by Frost, E J
No, Daddy wouldn’t do anything to damage me. He was so, so careful in preparing me for anal sex. He won’t screw that up just because he’s got his morning-mean on.
I bury my face in the pillows as he leans over me and runs his hand, tacky from the wipe, up my back. “I can see you tensing up, little girl. Relax for me.”
I try, shaking myself to force my muscles to loosen. My ass is locked tight, though, and even willing it to relax doesn’t help.
He presses the plug against my sphincter. The cold metal helps the tip ease in, but even the little stretch burns. Oh, fuck, I’m so sore. The widest part of the flange is going to sting like a bitch. I stuff the corner of a pillow in my mouth.
“No, little girl. I want to hear you.”
I spit out the pillowcase and wipe my eyes before looking over my shoulder at him. He’s smiling at me, even though his eyes are very dark and wicked. It’s his daddy smile, which reassures me. He’ll go as slowly as I need.
Knowing he’ll be patient with me, I tip my hips up and push down through my spine, trying to unlock my sphincter. The cool metal slides in an inch. I whimper at the stretch and burn, but there’s no sharp pain. Just an ever-increasing ache. I can take this. I breathe out, getting an eye-watering whiff of my own morning breath back off the pillow. Yuck. Daddy’s putting up with a lot from me this morning, since I’m sure I wasn’t very clean and tidy down below after hard morning sex. I concentrate on that, and on pleasing my Dom with my submission, as the cold metal burrows further and further in. It feels like a steel crowbar in my butt, and it’s not sliding in smoothly the way I’m used to. It feels like it’s sticking and taking the top layer of skin off as it passes through. Owww.
A high whine breaks out of me as the burn becomes sharp, then it eases and it feels like my ass takes a big gulp, and the plug’s in. I can still feel the narrow neck holding me open, and now there’s a little weight as Daddy pulls back on the base to make sure it’s seated, but it’s in and I’ve taken it for him the way he wanted and a big smile stretches my face. “I did it.”
“Of course, you did. It’s a four-inch metal plug, little girl, not my fist.” He rubs my sacrum and I feel the plug settle. “I’m not asking anything impossible of you in the heinie-department.”
That makes me giggle. “Thank you, Daddy.”
“I’m not telling you how long I’m leaving the plug in, only that I’ll take it out before we go to Blunts tonight. If you need to go, you come to me. You do not have permission to remove it yourself.”
Ugh. I kind of hate it when he controls my bodily functions, but I kind of love it, too, particularly when he does it like this: making me involve him in my submission. “Yes, Daddy.”
He pats my bottom, jostling the plug and sending a shiver through me. “Is that enough of a reminder of who you belong to, or should I clamp your nipples, too?”
Another trick question. He has such a morning-mean on. “Whatever you want to do, Daddy, but I do know who I belong to and I promise there won’t be any more kissing.”
“Mmm.” Another bottom pat. “No nipple clamps, for now. But behave yourself, little girl.”
“Yes, Daddy.” He doesn’t need to remind me not to flirt with Max or Daisy. Although his jealousy gives me a little thrill, I wouldn’t ever provoke it. I never want Daddy to doubt my loyalty. “Can I take a shower before breakfast?”
He nuzzles my neck. I hear him inhale and hope I’m not stinky. “No, we’ll have a bath today at some point. Until then, you wear Daddy’s scent on your skin.”
“Yes, Daddy.” I love the idea of smelling like him all day, and since he wiped me up, I’m not all gross with his come. I try really, really hard to appreciate his gifts, but sometimes it’s hard to appreciate the sticky, smelly ones.
After some more nuzzling, and some kissing when he turns me over, Daddy lets me up to dress. Since he’s feeling super-possessive today, I set out my “Daddy’s Lil Monster” T-shirt and a pair of soft, blue capris.
“Yes, on the shirt,” Daddy says after inspecting the ensemble. “No, on the pants. Wear the white ruffled bottoms with white thigh-highs. No bra. You can wear knickers if you want to.”
