Daddy, Sir (Dirty Daddies 2024 Anthology #6)

Chapter 2

Chapter Two

Lola

My therapist is going to kill me.

That was the thought running through my brain on high speed while I walked around Zeke’s condo, following as he gave me the tour of my new home, trying hard to ignore the way his muscles rippled in his shoulders as he pointed out different features. My home for the next thirty days, because that had been his one condition. I had to commit fully, and he wanted to be available to control any and all aspects of my life.

It was so different from the arrangement I’d envisioned that it terrified me. But with my history, I fully understood why he wanted it this way. He’d given me safewords—the usual stoplight system—and promised I could use them for anything at any time. If there was ever a situation I had an issue with or didn’t understand, I just had to say yellow or red, and we’d stop and talk it out. I was familiar with the system in conjunction with actual scenes, but Zeke said I could use it if I didn’t like what he served me for breakfast. That he wanted to be in total control, but I had to let him know if there was anything I was uncomfortable with in any way, no matter how minor. That had helped. But still, this was crazy.

It kind of felt good crazy, though. The owners of the Penthouse had come out after we finished talking, and assured me they had my back, and that if Zeke did anything untoward, they’d have his job. I knew he’d been with them since the start, and they wouldn’t say that lightly, so it helped. It also helped when they all gave me a hug and wished me well. I didn’t deserve that. I didn’t deserve any of this, really. But here I was, ready to prove a tiger can change its stripes, and we don’t have to be a product of our upbringing.

Zeke’s house was like a mausoleum. Not a speck of dust to be seen, and everything in its place. Just being in a place that tidy was making me nervous. It was nice, but not showy, big, but not huge. It wasn’t quite a bachelor pad, but it wasn’t exactly homey, either. For someone who loved to be surrounded by chaos and knickknacks and things that made me smile, this was going to be a huge adjustment. After we toured the main living areas and he showed me the backyard, which was also meticulously kept, we stood awkwardly in a hallway as he pointed to doors.

“That there at the end of the hall is my room. Don’t ever enter without knocking. Rule number one.”

The fact that the first rule was more about him than me was surprising, but I just nodded. Some people took their privacy very seriously, and I never planned to go in his room, anyway. Sex was off the table, after all. Which I might be starting to regret a teeny bit. But was that just the old me talking inside my head, or…?

Don’t even think about it .

“I mean it.” Zeke grabbed my wrist. “It’s very important. No matter what, especially if you hear yelling, do not come in without knocking and waiting for an answer.”

Okay, that was weird. It was starting to give horror movie vibes and a pit was sinking to the bottom of my stomach.

Zeke must have realized how it sounded because he grimaced. “I have PTSD episodes sometimes at night. I don’t want you getting… hurt.”

My eyes went wide and my heart broke a little. So many men who served our country suffered, for various reasons. “I won’t come in without knocking,” I vowed.

Or ever, I added silently.

With that promise obtained, Zeke turned abruptly and pointed to a door at the opposite end of the hall, two doors down. “This is your room. I’ll give you thirty minutes to get settled in while I make us some lunch. Unpack. Make yourself at home. The drawers and closet are all ready for you, and you have your own bathroom. This is your space and I will respect your space just as I’ve asked you to respect mine. However, rule number two… Keep it tidy. I’ll see you in the kitchen in thirty minutes.”

He shut the door behind him before I could respond, which was probably good because I couldn’t hold back the roll of my eyes. Keep it tidy? He really was taking this “Daddy” thing seriously, wasn’t he? I guess I really shouldn’t have been surprised. Zeke was a pretty serious guy by nature. Then again, it was his home, and I’d disclosed that I was kind of a scattered person when he pitched this “30-Day Daddy” thing to me. Plus, if I thought hard enough about it, I liked the rule, and I wanted more just like it. I wasn’t ready to delve into why a rule like that was more comforting than constricting, so I hefted my suitcase onto the bed and unzipped it.

I really wouldn’t have minded living out of the suitcase, but Zeke specifically said to unpack, and I wasn’t really ready to test his edicts. To be honest, I was still a little nervous. I’d noticed the way his muscles were bursting through his tight t-shirt. No doubt his spankings would not feel like love taps.

Thirty minutes sounded like a short amount of time when he’d said it, but as I finished putting everything away, I glanced at the clock and noted I still had ten minutes to spare. I didn’t want to rush Zeke if he needed more time to make lunch, so I took a minute to explore my new room and the ensuite. It was sparse, but roomy, and the bathroom had a stand-up shower and separate deep soaker tub that I would definitely be using the first chance I got. My apartment didn’t have a tub, let alone a tub that looked like it could fit three of me. I made a mental note to order some bath goodies. If I was going to be living in luxury for the next thirty days, I may as well take advantage.

Actually, I had time. I could order the stuff before lunch was finished and maybe have it in time to take a bath before bed. Snagging my phone, I hopped on my favorite shopping app and picked a few things to be delivered to Zeke’s. I even splurged for the express option. After my order I started clicking away on my emails, then made my way to my favorite social media outlet. I lost myself in the latest gossip until a hard knock on the door startled me so badly, I almost fell off the side of the bed.

