Little Dancer

by Brianna Hale

  “What did we say about lying?” he says, stern.

  I flick my eyes up at him. “All right. I liked it.” And then completely freaked out about it afterward.

  He spreads his hands in a well, there you go gesture. “Any more questions?”

  I take a sip of wine and look at him. God, I do want him. So badly. Everything he’s said is crazy and strange, but none of it frightens me—at least, not in a get-up-and-leave sort of way. I think about what it would be like to date him just as regular people do, with movie nights and walking on the heath and taking turns to make dinner. It feels...flat. I mean, I want all that, but I want something more, as well.

  But I haven’t finished with my questions.

  “Would you see other women?”

  He frowns like I’ve offended him. “No.”

  “So...you’d be like my boyfriend?”

  His hand caresses my shoulder. “Oh, sweetheart. It goes so much deeper than that. I’d own you.”

  Own me. Be his. Utterly. That should frighten me, too, I suppose, but it doesn’t. I take a deep breath. “And what if it doesn’t work out?”

  He slides a little closer to me, as if he can sense my agreement is on the tip of my tongue. He’s so confident. So assured. But then, he’s already shown me how good he is at reading me. All the same, he answers my question with the gravity I require. He’s so close that he doesn’t need to speak above a murmur. “It’s like any relationship. It grows and changes over time. Deepens, or falls apart. But I promise you, I would do everything I can to see that it doesn’t fall apart.”

  “Would you promise to go easy on me at first?”

  “No.”

  Dammit. But if him going easy on me means not feeling the way I do now, desired and precious and safe, then I suppose I don’t want him to.

  “All right,” I whisper.

  “All right what? Be specific.”

  I lift my eyes to his. “All right, I want you to be my dom.”

  He just looks at me. I can feel him breathing. He takes a slow glance around the restaurant, as if he’s thinking, and then back at me. He lowers his head to mine—he’s going to kiss me at last. I tilt my chin up.

  Then he catches me by the throat and squeezes. His eyes turn flinty and his voice is hard with menace. “Do you know how much you displeased daddy when you marched into his office without asking yesterday?”

  My heart plummets through my body. Oh, god. I did, didn’t I? I was incredibly rude to him. Rufus has never looked at me with such black fury before and I suddenly realize how serious this is. He’s livid, and I’ve just agreed to submit to him, no matter what.

  Chapter Six

  “Go and take your panties off and bring them to me.”

  In the ladies bathroom I take my underwear off with a shaking hand and shove them into my purse. Standing at the mirror with the faucet running, I stare at my reflection. He wasn’t thinking when he was glancing around the restaurant. He was checking to see if anyone was looking. Crafty motherf-fudger.

  When I come back to the table he’s paying the check, the waiter standing at his elbow. I slide in beside him, looking at the tablecloth. When we are alone he puts his hand on my thigh, palm up. “Give them to me.”

  I take the balled up underwear from my purse and put them into his hand. He tucks them into his trouser pocket and escorts me out of the restaurant, holding me firmly by the hand.

  Driving me home, he doesn’t say anything except to tell me my safe word, what it’s for, and getting me to repeat it back to him.

  “What is your safe word?”

  “Persephone.”

  “What is it for?”

  I swallow. I know that the word is for my protection, but it seems so daunting, needing to have one. “It’s for if ever I’m frightened of you, or if I’ve reached the limits of my pain tolerance. You’ll stop whatever you’re doing right away and do everything in your power to make me comfortable and happy again. You don’t ever want to make me say it, but it’s there for my safety should I need it.”

  He nods, and turns into my street. Instead of pulling up outside my parents’ house he slides into a space behind a blue Audi and cuts the engine.

  My heart starts hammering against my ribs. “What are you doing?”

  He presses a button and his seat moves back, and then he points at his knee.

  I stare at him. “Here?”

  “Are you arguing with me?”

  It’s on the tip of my tongue to say, Yes, I am damn well arguing with you. But I don’t. I agreed to this. And he’s not stupid, or indiscreet. I remember that glance around the restaurant. It’s past midnight and the street is dark and quiet, and he’s parked some distance from the nearest street lamp. Still, it’s light enough that anyone walking past could look in and see what’s happening.

  I don’t have much choice in the matter, though, so I unbuckle my seatbelt and slide across his lap. It’s awkward and there isn’t much space. He solves that by pushing me down so that my face is near the brake pedal. I brace my hands against his shoes. He starts pulling my dress up to expose my bare behind. I squeeze my eyes shut. Okay, it’s bad, it’s embarrassing, but I can do this.

  He holds me in place with one hand and reaches across to the glove box with the other. He fishes around in it for a moment. I hear the clink of metal and then he’s fastening something around my wrist.

  My eyes fly open and I look at what he’s done. “You’re handcuffing me! Why are you handcuffing me?”

  He snaps the cuff around my other wrist and I realize I can’t move. I need my arms to lever myself out of this tight space and he’s just locked them together. The cuffs aren’t the fluffy sort, either. They look real.

  “Because I’m your dom, which means I’m in charge. This is what you agreed to, babygirl. Remember?”

