Daddy, Sir (Dirty Daddies 2024 Anthology #6)

Chapter 7

Chapter Seven

Holden

Frankie was nervous.

Oh, she was doing an admirable job of hiding it. Whenever he managed to catch her eye, she would smile, and there wasn’t a hint of anything behind it.

But when she thought he wasn’t looking… that’s when he saw it. Her bottom lip would disappear between her teeth, or her foot would start bouncing for a few seconds before she caught it and stilled, or her fingers would tap rapid-fire against the console between them.

When the last happened, he took her hand in his, linking their fingers together as he brought her knuckles to his lips. That startled her, enough to have her mouth falling slightly open when she whipped her head around to stare at him. But then she relaxed, at least a bit, and flashed him that ‘no worries here’ smile.

“Do you have any questions for me about tonight, little siren?”

“I don’t know. You explained everything pretty thoroughly.”

They’d had dinner at his house before heading to the club, specifically so he could ask her about the research she’d done while they’d been apart. Once he’d been satisfied she knew what she was getting herself into with some of the more basic kinks he’d explained what he had planned for the evening.

Said explanation had taken place while he’d had her pinned over his lap, listening to her whimper and whine as he worked a medium-sized plug into her delightful bottom. It was a memory he would definitely be carrying with him for a very long time.

Their evening at the club would begin with a walk around the pit. Last night she’d seemed so overwhelmed by everything, he’d only allowed her to watch from the safety of the bar area. So tonight would be her first trip down into the pit, where they would take their time, wandering and observing for a bit. And if she seemed comfortable enough, a light flogging up on a St. Andrew’s cross.

Nothing outrageous. Just a little introduction into public play and testing her reactions to the various floggers he had in his play bag. Easing her in, slow and steady. The way he should have done it from the beginning.

He pushed the guilt aside and focused on her as they pulled into the parking lot beside the club. There was no way to go back and undo what he’d already done, so he simply had to make sure he kept everything above board from this point forward.

Shane was at the front desk tonight instead of Vivian, and his face lit up with interest at the sight of them. “Well, well, well. I’d heard our favorite silver fox had found himself a vixen, but nobody told me she was a total knockout.”

Stopping in front of the desk, Holden raised a slow, deliberate brow, watching in satisfaction as Shane blushed all the way to the roots of his blonde man-bun. “Someone is feeling a bit bratty this evening. Should I go find Mistress Rogue for you, Shane?”

The blush on the other man’s cheeks darkened to an almost alarming shade of red. “No, Sir. I apologize. Ah, you and your guest are cleared to go in. You’re on the list Daddy B gave me for tonight.”

Since he’d been so helpful, Holden refrained from lecturing him about the nickname Braden hated so much. “Thank you, Shane. You’re a good boy.”

As he’d expected, everything about Shane lit up at the praise. “Thank you, Sir. Enjoy your evening.”

“Did you have to be such an ass to him?” Frankie whispered loudly as they walked past the desk toward the doors that would allow them into the pit.

Pausing with his hand on the door, Holden looked down at her, giving her the same look he’d given Shane. Unlike Shane, however, Frankie simply met his gaze head-on, defiance blazing in the dark brown of her eyes.

He’d never been particularly fond of brats. He was a strict man with strict ways, and he didn’t relish the thought of constantly butting heads with someone. But there was something about Frankie that pulled him in, despite himself. She was a challenge he couldn’t seem to resist, but more than that there was a vulnerability to her, just below the surface of that brazen, bratty attitude that tapped into the Daddy side of him like no one else before her had ever managed to.

“What are the rules when we’re here at the club, Francesca?”

Frankie might have been immune to ‘The Look’, but she certainly wasn’t immune to ‘The Voice’. Pink slashed across her cheeks, though she did retain eye contact which impressed him for reasons he couldn’t quite place. “Be respectful. Always call you Daddy. Don’t touch anything without permission—which I still say is a ridiculous rule. I’m not a child, you know.”

“You’re not. But you are a very curious little brat, and I intend to give you as little wiggle room as possible tonight.”

“Ugh. Fine.”

Sliding his hand down to her ass, he gave the jewel between her cheeks a hard tap. “The rest of the rules, Francesca.”

The pink in her cheeks deepened to a bright red that nearly matched her hair. “Ummm. Be quiet when we’re watching a scene. If I have questions, tap you twice on the arm and you’ll take me somewhere private to discuss.” She lifted a hand to her neck, her fingers fluttering over the simple pink and white collar he’d placed there after their meal. “And, most importantly, I belong to you. If anyone touches me, I’m to tell you right away. Because Daddy doesn’t share.”

“Good girl.” Leaning down, he brushed a kiss over her full, siren-red lips. A small reward for a job well done, and her eyes were alight with pleasure and pride when he lifted his head again.

Shane wasn’t the only one who enjoyed being praised.

“Now that I know you remember the rules, I expect you to obey all of them. The scene I have planned for tonight is one we’ll both enjoy, but I can adjust as needed if you can’t behave yourself. And I’d hate for your first official public scene to be a punishment.”

Cocking her head to the side, she studied him. “I’m not sure I believe that.”

