Daddy's Demands: Twenty-Five Steamy Daddy Dom Romance Novellas

by Madison Faye

  A deep, guttural groan escaped her lips.

  Shifting his hand from her hair, he wrapped his long fingers around her throat and squeezed. Hearing her labored wheeze as she tried to breathe, he fucked her harder.

  Removing his flat palm from her hip, he moved it to grasp her breast. Reid then leaned back, pulling her body up with him. With one hand on her throat and the other cruelly biting into the soft curve of her breast, he continued to thrust into her tight cunt. Using the weight of her own body to push her deeper onto his shaft. Impaling her.

  His cock swelled. His balls tightened. He was close.

  He could feel her inner muscles contract around his flesh as her own orgasm neared.

  Ramming into her harder, he clutched her throat tighter. Desperate for breath, her fingernails scratched and clawed at his hand.

  “I’ll let you breathe when you come,” he groaned into her ear as he leaned back on his haunches, forcing her body to bend backwards even further.

  With those words, he pinched her nipple.

  Her pussy contracted on his cock as a rush of wet desire coated him. He released her throat as she screamed cries of completion. Grabbing her by the shoulder, he pushed her flat onto the mat. Her body sprawled and trembled beneath his own. With both hands on her lower back, he drove his cock into her over and over again. Throwing back his head, he roared as hot cum surged from his cock.

  His shoulders tense, he clutched her ass, digging his fingers in her flesh till he felt the last vestige of his release move from his body into hers.

  Their harsh breathing was the only sound in the training chamber.

  Thirteen raised her arms and weakly pulled her body forward, disengaging herself from him. As she began to rise, Reid captured her upper arm.

  “Where do you think you’re going?”

  “To shower,” she answered breathlessly.

  Stroking his knuckles down her flushed cheek, he darkly intoned, “We’re not done yet, baby girl.”

  His lips quirked as her shocked gaze slid over his body down to his hardening shaft.

  Pushing his fingers into her short bob, he commanded, “Be a good girl and open your mouth for Father,” before pushing her head down to meet his cock.

  Chapter Five

  Devon returned to her room. Her entire body hummed. Feeling sore and sated at the same time, she desperately needed some time alone to process all that had happened. Tossing off her training gear, she padded naked across the room to the attached bathroom. The tile under her feet felt cold compared to her still heated skin.

  Turning the shower on, she waited till she saw clouds of steam rise before stepping in. The hot water drummed down, feeling both bruising and soothing. Putting some body wash into a cloth, she raised the soapy fabric to her throat. The delicate skin felt tender. Her heart skipped when she realized she’d probably have a dark handprint around her throat by tomorrow.

  His handprint.

  Father’s handprint.

  She thought back to his harsh words of encouragement as he’d pushed her head down onto his cock. She could still taste the musky essence of him on her tongue.

  Her stomach fluttered every time he called her his baby girl. Feeling this sick pleasure at the sheer kink of calling him Father, she had loved every minute of his rough handling.

  While outwardly she still fought the training program at the compound, inwardly she thrilled at the adventure and challenge of it all. It was twisted and wrong and she had no idea where any of this was leading, but there was no denying it beat a boring nine-to-five job at a software company.

  Boredom was the main reason why she started hacking computers in the first place. Video games had become too predictable. She easily beat the most complicated of them within a weekend. She ached for something new, some excitement. Yet, even hacking became routine. Seeking more and more of a thrill, she had risked it all to hack into several government agencies and more mainstream software companies with more sophisticated security software.

  She needed that rush… that thrill. Otherwise, what was the point of it all?

  Then came along Father. Rocking her world upside down. Stealing her away in the night. Holding her captive and forcing her to train for some mission she suspected was not even remotely legit. She should be raving at the rafters. Screaming for help. Desperate to escape.

  Yet she wasn’t.

  This place fascinated her.

  He fascinated her.

