“Hey!” I frowned at my partner but he just gave me his best blank look as if to say, You know it’s true. After a minute, I dropped my eyes.
“I see,” the professor said. “Well, on to your second question, then. Little-space is the headspace or mind set an Age Player gets into when they regress. It’s almost an altered state of consciousness when they go into it deeply enough.”
“So—like some kind of drug?” I asked, frowning.
He nodded. “It can be, in a way. It changes your perception and your judgment. For Littles, or the players who become ‘younger,’ it’s often a more open, simple place for them to be in. Again, many find it soothing to become a child again and not have to think about adult problems.”
“This sounds like a load of bullshit to me,” I said, frowning. “But what about the other ones—the ones who play the adults? What do they get out of it, if it’s not sexual?”
“The ‘Bigs’ or ‘Daddies’ as they are sometimes called, get the satisfaction of teaching, caring for, and comforting their ‘younger’ partner.” Professor Stevens smiled. “Overall, Age Play relationships are very warm and fulfilling for all parties involved.”
“Ooookay,” I said, not bothering to try and hide my skepticism. “So the Institute is full of people who like to do this? This Age Play?”
“Exactly. And make no mistake about it, Detective, Age Play is a form of BDSM.” Stevens raised a finger. “In fact, it closely mirrors the master/slave relationship of more traditional practices. But there are subtle differences in the Daddy/Babygirl relationship…”
“Okay, before we get into all that…” I looked at Captain Douglass again. “You seriously want us to do this? You want me to dress up like a little girl and Salt will be my Daddy? Because I’m assuming it couldn’t go the other way around.”
“No,” Professor Stevens said, answering for him. “No, there are other scenes where a male ‘Little girl’ or ‘Babygirl’ would be welcomed but not at the Institute. They are very traditional there.”
“You sound like you know the place,” I said, raising an eyebrow at him.
Stevens cleared his throat, a bit uncomfortably I thought.
“I am active in the Tampa scene. I have been to one of their very rare open houses but it was some time ago.”
“Okay, whatever,” I said, turning back to the Captain. “The point is, you want Salt and me to go in undercover to what is probably the weirdest, kinkiest place I’ve ever heard of. Why us?”
He frowned. “You’ve done sting operations before, Sugarbaker. Weren’t you undercover as a pro once?”
“Yeah, but at least I was still acting as an adult, even if I was pretending to be a prostitute,” I pointed out.
Salt looked surprised. “You went undercover as a prostitute?”
“It was before your time—when I was in Vice for a while,” I assured him. “Don’t worry—nobody touched me.”
He frowned protectively. “They had better not.”
“And speaking of Vice,” I said to the Captain. “Why aren’t they in on this? It’s definitely more their wheelhouse than ours. Why not pick two of them to do this crazy thing?”
“Because none of the other detectives in your police department fit the very exacting criteria set by the Institute,” Professor Stevens said quietly. “I told you, they are very traditional—they only admit male Bigs and female Littles. And they prefer it when the Little in question is extremely petite—it makes her seem more childlike.”
“Ugh…” I shivered. “So Salt and I are getting this honor because I’m height challenged? Gotta tell you Captain, that hardly seems fair.”
“Sugarbaker…” He sighed and looked at me directly. “Have you seen what Please does to its users? Do you know how it got its name?”
I shrugged. “Sure, I heard about that viral video.”
“But have you watched it? Look…” The Captain turned his large, flat computer monitor around and nodded at the professor. “Could you hit the lights? These overhead fluorescents make it hard to see.”
The office was plunged into semi-gloom and then the Captain punched a button. The monitor flickered to life, showing a blonde girl who looked to be in her early to mid twenties. She was down on the floor, on her hands and knees, crawling towards a man wearing a dark gray suit and expensive looking shoes. I didn’t know what his face looked like because the shot didn’t go that high.
“See that?” the Captain asked. “We believe that man is the original creator of Please. If we could catch him, we could shut down a hell of a lot of production.”
“Who is he?” Salt asked but the Captain shook his head.
“Nobody knows. As you can see, they’re very careful not to show his face. But even if they did, I don’t think most people would be looking at it. She’s the interesting one.”
He nodded at the girl on the screen who was looking more and more distressed.
“Please, Daddy,” she moaned, rubbing against the man’s legs. “Please, I feel so empty inside—it hurts—it hurts. Please fill me up with your big, hard cock!”
I glanced at Salt to see how he was taking this. I didn’t know if he watched American porn or, indeed, if Russian porn was any different. His face was impassive, however—it’s impossible to read him sometimes.
“Daddy, please!” The girl in the video flipped up her skirt, showing pink and white Hello Kitty panties. Her blonde hair was done in two curly pigtails and she was wearing lacy white ankle socks and Mary Jane saddle shoes. I wondered uneasily if her outfit was an Age Play thing. Was I going to have to dress like this and beg Salt to…
But I pushed the thought away. Professor Stevens had said that it didn’t have to be sexual. So it wouldn’t be—and that was that. Not that I didn’t find Salt attractive—I’d have to be blind not to. But sleeping with your partner was bad news—a one way ticket to complications and messy emotions. I preferred to keep my work life and my sex life separate.
