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

by Sienna Parks

  When I close the door, I’m met with the soft whimpering sounds of Vittoria. She’s still in position, but unable to contain the grief that wracks her body. It’s now or never. If I’m going to try and rebuild our relationship as Master and submissive, it needs to start now.

  “Stand up, Nyx.” She does as I ask, her sobs subsiding at the sound of my voice. “Go to the room at the end of the hall, strip, and wait for me in your position.”

  “Yes, Master Fitzgerald.” She turns and makes her way down the hall, leaving me to catch my breath. After everything that’s just happened, I need a moment to process.

  I slump down onto the couch, my jaw tender from Carter’s punch. I grab a bottle of beer from the table and finish it in one gulp. This is not how I pictured finding my control again, my confidence as her Master, but anger and my instinct to protect her, always brings out that side of me. I guess I needed a reminder of that.

  The last time I was back in New York, I had my empty guest room turned into a playroom for Vittoria and me. I didn’t know if she’d feel comfortable going to Andromeda after what happened in Paris, and I wanted us to have somewhere to express ourselves freely. She didn’t know it was there until two minutes ago, when I sent her in. I can only imagine her surprise. I need to punish her for her behavior tonight. For her disobedience and lack of respect. She said it herself. She needs this. She craves it.

  I make my way toward the door, discarding my T-shirt, and removing my watch, shoving it in my pocket. Adrenaline pumps hard and fast in my veins, my dick twitching at the thought of what I’m about to do. I turn the handle and enter my playroom, my domain. The fresh smell of paint is still in the air, and everything is in its rightful place; the couch, the bed, the table… and Vittoria.

  “Good girl. Now, stand up and go to the wall behind you. Bring me the cat o’ nine tails.”

  Six Weeks Later

  Logan is the one good thing in my life. He’s the reason I get up in the morning, and why I keep fighting against the darkness that threatens to pull me under on a daily basis.

  Since the night he sent me to the playroom in the apartment, things have started to get better between us. The first few weeks were amazing. We reconnected through pleasure and punishment, and although things weren’t perfect, they were so much better than before. For Logan and I, pleasure has always been at the center of our lifestyle, but lately, I’ve found that punishment gives me a release that I can’t get any other way. It lets me switch off in a way that dancing used to.

  I can leave all the hurt, and pain, and emotion behind. I can find a quiet space in my mind, where feelings have no place. It’s hard to explain, because of course, I feel the pain that is being inflicted on my body, but it somehow allows me to zero in on that one feeling, that one sensation, and it obliterates every other conflicting emotion I feel. It forces them not only into the background, but into a temporary oblivion. When I’m being whipped, or flogged, or spanked, I have a reprieve from my own self-loathing.

  I used to cling to ballet, it was my saving grace; my redeeming quality. I’ve put my family through so much heartache over the years. I changed the course of Carter’s life, and it’s only through his own force of will and sheer determination to make things work when he met Addi, that he was able to turn it all around. It’s given me some small comfort to see how happy he is now, but I can’t forget the years I spent watching him push everyone away. I can’t forgive myself for how he shoulders such a burden for protecting me. And now, I’ve broken his heart again.

  I’ve tried not to dwell on his reaction to my choice of lifestyle. I still don’t know why I told him. It’s something that I’ve always considered extremely private. No one’s business but my own. He confirmed my worst fears about myself. There’s something wrong with me.

  I love to be bound and vulnerable, I adore the feeling of being spanked and flogged and paddled. I have the most intense orgasms of my life, after I’ve felt pain. Is that wrong? I crave the power that I hold. I make the decision of what my Master can and can’t do to me in the playroom. I decide how much pain I can tolerate, and I can stop everything that’s happening with a single word. I want to feel secure enough to give myself over completely to another person. I don’t think I could cope with the intimacy any other way.

  If there are no boundaries, and no rules, then there are no limits to how much another human being can hurt me, and I can’t deal with that.

