by Daisy March
“And if he can’t?”
“He will. Come on. Bend over and I’ll take that plug out.”
“Yes, Daddy,” she said, trying to resist grinning. The word sounded natural. It sounded right. She looked up at him. He was frowning at her. “Should I not call you that?”
“No, it’s not that. Never mind. We’ll talk about it later. Bend over.”
She bent over the desk, the skirt riding up her ass. He eased her panties down her thighs and she felt a strange urge to act out, to misbehave so he’d spank her. She wanted to know what it would feel like to have his hand smacking down on her ass.
“Deep breath,” he said, taking hold of the plug and easing it from her as she exhaled slowly. With it out she felt strangely empty down there, a feeling that remained even as they climbed into the waiting cab in the parking lot of the bar.
“Not going on the motorcycle?” Beth asked as she settled into the seat.
“Too obvious,” he replied, slipping the mask onto his face. “For the rest of the evening we’re just an anonymous Daddy and his new Little. Right?”
“Right.”
She felt a strange mixture of fear and excitement as they drove through the crowded streets of the center of town. The strangest feeling was the way she wanted to slip her hand into her Daddy’s for comfort.
He read her mind, taking her hand into his lap. “It’ll be all right,” he said as she looked anxiously up at him. “I’ll keep you safe, no matter what.”
8
Slater
Slater glanced out the window. They were about ten minutes from The Milk Bar.
“What do I do when we get inside?” Beth asked, squeezing his hand.
“Obey me,” he replied.
“Is that all?”
“All I need you to do is distract them while I do what I’ve got to do. Just don’t let anyone guess this is your first time doing this sort of thing.”
“Yes, Daddy.”
The word got his cock twitching. She said it in a way that sounded both innocent and knowing at the same time, like she was playing a game with him.
He didn’t want to tell her this was life or death. If they were caught in there, he might not be going back to the ranch. She might never leave.
The Backwoods Boys didn’t mess about when it came to their rivals. Slater tugged at his shirt collar. He was not happy in his suit.
He wanted to be back in his faded oil stained jeans and leather jacket, not looking like some Halloween real estate agent in the world’s dullest necktie.
“Don’t pull at it,” Beth said, straightening his tie for him. “It’ll get out of shape.”
“Who’s meant to be in charge here?” he replied with a smile.
“Even Daddies need taking care of sometimes,” she replied with a wink. “Anything else I need to know?”
“Once we’re in, I’ll go hunting. When I come back to you, act ill.”
“What for?”
“So I have an excuse to get you out of there.” He tapped the driver on the shoulder. “Pull up here. We’ll walk the rest of the way.”
He paid the cab fare, adding a generous tip as he leaned into the front. “You never saw us.”
“Been driving around empty all night, officer,” the driver said, pulling away from the curb a second later.
“This way,” Slater said, adjusting his mask. “We’ve got two minutes to nine.”
He marched up the street and down an alleyway. Halfway down was an ocean gray door, lit above by a single neon letter M. He hammered on the door and a slit opened at head height.
“Members?” the disembodied voice on the other side said in a gruff tone.
“Potential,” Slater growled back. “Booked in this morning.”
“Names.”
“A and B.”
“That’s cute. Hang on.” The slit shut and they were left standing in the dark. Beth shivered so Slater put an arm around her shoulder. “Soon be in the warm,” he said.
“It’s all right for you,” she replied. “You’re not in a skirt the size of a napkin.”
The door opened, a man in an identical mask to Slater’s waving them inside. “Through the end door,” he said. “You know the house rules, right?”
“Course we do,” Slater lied as they walked in. It didn’t matter. They wouldn’t be there long. Once he’d found the cake production area, one toss of the incendiary in his jacket pocket and off they’d go, leaving the bakery to burn. Piece of cake. Or so he thought.
They were in a long corridor lit by candles placed at matching intervals in sconces on the walls. The man who’d let them in had returned to his place by the front door, talking quietly into his cellphone, not looking their way.
“Come with me,” Slater said loudly, taking Beth’s hands in his. “Time for Daddy to see how well you can behave in public.”
“Yes, Daddy,” Beth replied, her voice sounding shaky. He could understand why. She’d gone from living a miserable life in an apartment block to his Little in no time at all.
Not only that but there could be anything waiting for them behind the royal blue door at the end of the corridor. No sound reached them from within.
Slater suddenly thought this was a trap, a way of luring him away from his crew, catching him on his own. The Backwoods Boys might be waiting behind there to take him and Beth out.
No one would know what happened to them. The thought of Beth getting hurt stabbed him in the chest. Had he brought her into danger? Was this a mistake?
Only Mouser and Dooley knew they were there. The fewer people told, the less risk of something leaking out. Was that a mistake?
There was only one way to find out.
He walked down the corridor and pushed open the door. At once he relaxed. There was no roomful of Backwoods Boys with shotguns pointing his way.
What there was instead was a converted theater. A stage at the far end of the room was filled with a dancing troupe, moving in sync to a jazz version of Rock-A-Bye Baby. The troupe was all female, wearing so little that Beth seemed overdressed.
