Mustang Daddy - A Single Daddy, Small Town Second Chance Romance

by Sienna Parks

  I plant a soft kiss on his lips. “I’m sorry. It’s been so long since we’ve been together, and I wanted to please you. We’ve had such a wonderful day today, talking and walking, and just being together. I didn’t want to ruin that with a clinical discussion of hard limits.”

  He cups my face in his large, warm hands, forcing me to look at him. “Nothing between us is clinical, Nyx. Not ever.”

  “I love you.”

  “I love you, too.” He holds me close, stroking his hands up and down my back until my body relaxes, melting into his strong, broad frame. I breathe in his masculine scent, letting it wash over me, giving me the confidence to go through with tonight. “I explicitly told the club that it is a view-only class. No one is allowed to touch you, or participate in any way. It’s just you and me. All you have to do is focus on me; my voice; my hands on your body.” I let out a breath, I didn’t know I was holding, the tension leaving my body. “Vittoria.” He pulls away, holding my shoulders with his hands, staring at me, looking for answers. “You’ve been worried about this. I can cancel. I don’t want you doing anything that makes you uncomfortable. That’s why I wanted to ask you first. You can’t lie to me. I know it’s been hard, us being apart, but I’m your Master, and you need to respect that at all times, distance or not. Do you understand me?”

  “Yes, Master Fitzgerald.”

  “Good girl. So, what do you want to do? Do you want me to cancel, and I can perform my Master class for your eyes only? It’s well worth seeing!”

  “I’m sure it is… and that’s why I want to go with you. You’re so talented. I’ve seen your work before. I stood in the back at one of your demonstrations in New York. It was… breathtaking, and heartbreaking. I so wanted it to be me.”

  “I’m so sorry.”

  I caress his face with my hand, touched by his sentiments. “You have nothing to be sorry about. I chose not to tell you back then. I wanted to, but I was scared. Don’t ever be sorry for who you are. I love everything about you, and without your past, you wouldn’t be the man standing before me. The man I’ve fallen head over heels in love with.”

  “What did I do to deserve you?”

  I lower my gaze, uncomfortable at the thought of him putting me on a pedestal. “I’m the lucky one.” His lips find mine, erasing all of my worries and insecurities, surrounding me with love and acceptance.

  “Are you sure about this? About, the demonstration?”

  “Yes. I’m sure. I trust you. Let’s go. I’m desperate to be bound by you, Master Fitzgerald.”

  We leave for the club, hand in hand, full of anticipation for the night ahead. I’m still apprehensive about being so vulnerable in a room full of strangers, but I want to do this, for him, and for myself. I won’t live the rest of my life in the shadow of my own fears.

  The décor is sumptuous and inviting, the private rooms fully equipped with everything a submissive could ever want for a night of extreme pleasure and pain at the hands of her Dom. The main hall has been set up for the demonstration with a leather table in the center and the ropes that will bind me, resting on top.

  Seeing the way Logan commands the room is such a turn-on. Every nerve ending in my body is alive with desire, the anticipation of his touch causing butterflies to swarm in my stomach. He takes my hand in his, pulling me into his side.

  “Are you ready, Nyx?”

  “Yes, Master Fitzgerald. I’m ready.”

  He leads me through the crowd, over to the table, and I can feel my hands shaking.

  “Take off your robe.” I do as he asks, the eyes of everyone around us focused on me. I drop the robe to the floor, letting it pool at my feet.

  My Master has me dressed in a stunning outfit this evening, tailored specifically for me, and conducive to what he wants to do with the ropes. I’m wearing deep purple, satin ballet shoes, with jewel encrusted ribbons that he tied in the most intricate, striking knots; up over my ankles and twisting around my calves. They complement the deep purple lace panties I’m wearing, perfectly. I have a fitted miniature tutu, unlike anything I’ve ever worn before; sexy and sensual, and perfect for me. Instead of a bra, he has chosen a lace effect body art that covers my now tightly budded nipples, tapering off to the sides in an elegant swirling pattern. I catch a glimpse of myself in the mirrors on the far side of the room. I look… beautiful. I feel beautiful.