“Yes?” I asked, my voice laced with the frustration I was feeling at being scared out of my wits.

“You’re late,” Zeke’s deep voice growled from the other side of the door.

“Shit.” I cursed under my breath as I got off the bed and went to the door. I paused to take a deep breath, because scary, growly voice was also pretty hot. I exhaled and opened it to reveal a very unamused-looking Zeke.

“Was thirty minutes not enough time to accomplish the task of unpacking?” His tone was clipped with an edge that I had yet to hear. Great, I’d been his guest for less than an hour and I’d already pissed him off.

“It was. I finished a bit ago, and then I ordered some things I needed and was… uhh… checking something.” Instantly I felt guilty for losing time scrolling social media. It was a bad habit I often fell into as an escape and could easily get lost for hours without much effort.

“If you finished early, you should have come to the kitchen early.”

“I didn’t want to rush you. You said thirty minutes.”

“I did. And it's now been thirty-eight minutes and our food is getting cold.”

I dropped my chin to my chest, feeling super guilty that he’d gone through the trouble of making a hot lunch and I couldn’t even bother to get to the kitchen in time. A familiar knot formed in my stomach as I stared at my feet.

“I’m sorry. I shouldn’t have gone on social media. It always sucks me in, and I should know better,” I confessed. If he was going to be my Daddy and hold me accountable for things, then I had to tell him where I struggled. My therapist and I had talked about this. If I was going to do this, I had to fully commit to it. I couldn’t look at it the same way I had before. It felt weird to be so up-front about my struggles, but Zeke had made it clear back at the club that was what he expected from me.

“I accept your apology. Now, give me your phone.” He put out his hand.

“What? Why?”

“Because little girls that can not use their devices responsibly do not get to have unlimited access to them. I’ll give it to you for thirty minutes before bed for you to take care of what you need to take care of. Other than that, it will be staying with me until you earn it back.”

“You’re kidding me, right?” I asked the question knowing full well by the stoney expression on his face that he was not, in fact, kidding at all.

“You’ll learn I don’t often kid . Your phone, please.”

I turned in a huff and went back to the bed to grab it. “This is seriously ridiculous,” I grumbled as I stomped back to him and all but slapped the phone in his hand.

So much for giving it my all.

He glanced down at the phone and then back at me. “You haven’t gotten to know me yet, so I’m going to give you one chance and one chance only to retrace your steps and complete the task I gave to you without the attitude and disrespect.”

I blinked rapidly, trying to figure out what was happening. “What are you even talking about, Zeke?”

“I’m no longer Zeke to you, darlin’. You will refer to me as Daddy or Sir at all times. We are not on a level plain here, and you need to learn to respect our roles if this arrangement is going to work. Say ‘Yes, Daddy’, take the phone and walk back to the bed, and when you return to me you will put the phone in my hand gently. No stomping, no grumbling, and no attitude.”

What the hell had I gotten myself into? I couldn’t even process it, let alone do what he wanted me to do.

“If I have to repeat myself, then our lunch is going to get a lot colder because you will have earned your first spanking.”

“First of many if this is anything to go by.” I tried to take my phone back, but he caught my hand and held tight.

“You’re skating on very thin ice, darlin’,” he growled.

The sound vibrated through me, causing a full-body shudder that sent shockwaves straight to my pussy.. My mouth went dry, making it impossible to speak. I swallowed several times, rapidly, trying to get my body back under control.

“Yes, Daddy,” I forced out in a whisper.

It felt weird to call this big hulk of a man I barely knew such an intimate name. I’d called Archer ‘Daddy’ when I’d been his client, but I’d done so flippantly, in a way that had strong sexual undertones because that was what I’d known. That was who I’d been. I couldn’t be that person with Zeke, not only because that wasn’t the point of this and my therapist would be pissed, but because Zeke would never let me get away with it. I knew that without testing the theory.

“Better.” He gave a curt nod and let me take my phone.

Taking a slow, deep breath so I could get through the next few minutes without losing my ever-loving mind, I carefully walked back to the bed, then turned and came back. I even forced a smile as I laid the phone in his outstretched palm with exaggerated gentleness.

“Thank you, let’s go eat.”

He turned on his heel and walked away, leaving me to follow or be left behind, my mind and my body a mass of confusion. Daddy Zeke was a little scary. Or maybe a lot. And Daddy Zeke was kind of sexy. Or maybe a lot.

Lunch was a simple grilled chicken and steamed mixed vegetables, and I was sure it would have tasted ten times better if it wasn’t cold and dried out from sitting there for so long.

“Maybe we could nuke it really quickly?” I asked after trying to chew a piece of cold broccoli. Fresh broccoli was fine, but steamed broccoli that was now ice-cold? Gag.

“Actions have consequences, darlin’. If you can’t bother to be on time for a meal, then we eat it cold.”

