Bought by a Billionaire Daddy_When a daddy dom bids at the slave auction

by S. L. Finlay

  Daddy wasn't happy to see me here though, unlike all the other days when he had been overjoyed to find me here with a gift.

  Surprised, I told him, "I am presenting you with a new cane, Daddy. This one is special, it is one of the ones they used to use on naughty boys and girls in the-" I had a whole spiel sorted, but Daddy had cut me off before I could really begin it.

  "-And why are you presenting it to me, girl? Do you need to be punished? What have you done?" Daddy's voice was gruff and made me uncomfortable. I felt bad for having presented Daddy with this gift, when only moments before I had been overjoyed. I worried that it wouldn't be so long until he used it on me after all.

  "No, Daddy I-" I began, but he cut me off again.

  "-You what?" He demanded.

  I took a breath from where I knelt before him and asked in a voice that sounded smaller than I meant it to, "Daddy, may I stand?"

  Daddy looked down at me like I was a distasteful puddle in the middle of his beautiful floor. It was a long moment like that before he nodded.

  Standing up, I looked him in the eye for a moment, as if in defiance before dropping my gaze. I was looking down at the floor and feeling guilty. I wasn't sure exactly how I had displeased Daddy, but I knew I had. I cleared my throat a little before telling the floor, "Daddy, I am sorry. I just thought you would like it."

  "You thought I would like it?" Daddy asked. "It is not a gift, having to punish my girl." His voice was dark, and made me shiver slightly.

  "I know that Daddy!" I rushed to say, still unable to look him in the eye and feeling flustered, upset. I knew my feelings were showing in my voice, but I couldn't help it. "I just wanted to give you something special, because your normal cane is just a cane, and this one is special. I just wanted to make you happy."

  There was a silence from beside me and as I snuck a look up at Daddy, and I caught a glimpse of sadness on his face. It was only there for a moment before his face was hard again. Daddy was back to the face I was so familiar with. His hard, strong face where he showed little emotion except anger. The face he wore when he did punish me.

  Still holding the cane in my hands, it felt like led there. It felt like the thing he wasn't paying attention to right now, but that we both knew was there. Like the big, pink elephant in the room, only I was about to be hit with it.

  Daddy shook his head and turned away. He called his servants in and they appeared, never too far away. They were such good servants like that. They took his coat and bag (a vintage leather suitcase he favored) and he consulted with them about the following day and the households plans.

  I simply stood there, feeling out of place and like I had been very, very naughty little girl.

  When Daddy was finished giving orders to his servants, he dismissed them and he turned on me, not wearing his coat and without his bag now.

  "Follow me, girl." Daddy instructed and I followed him down hallways and through doors until we were standing in Daddy's room.

  Daddy instructed me to undress him. This wasn't something I did everyday as part of my duties, however, it was something I had done enough of to know what I had to do.

  The tension rising off Daddy was obvious. I wanted to ask him about it, to ask him about how his day had been and if there was anything I could do to help him, I wanted to work to ease Daddy's burden. That was part of the reason why I was here, wasn't it? But I knew better. I knew that no matter what I did, no matter what I said, I wouldn't be able to make things better now. Daddy needed time with his feelings when he was mad. He always needed time to sort through things, and to come to his own conclusions. Daddy wasn't a talker, at least when it came to his own feelings.

  I had taken his shirt off and his pants when he told me what he would wear. He told me he wanted to wear a polo shirt and jeans. I smiled and fetched those things for him. I would do anything I had to do to make my Daddy happy. I wasn't the type to let her Daddy down, or at least that was what I had told myself enough times to wish it into existence. I was here to make Daddy happy, I was here to work for Daddy's happiness.

  Daddy deserved better, and I knew I was going to give it to him.

  I normally behaved in a very diligent manner, working hard to please my Daddy, and today was no different to any other day. Only that Daddy was much more upset with me than he had been in a long time - or really, more upset with me than he had ever been to date - and I had some work to do. I had to work harder than I normally did to make Daddy happy, because I was already starting behind the eight ball.