Right, your nonexistent sex life, whispered a little voice in my head. I hadn’t really dated anyone seriously since Salt and I had been partnered up. I didn’t really know why that was—probably it was intimidating for prospective dates to meet my partner, which they somehow, always invariably did. Possibly Salt was giving them a ‘don’t hurt my partner’ speech or maybe they were just scared of him.
For whatever reason, no guy I tried ever lasted more than a couple of dates. And for the past few years, I had sort of stopped trying. Maybe I was getting too comfortable just being on my own, or maybe I felt like I already had all the male companionship I needed. After all, I spent something like seventy-five percent of my time with Salt…
“Daddy…Daddy, I’m going to die if you don’t fuck me!” the blonde girl in the video brayed. I had sort of tuned it out for a minute but now I realized she was pulling down the Hello Kitty panties to show her bare ass. She started rubbing herself between her legs frantically, crying and panting and moaning. Her pupils were dilated so wide I couldn’t even tell what color her eyes were and her breathing was ragged.
For the first time, the man on the screen spoke.
“Fuck or die, Babygirl,” he said, his voice coming out in a lustful growl. I still couldn’t see his face, clearly he was taking pains to keep his identity secret. “You told me you’d rather die than let me fuck you before. Is that still how you feel?”
“No, Daddy, no—I swear!” the blonde girl sobbed. “I’ll be your good little girl! So good—just give it to me, please.”
Fi
nally, mercifully, the Captain stopped the video.
“I think you can see why we need to get a handle on this,” he said quietly. “Please is not only dangerous, it’s shaping up to be the most effective date rape drug ever created. Can you imagine how damaging a video like this is to the victim when it gets out? The girl is literally begging for it. And even though she’s under the influence of the drug, a lot of people are going to blame her because…well, because people are assholes. We all know that.”
“Isn’t there any way to get someone down once they take the Please other than to have sex?” I asked.
The captain frowned. “There was one case where a girl was given a hit of Please at a party and her older brother took her home before she could fall into the wrong hands. It wasn’t until after he got her back to the house that the symptoms hit.”
“Oh no…” I put a hand to my mouth. “Please tell me he didn’t—”
“No, he didn’t have sex with his own sister, Sugarbaker,” the Captain said. “But people who take Please are in desperate need of intense physical sensation. So instead of having sex with her, he beat the hell out of her.”
“He what?” I asked, raising my eyebrows at him.
“You heard me—he beat her black and blue.” The Captain shrugged. “It worked. She didn’t die but when she came down off the Please high she was a mess.”
“Did she press charges?” I asked.
The Captain shook his head. “No. She gave a statement to the effect that she’d rather have a few bruises than have been raped by some stranger. She was grateful to her brother, if you can believe that.”
“Well, he did save her from being date raped,” I said, shrugging. “And then he gave her what her body needed, even if it probably wasn’t exactly what she wanted at the time.”
“This must be stopped.”
I was surprised to hear the vehemence in Salt’s voice. Turning, I saw that there was a grim expression on his normally blank face, a murderous anger I rarely saw.
“So you’re up for this?” I asked him. “You want to go in undercover as my “Daddy” so we can bust these guys?”
He looked at me seriously. “I know this will be hard for you, Andi. Much harder for you than for me. For that, I am sorry. But yes—I think we must stop this at any cost.”
Well, that was something to consider. I’d been prepared to put up more of a fight on this one but Salt seemed to feel really strongly about it.
“All right,” I said, nodding at last. “I still don’t like it but we’ll do it.”
“Great.” Captain Douglas looked very relieved. Clearly, he’d expected more of an argument from me. “We’ll make the arrangements and in the meantime, I’d like Professor Stevens here to coach the two of you on what to expect and how to act.”
I looked at my watch. “Sounds good but it’s almost quitting time, Captain. Can we pick this back up tomorrow?”
“Actually, we were hoping to get you into the Institute sooner rather than later,” the Captain said.
“Okay.” I sighed. “Maybe the three of us can all go out to dinner together? Talk some more now?”
Stevens shifted uncomfortably. “We do need to talk but I think it’s better we do it in private.”
“Plus you’ll need to try on your costumes,” the Captain put in. “I don’t think you’ll want to be seen out in public wearing those. Sorry, Sugarbaker.”
I frowned. “Okay, and what is Salt going to wear?”
“Just wear a suit,” the Captain said to Salt. “The more expensive, the better. You’re going to be a wealthy Russian investor who’s new to the whole Daddy-Dom experience. You’re going to the institute with your Little, hoping to get tips to train her better.”
“Wait—why does Salt have to ‘train’ me?” I demanded.
