by Cara Dee
"Are you done now?"
She gulps and nods jerkily.
"Good." I straighten and move my beer out of the way. "Both of you, drop your panties and bend over the table."
The laughter has stopped, and so have a few fellow club goers in view of our table. Watching punishments is always popular.
Nicholas returns with a black marker, and he gets down on one knee to write on Kayla's ass.
"I've been a bad girl. Spank me, please!" is written across her cheeks.
I laugh, and it's my turn with the marker. The girls aren't happy campers anymore, squirming and apologizing for all they're worth.
"Hold still, Gabriella," I reprimand. She whimpers in defeat and stays still so I can write, "Spank the bad baby slut."
Satisfied, Nick and I appreciate our work for a moment before we sit down to return to our conversation. We pretend the girls aren't even there, only acknowledging the Tops and bottoms who come over to ask if they really can spank our Littles.
"Have at it, gentlemen." Nicholas inclines his head. "They don't have the highest thresholds for pain, but make it count."
*
"You're not for real."
"Why, what's so strange about it?" Nick furrows his brow.
Dylan and I glance at each other, and he shrugs, so maybe it's just me?
I shake my head and lean back a bit. "I wouldn’t care if I was the groom, but as your buddy, I feel like you're robbing your friends of the sheer joy that comes with bachelor parties."
I almost miss Nick's chuckled response because Gabriella and Kayla are crying so loudly, though I manage to get the gist. I get it, a joint party before the wedding would give us kinky strippers in the form of our partners, but I don’t know. It's tradition.
Simon thanks us for letting him warm up by spanking the girls, and then he guides his sub into the Cave. Dante's next, and he doesn’t go easy on either of them.
Gabriella screams out her anguish, so I tilt to the side to get a good look at her ass. It's only beginning to turn purple, and she bruises easily.
"I'm s-sorry," she sobs.
The tabletop fogs up with every choked breath where they have their mouths, and drops of saliva and tears spot the surface. Dylan's not finding it as funny anymore. He wrings his hands anxiously and throws them worried glances.
"P-Please, Daddy," Kayla wails.
Nicholas nods at Dante, whose hand comes down with a resounding smack.
"Daddy—" Dylan scoots closer to me and grabs my arm. "They're in so much pain."
"You reckon they've had enough?" I thread my fingers through his hair and scratch his scalp lightly. "I'm not so sure, but I can always switch it up a little."
"Kayla hasn’t learned her lesson yet," Nicholas decides, standing up. "Thank you, Dante. I believe my belt will take it from here."
"Oh, it was my pleasure." Dante winks and walks off with Gretchen.
I crook a finger so Gabriella will get over here.
"Dylan's taking pity on you, princess." I wipe away tears and drool from her flushed face. "You should thank him, yeah?"
She hiccups around a cry and croaks out, "Th-thank you, Dylan. You're the b-best big b-brother ever."
I stroke Dylan's thigh and retrieve a condom from my back pocket. Had we been home, I wouldn’t have bothered, but at the club everyone uses protection.
"I think you can show him how thankful you are." I keep my eyes on Gabriella, even when my hand covers Dylan's crotch under the table. He startles. "Just make sure you don't touch his bad leg when you ride him."
"Oh," Gabriella whimpers. "It'll hurt my bottom, Daddy."
"I know," I murmur, fondling Dylan's cock until he's hard, "and that's why you shouldn’t be so fucking mouthy." Facing my boy, I instruct him to push down his PJs. The fine hairs along his muscular thighs won't feel so fine for Gabriella's beaten ass. "Put this on." I hand him the condom, and he eagerly tears off the wrapping and rolls the rubber down his cock. "You're not so concerned about her pain now, are you?"
Dylan purses his lips, thinking. "I'll care a lot when I'm done, I swear."
I laugh as I help Gabriella climb over me.
The tears haven't stopped streaming down by the time she carefully squats over Dylan's cock and takes him inside, her back to his chest. She flinches when he grabs two fistfuls of her ass to guide her up and down on his cock, and she screws her eyes closed.