  As much as I love Logan, and as much as he wants to fulfill my needs, when it comes to pain, he’s pulling back when I say harder. I know I’m not supposed to ask for more when I’m in the playroom, and initially it got me further punishment, which I relished; but Logan is an intelligent man. He realized weeks ago that I wanted him to punish me harder, and if I want it so badly, then it’s not really serving its purpose. Logan uses painful punishments sparingly. He’s never been a sadist. He enjoys giving pleasure, and if a little pain heightens that pleasure, then he is more than willing to inflict it. However, when pain is purely for painful ends, he’s not willing to cross that line. More and more he’s using pleasure as my punishment for disobedience. He withholds my release, he withholds his body from me. He won’t let me touch him, or allow me to give him any form of pleasure. When he pushes me to the edge of insanity, where I would do anything for that last caress that will give me the most euphoric release imaginable, it’s then that he pulls me back, leaving me frustrated and begging for mercy – that’s a real punishment for me, and he knows it. I hate to be denied. I hate that I can’t get my fill of him. Physical pain is nothing to me. I welcome it. But, to have him stand in front of me, my God-like Master, so handsome and strong, and virile, and have him withhold my orgasms – is excruciating.

  With no pleasure release, and no pain, I can feel the pressure building, and all I want to do, is lose myself in a bottle of pills. It’s all I can think about. Just a few to take the edge off, to give me some relief from the constant ache inside of me. A break from feeling every ounce of hatred towards myself that’s always there, festering under the surface. I don’t want to let him down, and I can’t tell him about the one event that triggered all of the pain and suffering I have ever felt. He already looks at me differently. Since Budapest. He doesn’t have that same spark in his eyes when he holds my gaze. The adoration that I once saw reflected back at me, has dulled. It’s still there, and I love him so much for that, but it’s changed. I’ve changed. I can’t go back to using. If I do, I might not survive it, but I feel like I’m fighting a losing battle, and I’m terrified.

  I want to talk to Logan about it, but instead, I find myself pulling away from him. I want to run into his arms, but instead, I avoid them. I sit in silence when I’m screaming inside for him to help me. He can’t help me now. He won’t do what I need, and I’m angry. Some days I can rationalize, and I know that he’s acting in my best interests, but on days like today, when all I can think about is using, I can’t be rational. I feel angry and hurt that he won’t punish me; that he won’t help me to find that moment of calm, the eye of the storm. Why doesn’t he understand? I’m supposed to tell him when it’s too much. I’m supposed to decide what I can handle. I’m supposed to be in control of how far is too far. He said he wants to make me happy, to give me what I need, and yet he’s not giving me what I want or what I need.

  I need drugs, or I need pain. It’s one or the other. I don’t have dance, I don’t have my brother. I don’t even have the escape of a peaceful night’s sleep anymore. I’m plagued day and night by my memories, by my failures, and the longer I go without feeling the physical pain of my Master’s punishment, the worse it gets, the growing distance between us seeming insurmountable.

  I love him and hate him in equal measure. Why can’t he see that I need him to punish me so that we can be together like we used to be? I can’t love him the way he deserves, when I hate myself so much. Those feelings that were pressing down on me in Budapest, crushing me from the inside out, are starting to fill my mind a
gain. The darkness creeping in and consuming my every waking thought.

  If he would just punish me like I deserve, then those feelings would go away. If I atone for what I’ve done, for being bad, then maybe God will let me be happy… with Logan. That can’t happen until I’m properly punished.

  It’s the only way to save what Logan and I have.

  Every time I think that things are getting better with Vittoria, we seem to have a setback. As soon as I let my guard down, even a little, I’m thrown back into the emotional turmoil that our relationship has become, and I’m so frustrated, because I can’t seem to find a way to maintain our connection when we find it.

  After the mess with Carter, I knew that I wasn’t helping by holding back as her Master. She needs that control in her life, and when I walked into the playroom that night – fuck, she was so beautiful. I punished her for her disobedience, and it was fucking amazing, for both of us. We spent hours after that, making love, and fucking like our lives depended on it. We had been starved for each other, and the intensity of our bodies coming together again, was beyond euphoric.