A hot thrill shoots through me as I put the capris back in the drawer and take out the shorts he wants me to wear, which are like a diaper cover, smooth cotton in the front and three layers of ruffles in the back. They make me feel super-little and super-sexy when I pair them with the fitted shirt and thigh-highs. I wouldn’t have worn this in front of Max and Daisy, but if Daddy wants me to see me in it, I’ll happily wear it for him.
The outfit also tells me we’re not going out today until I change. Daddy’s comfortable with me being little in public, and I’m comfortable knowing he’ll protect me, but I don’t wear obvious little clothes out of the house. There’s a line between being myself and inviting hate, and it’s not a line I want to cross.
Logan pulls on board shorts and a black T-shirt that outlines his muscles and makes his biceps look massive. He gives such great arm porn. When I’m done dressing and putting up my hair in a ponytail to keep cool, he beckons and, when I go to him, he puts his arms around me and massages my butt-cheeks through the ruffled bottoms, squeezing the plug.
The movement makes my nerves in my ass light up like sparklers. “Daddy,” I gasp.
“Mmm, that’s right. Feel Daddy’s plug inside you. You are my little girl, Emily.”
Wow, he’s insanely possessive today. I look up into his eyes and hold his dark, burning gaze. “You are my daddy. My Wolfy-Daddy, who makes me stupid happy.”
His eyes soften, and he smiles. “Still stupid happy?”
“I am. Are you, Daddy?”
“I’m happy with you.” He kisses my forehead. “I’m happy with us. There are a lot of things I’m not happy about, but you make up for all of them. I need you, little girl. I need you in my life. I don’t say that lightly. In fact, I don’t think I’ve ever said that to anyone before. But I’m saying it to you. Do you understand?”
I think so. He’s saying he finds as much succor and sustenance in our relationship as I do. Logan’s never been a daddy before, but he took to it immediately. I thought he did it for me, because I need a daddy and he wants to be my Dom. But maybe he’s finding more to being my daddy; maybe it’s filling some of his deeper needs, too. I nod and smile up at him.
He pats my ruffled bottom. “Breakfast, little girl. And no arguing with me today about the dishes. It’s my turn and my leg’s fine.”
“Yes, Daddy.”
I love that he takes his turn with the household chores. I did everything around the house when I was married to Ash. He always justified it that I didn’t work regular hours, so it just “made sense” for me to be his damn house elf. I never argued. Looking back, I realize it was an expression of my submissive need to serve. Logan could exploit that need; I’d do all the household chores if he told me to. But other than letting me do everything for the few days he was having trouble getting in and out of bed and up and down the stairs, he insists on sharing the load.
My daddy.
I expect him to either head into the basement to work out, or into his office, when we go downstairs, but he doesn’t. He stays with me, turning on the flatscreen in the great room and flipping it to the morning news, then pottering around, picking up stray plates and glasses from the party to put in the dishwasher and arranging the couch cushions. I’ll just need to run the vacuum after everyone leaves. One of the nice things about Daddy’s house being sparsely furnished is that clean-up is super easy.
Mixing a bowl of waffle batter under my arm, I twirl around the kitchen island to the tune of Sia’s “Never Give Up,” which is my happy jam. Even though Logan told me not to make breakfast for everyone, when I put a stack of eight plates on the island, he sets the table without comment. I make plenty of waffle batter, and when he doesn’t grumble, I put two dozen turkey sausages on the oven grill. I hear the upstairs toilet flush as I start a pot of coffee. Sounds
like Max is up, at least.
Lucy and Austin come upstairs before Max comes downstairs. They’re only wearing their underwear, and Lucy’s blonde curls are a rat’s nest. With a big yawn, she sits down at the dinner table while Austin comes into the kitchen and gives me a hug.
“Morning, hun. What can I do?”
“Morning.” I smile up into his dark, sleep-creased face before handing him a set of tongs. “Keep an eye on the sausages for me?”
“You got it.” He yawns. “Any chance of coffee?”
“That pot’s extra strong so I can ice it. Give it a minute to finish perking and then I’ll make a normal pot.”
“I’ll take the Hulk version. I’ve got a photoshoot in two hours. I need the caffeine.”
“Okey-dokey.” I get cups out of the cupboard and line them up on the counter. While the coffee finishes, I pour the first batch of batter into the waffle-maker.