  I put his polo shirt on without any trouble and then his jeans. Daddy seemed to be calming down significantly as I worked, but I still didn't feel right asking him what was wrong. I knew he couldn't just be upset with me about the cane, there had to be more going on. As much as I wished I could fix things, as much as I wish I even knew what was wrong, I knew it was not my place to do so. I was a good girl who did what she was told, and Daddy was making it clear that there was some things that he wasn't about to tell me. If Daddy was upset and thinking of punishing me, he would definitely do so if I gave him just one more reason to now, and if I pushed things, if I asked too much questions, that would be the one more reason.

  The cane was sitting on a nearby couch, abandoned by me when I walked in. I had put it there thinking I didn't want it in my hands or anywhere near me when Daddy finally realized that I still had it as he had never taken it from my hands as I kneeled down to present it. Now we were alone. I didn't want a caning. I had just wanted Daddy to have the best implements possible when he did decide to punish me. Right now though, I didn't feel like I had done anything to earn a punishment, and felt that Daddy was perhaps taking out his other problems on me.

  No baby girl wants a punishment. Especially a punishment she doesn't feel she deserves.

  I was motivated by making my Daddy happy, it was true. But not because I simply wanted to avoid punishment, just because I wanted to make him happy. I wanted to be the one who did that every time. I wanted to be the one who he went home to and who made him smile. I didn't want to be the one who broke Daddy's heart because I wasn't being a good girl.

  After Daddy had me dress him, he ordered me onto the bed. I lay there on my front, as ordered, and listened as he moved around the room. I was terrified about what would happen. Would Daddy hurt me? Was he going to punish me? He didn't seem as mad since we had come in here, maybe he was mad when he walked into the house and I just happened to be in the way, with my stupid cane. Perhaps he was find now. Perhaps he had just had a bad day and I would hear no more about it, let alone have to feel uncomfortable about maybe asking what the real problem was.

  While I pondered that, and tried to work out how Daddy felt without really knowing a single thing about how he was from month to month (this was my first month here after all) I lay there, feeling my hot breath against the comforter. Daddy's comforter felt soft under me, but I didn't have a moment to think about that. I could just think about how I felt in this moment, and how badly I wanted Daddy to be happy. I wanted him to relax. I wanted him to treat me like the happy little island that kept him warm and safe, not like I was something else, someone he had to punish because I had asked for it by giving him a stupid cane.

  I felt dumb. I should have kept myself out of Daddy's line of sight when it came to punishment. He didn't need to punish me. Mostly I just did what I was told around here. I was eager though, to please Daddy and hardly needed a Daddy to make me do a thing. I would have been able to prove that with my gift. But, Daddy hadn't liked my gift one little bit. Right now too, I had displeased my Daddy by bringing up punishment, punishment he didn't like to doll out.

  My ears pricked up every time I heard Daddy moving around me. He was moving around the room from one place to another. I wondered if he was just ignoring me, face down naked on his bed, or if perhaps he was getting a punishment ready.

  Laying there, it was agony wondering what was about to happen. I would get all worried about Daddy punishing me, then I woul
d reason with myself that it probably wasn't going to happen after all. Daddy seemed annoyed, but maybe wasn't that annoyed. Then I would hear him move again and get worried that I was going to be punished.

  In the end, Daddy did approach the bed where I lay naked. He ran his hands over the warm skin of my legs and thighs. He touched my soft bum and let out a little sigh. Daddy was pleased with what he saw, and perhaps a little aroused at the same time. Maybe he would play with me instead of punishing me?

  Daddy's hands lingered on my soft round bum for a long moment before he took them away and instructed me to stand.

  I stood beside the bed and looked into Daddy's eyes. He gave a little smile before telling me that I may go.