  “You are stunning. Absolutely breathtaking.” He places a gentle kiss on my lips, sending a shiver down my spine. “Will you dance for me while I prepare the ropes for you?”

  “Yes, Master Fitzgerald.” He nods in the direction of the DJ, and the music blaring through the speakers stops; Désir momentarily plunged into silence, before something familiar starts playing. It’s Tempo di Valse from Act 1 of Swan Lake.

  He leans down, his lips brushing against my ear. “Don’t look at anyone but me. You’re mine, Nyx. Every magnificent inch of you is mine.”

  My breathing is heavy and erratic as he lifts the ropes in front of him, his eyes never leaving mine as I begin to dance for him… only for him.

  I took enough painkillers to ensure that nothing we do tonight could hurt me, so I let myself go and enjoy the carefree feeling of dancing for my Master. I hear gasps in the crowd as I let the music guide me, but I don’t see anyone but him. He’s transfixed, his eyes hungry, brimming over with desire as he watches every move I make, his gaze lingering over my breasts as I caress my hands across my nipples. When the music fades, I bow before him and then assume my submissive position at his feet. The crowd is eerily silent, watching with baited breath.

  “You may look at me.” I am consumed with love for this man. He’s everything to me. “Who do you dance for?”

  “Only for you, Master Fitzgerald.”

  His hands are clasped behind his back. “I am honored. Truly.” He slowly circles me, his familiar scent invading my senses. “Are you ready to be bound, Nyx?”

  “Yes, Master Fitzgerald.”

  “What is your safe word?”

  “Hummingbird, Master Fitzgerald.”

  “Good girl. Now stand up, your back facing me, and hold your arms outstretched behind you, crossed at the wrists.” I follow his instructions, pressing my thighs together to alleviate the pressure of my own arousal. He reads even the subtlest movements of my body, speaking quietly enough that only I can hear him. “Your arousal is making me hard, little one. I can’t wait any longer to get my hands on you.” He grabs my hands and wraps the purple ropes around my wrists, rendering me helpless, and the Master class begins.

  His voice is bold and commanding as he addresses the crowd, who close in around us to better see my Master’s work. “You should always begin your rope work by binding your submissive’s wrists. That way, you have complete control over her body as you continue. Depending on their experience and level of discipline, you may also want to bind their feet. A simple line from the wrists down to the ankles would suffice, and repeat the knotting sequence I’m showing you now. The length of rope between can always be worked into the design. In this case, Nyx, is a disciplined and obedient submissive, who does not require her feet to be bound at this early stage, instead I will incorporate that into my chosen design, later in the demonstration.”

  The juxtaposition of the unforgiving rope, and the gentle caress of his fingers on my skin as he works, has my senses at a fever pitch. I can feel my panties growing wet as he works the ropes around my breasts, tying the most beautiful and intricate knots, showcasing every line and curve to perfection. He frames the lace body art around my nipples, integrating them into the design. I know he can feel my breasts, heavy with desire, and desperate for his touch.

  I stand still, letting him work around me, his brow furrowed in concentration. He stands back to look at the design so far, advising the crowd that you need to check your design periodically for symmetry and aesthetics. He’s sweating from the intensity of his work, and the heat in here, unbuttoning his shirt and throwing it under the table. I can se
e the women in the crowd, greedily ogling his naked chest; his broad shoulders and exquisitely toned abs, tapering down to the most mouth-watering V that dips below the waist of his pants. I want to claw their eyes out, and I know he can sense my unease.

  He closes the gap between us, and whispers in my ear as he picks up the ropes. “It’s all for you, Nyx. For your hands, your lips, and your pleasure. No one else’s. Not ever.”

  I smile up at him, my heart swelling in my chest, so proud to call him my Master.

  When he completes the knots on my chest, abdomen, and down my arms which are securely fixed behind my back, he lifts me up into his arms, and I relish the momentary intimacy of our contact before he lowers me onto the table.

  “Are you comfortable enough?”

  “Yes, Master Fitzgerald.”