  I concentrate on my breathing, trying to calm myself. This is what I agreed to, and I want it. Even though my heart’s pounding I can feel the wetness between my legs.

  “I got you a present today, princess. Your first one as my little girl.”

  So he was pretty certain that I was going to say yes. “Oh?” I say, and he laughs softly. I don’t like that laugh.

  “You sound worried, princess.” He reaches over to the glove box and then holds something down in front of my face, turning it this way and that. In the dim light I can just see that it is tapered and silver and about four inches long. There’s a pink jewel at the flat end. “Isn’t it pretty?”

  “What is it?” I ask.

  “It’s a butt plug. What do you say?”

  Oh, god. A butt plug. They go in your ass, don’t they? We haven’t even gone to bed together. He hasn’t even kissed me.

  “Well?” he asks, pinching my ass hard.

  “Thank you, daddy,” I whisper.

  “Good girl. Now open your legs.” All trace of teasing has gone from his voice.

  A sub’s job is to submit, no matter what. Especially when being disciplined.

  I open them as much as I can, one knee against the driver’s-side door, and one on the passenger seat. I’m completely exposed to him.

  “You’re going to like this, babygirl. It’s going to remind you to behave, and that your ass is mine.” He separates my cheeks and spits, and then massages it in with his finger. It feels unexpectedly good, and I moan. He rubs the plug over my wetness, making it slick.

  “I’m going to go slowly. Just relax, babygirl.” He holds me apart with one hand and pushes with the other. I whimper as I feel myself yield. Then my breath catches as I stretch and become filled up. “Breathe, princess,” he reminds me, and I do. The plug slips into place, and I groan, burying my face against his legs.

  He presses firmly on the plug. “Whose ass is it?”

  My
head rears up. “Yours, daddy.”

  “Why are you being disciplined?”

  “Because I was rude to daddy and walked into his office without asking.”

  “Good girl.” He caresses me slowly, his hands stroking my skin. “And such a tight little ass it is.”

  To my surprise he pulls my skirt back into place, then leans down and unlocks the cuffs. Then he pulls me up and settles me in my seat. I can’t sit normally and my arms are braced against the dash and my seat back. I don’t know whether I want to come or hit him.

  “What—” I say, my breathing shallow, “what are you doing?”

  But he just gets out of the car and comes round to my side and helps me out. Standing, I can still feel the plug, but not as much as I thought I would be able to.

  “Aren’t you going to discipline me?” I ask as he takes my hand and starts walking me to my house.

  “I am disciplining you.”

  Of course he is. The ache begins between my thighs, and I wonder what else he has planned for me.

  On the front step of my house he turns me toward him and cups my face in his hands. I can feel how hot my cheeks are against his cool skin. He strokes his thumb over my lower lip and I melt under his gaze.

  “You’ve never kissed me before, you know,” I whisper.

  “I know. I wanted to wait until you were mine. Are you mine?”

  A warm sensation bubbles through me, like the finest champagne. “Yes, daddy.”

  Rufus smiles in the darkness, his teeth gleaming. When he lowers his mouth to mine my lips open beneath his, inviting him in. Knowing I belong to this stern, caring, dominating man makes me golden under his touch, and I rise up on tiptoe to meet him, wrapping my arms around his neck.

  He caresses my ribs and then slides his hands down to my ass and presses on the plug. I break the kiss with a moan, clinging to him. Why the hell does that feel so good?

  He reaches his other hand under my dress and slides a finger into my slit, rubbing back and forth. I have to hold tight to him elsewise I’ll fall down. Let the neighbors see, I don’t care.

  “You’re not to take the plug out,” he murmurs into my ear, taking his hands away and smoothing my dress down. “Go straight to bed and wait for my call.”

  I nod, licking my lips. I like the taste of him.

  He’s at the bottom of the steps when he calls, “Oh, and princess? No touching yourself.”

  A few minutes later I am naked and in bed, clenching the sheets with both hands. This was not how I thought the evening would go. I thought kissing, hand-holding, some ground rules and then some time to think and recoup. I can’t think with this thing in my ass. I can only think about Rufus and the things I want him to do to me right now, except he can’t because he’s not here. I suppose the not thinking is the point. I just have to lie here and wait for his call. He’s doing the thinking.

  Ten minutes later my phone buzzes. Send me a picture so I know you’re being a good girl.

  I do, and send it to him. My first sext, and it’s not me in a cute top with my nipples vaguely showing, it’s my plugged ass.

  He calls me straight away.

  “Where are you?” I ask.

  “Driving. What are you wearing?”

  “Nothing.” I whisper, terrified my parents are going to hear even though they’re two rooms away, fast asleep.

  “Good girl. How wet are you?”

  I touch myself. “I’m worried about my hydration levels right now.”

  He chuckles, a rich warm sound that makes me think of melted chocolate. “Do you want to come, babygirl?”

  “Please,” I whimper.

  “Put two fingers inside yourself. Feel how tight you are?”

  I do, and he’s right. I am tight.

  “Daddy’s going to fuck you with that plug in your ass very soon.”