He didn’t seem to be having a problem with his, but I still felt guilty.

“Seriously though, just thirty seconds in the microwave.”

“No.”

“Okay, then how about just yours? You weren’t the one that was late; why do you have to be punished?” My voice was rising and getting screechy the more frustrated I got. I wasn’t sure why this one thing was setting me off so badly. I should have been grateful he was willing to eat cold broccoli with me.

“No. You also need to learn that your actions can also cause consequences for innocent people around you.”

“Okay, well now you’re just being dramatic.” I crossed my arms over my chest and sat back in the chair. I wasn’t even hungry anymore.

“I’m not being dramatic in the slightest. When you are late, it causes a ripple effect that you may not even get the chance to witness. This is a small example, but now you can see it for yourself. Your behavior can affect everyone around you.”

My shoulders slumped and I dropped my arms. He was teaching me a lesson and I was acting like a spoiled brat again. Was that who I was? I thought back to my time with Archer and realized though my reasoning and motivation had been different, my actions had certainly been bratty. I sighed. Maybe I would never change. Maybe I couldn’t. Maybe this whole thing was a stupid waste of time.

“I don’t think I’m hungry.” It wasn’t even that the food was cold. I’d just completely lost my appetite and wanted to go back to my room and hide for a little while.

“When was the last time you ate?” he asked.

Well, that was kind of a loaded question and I really had to think hard about what I last ate, and when. I winced when I realized I hadn’t had anything since the night before. I’d been too nervous to eat after the club, and my stomach had been in knots this morning.

“I had a light lunch… yesterday?” My statement came out more like a question.

Zeke’s eyebrows basically hit his hairline. “That doesn’t sound very healthy, and while I’m not of the mind to force someone to eat if they aren’t hungry, I think it’s reasonable to assume that your lack of hunger is emotional and not physical.”

His logic was annoying, but I couldn’t deny it, so I looked away and stayed quiet, refusing to make eye contact.

He didn’t say anything else, but didn’t move to continue eating, either. The silence was deafening, and finally I forced myself to glance up at him to see what was going on.

He just sat there, looking at me expectantly. What was he waiting for? It wasn’t like he’d asked me a question or anything. Why wasn’t he talking or moving or… something?

“I don’t know what you want from me,” I finally confessed.

“A civil conversation was what I was hoping for. A response, of any kind, to my statement. It’s rude to ignore what someone is saying even if you don’t like it or don’t agree with it. We’re getting to know one another, and I have to be able to discuss some things with you before I respond so as not to inadvertently set you back in any way.”

When he put it that way I felt even more like shit. Why was every single thing I did being made into some kind of personal attack on him?

“Look, I wasn’t late on purpose and wasn’t trying to be rude, but I didn’t know what to say. This is obviously not going to work. I’m just going to keep pissing you off. I should just go.”

I stood and he followed suit.

“Lola, I’m not going to force you to stay with me, but I also refuse to allow you to leave when you’re upset. Running away will not solve anything. Sit down.”

“I’m not running away; I’m walking. I’m too much of a burden. This isn’t going to work.” Hot tears pricked the backs of my eyes and I blinked rapidly to keep them from falling.

“When I said sit down, it was not a suggestion, it was a command, and in this house commands will be obeyed or there will be consequences. If you still want to leave when you’re calm, I’ll allow it.”

I really wanted to argue, but again, his infuriating logic didn’t leave much room for that.

“Zeke, this is never going to work!”

“Daddy or Sir,” he corrected.

“Ughhhh… Sir, Daddy, Sir. This is never going to work. Better?”

He raised a brow. “A little overboard, don’t you think? Sit down, Lola. I won’t ask again.”

Against all my better judgment, I stared him square in the eye as I stomped a foot in his direction. “No.”

“No? You’re telling Daddy ‘no’ after I gave you a direct command?”

Butterflies took flight in my belly at his low, menacing tone. Everything inside me screamed at me to submit and do what I was told, but I wasn’t really known for listening to myself, so why would this time be any different?

I lifted my chin defiantly. “I’m going to my room.”

I made it three steps before his vice-like grip was at my elbow and pulling me in the opposite direction I’d been heading.

“Let go!” I tugged, but obviously it made zero impact on him.

Turning a chair away from the table, he sat down and stood me between his knees. His hands held tight to my waist, making it impossible to get away.

“Lola, listen to me. Your safeword is red and if you use it, I’ll let go and allow you to walk out the door, but if you do that, we’re finished. I will not cater to you trying to run away whenever things get hard or something happens that you don’t like. That’s self-sabotage, and I will not stand for it. If you need me to stop what I’m doing and listen to you, or if you seriously need some alone time, you can use ‘yellow’. I will respect your safewords and I won’t be angry if you use either one. Understand?”

Say ‘red’. Say it and leave. This was a stupid idea and will never work.

No, don’t say it. You need this. You’ll never be able to truly heal without this. He’s right, you can’t run every time things get hard.

Watch me.