  “I’m going to turn you over onto your front in a moment, but let me know if you get too sore lying on your hands. You have permission to interrupt me with your safe word if you need to. Understood?”

  “Yes, Master Fitzgerald.”

  He returns his focus to the class. “Once you are done with the top half, it’s best to lay your submissive down to finish working on their lower half. With their hands tied behind their back, they could become unsteady on their feet, and also, it gives you the freedom to position their legs to fit your design. For instance, hogtying allows for some very delicate and complex knots. That is how I’m going to bind my sub, this evening. It’s one of the more difficult techniques, so I’ll take it slow, but please come as close as you can and pay close attention.”

  I feel slightly claustrophobic when everyone moves in to watch him work. He gently wraps his arms around me and flips me onto my front. “Pull your feet up to your hands.” I do as he asks, enjoying the feel of his warm hands caressing the length of my legs.

  “Most submissives are not as flexible as Nyx, so you will have to adjust your work to accommodate your own sub’s physical limitations.” He catches hold of the rope that hangs from a knot around my belly button, and is currently resting between my legs. A jolt of electricity shoots to my core when he pulls it tight against my folds, the friction of my panties and the rope pushing me to the edge of orgasm. He adjusts the rope, making sure it’s positioned properly, pressing his fingers underneath my panties and down on my clit. He can feel how wet I am, and I delight in his sharp intake of breath as he lifts his fingers to his lips, licking them clean.

  He continues winding the ropes around my legs, constantly checking that I’m comfortable and that the ropes aren’t too tight. When he’s finished, he moves me onto my side and stands back to admire his work, a look of awe in his eyes as he drinks in the sight of me.

  The crowd applauds him, their eyes fixed on the beauty he’s created on my body. I am desperate to come apart for him, to feel his body pressing down on mine as he takes me to the peak of ecstasy and pushes me over the edge.

  “I’ll give you a few minutes to study the placement of the knots, and the different design options I’ve displayed for you this evening, before I take my leave and reward Nyx for her participation tonight.” He takes a step back, and is immediately accosted by at least half a dozen Dominants with questions about shibari. He keeps me in his sights the entire time, holding my gaze, reassuring me as some observers move closer to study his work. I can feel my heart racing, at the proximity of men that I don’t know. I lock eyes with my Master, and breathe through my fears… and that’s when it happens.

  First one, and then another, start touching me. One is running his hands over the ropes around my torso. The other tracing the ropes up my thighs. I’m frozen in fear. I try to shout for him, but it comes out as a whisper. “Hummingbird.” I find his eyes in the crowd. He can’t see what they’re doing, he can only see my face. “Hummingbird.” I can’t move, I can’t defend myself. I’m terrified. I don’t think he can hear me, but he can see the terror on my face, and he immediately starts pushing through the crowd; his eyes almost black with rage.

  “Hummingbird… Master… Please… Hummingbird… Logan!”

  “What the fuck do you think you’re doing?” My fist connects with his face, the sound of his jaw cracking resounding in my ear, before I spin around and jab the other guy so hard in the stomach that he drops to the floor, gasping for breath. “What the fuck is wrong with you? I will rip your fucking head off!” I throw another punch, catching the first guy in the ribs this time. “SHE’S MINE, YOU WORTHLESS MOTHERFUCKER! DO YOU HEAR ME? You’re not worthy to fucking look at her! How dare you lay a fucking finger on her!” When he stumbles back, trying to scramble away from me like the pathetic asshole he is, I turn my attention back to the other guy, but before I do any more damage, there is one thing, one emotion, that trumps the rage I’m feeling in this moment, bringing me back to what’s important… my love for Vittoria. She needs me, more than I need to exact revenge.

  She’s helpless and sobbing, screaming her safe word over and over, shouting my name in a plea for help. I push everyone out of the way and lift her into my arms. “I’m here, Nyx.” She’s still screaming, unaware that it’s me. “Nyx, listen to the sound of my voice, it’s me, baby. It’s Logan.” I pull her tight against my chest, her body going limp in my arms. “Vittoria… try to focus on my voice. Nothing else. No one is going to touch you. You’re safe. I’ve got you. I’m so sorry”

  I turn to the Master in charge of this fiasco. “Show me to a private room, NOW!” I’m trying to contain my fury, afraid that it will only make this worse for Vittoria. By the time I get her into a quiet room, away from the shouting and fighting going on downstairs, she’s hyperventilating.