It's a sexy goddamn sight, and it's to the sounds of Nicholas belting his girl and the peals of laughter ringing out from kinksters having fun that I watch my two Littles fuck.
I'm not the only one watching, but the others fade away. The second Dylan reaches for me, I'm there to cup his cheek and kiss him. Wanting pleasure to win over the pain, I find my way between Gabriella's thighs and stroke her little clit. Her cries become breathier, and she asks if she can turn around.
That works great for me, actually. In the new position, her ass will rub against Dylan's thighs even more. She regrets asking the second time Dylan thrusts into her sweet pussy and grinds to get deeper.
"Ow, ow, ow—it hurts, Dylan!"
"No," he groans. "It feels so fucking good. Please don't make me stop, Daddy."
"You don't have to stop."
I don't ever want to stop this.
"Come here, both of you." I go from kissing Dylan to kissing Gabriella, and they inch closer to each other. I hear how her breathing changes, I taste the remnants of her tears, and then it's the three of us kissing. It's wet, sloppy, and fucking fantastic.
Behind me, Nicholas rolls on a condom and slams his cock inside Kayla, who screams in both pleasure and pain. The sound, the tension, all of it, flows between us and drives me batshit. I rub Gabriella's clit in tight circles, spurring her on to want more. It shows whenever she takes Dylan deeper and tries to move faster.
"Close," he gasps.
"Fill her." I graze my teeth along his jaw, my fingers working Gabriella's clit harder. "Come, sweetheart."
He loses control and thrusts upward once, twice, three more times before a long moan leaves him.
Gabriella follows moments later when I pinch her soaked clit and slip a finger inside her ass.
There's no release for me, yet it's strangely satisfying to see them collapse against one another. It also means I get to be greedy and selfish when we get home, and I plan on making the night last.
Chapter 14
Unfortunately, Dylan's trip here doesn’t last. Despite that it's a temporary break, it leaves a rock in my stomach. He and I sit at the kitchen table; the sun's about to rise, and Gabriella's asleep.
"You look so broody." Dylan tries to keep things light.
"I don't like it." I stare down into my coffee mug, my mind going to everything that can go wrong. "It'd be easier if it was only three or four days. This is three weeks we're talking about."
It's the season for swim meets and tryouts, and he's following each event on his phone, often ending up withdrawing. Now he's going back to Texas, where I won't be able to pick him up when he's down.
I can't even imagine going from having everything figured out to being pushed back to square one. Not about something as big as one's career, which has been his dream for fifteen years. And even though he fights to stay motivated most of the time, there are going to be moments everything crashes down around him. I've seen it firsthand, in glimpses. He hasn't opened up fully yet. He'll save that for when he's alone.
"A lot is happening right now," he says quietly. "I think…maybe it'll be good? You and Gabriella can take this time to process everything."
That right there. He retreats so we can make sure we know what we want.
We already know. "We're done thinking. You belong here with us." I won't have him leaving today believing he's only a plaything we invite to our relationship. "This isn't temporary, Dylan."
I fucking see that he doesn’t dare hope it's true.
Shifting in his seat, he keeps his gaze on the table, and he fidgets with his ti
cket. "I'm not in a good place," he whispers. "I'm tired. I get angry a lot. No one wants that." It's not the first time he's hinted at being a burden. "Isn't it better I return when I feel like a person again? Then you can know what you're getting yourselves into."
I shake my head, though I don’t reply verbally. Mere words won't shake his belief, so I'll have to show him.
"I want to show you somethin'." He pushes his chair out a bit and rolls up the sweat pants to reveal his cast. "I want this more than anything."
He shows me what Gabriella has drawn, images I haven't looked at very closely until now. I lean closer to see beautiful illustrations of the little things. The sun shining on three animated characters, the guy in the middle tall and smiling at the other two. The girl is holding a stuffie, and the boy is laughing, holding an ice cream cone. The design is innocent and childlike, though unmistakably professional and flawless. Gabriella has created a tattoo sleeve in anime. A background image of the Golden Gate Bridge stands out between the three of us along with a Santa's bag that is brimming. A flogger hangs over the edge, a teddy bear sits at the top, I see a set of cuffs, a blindfold, and a hula-hoop.
