved, and Alice felt a brief flare of pleasure at his words. Then Slay grasped her hips and pulled her ass back against him, and her thoughts completely stuttered to a halt.

  Oh my God. Pressed against her was a rock-hard erection that, like everything about Slay, was of mammoth proportion. And she knew in that instant that he wasn’t simply a little turned on by their positions, and he wasn’t just understandably excited by the impending spanking, like any dom might be. No, he was violently, rampantly aroused in a way that said he’d been suffering this way for more than a minute or two. He was hard as stone, for her. This wasn’t just about his instinctive need to protect her from herself, and he definitely wasn’t thinking of her as a sister.

  And that changed everything.

  From one second to the next, she surrendered completely. And she knew he felt it when he stepped back, no longer fighting her or even commanding her, but arranging her pliant limbs into the proper position, bending her at just the right angle.

  She closed her eyes and listened to his harsh breathing, concentrated on the tingles of sensation she felt when his fingers brushed against her skin. She was so turned on that her pussy throbbed with it. She needed his hands on her right that second.

  He knelt behind her, his hands guiding her high-heeled feet just a few inches further apart, and then he stopped. His hands dragged up the insides of her bare legs, from her ankles up her smooth calves to her knees, and then further, along the backs of her thighs to the hem of her short black leather skirt, now pulled taut against her spread legs. He stood up, hooked his fingers under the hem and lifted it, centimeter by centimeter, exposing the swell of her ass, shielded only by the tiniest scrap of black lace, to his eyes.

  He was going to punish her, and she was going to let him.

  It was exquisite torture waiting for that first slap to land, imagining his eyes on her flesh, wondering what he thought and whether he could possibly be as turned on as she was.

  And then his broad, hot palm hit her cool flesh, and she could think of nothing but that.

  Holy shit, but it hurt.

  Maybe it was because her emotions were running high, or maybe because she hadn’t had a good session in weeks, but the pain was startling in its intensity. In the two years she’d been into the club scene, out of the dozen or more guys who had spanked her ass in that time, she’d never felt the pain come on so swiftly and powerfully.

  “You messed up tonight, little girl,” he told her. She gritted her teeth as he blistered her backside with a half-dozen stinging swats that echoed around the nearly empty room.

  Alice frowned. What had he said? The pain made it hard to focus.

  “Uh. Yes. Yes, sir. Sorry.” She recited her expected line dutifully.

  But from behind her, she heard Slay mutter “Jesus,” clearly not appeased by her rote recitation. He leaned over and whispered hotly into her ear, “When I'm punishing you, you call me Daddy. Understood?”

  “What?” she whispered. Daddy? Her brain instantly rejected the idea, even as her belly flipped and her thighs clenched.

  She’d heard of daddy doms in the past, had known a couple of girls who got off on playing the babygirl, but had never found it remotely appealing… until now. Until Slay, who was obviously not playing around.

  He spanked her lower this time, delivering a stinging slap to the area just above her thighs. “You heard me, Alice. Say yes, Daddy.”

  “Ow!” she complained. “Calm down!” She needed a minute to remember all the reasons why she couldn’t say it, shouldn’t say it, no matter how tempting it was.

  “Try. One. More. Time,” he said, the sound of his hand on her ass punctuating each word. His voice was harsher now, impatient with her stalling tactics. “Yes, Daddy.”

  Could she? Another searing swat had her nearly blubbering, but when she spoke, it wasn’t the pain talking, but something deeper. A longing inside her.

  “Yes, Daddy!”

  She closed her eyes as his hand stilled. His voice was deeper, but softer, as he spoke. “That’s right, baby,” he told her. His spanking hand paused, kneading her backside, while the other wrapped around under her arm to grip her chin and turn her gaze toward his. “Daddy. Not some random asshole you’ve picked up downstairs. Not some piece of shit who’s spanking your ass just because he gets off on the experience and you wanna scratch an itch. But an honest-to-God dominant who expects you to take your safety seriously. Things are changing, baby. I’ve bided my time, but I’m not waiting any longer. After tonight, you belong to me. Do you understand your daddy?”

  She didn’t understand a damn thing, but she nodded as much as she could with his hand holding her chin.

  Slay sighed and released his grip. “You don’t. But you will, baby. You will.”

  He placed one broad palm against the small of her back, keeping her arched so that her ass was thrust out, while the other one came down quick and hard on the top of her thighs.

  Holy crap.

  “Slay… Daddy!” she shouted, wrenching one hand off the wall and moving it to shield herself. “You’re doing it wrong! That’s too hard.”

  He growled in annoyance and pinned her wrist to her lower back.

  “Of course it’s hard. I’m not spanking you for kicks, Alice. It’s supposed to hurt. It’s supposed to make you think the next time you have the urge to light up a cigar
ette or jeopardize your safety in some other stupid, bratty way, ‘Am I really ready to break the rules? Do I really wanna feel that pain again? Do I really wanna make my daddy angry?’ ”

  A quiver of fear and longing turned her stomach. This wasn’t what she’d expected! His palm fell again and again, until her flesh was hot and throbbing and her eyes were filled with tears.

  “You messed up today, Alice,” he said again, releasing her wrist, and bringing both of his hands down to massage her sore bottom.

  Alice took a deep shuddering breath. “Yes, Daddy,” she sobbed.

  Her voice was husky and soft in the sudden stillness of the room, and it seemed to make his own voice deepen in response.

  “Explain to me what you did that was wrong.” His tone was as hard and unyielding as his palm.

  “I-I went outside and smoked a cigarette,” she admitted. “It was a dumb thing to do.”

  “Dumb, yeah. Because you have friends who love you, a kid who adores you, and you need to do everything you can to keep yourself healthy,” he told her. “Everyone has vices, baby. But you smoke that shit because you’re having one bad day, because something inside you is craving attention, and you’re playing Russian roulette, yeah? Not just with your life, but your kid’s future.”

  She inhaled sharply. God, when he said it like that… It was pretty fucking selfish. “You’re right,” she said, her shoulders sagging slightly. “I’m sorry.” And this time it wasn’t a line. She truly meant it.

  Slay nodded against her shoulder, and his massaging hands turned teasing, rubbing her in wider and wider circles, getting closer to her pussy and then finally dipping beneath the edge of her thong.

  Alice sucked in a breath.

  So did Slay. “Jesus… All this for me, Allie-girl?” he breathed, moving his fingers through the wetness he found there.

  Allie-girl. Something about that simple nickname made her heart stutter. No one had ever given her a nickname before. She’d always been Alice, sweet and wholesome and dependable. But Allie-girl… She sounded fun and lighthearted. Cared for. Loved.