Daddy's Demands: Twenty-Five Steamy Daddy Dom Romance Novellas

by Madison Faye

  As I approached the driver’s side of the car, the tinted window lowered to reveal a man with a rigid jaw, dark eyes, and about two days’ growth of facial hair. I didn’t recognize him, but I didn’t need to in order to know he worked for Oz. People who looked cold and emotionless all worked for Oz. All employees seemed to be the same. No friends or family really. Loners. A past that made them not care about the future. I should know. I was one of them. I was no different than the man sitting behind the wheel.

  “Get in the car,” he ordered. His tone was flat, firm, and just like his appearance, void of life.

  For a split second, the thought of running attacked all my senses again, but I pushed them to the depths of my being, opened the back seat door, and climbed in. Everything seemed to move in slow motion. I kept hearing the words of my mother when I was a child telling me to never get into the car of strangers. Never speak to strangers. Never do what I was doing.

  Before I could fasten my seatbelt, the car took off. “Where are we going?” I asked. My voice sounded foreign to my own ears. It quivered and sounded weak and helpless. I swallowed hard and tried to chase that cowardly woman away. I wasn’t her. I was a fighter. A powerful woman. A motherfucking queen. I had battle scars to prove it. “Did Oz send you?” I asked, willing myself to sound much stronger this time.

  The man didn’t answer, but I saw his eyes look back at me in the rearview mirror. He diverted eye contact quickly, and it was then that panic set in. No one wanted to connect with a dead man walking.

  Make wise choices, my mother used to say.

  I clearly didn’t listen.

  I should have resisted the pull of money. Any job that paid as well as Oz did was too good to be true. Working as a bookkeeper for the notorious Oz was either a death sentence or a prison sentence. I was a smart woman. I knew that no matter how good I was at running the books for Oz’s multiple shady companies, the government would eventually catch on. But if I didn’t do it Oz’s way—which in his world was the only way—then death would be the only outcome. The pay was excellent, but the risk was deadly.

  Staring out the window at the passing scenery, I wondered what would have been better. When the Feds came charging into my office, I thought prison was the worst option so I was willing to squeal like a pig. I was scared. Terrified of taking the fall for an infamous man who would somehow be able to walk away with his hands clean. It was I who would have gone to jail unless I cut a deal.

  Yes, I was going to cut a deal.

  Bile formed in the back of my throat as I watched us drive hours into the abyss, further and further into the woods—out in the middle of nowhere. Someplace that no one would be able to hear the bullet shot through my head, or my cries for mercy as they tortured me first. We were driving so far out of the city that my body would never be found. My fate was sealed.

  Prison or death?

  Clearly, Oz was making that decision for me.

  The car turned down a narrow dirt road, and my heart stopped. This was it. This emotionless man driving, who didn’t say a single word, planned to escort me to my death. Would he be the one to kill me? Or was Oz waiting to do it himself?

  It didn’t take long for me to see something unexpected. A large manor loomed in the distance. Dark, gray, ominous, and it appeared as if the devil himself resided within the walls. It was so large that I wondered if it maybe was once a boarding school, or owned by some wealthy oil tycoon who had more money than even Oz. Though, with maybe the once opulence of yesteryear, the structure now looked nearly abandoned cast against the setting sun. If it weren’t for the cars parked in the massive circular driveway, I would have thought the house completely deserted and haunted by all the spirits of murdered souls.

  I was about to join those forgotten souls myself.

  It was as if the manor was lost in time—once magnificent, but now eerily haunting. Large windows with a faint light emerging through the stained glass of the second floor gave such a cold structure some signs of warmth and life. But then the sharp-pitched roof with the crumbling brick chimneys reminded me of the deathlike aura. Would my body be tortured and killed beyond those walls? Was I staring at my own coffin?

  When the car pulled up to the front entrance, I saw a man waiting outside wearing a black suit with a crisp white shirt unbuttoned at the neck. He was at the bottom of the stairs, arms crossed, his huge figure looming in front of the manor. His hair was black, his eyes dark, and I was pretty sure from the firmness of his expression that his inner being was even darker than his outer appearance.