Tables were dotted about the floor space, most of them filled by men in plain suits wearing masks. At some tables Littles sat watching the show, or playing with their daddies. The Littles all wore outfits virtually identical to Beth’s.
To Slater’s left was a bar that looked well stocked. A few unmasked men walked slowly between the tables, their earpieces barely noticeable if you weren’t looking carefully.
In the middle of the floor, a play area had been set up. Small colorful plastic tables were occupied by Littles who were playing games or coloring in activity books.
It only took seconds for Slater to take all this in. He’d counted the doors he needed to check. Three. Near the ladies' bathroom was a plain wooden door marked Staff Only.
Beside the stage was another door that presumably led to the dressing rooms.
To his right, tucked away next to a velvet curtain was a crimson red door with no handle. He made a mental note to check that one once he’d gotten Beth settled.
She clung to him as he walked toward the play area. He found an empty table and pulled out the chair.
“Here,” he said, reaching into an open chest beside it. “A sketchbook and pencils. Draw me something while I’m gone.”
“Yes, Daddy,” she said in a quiet voice, looking down at the paper in front of her. “What should I draw?”
“Us.”
He hated leaving her alone but he was here for a reason and that reason wasn’t to play Daddy and Little with her. He looked back at her over his shoulder as he made his way toward the bar. She was already drawing.
His heart ached to return to her. She looked sexier than any of the women here, even the ones shaking their asses on stage couldn’t hold a candle to her beauty.
He felt a sudden protective urge to pick her up and carry her home, wrap her up in blankets and read her a bedtime story. She looked engrossed in what she was doing, her tongue sticki
ng out the corner of her mouth, a cute frown wrinkling her forehead.
His fists clenched as he thought of the pain she’d been through, none of it deserved. How could her father beat her? She had scars all over her body. He hadn’t asked about them when he’d bathed her.
She would talk about them if she wanted to but seeing them made him want to hurt the man who had hurt her. He couldn’t do it. Her father was dead. He was glad. He couldn’t cause her any more pain.
“You look lost,” a woman’s voice said.
He turned to find himself facing a tall Little with icy blonde hair and a thin smile. “I’ve not seen you before,” she continued. “Or your little friend there.”
“Trial members,” he replied, going to push past her. She stayed in the way and he had no choice but to swerve at the last minute or else he’d knock her to the ground.
She followed him to the bar, still talking. “Not what you were expecting?” she asked, waving for the bartender. “I’m Cassandra by the way. What you having?”
“Bourbon,” he said to the bartender, ignoring the woman. “Neat.”
She didn’t seem in the least offended, still talking to the side of his head. “Listen, maybe me and you could go through to the red room. What do you say?”
He looked at her for the first time. “What’s in there?”
She smiled. “Got your interest at last, have I? Let’s just say the fun stuff happens out here, the dirty stuff happens in there.” She leaned over and whispered in his ear. “I’ll be in there on my knees ready to play in five minutes. Knock twice, then twice again, if you want in, Daddy.”
She walked away, her hips swaying from side to side. Slater downed the drink in one. That would be one door checked off.
He took another drink, carrying it with him toward the door marked Staff Only, swerving away as one of the patrolling guards appeared out of it, looking directly his way.
He headed to the red door, knocking twice, pausing for a second, and then knocking twice again.
The door swung inward. On the other side a silent man in a mask stood, saying nothing. Slater walked past him down another long corridor. The only door was at the far end. He pushed it open and paused to take in the sight before him.
He hadn’t found the place where cake was made but he had found a playroom like no other. There was a reading corner where a Daddy was sitting cross legged with a naked Little on his lap.
To the left of that section was a punishment table with straps hanging down, sex toys lined up on a shelf next to it. Further on were straps, paddles, and even whips. Cassandra was on her knees on a small rug that had been woven with the words Time Out Circle in the middle of it.
She was naked except for nipple clamps, thrusting her chest toward him. She looked up when he came in, smiling broadly. “I hoped you’d come, Daddy. Maybe now you can make me come. I’ve been so good, Daddy, really I have.”
“I need to check on my Little,” he said, turning and walking back out the door, ignoring the nursery area where a middle aged naked woman was laid on her back having a diaper changed by yet another man in a mask.
He walked back down the corridor. The red door was opened as he approached and he headed back into the main room.
He wanted to try the staff door again but he had to head back to the play area instead. Beth was standing up with her arms folded across her chest, looking furious.
Next to her a redheaded Little was sobbing and in front of both of them a fat man in a white suit was talking loudly.
Slater walked over in time to see the man spinning to face him. “Is this your Little, Sir?”
Slater nodded. “Beth, what did you do?”
“I didn’t do anything. She ripped up my drawing.”
The man spoke over her. “She used curse words and she shoved Alison to the floor. Are you going to let such behavior go unpunished, Sir?”
“Who are you to tell me what to do?” Slater asked, not liking the tone of the man, or the way he wagged his finger in Slater’s face.
