by Madison Faye
He listens patiently to me. My stern professor is a daddy through and through, rubbing his hand in a soothing circle on my lower back while I speak. This becomes more than sexy then. Sitting on his lap, my legs swinging gently but freely, like a child on a swing, this feels… right.
“You ready?” he asks, his gaze probing when I finish talking.
I nod, unable to speak.
“Good. Let’s go.”
I walk with him, holding his hand, as he leads me into the main club, past the bar, past the pool tables I’m now familiar with. Some people greet us, and we politely respond, but we’re here for a reason. My stomach does a nervous little flip when we get to the entrance to the dungeon. If I had any panties on they’d be wet right now, but I thought it best to wear none under the slim-fitting leather dress I chose for tonight. It felt naughty at the time, but now I wonder if I made a foolish choice.
There are couples playing here, and he takes me to watch a few, instructing me how to properly and politely watch. “You never interfere in a scene,” he says. “Watch politely and learn when you can, but don’t interrupt or ask questions. Privacy and respect are of the utmost importance here. Understood?”
I nod. “Yes,” I say, which earns me a frown and a reminder smack to the ass. I blink. “Yes, Daddy,” I amend. His smile warms me through and through.
I’ve asked for this. He’s reading what I’ve been sending him now, and knows I want to experience the pain and pleasure firsthand.
“Your turn, Giada,” he says, pointing to a vacant spanking bench near an array of implements on the wall. I’m shaking as I nod. The tools he has at his disposal range from sexy to intimidating.
“Don’t use the whip,” I manage to choke out as he positions me over the bench. I’m belly down as he stretches me out and secures me.
“Excuse me?”
“No whip.”
He leans in and speaks into my ear. “You had a chance to discuss hard limits. You chose a safeword. Now is the time you trust me. I don’t allow anyone I’m topping to command the way a scene goes once we’re in here.” He gives my ass a punishing smack.
Shit. What did I get into?
A sharp tug of my hair makes me yelp. “Yes, Daddy,” I say. Damn, he’s right. If I don’t like something, I safeword. It isn’t the time or place to be telling him what to do. He reaches for something on the wall and returns to me with a wicked gleam in his eye. My fear begins to dissipate, leaving in its wake gleeful anticipation. I close my eyes to let myself sink into the scene. One warm, firm hand presses against my lower back, and without another word, he begins.
The whistle of a strap warns me a split second before my ass explodes in hot pain, and just as the pain fades to warmth, another smack follows another. I focus on breathing, taking this, needing to feel his strength and dominance. He straps me again and again, pausing between strokes, and after a good dozen or so he’s murmuring to me, telling me I’m a good girl and I’m handling things well. I’m floating, soaring, the dance of pleasure-pain rocking my world. One spanking leads to another, until I’m boneless on the bench. He unfastens the cuffs, lifts me in his arms, and speaks soft, soothing things in my ear I can’t quite decipher. My head falls to his chest, when suddenly his demeanor changes and he barks out a command over my shoulder.
I’m too deep into this to really be concerned, so I let my head fall back to his shoulder.
“I’m taking you to a private room,” he says, carrying me to a room with a sturdy, rust-colored door. Lifting me up onto his shoulder, he unlocks the door and pushes it in. It’s warm and cozy in here, outfitted for an extended stay. He lays me on the bed, then joins me, holding me up to his chest.
“Such a good girl,” he says. “That’s such a good baby girl.”
“Mmm,” I murmur. “Thank you, Daddy.”
He takes my mouth in his, a kiss that deepens within seconds. He’s over me, holding me to him while he brushes his lips against mine. My body rises to meet him, primed by the spanking he gave me. I want to explore it all with him. Deep in my bones I know he’s a man to be trusted, the one who could bring me the pleasure I’ve been dreaming about.
I part my legs for him, silently begging him to touch me, to fulfill the promise he made in his classroom. With a groan, he explores my inner thighs and upward, finding me panty-less and soaked.
“Jesus, baby,” he groans. He strokes me, my back arching, so ready to fly when he whispers, “Come, Giada,” I let myself go. Ecstasy rips through me. I can’t breathe or think, my body writhing beneath him in the most exquisite orgasm I’ve ever had, my first orgasm building onto a second even more intense than the first. He draws the pleasure out of me and leaves me panting against his chest, completely spent.
“Good girl,” he whispers. The days in class have led up to this, to me earning this ‘good girl’ and pleasure from his hands. “Such a very good girl.”
I sigh against him. “That was amazing,” I whisper.
We talk for hours. He ties me up and shows me the array of pleasure he can bring me. We play out the scenes I’ve written, and I gladly bring him pleasure on my knees, his blindfold sinking me into glorious darkness. We spend hours with one another. It isn’t until the sun begins to rise outside the window, and I’m up on his chest exhausted but elated, that he tells me what happened in the dungeon.
“Someone recorded us,” he says.
“Oh?”
He nods. “Yeah. All we need is a student reporting us for scening.”
Shit. He’s right. That would end everything.
But I only entwine my fingers in his and nod.