  I realized after that night, that I was still harboring so much anger and animosity towards her for having such a lack of regard for her own life, and that punishing her like that again, was a bad idea. I was harsh with her that first night, probably more so than I have ever been, and that’s not who I am, and I won’t be changed into someone and something that I’m not.

  Soon after that, Vittoria started to act out in the playroom, which she’s never done before. Sure, she has a fiery, headstrong personality, but that has never carried into a scene with us. She was always a perfect submissive in that setting, so I knew there was something wrong, something different, when she started acting out, begging for more whipping, more paddling, and every time she wanted it harder and harder. Initially, my reaction was to really punish her for her disobedience, as a deterrent. I figured that when she felt the sting of a harsh punishment, she would change her behavior, but she didn’t; she loved it, she thrived on it. Physical pain was no longer a punishment for her, so I decided that I would have to gain her obedience in other ways. She has always been fueled by pleasure; both giving and receiving it. It’s what makes us so compatible. To deny her that, is the ultimate punishment. That has been my tactic with her over the past few weeks, but she’s not responding in the way I had hoped she would.

  I feel like I’m right back where I started when I arrived in Budapest. She won’t talk to me, about anything. She’s withdrawn, and she doesn’t react to me in the same way that she used to. I can see in her eyes that she resents me, but I can’t give in to her. I did that before, and she almost died.

  A lot of Dominants would punish her, harder and harder until she bled, and they would continue to do so until she understood that pain isn’t the answer, but I can’t do that to her. She’s been through so much in recent months, and to put her body through that, to intentionally cause her unbearable pain… I just can’t.

  Domination isn’t about reveling in inflicting pain on a woman, at least, it never has been for me. My delight comes from walking the fine line between pleasure and pain with Vittoria. I want her to have complete faith in me, to trust that I will navigate that line with delicate precision. I would never hurt her. I want to help her push the boundaries, to explore the extreme heights of her own sexuality, which in turn fulfills my own desires.

  What she’s asking of me now is not what BDSM is about for me. She hates herself, for reasons that I don’t understand, and that she doesn’t trust me enough to share with me. She wants me to punish her, to hurt her, really hurt her; not in the pursuit of pleasure, but because she wants me to do her dirty work for her. She wants me to be the blade she uses to cut herself; to cause pain that will distract her from the real issues in her life. I refuse to be her tool of choice for self-harming, but I don’t know how to move forward with her.

  I have to go back to work today, and it’ll be the first time I’ve left Vittoria since she got out of rehab. I’m apprehensive about leaving her, but at the same time, I’m relieved that I have an excuse. A reason to take some time out and regroup. Work will be a welcome distraction from everything that’s going on at home. The boys have finally finished up their tour, and are back in New York, ready to start work on some new songs. I need to get their schedules organized and tie up all the loose ends from the tour, making sure that everything ran smoothly while I was gone. I feel terrible that I had to leave them on the final leg, but Vittoria was more important.

  When I get to the office, not only do I have all the paperwork to deal with for Flaming Embers, but I now have a ton of demos from new bands to get through. Apparently, now that artists have heard I represent the boys, they are desperate to be my next signing. It’s amazing for my relatively small label, but also a little overwhelming with everything else going on right now, but at least this is something I can control, so I throw myself into it, and barely stop to eat or drink all day.

  It feels good to be back doing what I love, and I think I might have found my next band. They’re currently out in L.A. but don’t seem to have any luck meeting the right people, or having the right person see them perform. Hopefully, when things settle down here, I can make a trip out there to meet them and see if they’d be a good fit for the label.

  Usually when I come across a great demo, I take it to Cube and get Carter to blast it through the sound system. It helps me visualize what I could do with them, and where I could help them improve. Plus, it’s always good to have someone else listen to it and give an opinion, and considering Carter runs some of the best nightclubs in Manhattan, he tends to know what people are listening to. Just another reminder of how fucked up my life is.