“I am Montague Norman, the owner of this club, Sir. It is my rules that you follow while you are under this roof. Or would you rather leave?”
Slater glanced at the Staff Only door. He could leave but not yet. “I will punish her,” he said a second later.
“Glad to hear it,” Montague said. “Come and talk with me. You get back to drawing,” he said, pointing at Beth. “Alison, go and get yourself a stuffed toy from the storeroom.”
The tears stopped immediately as Alison skipped over the door near the stage. So that was just a storeroom. That only left one door to try.
Montague walked over to an empty table near the bar, gesturing for Slater to join him.
“Relax,” Montague said as two glasses of bourbon appeared in front of them, the waiter who brought the tray vanishing a second later. “New members often find their Littles act out here. Shock of the new and all that.”
Slater said nothing, glancing past Montague’s shoulder to the Staff Only door. Could he just get up and run through it? What if the Cake making room wasn’t there? What then?
“Cake.”
He heard the word, tuning back into the conversation instantly. “Say again,” he said.
Montague’s smile slipped a little. “I said, if you like, I can provide you with a little Cake. Might help make her more…compliant shall we say?”
“What kind of cake?” Slater asked, feigning innocence.
“It’s not what you think,” Montague said, holding a white pill out in the palm of his hand. “It’s a little concoction we make in house. Helps to make the Littles behave.”
“Knocks them out, you mean,” Slater said.
“No, nothing like that.”
Slater refused to take the offered pill. “I don’t think we’ll need that, thank you all the same. I will discipline her and she will behave as she should.”
“You misunderstand, Sir. It was not an offer.” Montague’s smile faded. “You will take the Cake. You will give it to her.”
“And why would I agree to that?”
“Because that is what all new members do when they join.”
“I get it. Like an initiation ceremony, right?”
“Exactly.” The smile returned. “I’m glad we understand each other.
Slater took the pill, thinking of how addictive Cake was, how much harm it was doing to the town he loved, how much money it was making for the Backwoods Boys. “I’ll give it to her at once,” he said, getting to his feet.
“And just in time for the discipline hour,” Montague said as a bell rang somewhere above their heads. “I will be watching, Sir. I have eyes everywhere. Be sure to give her what she needs.”
Slater stood up, walking back to where Beth was sitting, the pill in his hand. He felt Montague’s eyes on him. The next few seconds were going to be crucial.
He thought fast. By the time she looked up and saw him approaching, he knew exactly what he was going to tell her to do.
The question was, would she do it?
9
Beth
Beth thought she was in real trouble when Slater got back to her. “Stand up,” he said, his eyes flashing anger.
She did as he said immediately. Alison walked past, hugging a stuffed octopus to her chest. She grinned wickedly at Beth who stuck her tongue out at her.
“Stop that,” Slater said. “You’ve been naughty enough tonight, haven’t you?”
“Yes, Daddy,” she replied, wanting to stop the tremor in her voice. “But she ripped up the drawing I did for you.”
“That’s not up for discussion at the moment. There is a pill here you will take to please your Daddy. Open your mouth.”
She did as he asked. He was holding a small yellow-white pill. “Tongue out.”
She stuck her tongue forward and he placed the pill on her tongue. It tasted of peppermint.
“Swallow.”
“What is it?” she asked, moving it around her mouth.
/> “Do you trust me?”
She looked into his eyes and realized that, yes, she did trust him. She trusted him completely. She nodded. “I do.”
“So swallow.”
She did as he asked. “Hug for Daddy?”
He held his arms out and she let him envelop her. As he held her tight, he pressed his mouth to her ear. “Act as if you’re a hundred percent obedient.”
She went still in his arms, wondering what the pill was going to do to her.
The bell rang again above their heads. From the stage Montague’s voice rang out. “It is discipline time,” he said. “First up is Sarah who removed her plug without first obtaining her Daddy’s permission. Up here, Sarah.”
A Little with short black hair strode over to the stage, a defiant look on her face, her arms folded across her chest as she came to stand beside Montague.
“Do you have anything to say in your defense?” he asked.
“I only took it out because I wanted some attention. Dady was being boring.”
“Well, now you’re going to get all the attention you wanted. Where is your Daddy?”
A hand went up near the bar. “Over here.”
“Come and discipline your Little.”
The man in the mask almost ran onto the stage, tripping over a chair in his rush to get there. Once he had climbed the steps onto the stage, he stopped beside his Little.
Montague waved an arm and two stagehands brought out a table with straps dangling from each corner. “The stage is yours,” Montague said.
Beth felt Slater’s hand slip into hers as they watched. He’d noticed how anxious she was before she even realized. “It’ll be all right,” he said quietly.
Why was he saying that?
On stage the masked man was bending Sarah over the table, tying her wrists to the furthest straps, leaving her panty clad ass sticking out from under her pleated skirt.
Once he was done, he ripped her panties in half, tossing the portions away before stepping to one side.
Without any preamble he raised his hand and then smacked it straight down onto Sarah’s pale ass.
