Scar’s Stern Daddy (Club Delight Littles)

Chapter One

Club Delight was usually the softest of soft kink clubs.

That made sense, considering it club for Littles. The décor, the activities on offer, everything felt cute and adorable: the weekly dance class was called Wednesday Wiggles, and the cuddle club at the end of the weekend was Sunday Snuggles.

Saturdays, however, were different.

On Saturdays, there was the maintenance kink club: Saturday Spanks.

Scarlet loved all of the different weekly events at Club Delight, but Saturdays were her events—quite literally, as the Little Liaison.

Other clubs had Dungeon Monitors, people who would step in if a scene was going sideways, and could offer support and advice; Club Delight had Liaisons, Littles and Caregivers who were on hand to do all the things a Dungeon Monitor could do, but with a less scary title.

Scar liked that. Having a submissive as a touchstone felt really important, because sometimes anxious and nervous Littles really didn’t want to go and talk to a Daddy, Mommy or Zeze that they didn’t know.

Not that she was anxious or nervous, but her cheerful persona made her approachable, and having a trans woman as one of the points of contact made gender diverse clients feel more at home.

It did mean that she didn’t usually play on a Saturday, and boy did she wish she could.

The Caregiver Liaison at the club hadn’t changed in the last couple of years…

Briar. Co-owner, and Daddy Domme extraordinaire.

Scar suspected that Briar remained as one of the Liaisons so that she had a really good excuse for not playing with the Littles who invariably approached her every week.

Briar was not a casual kind of Daddy Domme.

Her co-owner, Koa, had told Scar that Briar was just focused on keeping everyone safe—an admirable endeavor for a Caregiver, for sure. But when did Briar ever just have fun?

And thus began Scar’s weekly Saturday night routine:

1) Dress to the absolute nines. Hair in bunches, dramatic eye makeup (colorful, of course), a cute top and the shortest skirt that Scar could possibly find to flounce about in.

2) Flounce about and be more than a tad silly.

3) Look all wide-eyed at Briar when Briar inevitably asked what on earth they were doing.

4) Brat their way through the rest of the evening.

It wasn’t like Scar thought that any of it would really make much of a difference—Briar was never going to actually discipline them, or tell them off properly—but it entertained the Little, and she also had a sneaky suspicion that it entertained Briar too.

More than once she’d noticed a smile lurking at the edge of Briar’s lips.

And that’s really all she wanted to do—make Briar laugh.

Well. That wasn’t entirely correct.

Scar wanted to do more than make Briar laugh, but the other woman had done nothing to ever indicate that she might be interested in Scar like that, and Scar was not going to throw herself at anyone. Not again.

Standing up, she checked her reflection in the mirror of the locker room, tidying her pigtails, and reapplying a red lip.

She looked great, a wave of gender euphoria washing over her.

She bounced on the spot, checking that her skirt was ready for maximum flounce, and then headed towards the main room.

Usually there were designated Little spaces with toys and coloring books, and a big projector that got used on Fridays to screen films, but tonight the space was transformed.

A St Andrew’s cross was pushed against one wall, a spanking bench against the other, and the chairs and sofas that were usually used for gentle age play, had been lit so that anyone entering could very much imagine being bent over one and spanked.

Across the room, Briar stood side-on to the entrance, checking the cuffs and ties on the St Andrew’s cross.

Scar let herself savor the frisson of excitement that ran through her.

Briar wasn’t what anyone in the vanilla world would imagine when they thought of ‘Domme’, and she also wasn’t what most straight people thought of when they thought ‘Daddy’.

She was shorter than Scarlet, and never bothered with leather or corsets, though Scar imagined she’d look great in either.

Instead she was wearing smart trousers and a pale pink vest top that did nothing to hide the softness of her belly or the swell of her breasts.

Her hair was buzzed short, leaving only a soft fuzz, with tiger stripes across the left side of her head.

She was perfection.

“Hey there Bri-Bri!”

Scar saw the moment that Briar clocked the nickname. Slowly, ever so slowly, she turned to look at the Little. Her face was a picture.

“Bri-Bri?!”

“It’s cute, isn’t it? Suits you!” Scar waved at Koa, who was looking more than a little bit bemused. “Hi Koa!”

“Hey Scar, you Little Liaison tonight?”

“You betcha!” She bounded over to them, feeling the way her skirt flounced up and showed off more of her legs than was entirely necessary.

Briar closed her eyes and shook her head.

No, it was definitely necessary.

“So what’s the plan today, Bri-Bri?”

The Daddy Domme took a deep breath, and then opened her eyes. “Does it have to be Bri-Bri? Can’t it be some other nickname?”

Scar shook her head solemnly. “Afraid not.”

Briar shook her head again, and pinched her nose. “You will be the death of me,” she muttered.

“At least you’re never bored!”

“No, Scarlet, I could never be bored with you around.”

No-one called her Scarlet. No-one except Briar. It was a name she’d chosen for herself, but for some reason she’d shortened it almost as soon as she’d claimed it. ‘Scar’ felt like she did, all sharp edges and trauma that she could never forget but would brazen her way through.

Scarlet was the girl she wished she could be.

Perhaps that was why she didn’t mind Briar using it.

“Aftercare baskets.”

“What about them?” Scar knew exactly what Briar meant, but what was the fun in just doing what was expected of her.

“Can you check the aftercare baskets, please. As we do every week.”

“We do?” It was time to pull out her innocent wide eyes look. “Oh Bri-Bri, I forgot!”

Koa stifled a laugh and Briar glared at him. “Someone save me from bratty Littles.”

“You love us!” Scar tossed over her shoulder as she flounced across to where the aftercare baskets were kept.

Three of them held the softest blankets imaginable, two held sugary treats, and two had balms and lotions for tender butts. Everything was in order, just as it always was.

Scar neatened up the chairs, made sure that the belts for their accessible spanking table were secured, and then spun round to watch as the first people arrived.

She recognized most of them: the queer Littles community in Missoula wasn’t exactly the biggest in the world, but there were enough new applications to keep from nights getting stale. She hugged Nia and Brooklyn, a couple of solo Littles, and grinned cheekily at the Caregivers who passed her.

Eventually, as the rush calmed down, and people started congregating around different equipment and seating, Scar took up her seat by the St Andrew’s cross.

She might not play when she was Little Liaison, but that didn’t mean that she didn’t have an excellent understanding of what constituted safe play.

Two Little boys were teasing their Daddy, threatening to tie him to the cross, and she laughed, turning to look around the room.

And then she saw him.

Nate.