“We’ll handle whatever happens,” he says, our newly found intimacy reassuring in the darkness.
I say the only thing I need to. “Yes, Daddy.”
Chapter Seven
Geoff
One week later, I receive a summons to come to the dean’s office. I know in my gut what this is. Our session was recorded. Someone knows I scened with a student at a BDSM club, and my career is shot to hell.
I shut the door to my car and square my shoulders. I’ll handle whatever comes to me.
She’s worth it.
I’ve met her at Verge every day this week. She’s funny and sweet and thrives under her daddy’s firm but gentle hand. We laugh at each other’s jokes and talk for hours, about writing and literature, our backgrounds and childhoods. She’s easy to talk to, and to my surprise, a natural sub. She’s done her research. It’s my privilege to show her the reality of it all.
And now… well, I’ll deal with whatever hand I’m dealt.
As I near the entrance to the large building that houses the offices for the English Language Arts, my phone buzzes.
Giada.
It feels risky answering a call from her here, but I need to.
“Yeah, baby?”
“Daddy!” She’s so excited I can practically see her bouncing on her feet. “Guess what?”
“What?” I find the office I need to go to, and make my way there.
“My book was accepted. I’m being published! Not only one, but the entire series.”
I blink in surprise. This is a game changer. “Yeah?”
“So no more classes for me, Daddy. They want not only this series, but a whole five-book one after this. I only had a few more credits to go anyway, but I’ll need time to write.”
“That you will, baby. I’m so proud of you.”
I can practically hear her smiling on the other side of the phone.
I feel lighter. Hopeful. She’s no longer a student here, which could change whatever happens with the dean. She’ll be a published author. I grin.
“See you tonight, and we’ll celebrate,” I promise.
No matter what happens today.
“Thank you, Daddy,” she responds.
I shut off my phone and slip it in my pocket, then square my shoulders to face the dean.
I knock on the door and ignore the way my gut clenches, my palms sweat.
“Come in.”
I open the door to find Debra and three of her colleagues sitting next to her.
Shit.
“Shut the door behind you,” she says with a nod. I do, then turn to face them. This is it. I know it is.
“Please sit, Geoffrey.”
I gratefully fold myself into the chair facing them all, and fold my hands in my lap.
No matter what happens. No matter what’s said. Giada is mine, and I don’t regret a thing that I’ve done.
“Geoffrey,” Debra begins staidly, then her eyes crinkle into a smile. “We’d like to offer you a promotion.”
Chapter Eight
Giada
Six months later
“Daddy, it isn’t really fair, you know.”
“Oh, yeah, little one?” I’m sitting on his lap and he’s playing with my hair. I moved into his place shortly after he got his new office at the school, and I’m loving my job as a full-time writer. No more early hours. No more arriving late to class.
I still get spanked over his desk, but now that’s because I fail to correct my comma splices after he’s edited my drafts, not because I’m late to class.
“I know of no other writers whose doms are their editors. It just isn’t fair. You’re tougher on me than any other editor I’ve ever heard of.”
“Mmm?” he murmurs, not at all repentant as he breathes in my scent and sighs in contentment. “So you think the right thing to do is to allow your errors to go uncorrected?”
I squirm on his lap, getting turned on already at his insinuation.
“Yessss,” I say with a smile, my words ending in a hiss as his tongue trails a lazy path along my collarbone. “N-n-no fairrrr.”
My eyelids flutter shut as I squirm on his lap. “Dadddyyyy.”
“I think you have it made,” he says, one hand traveling down my back to land on my ass and give it a sharp squeeze. I squeal.
“A daddy who takes care of you. Helps you work.” He pauses. “Loves you.”
I burrow my head on his chest, the knowledge that my daddy loves me filling me with warmth and pleasure. “I suppose I should consider myself lucky. I could have ended up with Professor Stodgy.”
His shoulders quake with laughter as he turns me over his knee and gives me a sharp spank for good measure.
I crane my head and look up at him. “But I love you, too. Even if you can be a total hard-ass.”
“Which is exactly what you need.”
I have nothing else to say as he turns me onto his lap and takes my mouth with his. I give myself over to him.
Showing up late for class was the best mistake I ever made.
The End
USA Today bestselling author Jane Henry pens stern but loving alpha heroes, feisty heroines, and emotion-driven happily-ever-afters. She writes what she loves to read: kink with a tender touch. Jane is a hopeless romantic who lives on the East Coast with a houseful of children and her very own Prince Charming.
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My Marine Daddies by Sara Fields
Chapter One
Dani
The sun was beginning to set, and it was almost time to go. I was sitting on the small alcove seat by the window, just thinking and listening to Diego talking on his cell in the background. Setting up the last-minute details for the job tonight. My job.
I shivered anxiously, rubbing my clammy palms up and down my arms.
Sometimes I liked to sit and think about what could have been, if my parents never died in that car crash some fifteen years ago. I wondered if my life would have ever turned out this way; if I would have even ended up with Diego at all. I’d seen enough of the world not to believe in true love and happiness and roses, but sometimes I wished I could have just a little slice of heaven of my own.