Everyone else shuffles in while I’m pouring and flipping. The only one not in their underwear is Daisy, who’s wearing the dress she wore yesterday, probably because she didn’t wear any underwear. Rick’s just wearing tight, black briefs. Ew, more of his skin than I ever wanted to see. I know people pay to see him naked, and, objectively, he’s a good-looking man, but I can’t get beyond his essential creepiness. He joins Max and Daddy in front of the TV where they’re watching the sports scores.
Justine, who is the last upstairs, looks freshly showered, with her long hair in a damp ribbon down her back. She’s also the only one who looks like they slept really well. Maybe she’s a morning person, or maybe no one stole her covers.
She comes into the kitchen, gives me a hug and a peck on the cheek, and picks up a pair of coffee cups. “Can I get coffee for anyone?”
I direct her to the pitcher I use for making iced coffee and the ice maker. Once she’s got the iced coffee made, I take a break from flipping waffles to take a cup to Daddy. He pulls me in against his side and kisses my forehead. “Thank you, baby doll.”
“Welcome, Daddy.”
“Lizbeth called.” He pulls his phone out of his pocket and flaps it back and forth in his hand. “I told her we’d call back after breakfast. Sounds like they had a great trip.”
“I’m sorry we missed it.” I go up on my tiptoes and kiss him under his jaw.
He tips his head down and looks me in the eye. “Next year, huh?”
The breath catches in my chest. He wouldn’t say it if he didn’t mean it. Stupid happy, I nod. “Yes, Daddy. Next year.”
He smiles and kisses my forehead again. “Need help with anything?”
“No, Daddy, I’ve got it.”
When he lets me go, I skip back into the kitchen, despite the butt plug.
* * *
Lucy’s the last to leave. She and Logan go into his office after breakfast and I know they’re negotiating. I’m not sure if Daddy will do a contract with her the way he has with me. I hope not. That would hurt somehow, and I don’t know why, but as I stare blindly at my laptop, on which I’ve written two whole words since Daddy shut the office door, I just know that would really, really hurt.
Sable curls on the breakfast table next to my computer, occasionally batting at my fingers, which are resting, unmoving, on the keys. I reach over and pet him. Seeing him, touching him, the kitty that my daddy gave me, that he feels I’m responsible enough to have, makes me feel better. But I still wish Lucy would leave.
How am I going to deal when she comes over to do a scene?
My laptop dings and the picture of the Avengers appears, pointing at me, reminding me that I should be writing. And I should. But every time I try to focus on the scene, a battle scene that should be holding my complete attention, my thoughts are pulled back to what’s going on behind the closed office door.
The door opens and I quickly close my laptop.
Lucy walks through the kitchen and sits down across from me at the breakfast table. “Logan’s just taking a call,” she says.
“Oh, okay. Are you two done? Do you want a drink or something?”
“We’ve got a little more to do. Logan’s having me go over the Blunts questionnaire again. I think we’ve got another page. I’ve had plenty of coffee, but if you have any juice, that would be great.”
“Pineapple or cran-raspberry?”
“Cran-raspberry, please.”
I get up and pour her a glass of the ruby-red juice before returning to the table.
“I don’t actually know what the Blunts questionnaire is,” I admit.
“It’s a pretty detailed questionnaire. Medical history, soft and hard limits, fantasies, submission goals, that sort of thing. It’s good, actually. I don’t think I’ve re-done my questionnaire since I started at the club. There’s some stuff that’s definitely changed.”
That doesn’t sound like a contract, and Logan didn’t have me do a questionnaire. Some of the tightness leaves my shoulders and the battle scene starts calling me.
Lucy puts her juice down and reaches across the table to rest her fingertips on my knuckles. “Am I fucking things up?” she asks.
She should be glad she doesn’t have a contract with Logan. He’d be washing her mouth out with soap before they even finished the questionnaire.
“How?” I ask. I’m not repeating the f-word. Not with Daddy less than forty feet away. He has Batman hearing when it comes to me swearing.