  I’ve tried to get in touch with him, not for my sake, but for Vittoria’s. She’s hurting without him, and she really took his words to heart. I know that deep down, he doesn’t really think she’s sick or twisted. He just doesn’t understand and he’s fiercely protective of her. The problem is, that she believes him. If he says she’s wrong for wanting to submit to me, and for wanting to explore the boundaries of her sexuality, then on some level, she believes it.

  I’m going to have to make it right for her, but this time, I’m not walking away, and if he thinks that’s the solution, then he can fuck off. I’ve been through too much with her to walk away now. He’s the one that should be ashamed of himself, the way he reacted. I know it’s a shock, and if it was up to me, I wouldn’t have told him, because it’s none of his business, but it’s out there now, and I’m the one that’ll need to man up and get them talking again. I haven’t figured out how I’m going to do that, and it’s pretty low on my priority list right now, so he can stay mad, or disgusted, or whatever the hell he is, until I’m damn well ready to deal with him.

  By seven o’clock, not only am I starving, but I’m really missing Vittoria. I thought I needed space when I left the apartment today, but turns out, she still enchants me, even when we’re going through a tough time. I pull out my phone and try to call her, but get her voicemail, so I decide to leave her a message, telling her exactly what I’m going to do to her when I get home.

  I can’t keep waiting for her to open up to me, because the longer I wait, the further away she seems to get. Tonight, I’m going to take back my submissive, in every way imaginable. I’m going to flog her, spank her, kiss every delectable inch of her body, and then I’m going to fuck her. It’s not going to be gentle, or filled with whispered sweet nothings. It’ll be hard and raw, and she’s going to feel it for days afterwards. There will be no holding back tonight; I need to see her falling apart for me, crashing over the edge into the blissful ecstasy of her release, over and over until she’s hoarse from screaming my name.

  I’m most definitely done working for the day. Now, I need to get back to my apartment, to Vittoria, to the playroom.

  The lights are off and the apartment is silent when I get home. I don’t think anything of it at first, assuming
that Vittoria is taking a nap in the bedroom. With my mind set on seducing her tonight, I kick off my shoes, throw my jacket over the back of the couch, and make my way down the hall to wake my girl in the most enticing way I can think off, but when I open the door to my room, a sliver of light streams in from the hall, and I can see straight away that she’s not in here.

  I check the bathroom, before heading out to the guest room. It’s been a while since she slept in there, her nightmares getting the better of her when she sleeps alone. I couldn’t stand knowing she was down the hall from me, and not in my bed where she belonged, so it wasn’t really a decision so much as a necessity when I lifted her from her bed, and took her into my room. Ever since then, she sleeps with her body wrapped around mine; right where I need her to be.

  When I find the guest room empty, an uneasy churning feeling takes up residence in my stomach. I move from room to room, checking and hoping to find her, but she’s nowhere to be found. I pull my phone from my back pocket – no messages. I quickly dial her number and wait impatiently to hear her voice. She doesn’t pick up, and I’m really starting to worry. The last time she stopped answering the phone to me, she… I can’t even think it. She wouldn’t do that to me. Not again. She’s been making progress, no matter how small, it’s still a move in the right direction.

  Carter wouldn’t answer my calls even if I tried to speak to him, so I’m left with the prospect of calling her parents, or calling Addi. I don’t want to worry anyone if there’s a simple explanation. She could have gone to the market to get food for dinner, or she could be meeting someone for coffee, and she can’t hear her phone. I’m sure she’ll be back soon. I may as well grab a shower and wait for her.

  I only last an hour before I’m really starting to worry. She never mentioned that she was going out, and she hasn’t been out alone since she got back from rehab. I know she’s a grown woman, and can come and go as she pleases, but it’s not like her. She would drop me a text to let me know where she is, and that she’s okay. I guess nothing about her behavior has been ‘like her’ recently.