The Daddy Games: A Filthy MFM Romance

by JB Duvane

  “Wait, what? You guy’s never had sex? Like, at all?”

  There it is, that tone I was dreading.

  “Well, we had sex. Just not—“

  “In your pussy?”

  “Yeah!” I say, gaining back a little big of conviction. “I mean, it’s not like we didn’t do lots of other stuff. I told you some of what we did. I sucked his cock all the freaking time, and I let him fuck me in the ass whenever he wanted.”

  “Oh wow, then what the hell was he complaining about?”

  “He said he thought I was messing with him—that I was just a tease and that he wanted to find a girl who really understood the meaning of submitting to him.”

  “What the hell did he mean by that?”

  As relieved as I am that Breanna understands what I mean, this is another thing I don’t particularly want to discuss with her. She knows that I’m kinky. We’ve talked about how we’re both submissive and how interesting it is that our own personal definitions of that word mean different things to each of us. But because I’m feeling so insecure about everything right now, answering this question makes me feel like I have no freaking idea what I’m doing. Like my version of submissive is somehow wrong because Danny said so.

  “That if I was really a sub I would do anything he wanted just because he told me to, I guess.”

  “What the fuck? He’s a total jackass, Aubrey! That’s not the way it works! You have to have an understanding between the two of you. The scenes aren’t just about what he wants, end of story. That’s messed up!”

  “Thank you for saying that, cause I swear to God I’ve felt like the biggest loser on the planet for the last hour. He told me that I’ve never been the kind of submissive he wanted, that I probably wasn’t even a sub at all, and that seriously killed me, Brea.”

  “Wow, Aubrey, that’s harsh. What did he even mean?”

  “I don’t know. I asked him to give me examples and he wouldn’t. He said I would know how to be a true submissive if I really was one.”

  “Oh my God, Aubrey, that’s horrible. He’s a complete asshole. He is so not worth crying over.”

  “I know, Brea, it just hurts. I thought he loved me. I really thought he understood me. And now I find out that all this time he’s been thinking the exact opposite—that everything I am is wrong. It makes me feel like I’ll never know if someone is being honest with me ever again.”

  “God, that’s awful. I’m so sorry. But you have to know that he’s just one guy. Well, one type of guy. There’s plenty of guys like him out there, unfortunately. But there are other types out there, and I swear you’ll find one of the good ones.”

  “I don’t know, Brea. I mean, most guys actually do want to fuck a girl’s pussy. Especially kinky guys.”

  “Not necessarily. There are plenty of people who do BDSM scenes that don’t even involve intercourse at all.”

  “Really? What do they do?”

  “Whatever they’re into. They make the arrangements beforehand. If both people are into rope work, and that’s all they both want, then the sub is tied up. If it’s pain, then the sub is spanked or paddled or whipped or whatever. If they both want the experience of the sub being tied up and having pain inflicted on them, and they both want something sexual to go on, then they do all of it in the same scene. But it’s an agreement, not a surprise. And no one’s desire is more important than anyone else’s. Unless that’s the agreement.”

  “Yeah, I guess you’re right. But isn’t it different in a relationship. I mean, I think guys expect that their girlfriend is going to want to fuck them.”

  “Well, yeah, probably. But if he really loves you he’ll talk to you about it—ask you why and figure out things that work for both of you. Did he ever do that?”

  “Not really. But if he asked me why I’m not sure if I’d know exactly what to tell him.”

  “How come?”

  “Well, it was mostly a feeling I had.”

  “What do you mean?”

  “He just didn’t seem like he would have been a very good … you know … lover. I told you that I sucked his cock all the time. Well, he hardly ever went down on me.”

  “Seriously?”

  “Yeah. He would tell me to masturbate, which I liked to do, especially when he was deep throating me, but it wasn’t all I wanted. I tried to tell him how I felt but he would always say that he was tired and that he would go down on me next time.”

  “Oh my God, that is so lame. How freaking old is he?”