“You’ve barely said two words to me since I got here yesterday. This is the first time you’ve even looked at me. I don’t want Logan to top me if it means we can’t be friends.”
Shit, I’ve done a bad job of hiding my conflict. I turn my hand over, take hers in mine and squeeze it. “Sorry, I suck. I told Logan I was fine with it and I mostly am, I just have these stupid moments—”
“Are you angry? Jealous? Because you shouldn’t be. Logan isn’t interested in me.”
But she’s interested in him. I’ve seen it. She looks at him, and there’s longing. And Lucy could be a damn pin-up girl. A natural blonde with big hair and big breasts and long legs. I’ve seen all of her, several times, and there’s a lot to like. Add to that her bubbly, big-hearted personality and I’m having a hard time seeing why Logan wouldn’t fall for her.
“Sorry, like I said, stupid moments.”
“I’m the one who should be sorry,” she says. “I shouldn’t have asked. There are other Doms, other clubs.”
“No.” I tug on her hand. “Logan’s your friend. I’m your friend. We can all be adult about this, right?”
That’s ironic, I appreciate, coming from me. And maybe that’s the source of my discomfort: schoolgirl anxiety about being passed over for the Prom Queen. I need to be the bigger person. I need to be secure in my relationship with Logan.
“Are you sure—”
The door to the office opens and Logan stands in the doorway, one hand braced against the doorframe. Oh, no. He looks so gray and drawn. I slip my hand out of Lucy’s and go to him.
He wraps his arm around me and holds me tight to his chest. He breathes warmly into my hair. “Hey, baby doll.”
“Is everything okay?”
“No, there’s something we need to talk about, but let me finish up with Lucy first, okay, sweetheart?”
I nod and give him a big hug. “Sure. Anything I can get you?”
“Fix-it juice?”
I nuzzle into his chest. “I don’t have any fix-it juice, but I make a mean blueberry smoothie. Blueberries fix almost everything. Just ask Willy Wonka.”
“Do they?” Daddy gives a weak chuckle. “Okay. Blueberries sound good. Promise me no kale, though.”
“No kale,” I promise, holding up my pinkie.
Daddy shakes it and then wraps me in his arms again and kisses the top of my head. “Love you so much, little girl,” he whispers.
Those words don’t make everything better, I know, but right now, with Lucy watching us, they go a really, really long way.
“Love you, too, Daddy. You know how you tell me e
verything will be okay?” When he nods against my forehead, I repeat it back to him. “Everything will be okay.”
He kisses the top of my head and lets me go. “Lucy, let’s finish up, huh? Sorry about the interruption.”
I step back to clear the doorway. As Lucy passes me, I catch her hand and squeeze it. “Really sure.”
She turns her head to look at me and I give her a reassuring smile. She gives me an answering smile before she ducks into Daddy’s office. Daddy closes the door behind him after giving me a quick kiss.
Feeling stupid happy again, and like I’ve managed, for once, to be the bigger person, I skip over to the fridge to get the ingredients for a fix-it blueberry smoothie. I even pull out the cacao to give Daddy a treat. While I’m pouring everything into the blender, I consider what call Daddy could have taken this morning that made him look so strained.
It could have been Miranda, but Daddy tends to be red and angry when he gets off the phone with her. I’m pretty sure it was the debt collector. Whatever they’ve said to him, they’ve hurt him, after he was stupid happy with me last night. Damn them.
I still don’t know exactly what to say, but it’s time for me to be Wonder Woman brave.
Lucy leaves a half-hour later. She comes back into the kitchen to say goodbye and give me a hug. I show her out and lock the front door behind her, then stand in the hallway for a long moment, trying to find the right words. I still don’t have them when I take off my clothes and leave them folded on the bottom stair, but I knock on the door to Daddy’s office anyway.
“Come in, baby doll.”
With my eyes down, I pad quickly across the hardwood floor and rug. When I reach his desk, I kneel, fold over, and lower my head until my forehead touches the carpet a few inches from Logan’s bare foot.
He blows out a heavy breath. “Emmy, you don’t have to do that.”
“I want to, Daddy.”
“Thank you for being respectful, sweetheart. Maybe it’s easier this way, huh?”