  The driver got out of the car, opened up my door, and yanked me out of the vehicle. With a strong grip of my upper arm, my chauffeur half-dragged me to the waiting man since my feet could barely keep up with his speed and purpose. As we approached the steps, both men silently climbed their way to the front door and pulled me inside. Once we reached the foyer, I was shoved to the floor.

  “Kneel,” the man who had been waiting for me said.

  Too panicked to do anything else, I scrambled to my knees and did as he said while I quickly tried to scan my surroundings. A glorious staircase mastered the entire space with its intricately carved banister spiraling alongside the wooden steps. Original pocket doors concealed rooms on each side of me, and the scarred wooden floor beneath my knees countered the lavishness of the chandelier dangling over me.

  “Esme Myers,” the man began as he stood in front of me with his arms remaining crossed at his chest. It was as if my assassin was going to lecture me like a naughty schoolgirl rather than kill me for my deadly transgressions.

  I didn’t respond, but looked up into his eyes instead. I swallowed hard and struggled to breathe. For a moment, I wondered if I would die of a heart attack before the man had a chance to end my life on his own terms.

  “I’m not one to fuck around. So, let’s just get to the point. You know why you are here, yes?”

  I nodded and looked down at the floor. My nerves could no longer handle the severity that I saw in his eyes and on his face. I foolishly thought I could be brave and face my death head on, but the tears that began to fall and the need to beg for mercy almost erupted from the place I thought I had securely locked my fear away.

  “Oz is not a man to cross. Betrayal equals death. And in most cases, the most torturous, agonizing death you could imagine. He wants to make his enemies pay with far more than just their lives.” He took one step toward me, and I flinched as if he had just punched me in the face. “But you know that. You know what could happen to you right now.”

  My mind ran rampant with all the ways this man would make me pay. Every single horror movie I ever watched played back in my head. My ragged breath came out in gasps as my vision dimmed. My ears rang, and my body began to quiver. This was it.

  This was it.

  The man reached for my chin and tilted my head back so I had to look up into his eyes. “My name is Knox. I am one of the Monsters of Mercy in the manor.” He paused for a moment to give me time to absorb his words. “I am the monster assigned to you. I am the man who will make you pay.”

  “Pay?” There was a note of hysteria in my voice as I asked, “Are you going to kill me?”

  “Death would be easy compared to what I plan to do to you.”

  “Torture me?”

  “In the most wicked of ways. Yes.”

  I flinched when I heard the cries of a woman from another room in the manor. Staring up into my monster’s eyes, I asked, “You are one of the Monsters of Mercy? How many are there?”

  “The only monster you should worry about, Esme, is me.”

  The sob I had been struggling to hold back released. It was even louder as it was amplified by the barren walls of the entryway. My shoulders shook with every desperate wail. I could no longer wear the crown of the brave queen. It was broken, chipped, destroyed by fear. I was so very scared, and all I could do was watch my tears fall to the floor before my knees.

  “Don’t cry, my shattered sparrow. Not yet.” K
nox bent down and caressed the back of my head, once again lifting my face so I was forced to look into his unforgettable eyes. He then took a handful of hair and yanked my head back hard. “Not until I give you something to cry about. And I will.” He bent his head down, brought his lips to my exposed neck, and kissed it. Tugging on my hair harder, he inched back and looked me square on, so close to my face that I could feel his breath on my lips. I could smell his manly scent of spice and control… if control had a scent. He was so close. I could almost feel him. I knew his touch wouldn’t be soft or gentle. There was nothing but raw power exuding from this man. “I most certainly will.”

  Chapter Two

  I hadn’t noticed that the driver had still been in the manor until Knox nodded at him. “I’ll take it from here. Go ahead and tell Oz it’s handled, and I’ll be in contact soon.” He looked down at me and gave a fiendish smile. “As soon as I go over the ground rules and break our guest in.”