  “Yeah, exactly. He’s twenty-two.”

  “That’s more than old enough to know how lame that is, Aubrey.”

  “I know! I seriously feel like, in the back of my head, I’ve been saying ‘hell no’ to giving my virginity away to Danny mostly because of how immature he is.”

  “No shit. I’d be saying that too. I can’t believe you never told me any of this.”

  “I’ve been so messed up about it. There was a part of me that thought there was something really wrong with me. But for the last year I’ve been feeling like what I really want is an older man. Someone who knows what the hell he’s doing, in bed and with his life.”

  “Yeah, I hear ya. I’ve been pretty much waiting for a man like that to come along myself.”

  “I mean, I swear to God, Brea, if I found a really manly, serious, responsible, sexy, adult man, I would do anything he wanted. I feel like I would be the ultimate submissive. Not 24/7 or anything like that, but, oh my God, Brea. I seriously fantasize about doing anything a guy like that wanted.”

  “Damn. Anything?”

  “It’s pretty much my dream. But now I’m scared that it’s just something that’s in my head and not really who I am. I’m afraid that Danny is right about me.”

  “Don’t even think that. He doesn’t know you better than you know yourself.”

  “I know you’re right. I just want a chance to prove it to myself. What I really want is to feel like I have no choice in anything—that no matter what a man asks me to do, I’ll do it. But it’s the feeling of having no choice that I want. I want someone to make me believe that I don’t have any say in the matter even though I know I do. Like I’m giving myself to someone completely and trusting my entire being with them. I’m there for them and they can use me and take care of me like I belong to them, and in return I’ll do anything for they want. Gladly. You know what I mean?” I feel like I’m bearing my soul to Brea, and while it’s uncomfortable, it feels like a huge weight is being lifted off me.

  “God that sounds so hot. Do guys like that even exist? Guys that can actually make you feel that way?”

  “I hope so. At least it’s what I’ve always fantasized about.” But as the words come out of my mouth I don’t feel so sure about it. I’m still in the whole mindset Danny put me in and from this place everything feels hard and impossible.

  I don’t even know how I’d find someone with my exact same interests. Someone who has the vibe I’m looking for and who wants the same things as I do. I usually only get that sort of feeling when I look into the eyes of older men, and even then, definitely not in all of them.

  There was actually only one man who ever made me forget everything around me. When I looked into his eyes, I swear to God I would have done anything he asked me to, no matter what it was. Right there and then, in my dad’s office, I would have crawled across the floor if that man had asked me. For years I’ve fantasized of him telling me what to do, and I’ve had orgasm after orgasm to the sound of his deep voice in my ear while I imagined him watching me. But that was a long time ago and I’m afraid there are no other men like that on the planet.

  “So what are you gonna do?”

  “Huh?” I ask, snapping out of my memory of the deepest, darkest eyes I’ve ever seen up to that point in my life, or since.

  “For a place to live.”

  “Oh, that. Well, how would you feel about having a couch guest for a little while?”

  “My couch is your couch.”

>   “That’s awesome, cause I don’t have any money for my own place right now and I don’t have anywhere else to go. I just paid my half of the rent here last week.”

  “Oh my God, you should get your money back from him. What an asshole!”

  “No, I don’t want to mess with that. I’m just gonna pack up the few things I have around here and get out. I just want a clean break. No drama.”

  “Okay, well, if you need any help, let me know.”

  “I should be fine. It’s just my clothes and my laptop. You gonna be around this afternoon?”

  “Yeah, I’ll be here all day. This is gonna be fun, girl! We can have a pajama party!”

  “Be sure to have some alcohol ready, cause I’m gonna need a big drink when I get there.”

  Graham

  “What’s up!” I raise an eyebrow at Kyle when I walk into my office and see him sitting behind my desk with his feet up. “You’re late for our meeting, dude!”

  “We didn’t have a meeting,” I say, setting my coffee down on the desk and taking off my jacket.