“Everything is always a fight with you, isn’t it, Sugarbaker?” the Captain growled. “Dr. Stevens and I thought it would be better for the two of you to present yourselves as new to the Age Play scene to explain any mistakes you might make.”
“All right,” I said reluctantly. “I just don’t like the idea of fetching a stick or begging for treats.”
“No, no, my dear.” Stevens laughed. “That would be puppy play. The Institute isn’t about that at all.”
“I was just kidding about that,” I said. “But you’re serious—that’s a thing? Puppy play?”
“There are all kinds of kinks,” the professor said. “But as of now, you need only be concerned about one. So maybe the two of you would like to come to my house for supper and I can explain your roles in more detail?”
“No.” Salt spoke up, surprising me. “No, we will meet at my house,” he said, looking at Stevens. “Less trouble this way.”
“Well, okay, sure.” I shrugged. “Professor Stevens?”
“Just tell me the address,” he said nodding. “I’ll be there with bells on.”
Knowing that he was deep in the fetish community made me wonder if he meant that literally. I had a feeling Salt and I were going to find out.
Chapter Two
I hummed as I moved around Salt’s kitchen, setting out a plate of sandwiches and stirring the soup on the stove. Living in Florida, I had never been much for soup before I met my partner. It’s almost never cold enough to crave winter comfort foods, which was how I always thought of it. But I had gradually learned that Salt didn’t see a meal as complete without it, so I had added a number of new soup recipes to my cooking repertoire. The kind we were having tonight was actually a nice vegetable soup I had made for him a few weeks before. He had frozen the rest so all I had to do was reheat it—convenient.
As I worked in the kitchen, Salt set the table. He was also humming to himself in a low, tuneful baritone. I stopped my own humming to listen to him. I hadn’t thought of it much before but it occurred to me how much I liked my partner’s voice. It’s very deep and masculine and commanding. It’s funny—he doesn’t talk much and when he does, he keeps his tone quiet for the most part. But still, when he talks, people listen and things get done. I liked that about him.
“What are you humming?” I asked, stirring the soup again. “It’s nice.”
“Is a song my grandmother used to sing to me at night sometimes.” For a moment, he stopped humming and sang instead, his deep voice washing over me as the rich, guttural Russian language filled his warm kitchen. It sent a shiver through me for some reason, though I didn’t know why.
“What does it mean?” I asked when he finished. “Translate for me.”
“It is what you call a lullaby I think. It goes…My little fox, my little kitten, sleep, oh sleep—the day is through. Heavy eyes and tired feet. Sleep my little mouse, sleep my little…” He paused for a moment. “I think the last would translate into ‘my little nugget of gold.’”
“What?” I burst out laughing. “My little gold nugget? Is that a nickname in Russia?”
“Da—of course.” He gave me one of his rare smiles. “What is more precious than gold? You could also call someone dear to you pchelka—my little bee.”
“Little bee?” I frowned. “But bees sting people.”
“Bees also give honey,” he pointed out. “Which is an English term of endearment.”
“I guess so,” I acknowledged. “It does sound weird when you think about it. Though no stranger than a man calling a grown woman ‘Little girl’ or a woman calling a man ‘Daddy,’ I guess.” I shivered. “Ugh—I’m really not looking forward to that.”
Salt frowned. “This bothers you greatly—the terms we are meant to use for ea
ch other?”
“Come on, Salt…” I put a hand on my hips. “You meant to tell me it doesn’t bother you?”
He shrugged, his broad shoulders rolling.
“Is just another term of endearment, I suppose. Would you prefer we use other names for each other during this assignment?”
“Can we?” I asked. “I never thought about that.”
“Why not? I am from Russia—I think it would be natural to use terms of affection in my own language.” He frowned thoughtfully. “I will call you mishka—my little mouse.”
“Why mouse?” I bristled at once. “Mice are timid and scared—I’m neither one of those things.”
“You’re little though,” he pointed out. “And you have soft brown fur.”
I laughed and put a hand to my hair. “Okay. If you say so.”
“You also have big brown eyes,” Salt said quietly. He put the plates down and came over to tip my chin up so that our gazes met. “I see your soul in your eyes when I look at you, Andi. Tih kra-sah-vee-tsa.”
“What does that mean? Is it Russian?” I asked uncertainly.
“It is,” he acknowledged softly. “It means, ‘you are beautiful.’”
“Oh…” I didn’t know what to say. Salt was usually all business but every once in a while he would come out with a statement like this that left me floundering. I told myself he was just acting as he had been raised—it was probably just ‘the Russian way’ to compliment a woman, even a coworker, on her looks. But still, sometimes…
“But the question is,” Salt continued after a moment, finally letting me go. “What should you call me? You do not wish to call me ‘Daddy’ I take it?”
“No, that’s what I called my own father. Well, before he left.” I looked down at the soup again, which was simmering nicely. Better not to think about that too much. “It just…creeps me out,” I said. “I mean, calling another man by that name.”
“Why not call me Papa?” Salt asked. “Would that bother you?”
Daddy Issues Page 2