  I try to lay her down to check if she’s hurt, but she won’t let go of me, so I cradle her in my arms, soothing her as best I can. “Take a deep breath for me, Vittoria. You need to calm your breathing. Breathe with me… in… and out… in… and out.”

  I turn my gaze to the sorry excuse for a Master, standing in the doorway. “Don’t just stand there, get me a fucking knife to cut her ropes, and bring me a glass of Scotch to calm her nerves.” He turns to leave, and I shout after him. “And hurry the fuck up!”

  I sit, rocking her back and forth, whispering soothing words of my love and devotion for her. Eventually the sobbing subsides and her breathing returns to normal. She doesn’t speak, she just clings to me, like a baby to its mother.

  When Master Incompetent returns, I quickly cut her free and throw the ropes at his feet. I grab the sheet off the bed in the room and wrap it around her, still in my lap.

  “What the FUCK just happened down there? WAS I NOT CLEAR ENOUGH??? I told you that NO ONE touches her. SHE IS MINE, AND NO ONE FUCKING TOUCHES HER!! What kind of sorry excuse for a club are you running here?”

  He’s full of apologies, both in French and English, but it’s too late for that now. I want someone’s head on a spike for this.

  “Who the fuck were those men?”

  His voice shakes as he tries to answer me. “Submissives. They are submissives in training. Their Mistresses were also in the crowd and they have been removed to their private rooms for punishment.”

  “Bring me their Mistresses, now.”

  “Master Fitzgerald. I understand you’re upset, but they will be punished for their actions.”

  I am seeing fucking red right now. “UPSET? You think I’m upset? That doesn’t begin to scratch the surface. I don’t give a fuck what punishment those so-called Mistresses are giving them, it’s not enough. Bring them to me, now, or I swear to God I will search every room in this place until I find them, and I will kill those motherfucking subs.”

  “As you wish, Master Fitzgerald.” He scurries off with his tail between his legs, not a dominant bone in his body.

  Alone in the silence, Vittoria finally speaks. “You’re bleeding.”

  “Doesn’t matter.”

  She sits up, taking my hand in hers, kissing my bloodstained knuckles. “You’re bleeding. It matters to me.”

  I pull my hand
from her grasp. I don’t deserve her kindness. I let this happen. I should have been by her side the entire time. I shouldn’t have let anyone distract me with their inane questions. “Well, it shouldn’t. It’s less than I deserve. I should be flogged for letting this happen to you. I’m so fucking sorry.”

  “It wasn’t your fault. You’re the one that saved me.”

  “Not my fault? You can’t be serious. I’m supposed to be your Master. To protect you and keep you safe at all times. I failed you. You didn’t even want to come here.”

  “I was apprehensive, but I came willingly.” Her voice turns cold, void of feeling, and it chills me to my core.

  “I shouldn’t have pushed you. Can you ever forgive me?”

  We’re interrupted as the door opens and two French Mistresses walk in with their submissives on leashes behind them. I am so fucking livid at the sight of them, and I would be beating the ever-living shit out of both of those men if it weren’t for Vittoria, cowering in my arms. I can tell just from looking at them, that the woman on the left is the most aggressively dominant of the two, and sure enough, she steps up to speak to me. “We are so sorry, Master Fitzgerald. I am Mistress Giselle and this is Mistress Juliette. These are new submissives in training. They are boisterous and in need of severe and intensive training. We will make sure that they are punished for their actions. It was highly inappropriate and against the rules.”

  “With all due respect… Mistress.” I spit her title with all the vitriol and disdain that I feel for her in this moment. “I don’t give a fuck about the rules here, and apparently neither do your submissives. I don’t give a shit whether they are in training or not. Your job is to set the fucking boundaries. How can you stand here in front of me and call yourselves Mistress? I think you are both in need of some serious fucking training. My submissive is more dominant than you!”