  “Yeah, I know, but I have an idea I really want to bounce off you. I think you’re gonna love this.”

  Over time I’ve grown a little wary of that claim. Kyle constantly has ideas he wants to ‘bounce’ off me and while some of them turn out to be incredibly lucrative—like this consulting firm we co-own with another college buddy—most of the time he just wants to find any excuse to surround himself with naked girls.

  He has literally tried to get me to throw parties for college students right here in the company gym. I mean, it is an enormous space with special lighting and massive TVs lining the walls, and not to mention an insane sound system, but I’m not interested in turning this company into a hotbed of orgy activity.

  “Is this another party idea? I told you, it’s not a good idea to have parties on company property. Why don’t you have it at your condo? You can have wall to wall naked girls there.” I ask, pushing his feet off my desk.

  “No, this is so much better than a party! I’m telling you, you’re gonna love it.”

  “I’m all ears.”

  Kyle gets up out of my chair and turns around to face me when he gets to the other side of my desk. “Picture this,” he says with his hands splayed out in front of him. “A bunch of girls lined up outside the gym door,”

  “Not the gym again. I told you, Kyle, I’m not interested in using this company to get you laid—“

  “Just wait, man! It’s not a party. As I was saying …” he says as he gets back into a zone where he seems like he’s picturing the whole thing in his head. “A bunch of girls lined up outside the door, waiting to come in—one at a time—and audition to be your girlfriend.” He emphasizes the word your by pointing his finger at me. Like that is somehow going to sell his idea.

  “I don’t want a girlfriend, Kyle. You know that.”

  “Okay, sugar baby, whatever! What I’m saying is … we are the ones doing all the choosing.” He moves his finger back and forth between us when he says the word we, like he wants to make sure I understand which ‘we’ he’s referring to. While I watch him I wonder how many cups of coffee he’s already had this morning.

  Kyle continues. “We make a literal call for an audition—you know, like for a commercial or something. We post it to sites online where the type of women we like congregate. We give out the specs—what we’re looking for down to the freaking letter. Submissive, athletic but curvy, long hair—these are just my specs, you can list your own. We’ll get responses from all over the country, all over the world, even! We can require anything we want without sounding like a couple of jackasses because it’s an audition. Then we come up with some stuff for them to do—dance, wiggle around, whatever—and sit back and enjoy the show.”

  I stare at Kyle for a moment. It’s way too early for this. I didn’t sleep as well as I’d hoped after bringing the blonde home last night and I haven’t even had my coffee yet. “And what exactly is the point of all this? I don’t understand how this will be any different from picking up girls in a bar?”

  “It’s different because we narrow down the playing field immediately—before they even get here. We don’t have to ask ‘are you into being spanked?’ Because they wouldn’t be here if they weren’t.”

  “Are you still drunk from last night? What kind of commercial audition would ask for girls who want to be spanked?”

  “I’m not saying it’s for an actual commercial. I was just giving that as an example. Come on, think about it. These girls will all know ahead of time that the audition will lead to fucking, and we can indicate that it might lead to other stuff.”

  “What kind of other stuff?”

  “Well, you know, relationship stuff …” I roll my eyes and Kyle puts his hands up like he’s trying to keep me calm. “Or in your case sugar baby stuff … whatever. What I’m saying is we bring the girls we want to us and let them do the work of impressing us with their … talents … so to speak.”

  “Where the hell is all this coming from? You don’t have any problems finding hook-ups. Neither of us do. Between the two of us we’re with a different girl every night of the week. What more do you want?”

  Kyle flops down onto my leather couch, the wind in his sails finally knocked down a couple notches. “I don’t know, man. I’m getting tired of the whole bar scene.”

  “Really? You looked like you were having fun last night.”

  “Yeah, it’s okay. I mean the flirting is fun, and the fucking is fun, but … I don’t know. It feels like it’s too much goddamned work for not enough payoff. I’m getting too old for the whole bar scene anyway.”

  “You’re thirty nine, Kyle, same as me.”