  Father was unlike any man she had ever known. Men like him only existed in books or movies. The force you up against a wall, take what he wants with no apologies kind of a man. Strong. Confident. Arrogant as fuck and hot as hell.

  Then you add in the kinky ‘who’s your daddy’ vibe and he was fast becoming a drug she couldn’t do without.

  Smiling, she was already anticipating their next encounter. Truth be told, she couldn’t wait to piss him off again. The look in his eyes when she disobeyed him. The barely leashed drive to dominate her that flashed across his features. All of it was a thrill like no other.

  Wrapping a towel around her damp body, she crossed back into the cozy bedroom she had been assigned and immediately stopped.

  There, in the center of the bed, was Sniffles. Her beloved stuffed bunny. It was the only thing that had been truly hers through the years of orphanages and foster homes. Somehow, Father had guessed the one object she would miss the most from her old life.

  She picked up the stuffed animal and stroked its soft ear.

  Her old life.

  It had only been a week and already her past life was dissipating, the images becoming thinner and thinner like mist.

  She had to be careful. As exciting and scary as all this was, she had a feeling if she didn’t remain on her guard, this new life would swallow her whole.

  “He’s mine, you know.”

  Startled, Devon looked up to see a woman around her age lounging in the nearby armchair.

  “What the fuck? How did you get in here? The door was locked!”

  “Seriously? There’s no such thing as a locked door at the compound.”

  “Who are you?”

  The woman ignored her question. Her sleek black hair was cropped in the same style bob as her own. Unlike most everyone she had seen at the compound, this woman didn’t wear cargo pants and a t-shirt. She had on an impossibly small, pink vinyl skirt with a tank top that had a large graphic of a hand giving the middle finger.

  Giving Devon a knowing smirk, she brazenly opened her legs, exposing her shaved pussy and slim thighs. On her inner thigh, Devon saw the black tattoo… number twelve.

  “That’s right, bitch. I’m Twelve. I came before you and I will outlast you.”

  Devon’s heart constricted. Thirteen. Thirteen. She was number Thirteen. Only the latest in a line of women… toys really. Dolls for Father to bend and mold to his liking.

  “Get the fuck out!”

  Twelve slowly rose and sauntered to the door. “Do you know why they tattoo us?”

  Devon refused to answer, keeping her eyes averted so Twelve couldn’t see her interest.

  Leaning in, her coffee-scented breath taunted, “It’s to identify our bodies for when a mission goes wrong.”

  Devon’s eyes flashed up to meet Twelve’s.

  “Don’t believe me? Ever wonder why you haven’t met anyone under the number four?”

  Holding back tears, Devon clenched her jaw to keep from full-on crying.

  Twelve laughed. “Remember what I said. Stay away from Father. Unless you, too, want a grave with only a number on your tombstone.”

  With another heartless laugh, Twelve left the room.

  Devon sank down onto her knees, clutching Sniffles to her chest.

  How stupid of her to think she was Father’s only baby girl.

  Chapter Six

  Devon crossed her arms over her chest and stubbornly stared at the floor. She could hear the other woman in the room sigh in frustration.

  Today she had be
en taken to a separate building and brought to the lower level to a massive indoor shooting range. It was late in the afternoon and she had yet to see Father after their encounter the day before. He was probably too busy screwing Twelve, she thought with rancor.

  “Thirteen, you really need to pay attention to this.”

  Devon had given up trying to tell people to call her by her real name. In fact, she was begrudgingly starting to like Thirteen. It just emphasized how her entire life had become some weird, macabre video game.

  She stared back at the woman. She was called Ten. Like Devon and Twelve, she had the short cropped hair. Apparently, if your hair was cut short, you were being trained for the field. If you were administration or a trainer who stayed at the compound, you could grow your hair long.

  Devon kicked a small pile of spent brass shell casings, refusing to respond.