  It was a long moment what I stared at my Daddy, feeling my heart in my throat before I finally left. I walked right out his bedroom door with my head held high then scurried away to the little girls room where I buried my head in my pillow and cried.

  Daddy hadn't punished me, and the feeling of not being good enough to punish gripped me. I wanted Daddy to punish me, as it turns out, because I had displeased him. I had done something silly and needed to be punished in order to feel redeemed. That I wasn't punished in the end was worse than any punishment could be. It was like he didn't care enough about me to correct my bad behavior. He was my master, he was my dominant and he was my Daddy. Even as it had only been a month, it meant a lot to me that I pleased my Daddy and that I did my bit in maintaining this relationship. When I knew I couldn't, when I knew my behavior hadn't been enough to please my Daddy, and that I needed to be punished and wasn't, then I felt at my worst. The feeling of disappointment in myself felt like a heavy stone inside my chest, one that sucked all the good, happy feelings out of me that had been there before when I waited for Daddy to walk in the door, kneeling like a good girl.

  That night Daddy didn't summon me to his bed like he had every other night leading up to it. It was the first night I used the little room for sleeping. I cried myself to sleep, feeling like the worst of failures. Al bought me a cup of tea, as he said it always worked to calm him when he needed it, but I was inconsolable. I had displeased my Daddy and it made me feel worse than anything in the world could. Even if he had had a bad day, I should make him happy at the end of the day, not do something to add to his life's burdens.

  The servants didn't spend much time trying to console me. It wasn't their job. I appreciated the tea that Al had given me, although it did nothing to help me feel better, it was a nice thought at least.

  Thoughts of why Daddy had merely touched me on the bum before letting me go, rather than punish me, took over my mind. In the end, I fell asleep wondering why that had happened. Had he planned to punish me and lost his nerve? Had he planned to punish me and not wanted to waste his time with someone who 'wasn't getting it'? The idea of that stung pretty deep. That perhaps Daddy was giving up on me.

  I hadn't known how much I cared about what Daddy thought until the very idea that he might not be having the most positive thoughts about me right now gripped my mind. It was the worst feeling.

  My dreams were dark and full of pain. The pain I had known I should have endured as a punishment for displeasing my Daddy. I wanted to be Daddy's perfect little girl, and I had failed him. So my mind was gripped with all the things I should have done. With all the punishments I should have taken to restore me in my Daddy's esteem.

  That morning, I was awoken by Al who had some breakfast for me.

  "What time is it?" I asked all at once, feeling alive and ready to take on the day. Remembering how displeased Daddy was and that I now had a new chance - a new day - to please him with. I was awake and I was ready to do my job as his perfect baby girl. I would please him now. That was not just what I wanted to do, but also what I felt I had to do.

  "Not so fast." Al told me as he shook his head.

  I was sitting up in my bed watching him shake his head for a moment before laying back down. "Yes, Al?" I asked once I was horizontal again, feeling that if he told me anything that shocked me so hard that I fainted, at least I would already be horizontal.

  "Your Daddy has instructed me to feed you this morning and to have you put some clothes on." Al told me matter-of-factly.

  I hadn't worn clothes since I'd gotten here, and I was surprised to hear Al tell me I would be wearing clothes. Before my mind could get away with me about why I was to wear them and that maybe Daddy was going to be getting rid of me, and thus needed to have my dressed before asking me to leave, Al told me somberly, "you will be attending a funeral today with your Daddy."

  Swallowing hard, I looked away from Al and stared up at the ceiling. Perhaps this was why Daddy was so upset last night?

  CHAPTER NINE

  As shocking as it was to hear there was a funeral to attend, it was even more shocking when I found out whose it was. My Daddy's own mother had passed away. Any wonder he had been so upset when he walked in the door the day before. He knew what had happened, and had the funeral to attend just the following day. At the same time that I felt awful for him, I felt relived for me that I finally knew what was wrong, then I felt guilty and selfish for feeling relived.