She hasn’t strayed from the Japanese style of anime, and that includes several signs I don’t understand.
"What does it say here?" I ask, ghosting a finger across a banner.
The entire cast is filled. A swimmer in the ocean, three puzzle pieces connected, illustrated candy, more Japanese signs, balloons shaped like bloated stars, a bicycle, a pair of running shoes…
"I asked her," he murmurs. "It translates roughly to 'Daddy's boy, naughty and nice.'"
Someone's studying Japanese styles at the tattoo shop, I'm guessing. She has an eye for it.
"It's beautiful." I tap the puzzle pieces before sitting back in my chair again.
He nods, studying the artwork. "I want this so much, Cade. And I don’t want to ruin it before it even has a chance to begin."
His mind is set. Stubborn kid. Again, I'll show him otherwise. He won't ruin anything.
"Here's the thing, Dylan," I tell him. "I make the decisions in this household, and I think you'll be away from us too long. Mexico's three weeks away, so I'll give you ten days. Then you'll be here with Devil. It'll give you plenty of time to wrap things up in Texas and have your belongings shipped."
He didn’t see that coming, and he gets flustered and ready to protest.
"It's not a suggestion." I stand up and ruffle his hair on my way to the fridge. "Your recovery comes first, but Gabriella and I will be here every step of the way. Good times and bad. You will be home in ten days, end of discussion."
Taken aback, he has no response.
*
With Dylan back in Texas and Gabriella pulling long hours at the tattoo shop, I'm left alone to work and make plans for the future. I'm more driven than ever to turn my place into a home for all of us, and it's time to make some changes around the house.
In three days, I have my entire backyard torn up, and I call my uncle to help me out with things I can't do on my own or purchase ready-made. My uncle disapproves of the latter, saying ready-made as if it tastes like poison.
I chuckle. I can't blame him, but I want this done quickly. Dylan and Gabriella should have their own space for when they want privacy. Since I can't build them their own rooms, playhouses for the backyard will do. That’s the ready-made part. Two little cottages will be delivered and assembled while we're in Mexico. They're not big, only 170 square feet each, though I reckon my Littles will be able to fill them with what they want.
I'll build a shelving system for Gabriella so she can put all her research and sketchbooks someplace. She comes home with new books every day.
Dylan works out a lot, so I'll have a chin-up bar installed, along with a built-in space for his kettlebells and whatnot.
"Pastels. One gray, one purple…" My uncle's muttering to himself, scanning my order for the two sheds. Or he's studying the image of the aforementioned sheds. They do look like mini cottages. They'll sit nicely in the corner of the backyard. "Freakin' porches, all idyllic-looking. Son, are you having kids, or is this a kinky thing? Don't tell me I'm building a jungle gym."
I laugh and put my pen behind my ear. "No, that's not why I called you." I ignore the kinky remark. He and my aunt are swingers, so they're close enough to our lifestyle to know I'm a Daddy Dom. He likes to make digs. "I want a deck right here." I gesture to where we're standing behind the house. "And stairs from there." I point up to my bedroom window. "To reach the backyard now, we gotta go down the front and through my workshop. If we build stairs, we'll have better access."
"All right." He starts taking notes on what needs to be done. "Elevated deck?"
I nod. "And I want windows and a patio door installed on the first floor." The house wasn’t built to be a home, but as the area gentrified, I was able to get it rezoned. It was first and foremost an auto shop, so the big garage door on this side has to go. By the time it's done, I wanna be able to look out the window from my workshop and see Dylan and Gabriella in the yard.
I see it clearly, what I want, and I'm not letting go of that image this time.
"Big plans," my uncle notes. "It'll look good. Anything else?"
Yeah. A hot tub or a pool. Trees and bushes along the wooden fence. A lawn for future play parties. A hammock for me. A grill and a seating area. Better access to the roof than a simple ladder, since the princess has claimed the spot as hers. A doghouse for Devil. But, one thing at a time.
"It's a good start." I slap him on the back. "Beer?"