Diego was a good guy, most of the time. He’d never hit me, at least. Only yelled at me occasionally when I did something to deserve it. He took care of me, unlike all of my foster families. I hated to even think about them.
Orphaned at the age of five, I’d been forced into the foster system because there was absolutely no one I could count on. No close relatives wanted to take me, no distant aunts and uncles, not even my grandparents. No one wanted me. I’d accepted that a long time ago.
My life was a blur of one foster home after another. I bounced from house to house. They called me problematic. Not all of my foster families were bad though. Some of them were high on a daily basis. Those were my favorite because they didn’t give a damn what I did, just as long as they got their next hit. I’d been expelled from a list of schools in the local area, but when I finally graduated, I didn’t have to worry about it anymore. I was happy when that part of my life was over, when I was free from the daily grind of classes, lectures, and homework. But then, I got transferred again. Another foster family. Again.
My last family had been the vilest of them all. That had been the last straw for me. I was seventeen when it happened, when my foster dad had tried to force himself on me in the middle of the night when my foster mom was on a trip for work. I’d kicked him hard in the balls and fucking ran right out the front door. I still remember the look of shock and pain on his stupid wrinkly face. I’d never looked back. Ever.
I’d taken all the money I’d saved and hoped on a bus straight to L.A.
I don’t even know if the asshole had even reported me missing. The California foster system certainly didn’t care. A few months away from my eighteenth birthday, they had probably just pushed my file to the side, more interested in the younger children rather than a problematic teenager, almost legal adult. Fuck it all. I was done with it.
I was so used to being overlooked.
That was until Jamie found me. Jamie Diego. He always liked to be called Diego, felt it was manlier than Jamie. He’d been kind to me. I hardly knew what kindness even was before I’d found him. Everyone had always looked down at me with disdain, but not him. He was different. I loved him. At least I thought I did. We’d never said it to each other, but that didn’t matter. In my heart, I felt it.
We’d been together for a good amount of time now, just about two years. My twentieth birthday had just passed, and he’d thrown me the biggest party, complete with booze, cocaine, and his friends. He’d even bought me something sexy to wear and for the first time in my life, I enjoyed all the eyes on me.
But things had been weird since he joined the Bloods. He was twenty-two and was trying to establish himself in the gang, to rise up in the ranks in order to gain riches and power. Right now, he was only considered an associate, not a full member yet. He wanted to become a soldier, a full Bloods member that had earned the respect of the rest of the gang. He wanted the money, the drugs, and the jewelry. To be recognized as someone who mattered.
Recently, he wanted my help and I had been happy to do it. I didn’t mind. He’d taken care of me for so long. Bought me food, cared for me, protected me, given me a roof over my head. He kept me safe. Well, mostly safe anyway. Since he started running with the Bloods, I’d seen my fair share of drug deals, sex, but Diego had made sure it didn’t touch me. Mostly.
The last few nights, he’d made me dance at amateur night at the local strip club where the Bloods hung out, showing me off to all his friends. It had made me feel good to help him, even though I was a little uncomfortable doing it, but I did it anyway because he wanted me to. One of his friends, Julio, a full-fledged member had even given me a line of some of his best stock, a single line of cocaine that had turned my world upside down. I don’t remember much of what happened the rest of that night, but Diego had said that it made me find my rhythm. He’d told me that he was proud of me. Inside, that had made me the happiest woman in the world.
Since then, Diego had started wanting more. Sometimes I carried a gun from one place to another. One time I drove some drugs from L.A. to San Diego. Another time, I’d stolen something for him, just so he could sell it on the black market and make some quick cash.
I knew he wanted to impress the Bloods, and if he became a soldier, he’d have access to more cash. A better life for us.
Tonight, for the first time, Diego had set me up to sell myself. To sell my body to another man so we could make some extra money. I was nervous, but a part of me was also excited. It was wrong, but I’d never been afraid of breaking the law before. I’d done drugs. I hadn’t been a virgin for a long time. I’d stolen before and never gotten caught. I was good at being bad and both Diego and I knew that.
Sex for money. A new wrong for me.
But I loved Diego. He’d been the only man in my life that cared, so I wanted to do this for him. We’d make money together. I’d help him. I wanted to; at least I kept telling myself that.
“Ready to go, babe? Want to grab dinner first? You should probably eat something,” Diego yelled out.
I looked back at him, taking in his slender form, tan skin, and dark hair, and smiled. Taking a deep breath, I nodded.
“I’d love some French fries. Maybe a milkshake too,” I replied, pushing off the seat by the window. He held out his hand and I took it. He grinned at me. There was that look again. He was proud of me.
He tugged me forward into his arms and pulled me into a kiss. I surrendered to him as his lips claimed mine, soft and sweet, if a bit greedy. He squeezed my ass and I giggled.
Then, he urged me to follow him and I went happily. My stomach growled, looking forward to dinner and what was looking to be the start of a good night. We drove to pick up some fast food, sitting down in the restaurant together when we got there.