  When the front door closed, I adjusted my weight to relieve the pressure on my knees. The small movement was not a good idea, however. Knox, who still had a handful of my hair in his grasp, jerked me up to a standing position. The sting on my scalp had me crying out, but I didn’t resist in any way.

  “First rule,” he said between clenched teeth. “You do nothing without my permission. Nothing at all. I don’t care if you are uncomfortable, in pain, or just in the mood to do something of your own free will. You won’t do anything without my direct order, or you will suffer the consequences.”

  He paused and waited for some type of response from me. I couldn’t talk. I was so terrified that I could only stare and nod. What consequences? Was he going to kill me or not?

  “Let me explain why you are here,” he began. “Oz has graciously decided to grant you mercy. Of sorts. He believes in paying for your crimes, and that is where I come in. Oz has brought you to the Monsters of Mercy Manor as punishment for your wrongdoings. A far better punishment than the awful death he could have given you.”

  “I don’t understand,” I began as Knox still held my hair firmly at the roots. “I’m not going to die? I wasn’t brought here to die?”

  “That all depends. A death sentence is not off the table, but you have a chance to remove it.”

  “How?” I asked, feeling the first spark of hope since the federal agents stormed through my office doors.

  Still holding my hair, Knox led me to the stairs. “By paying your penance. You will gain your freedom by earning credits. Oz has sentenced you to one hundred credits owed. Once you pay those credits, you are free. Failure to earn them, or failure to earn them at a speed that Oz—and I, as your assigned Monster of Mercy—feel is appropriate will end in death. So, the choice really is up to you. Just as the choice of whether you would betray Oz was up to you. You clearly chose wrong, but hopefully when I am done with you, you will never make that mistake again.”

  “He wants me to pay him with credits?” I tried to turn my head to look at Knox in desperation but was rewarded with a sharp pull of my hair as he led me up the stairs. “I can do that. How much are the credits? I will pay him whatever he feels fair. Whatever he wants, I will pay. I’ll find a way. I swear.” I stumbled up the stairs to try to keep up with his stride.

  In the corner of my eye, I could see Knox smirk. “Oh, you will pay. You will definitely pay.”

  When we reached the landing, I tried not to focus on the cries of women I could hear coming from other rooms down the long expansive hallway. My head spun as I was trying to process what Knox was telling me. My life was spared—for now. But what else was expected? I didn’t quite understand. Credits?

  “Oz created this manor for women exactly like you. Women who need guidance, structure, and a firm hand on teaching them right from wrong. He’s granting you mercy.” Knox opened up a bedroom door and shoved me across the threshold as he followed close behind. “As long as you earn your hundred credits, you will come out of this alive.”

  Looking around the room, it surprised me to see that it looked like any normal guestroom that would be in such an elegant manor of its day. I was expecting a prison or dungeon of some sort. Instead, a large canopied bed mastered the room with lush bedding and pillows. There was a floor-to-ceiling window draped with heavy velvet curtains. Antique furniture adorned the room and was even accentuated with a large oriental rug that covered most of the marred wooden floor. The room was lovely, elegant, and welcoming. Quite the opposite of what I was expecting.

  I turned and looked at Knox, who stood by the door watching me examine the room. “How do I earn the credits?” I was almost too scared to ask the question in fear of what I would hear.

  “By doing every single thing I say without protest. If you argue or put up a fight, I will still do what I intended to do, but you won’t earn a credit for it.”

  “What do you intend to do to me?” My voice cracked, and I thought I would have to run to the small bathroom I saw attached to the room and throw up.

  “Make you pay your penance.”

  “How?”

  Knox took a step toward me. “You’ll see.” He reached into a leather holder on his belt and pulled out a knife. The silver of the blade glimmered beneath the light cast by a small chandelier above. “But it’s time we begin.” He took another menacing step toward me as my heart stopped. “Remove all your clothing.”