*
"Let me help you." I leave the shop and walk out to the driveway where Gabriella's hauling grocery bags out of my truck. "I thought we were going grocery shopping tomorrow."
"No." She grunts as she sets a case of my favorite beer on the ground. "I gots a bone to pick with you, mister."
"That so?" I drop a kiss at the top of her head before taking over. She's dyed her hair again, and these days it only makes me smile. Even if it's green. Or as she calls it, teal.
"Yeah, a big bone." She huffs and closes the door. "Remember what you told me the other day after your uncle left?"
Sure. I suggested it's time she consider giving up her apartment—or the one she's sharing with four others. Gabriella got misty-eyed and proceeded to show me—more than once—what she thought of the idea. Before we crashed, I had to change the sheets.
"About the apartment?" I grab what I can, and we head for the stairs.
"Yes, Sir. And it got me thinking." She rushes up ahead of me with her backpack and one of the grocery bags. "If we're really going to be living together, I will put my foot down about money. You have to let us pitch in with what we can."
This shit again.
"I talked to Dylan earlier," she goes on, "and we decided that I will pay for food and he will cover half the bills. I'll do more once I get paid—"
"That’s ridiculous—"
"It's been decided, Daddy!" she snarls. Oh, boy. The princess is feisty today. "This is a fight you can't win. You're doing so much for us. We're helping." Next, she mocks me by using an adorably gruff voice. "End of discussion."
My mouth twitches, and I leave the groceries on the kitchen table. She and I are having dinner with Rio and Chelsea tonight, and I think I'll ask him for some pro tips on how to intimidate a snarling Little.
"We can talk about this later," I say. "I'll get the rest of the groceries. You get ready for dinner."
She juts her chin and saunters toward the bathroom. "Like I said, end of discussion."
I can't help but grin.
*
We arrive at Rio and Chelsea's in Sausalito around eight, and it bothers me I haven't heard from Dylan yet. I work from home, so I can take calls pretty much whenever, which is why I told him to call me when he had time—at least once a day. It's been more than that; he usually calls first thing in the morning and then sometime in the afternoon. Except for today.
Gabriella's
spoken to him, though. I guess that’s something.
Four days to go, and then he'll have been away for ten days. I can't wait to see him again.
Leaving the truck, I type out a quick text to him.
Thinking of you, sweetheart. Call me when you can.
I pocket my phone and ring the doorbell, Gabriella twirling her hair nervously.
"Master Rio is scary," she whispers.
I smirk lazily. "Scarier than me?"
"Well, no. You can do stuff. But he has a torture dungeon, and what if you want to borrow it sometime?"
I nod slowly. "True. That could happen."
She snaps her mouth shut, having not expected me to say that, and then Chelsea opens the door.
It's supposed to be a casual dinner, so I'm not sure why she's quick to lower her gaze and kneel on the floor. That kind of behavior causes Gabriella to regress a bit.
"Hi, Miss Chelsea," she says shyly.
I jerk my chin at Rio. "What's up, buddy?"
He stands in the foyer, hands in the pockets of his slacks. "My pet has something to say before we eat, if that’s all right."
"Sure." I let Gabriella enter before me, and I pull off my hoodie.
"Mr. Kingsley, I owe you an apology." Chelsea keeps looking down, and she picks anxiously at the hem of her skirt. "I'm so happy to be talking to Dylan again, and he—and Master—explained everything to me. I shouldn’t have made a judgment on your character. It wasn’t my place, and I'm very sorry."
I exchange a look with Rio and raise a brow, to which he inclines his head.
Taking a step forward, I gently grasp Chelsea's chin and make her look me in the eye. "Water under the bridge, sub. Dylan's lucky to have friends that loyal."
She smiles carefully, her silvery violet eyes filling with relief. "Thank you, Sir."
I smile back and help her to her feet, and it ends the formality of the night. We're here for pizza on the patio and to discuss our gift to Nick and Kayla, not watch our lovely s-types stare at the floor.
*
Those s-types of ours get bossy when it comes to gifts, though. They shoot down every idea Rio and I have.