  Ten grabbed her upper arm and whispered urgently into her ear, “You don’t get it, do you? You either get with the program and start to learn this shit or that’s it. You are either in or you’re dead. There is no going back to your old life. Father made sure the authorities think you’re dead… and that’s how you will stay.”

  So she either toed the line or game over.

  Fuck. Her life really had become a fucking video game.

  “You realize this is all fucked up, right?” replied Devon.

  Ten shrugged. “Listen, none of us were any different from you when we came here. The fact is… as fucked up as all this shit is… it’s a helluva lot better than what any of us had going on in our old lives. I mean this is some real James Bond shit.”

  She had a point, thought Devon grudgingly. Releasing her arms, she held out her hand, palm up. “Okay, Q, give me my weapon.”

  Ten placed a Smith and Wesson .38 special in her hand.

  “I thought you said this was real James Bond shit! Why are you giving me this old timer gun? Don’t I get a Glock?”

  “You are not being trained as an assassin. Father said you are strictly on recover and destroy missions. Which means you only need a gun if you get into a scrape for protection. A revolver is easier to learn, less likely to jam, and can be fired from inside your backpack.”

  Devon gave Ten an assessing look. With her strawberry blonde hair and tall physique, she had a real femme fatale vibe going for her. Raising an eyebrow, Devon asked, “Are you an assassin for the compound?”

  Ten took the gun from her grasp and fired off six shots, emptying the barrel. As she pressed the lever for the target to swing up to the front, Devon could only see one bullet hole. Every single shot went perfectly through the same hole.

  “What do you think?” smirked Ten.

  “Badass,” responded Devon with genuine admiration. She wanted to hate the woman. She wanted to hate them all. Knowing they also had a claim on Father’s attention and affection rubbed her raw but it was hard to do when everyone was so nice. Well, everyone except for that bitch, Twelve.

  “Your turn. Open the barrel and put these blanks in.”

  “Blanks? I don’t get real bullets?”

  “Let’s have you fire off a few shots first to get used to the gun. Blanks have less of a recoil so we can focus on your stance and grip. After that, we will do some target practice with real bullets.”

  Devon listened with renewed enthusiasm as Ten walked her through her stance. Just as she was about to fire off her first round, she heard someone approach.

  “How are my beautiful daughters doing today?”

  At the sound of his dark, smooth voice speaking to her so casually as if he hadn’t fucked her senseless the day before, as if he hadn’t made her believe she was special, as if he had a right to speak to her at all… something inside of Devon snapped.

  Pivoting, she fired off the gun. Aimed squarely at his chest. The acrid smell of gunpowder and bits of paper and smoke floated about her. Still she fired. All six shots.

  Relishing in the shocked look on his face as she turned and pulled the trigger, Devon didn’t give a moment’s thought to the consequences.

  After the loud report of the first shot, his expression changed from shock to cold, calm anger. Even as she continued to fire, he stalked toward her. Extending his arm, he wrapped his hand around the hot metal barrel of the gun and wrenched it from her grasp.

  Without removing his heated gaze off her, Father spoke to Ten. “This lesson is over. Thirteen needs to learn a different kind of lesson right now.”

  Devon turned to run but there was no escape. A steel band wrapped around her stomach, hauling her feet off the floor. Easily flipping her slight weight over his shoulder, Reid ignored her pounding fists and shouts of protest as he walked back to the main building.

  * * *

  Her voice was hoarse from shouting curses at his back by the time he deposited her in the middle of a bed. Devon sprang up on her knees amidst the blankets and pillows. Looking quickly around, she realized she must be inside his bedroom. The far wall contained a desk with three rows of large computer screens stacked four high. Some displayed satellite images, others scrolled endless rows of code and data. The other walls were covered in bookshelves overflowing with books, maps, and several items that looked like schematics for a military plane.

  “Take off your clothes,” he ordered gruffly, as he turned to lock the door.

  “Fuck you!” she shouted back.

  “I believe I will be the one fucking you,” he quipped. “Now take off your clothes. I won’t ask a second time.”