  “Yeah, exactly. And I should be starting to settle down. Or I should at least have a nice little submissive at my feet on the regular. Maybe even chained up in the basement,” he says with a grin. “I’m kidding. I’d only put her in the basement for an hour a day, tops.”

  I drink my coffee and scroll through my email while Kyle sits there, regaling me with his captive girlfriend fantasies. “Then find someone online. Go to one of those BDSM sites you’re always talking about and put up an ad.”

  “Yeah, but that’s no fun either. Seriously, it’s like weeks before you find out that everything they said on their profile was a pile of horse shit. And this chick last night? When we were in the bar she was all ‘Oh yes Kyle, I want you to choke me. Oh yes, Kyle, I want you to spank me hard.’ But when we got her back to your place she wouldn’t even let us tie her up. She said it was too soon. What the fuck does that even mean? I was still horny when I left your place last night.”

  I sit back in my chair and eye Kyle while he pokes around on his phone. “So what did you do?” I ask.

  “I wound up watching this sick Japanese horror movie when I got home. Check this out.” Kyle hands me his phone and I watch a girl with long, black hair vomit into a dog food bowl and set it on the floor for—what looks like—a crazy man, who commences to lap it up.

  “What the hell are you showing me this for? Jesus, Kyle!” I throw his phone across the room and it lands in his lap.

  “Nasty, right? That is one messed up movie! It’s actually where I got the idea from.”

  “The audition idea? Oh, awesome. And is this vomiting chick the one that passes the audition in the movie?”

  “Yeah, she’s a real nut job too.”

  “And this is what you want us to do.”

  “Well, it’s a movie, Graham. What are the chances of something like this happening in real life?” he says as he points at his phone.

  “Okay, let’s see.” I lean back in my chair and touch the tips of my fingers together while I pretend to be deep in thought. “We do an open call for young women who would be willing to travel across the country for an audition where the requirements are that they have big tits and like to be spanked. Um, yeah, I’d say the chance of drawing a few crazies is pretty good.”

  “Come o
n! It’s a brilliant idea, you know it is! We don’t even have to ask the spanking question. We can word it so that it’s really refined. I mean, we’re a couple of refined dudes, right?”

  I smirk at him, but don’t say anything. The thing is, the idea doesn’t actually sound half bad. It sounds a hell of a lot more like a fantasy than something we could actually pull off, but he does have a point with leveling the playing field up front. I don’t want to admit that to him, though.

  “You could invite what’s her name,” Kyle says with a stupid grin on his face.

  “Who?” I don’t even have to ask. I know exactly who he’s talking about.

  “Your girlfriend. Aubrey.”

  Aubrey is the daughter of a college friend of ours. And she’s about half my age. I made the mistake of telling him once, once, that I thought she was hot, and that was enough to ensure that he never let me forget. Not that I could forget about her anyway. Especially after Kyle showed me her profile on Smackmatch, one of the BDSM hook-up sites he used to frequent.

  “She’s not my girlfriend, Kyle.”

  “Yeah, but you know what she is? She’s a sub.”

  “Will you drop it?”

  “And she’s your type.”

  “Kyle.”

  “And she was checking you out big time, Graham. I swear her eyes were glued to you like—”

  “Kyle! Will you drop it with her, please? I am not inviting Blane Weaver’s daughter here so she can answer a bunch of your stupid questions and win the grand prize of sucking my cock.”

  “Why not?”

  “I said, drop it!”

  “Okay, okay, no hot Aubrey. But you will consider it, right? I think it’s a seriously awesome idea. Just think about it. Let it marinate for a while.”

  “I don’t know, Kyle. Maybe.”

  “Listen, I’ll come up with a detailed plan. You won’t have to do a thing. What I’ll do is, I’ll draw out exactly what steps we take before hand—where we could post the audition notices, what we ask, how we get them here, etc. If you don’t like it we can scrap it. Or keep working on it until you do like it. We can do anything we want! We can totally make this idea work for us, man!”