  I hadn't known it, but Daddy's family where quick to bury their relatives. Where most families would bury a few days after a death, Daddy's family were keen to get the funeral and process of mourning out of the way. Many of the arrangements were already made when Daddy's sick parent had been ill before she finally passed away. As awful as it all sounded, I thought it was a good idea to arrange your own funeral. That way, all your family had to do was call the funeral home when you passed and get the ball rolling.

  The funeral was a grave-side affair on a warm spring day. Al had some clothes bought to me and I would put those on before finding Daddy. I was ready to go when I found him in his room putting on a tie.

  "Respectfully," I began, standing behind him, "may I put your tie on Sir?"

  I told myself that I was being respectful and quiet out of respect for my Daddy when in reality, it wasn't out of respect for my Daddy that I was being quiet at all. I was being quiet because his feelings were a little scary for me, and I wasn't sure what to say.

  To date, I had been on the receiving end of good feelings: of Daddy's warm hugs and Daddy's lust. I hadn't yet had to see him grieving. I hadn't had to see Daddy vulnerable. I wasn't sure how to handle that. We had only been together for a month when this happened after all. If this was a traditional romantic relationship, we would still be dating one another. Going out to see movies or going to dinner. We would have plenty to talk to one another about, and nothing would get between us. Now though, because of the intensity of the past month, I felt closer to Daddy than I would to any vanilla - that is to say, non-kinky - boyfriend. But from where I stood, he didn't appear to be as chilled out as a vanilla boyfriend, and his feelings scared me quite a bit.

  I was both close to him because of the intimacy we had shared so quickly, but also estranged from him because of the power dynamic we had intentionally bought into this relationship. Because he was my Daddy, I wasn't sure what I was to do to comfort him. I wasn't sure what I was supposed to do to make him feel happy, or at least to make him feel he had my support.

  So I supported through service. I tied his tie and shined his shoes. I told him he looked good, although he hardly seemed to notice my words. When I spoke, he simply looked at himself in the mirror.

  I smiled at him, in what I hoped was a reassuring way in the mirror. He turned back towards me. His face was dark and I thought perhaps a little angry. He reached out to offer his hand, and I gave him my own. We shared a small smile and walked out of his bedroom. We walked through the house and out to his car - the one with the driver, not the one he drove himself - and got in. We didn't say a thing to one another the whole time.

  Daddy was in a dark suit and tie and I sat beside him in a black dress that went just pass the knees, black stockings and a small black cardigan that covered my shoulders. We looked like proper mour
ners.

  With so many questions to ask my Daddy - how did he feel? Was he okay? Was he close to his mother? Did his father still live? What would happen now? What could I do to help? What sort of support did he need? Could I help him? What could I do?

  But I didn't ask any of the questions which burned inside my chest. I merely sat with his hand cupped in two of my own and watched his stony face as he stared at the air in front of him. Daddy didn't show any emotions then, or throughout the funeral.

  When the funeral happened, I held his hand and he squeezed mine occasionally. His hands, which normally felt warm as his arms pulled me in close at night for a cuddle, felt a little cold now. I could have imagined it, but I was sure I wasn't imagining anything. His hands were cold, which added to that feeling of Daddy turning to stone before my eyes. His expression, his hands, his lack of real interaction all added to this feeling. That scared me almost as much as his vulnerability would. At least last night he had been angry - although I had obviously not known what it was about, I knew something was wrong outside of what I had done - but now, he just seemed silent, silent and unhappy. Stony.

  I could understand his feelings, even as I couldn't understand their expression. When my mother passed away only recently, I was inconsolable. Or I would have been, if anyone in the world had bothered to try and console me. At least I could understand that much.

  When it was time for family members to throw some dirt on the coffin and say a few words, Daddy did his part. From where I was standing, I could not hear what he had said, but I could see his face. That was the first time that day, or any day previous that I had seen Daddy looking upset. He looked as if he was about to cry, although that look didn't last long. He just looked upset, then suddenly there was nothing there at all.