  “You didn’t ask a first time,” she shot back as she scrambled to get off the bed and put some space between them.

  Anxiously, she watched as he began to roll up his sleeves while he kicked off his shoes. Unlike usual, today he was dressed in black slacks with a leather belt and a crisp button-down white shirt opened at the collar to expose just the tiniest hint of tan skin and chest hair.

  Licking her lips nervously, she threatened, “Let me out of here or I will start to scream.”

  “Scream all you want, baby girl.”

  Standing in the center of the room with his feet spread apart, he began to slowly unbuckle his belt. Pulling it free and grasping the heavy buckle in one hand, he wrapped the length of leather around his fist.

  Devon couldn’t breathe. He dominated the room. Her heart beat a rhythmic cadence of warring between fear and anticipation. She was cornered and she knew it.

  Still, she fought.

  “Why don’t you just leave me alone and go fuck Twelve again!”

  She could see the tic in his cheek as his jaw clenched in fury. With a lowered brow, he snarled, “Bend over the bed.”

  When she still didn’t move, he shouted, “Now!”

  With a start, Devon obeyed. In truth, her mind went blank in the face of his rage and she could think of nothing else but to do as he commanded.

  Squeezing her eyes shut, she could hear the heavy, measured step of his approach. Then his hand was on her lower back. In one swipe he pulled down her pants and panties. She was vulnerable and exposed.

  Devon heard the whoosh of the leather slicing through the air right before it connected with her skin. Shrieking, she tried to rise as one of her arms flew back to protect her ass. Father’s hand on the back of her head forced her back down.

  Another whoosh. Another stinging stroke from his belt.

  Devon opened her mouth and bit down on a mouthful of blanket to stifle her cries.

  “If I have to spank this insubordinate ass of yours cherry red every fucking day, I will get through to you, Thirteen. This training means the difference between life and death on a mission. This isn’t one of your god damn video games. There are no extra lives. You need to start focusing and taking this seriously. And one more thing…”

  Another swipe from his belt. Her flesh felt like it was on fire with each contact of the leather belt sending a radiating sting.

  “You are the first…” Spank.

  “And the only…” Spank.

  “Woman
I have fucked at this compound.”

  Several more swats followed. Devon danced around on her knees as she screeched in pain. Her ass was throbbing with agonized heat. Still his words soothed her. She believed him. Father wasn’t the type to bullshit her. If he was sleeping with his other daughters, he would just come out and say it. She hadn’t imagined the intense attraction and fascination they shared.

  “I’m sorry! I’m sorry!” she cried.

  “You’re going to be sorry. I can’t believe you fucking shot me!”

  “They were blanks! It doesn’t count!”

  “The intent counts,” he ground out.

  Devon could hear the sound of rending fabric and the click of plastic buttons hitting the floor. Daring a peek over her shoulder, she saw Father rip off his dress shirt in his haste to undress. The sight sent flutters down her body. It was not only his agitation to be naked in her presence but the look of heated determination on his features. Lowered brow, set mouth, dark eyes lit with desire. There was anger too and, god help her, she thrived on it. She loved making this man angry. Loved feeling the power of him taking her in hand, dominating her, of watching him struggle to restrain the emotions she deliberately stirred up.

  Seizing her by her short locks, he forced her off her knees and onto the center of the bed. Moving onto her back, she watched as he pulled off his own pants and joined her. Her eyes traced every hardened sinew and every scar. There was evidence of bullet wounds and knife attacks. Father was a dangerous man. Her gaze lowered to his cock. The long, thick shaft looked almost obscene as it jutted out toward her.

  Yes, Father was a dangerous man.

  “Grab your legs and hold them up. Open yourself to me.”

  Devon did as she was told. Lifting her legs high, she held them just below the knee. The position made her uncomfortable. She knew it exposed her entire body to him.

  Nervously, her tongue darted out to lick her bottom lip.

  Father growled. He actually growled.