  His command was accented by the scream of a woman in another room, as if I needed a reminder of what would come if I said no.

  I reached for the top button of my blouse and slowly unbuttoned it. “Am I to be a whore to earn these credits?” I asked, staring him directly in the eyes. “So, I have to fuck you in order to be free? Is that what I am understanding?”

  Knox closed the distance between us and placed the knife at the side of my neck right below my earlobe. “Fucking you would give you pleasure. And the last thing I plan on doing to you right now is give you pleasure, my dear sparrow.” He ran the knife along my collarbone and down until it reached my fingertips holding the button of my blouse. He then forced the blade between the button and the fabric and started plucking the buttons right off, disrobing me his way.

  “Am I to fuck Oz then? Is that what he is expecting in exchange for my life?” I remained perfectly still. The knife was so close to my flesh that I worried the slightest move would have it slicing my skin instead of the blouse.

  “No,” Knox answered as he used the knife to cut through the thin band connecting my bra between my breasts. “Oz isn’t here. He rarely visits the manor, but instead leaves the punishments in the hands of his hired monsters.” He paused and looked me directly in the eyes as the cool air kissed my now exposed nipples as Knox ripped the material of the bra off me. “And you will be punished, my sparrow. You will definitely be punished.” He took a step back and said, “Now remove the rest of your clothes and stand naked before me. I will give you your first opportunity to earn a credit.” When I didn’t move right away, he raised one eyebrow and added, “You will be naked standing before me one way or the other. I’m giving you the opportunity to at least earn a credit toward your debt for the act. Your choice.”

  Glancing at the knife in his hand, and then at the way his jaw clenched while he waited, I decided it best to do exactly as he commanded. At least for now. I had to regroup. Think everything through. I needed time to process, but I needed to be alive to do so. So, if all I had to do was stand naked before this monster, then so be it. Trying to not overthink, or allow my pride to get in the way of my survival, I disrobed as fast as I could.

  “Leave your panties on,” he instructed. “For now. I like the way they look on you. Delicate and sexy.”

  I paused as his deep voice broke my spell of compliance. “I don’t understand what’s happening. What is going to happen to me?” My voice quivered as much as my body did. Fresh tears erupted and ran down my cheeks as I watched Knox, who kept the same cold expression on his face he had from the beginning.

  He once again clo
sed the distance between us and put the knife under my chin so I had to look up into his brown eyes. He inhaled deeply. “I love the way your tears smell against your cheeks.” He pressed the tip of the knife into my skin, forcing a gasp to break free from my closed lips. He then darted his tongue past his lips and licked a trail up my cheek, collecting my tears for his tasting. “These will not be the last of your tears,” he nearly growled as he then lowered the knife to the edge of my panties.

  “Please,” I said softly. Another sob broke free. “I’ll do as you ask. I’m scared. Please don’t hurt me.”

  The knife dipped below the waistband of my panties and rested against my mound. The coolness of the steel against my intimate skin had me gasp again as Knox brought his lips to my ear. “Stay still, Esme. It would be a shame to scar this pussy of yours.”

  “Please…”

  He tapped the metal of the knife against my clit, causing a surprising surge of sinful arousal. The twisted sense of desire while shaking in horror, due to my captive situation, weakened my knees. Beads of sweat formed on my upper lip as I focused on not collapsing to the floor, jamming the blade right through me.

  “By the time I’m done with you, penance will be paid and your life will be spared. But while you earn your credits, your life belongs to me. You belong to me. I will be your master, your sir…” He paused for a moment and examined my body from head to toe. “Fuck that. For you. For you, my dear Esme, I will be your daddy, and you will be my baby girl. My filthy, dirty, raw baby girl. Yes, Oz will like seeing you call me Daddy.” He gave a wicked smile, clearly pleased with his thoughts of what that would mean. “I will be the man who controls every single breath you take and move you make. You will call me Daddy, my shattered sparrow. Trust that Daddy knows best, and you’ll survive this ordeal.”

  He was serious. This man was fucking serious.