  I’ve felt the thickness of him through his trousers. “You won’t fit.”

  “Oh, yes I will. What finger do you use to touch yourself?”

  I’m still struggling through the pink mist that he’s caused by telling me he’s going to fuck me with the plug in my ass. “Um, middle finger. Right hand.”

  “Take your fingers out and start rubbing yourself with that finger.”

  He tells me what my ass looks like when it’s all red, what my whimpering sounds like, how hard he gets when he’s disciplining me, how hard he is now. Every time he can tell from my breathing that I’m getting close he says Stop, and I have to take my finger away. But he never stops talking. I hear what sounds like a door opening, a car driving past, a set of keys, but he keeps talking. When he tells me to stop for the fifth time my phone is sweaty against my cheek and there’s an ache between my legs.

  “Please, let me come,” I moan.

  I hear that chuckle again. “Ask daddy nicely.”

  “Please, daddy, let me come.”

  “Are you going to be a good girl?”

  “Always, no matter what. I’ll always knock before coming into your office and I’ll never be late or miss a cue or anything at all. I’ll let you do whatever you want to me. I’m yours. Please.”

  “Damn right you are. You’re daddy’s girl. Now you can come.”

  I rub myself and he listens to me breathing, not saying anything. Then when he hears that I’m close, he says, “Tell me when you’re going to come, right before you can’t say anything at all. I want to hear it in your voice.”

  “I’m going to come—ah.” My back arches and my head goes back. I can feel myself clenching rhythmically around the plug as I come and my orgasm goes on seemingly forever.

  I collapse, panting.

  “Good girl. Go and take the plug out. Leave your phone on your bed. I’ll wait.”

  “Mmph,” I manage, and lever myself upright.

  In a few minutes I’m back with the phone pressed against my ear. “I’m back.”

  “Did that feel good, babygirl?”

  “Oh god oh god oh god.”

  “Use your words.”

  “It felt incredible. Like nothing else. Not better than your tongue, just different. Is it supposed to feel different? I thought all orgasms were the same.”

  “They can be different, especially for girls. I’m going to teach you all the ways you’re able to come.”

  “Oh, daddy.”

  “Yes, princess?”

  “I can’t wait. Where are you now?”

  “I’m at home.”

  His home. I wonder what it looks like. “Where do you live?”

  “Marylebone. In a flat.”

  “You drive from Marylebone to the theater every day? It’s like a twenty-minute walk.”

  He laughs. “Of course not. I walk. I usually leave the car at the theater.”

  I’m silent for a minute, picturing his walk, wondering about his favorite route. I feel calm now after an agitated evening of questions and decisions and dying of arousal. Even though he’s not here it’s like his arms are around me. I hope I feel like that all the time. You’ll obey me whether I’m there or not. You’ll want to obey me.

  I can see now why he was so sure of that.

  “So why Persephone?” I ask.

  “It just came to me and I thought it suited you. Persephone was—”

  “I know the story. Persephone was the daughter of the goddess of the harvest, and she was hanging out in a field one day when Hades, god of the underworld, came riding by on his big ol’ black chariot, snatched her up and took her to his lair. She wanted to go back to her mother but she ate some pomegranate seeds and he was all a-HA! You must stay with me six months of the year. And that’s why we have winter. Because her mother is sad.”

  “An elegant recounting.”

  “Thank you.”
<
br />   “But you’re wrong.”

  “Excuse me?”

  “Persephone didn’t want to go back to her mother for good. She wanted to be with Hades so she ate the seeds as an excuse.”

  “That’s an interesting analysis.”

  “You don’t believe me?”

  “No.”

  “Oh, come on. It’s such a specific number. Six seeds. Half the year. Persephone knew exactly what she was doing. And that’s why it’s the perfect word for you. You might not be in control, but it’s your decision to be with me, like it was Persephone’s decision to be with Hades. You’re a sub, not a victim.”

  “Persephone gets a break every six months,” I point out.

  “Please. No one gets a break from the lord of the underworld. You can bet she was a good little girl no matter where she was. Now, be good like Persephone and go to sleep.”

  “Rufus?”

  “Yes?”

  “I’m glad you’re my dom.”

  I hear a smile warm his voice. “So am I, babygirl. I’ll call you tomorrow.”

  When I hang up I realize I haven’t added him as a contact in my phone. With a grin, I save his number, and enter it as Daddy.

  * * *

  I’m lying in the sun on my yoga mat, doodling in my new notebook when he calls. It’s eleven and I’ve done my workout and I’ve got nothing to do until four thirty when I have to leave for the theater. I grin when I see Daddy flash up on my phone, and I snatch it up.

  “I’m at the store. What do you have for breakfast?”

  “Interesting,” I say, adding another flower to the garden bed I’m drawing. “You plan on making me breakfast in the near future.”

  “Answer the question.”

  “Strawberry milk.”

  “You’re kidding me. What else?”

  “Nothing else.”

  “You’re a dancer and you have strawberry milk for breakfast? What do you have for lunch?”

  “A sandwich.”

  “Let me guess. White bread and peanut butter.”