Busted. While he would enjoy the scene he had planned, there was something deep inside him that craved more. That wanted her begging for mercy as he pushed every single one of her limits to the brink.

“You’re not wrong,” he said, letting a slow, predatory smile curve his lips. “But believe me when I say that you would not enjoy your punishment nearly as much as I would. Because naughty girls don’t get Daddy’s cock, and they sure as hell don’t get orgasms. Am I making myself clear, Francesca?”

She inhaled sharply, her eyes going wide, and even in the dim lighting he could see the need swirling in the dark depths. “Yes, Daddy.”

“Now that we understand each other…” He pushed the door open, revealing the crowded space beyond. Leather cracked against flesh, moans of pleasure and pain filled the air, and the scent of sweat and sex greeted them as they stepped inside. “Welcome to the pit.”

Frankie

Heart pounding against her rib cage, she stepped past Holden into what could only be described as a den of iniquity. All around her were people in various states of undress, some simply wandering around from station to station, while others were up on platforms, their bodies on display as they writhed in pain.

Or maybe it was pleasure.

Maybe it was both.

She desperately wanted both.

“This may be the first time in my life I’ve ever felt overdressed,” she said with a nervous laugh. She wasn’t used to feeling out of place anywhere, with the exception of her own home, and it wasn’t a feeling she particularly enjoyed.

“And still the most beautiful girl in the room.”

Looking up, she cocked an eyebrow in Holden’s direction. “Flattery will get you everywhere with me.”

His grin was full of wicked promise. “I’m certainly hoping so.”

The easy, smooth response surprised a laugh out of her, and some of the tension melted from her body as he slipped an arm around her waist. Keeping a firm hold on her, Holden guided her from one platform to the next, stopping often to murmur an explanation of what she was seeing in her ear.

“That’s Mistress Rogue,” he whispered when they paused at the base of one of the taller platforms. On the stage stood a woman in a dark purple corset and leather pants that showed off every inch of her gorgeous curves. Her dark hair was pulled back away from her face, and her cat-eye glasses looked sharp enough to kill a man.

Frankie was a little in awe of her. And more than a little terrified.

Up on the platform, Mistress Rogue smirked, and even though Frankie was safely down on the floor, a chill raced up her spine at the gesture. The awe-inspiring woman stepped forward and even through the din of the other scenes and conversations happening around them, her heels clicked ominously against the wood.

“You’ve been a very naughty boy, haven’t you, Diego?”

For the first time, Frankie’s attention shifted to the pair of metal bars at the end of the platform, where a man easily twice the size of Mistress Rogue stood, his arms and legs splayed in the same X formation as the device he was cuffed to. “Yes, Mistress.”

Mistress Rogue’s smirk spread to a grin as she ran the strips of leather she held through her fingers. A flogger, Frankie was pretty sure it was called, and it looked a lot more fearsome than her Daddy had made it sound.

“Now… what should we do about that, I wonder?”

It was obviously a rhetorical question, because Mistress Rogue didn’t bother to wait for a response before she let the leather fly. The flogger connected with the man’s upper back, and he jerked against the metal bars.

For a moment, Frankie was worried he was really hurt. But then she got a look at him. Even with the scruff of his beard obscuring part of his face, she could see the euphoric smile curving his lips. And when the flogger connected with his shoulders again, he let out a low moan that couldn’t be mistaken for anything other than ecstasy.

Would it be like that for her? Would she enjoy letting Holden hurt her like that?

Behind her, Holden shifted, and a moment later she was pulled back against him, the thick band of his arm wrapped around her waist as his other hand slid up her bare thigh and under the glittery black dress she’d poured herself into for their date. Per his instructions, she’d left her underwear at home, which he’d praised her for moments before shoving a huge chunk of rubber up her ass.

“You’re being such a good girl, Francesca,” he murmured in her ear as his fingers brushed over her soaked lips. “Put your feet shoulder width apart and lean back against me.”

Spellbound by him and the scene playing out in front of them, she shifted into position, her fingers digging into his arm for balance as he pushed a thick finger inside her.

“You put orgasm denial down as a ‘Yes’ on your survey. I wonder… do you actually know what it’s like to be denied, my naughty little siren?”

At the time, she’d assumed she did. After all, she’d been with plenty of men who didn’t know a vagina from a hole in the ground, so it wasn’t unusual for her to leave a man’s bed feeling less than satisfied.

But Holden had already proven he knew his way around a woman’s body. A fact she hadn’t taken into consideration when she’d filled out her survey.

And now she was trapped against him, with his clever fingers leisurely stroking her pussy, slowly driving her out of her mind with need as they watched the scene in front of them play out.

A low whine slipped from her lips and the arm around her waist tightened. “Shh. You mustn’t make a sound, little siren. You wouldn’t want to distract Mistress Rogue, would you?”

That was the last thing she wanted. Not only had he explained how dangerous it could be to interfere with a scene, he’d made it clear if she broke the club rules he would take her back to his house and send her to bed with a sore bottom and no orgasms.

The spanking she could handle. The orgasms, however…

What the hell had she been thinking when she’d filled out that damn survey?