Strict Daddy

Chapter 1

U gh.

Mirrors.

Who invented them? Which sadistic pee-pee head was it that realised that if you polished up some glass and stuck something shiny behind it, we could see the world, reflected back at us?

Well, whoever it was, I want a word with them. A very stern, angry word.

So there I was, standing in front of the dang mirror, grimacing as I tugged at the waistband of my favorite jeans. They used to slide on like a second skin, hugging my curves in all the right places. But now, the denim dug into my flesh, refusing to budge past my hips. I sucked in my stomach, holding my breath as I wrestled with the zipper. It inched upward, the metal teeth straining against the pressure.

"Come on," I muttered through gritted teeth. “You can do it, Poppy, you can do it!” With a final yank, I managed to fasten the button, but my victory was short-lived. The too-tight jeans pinched and squeezed, making it hard to breathe. I turned sideways, eyeing my reflection with a critical gaze. My curves, once a source of quiet confidence, now felt like a burden—excess baggage I longed to shed.

I sighed, frustrated tears pricking at the corners of my eyes. When had I let myself go like this? Late nights studying for college exams, an endless parade of ramen noodles and vending machine snacks, the stress of juggling classes with my job at the supermarket—it had all taken a toll. My self-esteem had slowly eroded, chipped away by each pound gained and each sidelong glance from fitter, more confident girls.

Well. No more.

This was the turning point.

It wasn’t easy, of course. If I had more money, I’d sign up to one of those fancy gyms and get an angry personal trainer to shout at me.

But I didn’t.

A supermarket salary and college fees meant that I had barely anything left over to spend.

Maybe I could just run on the spot. I couldn’t run outside, on the streets, because I’d always had a thing about other people seeing me exercise. I always felt like I looked silly, or that they’d somehow know I wasn’t enjoying myself.

I’d find a way. Running on the spot. Cutting down on food portions. So what if money was tight? I'd find a way to get healthy again, to reclaim my sense of self-worth.

Plus, even though I was carrying a few spare pounds, I wasn’t too bad-looking. Wide blue eyes, bright blond hair, pouty lips. Not too bad.

Hopefully.

Nodding at my reflection, I grabbed my coat and headed out the door, ignoring the pinch of too-snug denim against my skin.

It was a bright, sunny day, and I decided—in the spirit of losing weight, that I’d walk to work, instead of jumping on the bus.

Lost in thought, I barely noticed the colorful scrap of paper fluttering from a lamppost until it nearly smacked me in the face. Snatching it from the air, I scanned the bold text splashed across the glossy surface:

"TRANSFORM YOURSELF AT CELESTIAL FITNESS - FIRST MONTH FREE WITH THIS FLYER! NO CREDIT CARD REQUIRED!"

The flyer was eye-catching, the design sleek and minimalist. A stylized silhouette of a muscular figure was backdropped by swirling nebulas and glittering stars. The gym's name was emblazoned in an elegant, almost haunting script.

I'd never heard of Celestial Fitness before. It must be new to the neighborhood. My pulse quickened as I skimmed the details. State-of-the-art equipment, innovative classes, expert trainers. And that free trial . . . it was like a sign from the universe, an answer to my silent prayers.

Biting my lip, I hesitated for only a moment before carefully folding the flyer and tucking it into my bag. A thrill of excitement mingled with trepidation hummed through my veins. Maybe this was the chance I'd been waiting for - an opportunity to embark on the journey of transformation, armed with nothing but my own determination and a mysterious gym with the promise of the stars.

A t work, I checked-out.

Literally and figuratively.

There were times when I quite enjoyed working in the supermarket. It was kind of nice to not have to think so much, and just be polite to people and do the job like a robot.

Today though, everything went slowly. Probably because of the flyer. I was excited to check out the gym, and see they’d really let me do a whole month for free. The shift crawled by in a blur of beeping scanners and rustling plastic bags.

As soon as I clocked out, I ran home (not literally, you understand) grabbed a change of clothes, and headed to the gym, which was actually only a block from home.

“Convenient,” I murmured, as I looked up at an unassuming storefront, the name "Celestial Fitness" emblazoned on the smoked glass door in that same mesmerizing script from the advertisement. Steeling my nerves with a deep breath, I pushed inside.

The interior defied all my expectations of a gym. Dim lighting cast a moody glow over the sleek, minimalist space. The usual clatter and clamor of weights and machines was replaced by a low, pulsing beat that resonated in my bones. Gleaming chrome and polished mirrors reflected the soft illumination, creating an almost otherworldly ambiance.

"Welcome to Celestial Fitness." A warm voice drew my attention to the reception desk, where a stunning woman with a constellation of stars tattooed along her collarbone greeted me with a smile. "I don’t recognize you.”

“You know all the members.”

“Give or take,” she said, giving me a sphinx-like smile. “You must be here for the free trial?"

I nodded, suddenly self-conscious of my faded leggings and threadbare t-shirt amidst the gym's chic aura. "I saw your flyer. Thought I'd check it out." My words came out tinged with uncertainty.

"You've come to the right place." Her grin widened as she pressed a shimmering key card into my palm. "We're all about unlocking potential here. Go on, explore. The locker room is to your left, and the trainer will be out in a few to get you started."

“Trainer? I don’t think I can afford a trainer.”

“Don’t worry, it’s all complimentary. As is this.” She handed me a set of gym clothes.

“Clothes?”

“Absolutely. We like everyone to feel equal here.”

Murmuring my thanks, I ventured into the hushed labyrinth of the gym, my ratty sneakers squeaking against the polished obsidian floor. The locker room was a gorgeous—all plush towels and gleaming fixtures, infused with a heady aroma of exotic spices and dark florals.

There was no way on earth I’d be able to afford this place. Still, if I worked hard for the free trial month, maybe I could make some progress at least. I quickly changed into the borrowed set of sleek black gym wear that hugged my curves like a second skin.

Emerging onto the main floor, I paused to survey the array of cutting-edge equipment, each machine poised and waiting like a futuristic sculpture. Trepidation mingled with a growing buzz of anticipation as I stepped up to a complex-looking contraption of gears, pulleys, and gleaming cables.

It was pretty quiet in here, with only a couple of other ladies using some of the machines. They, like me, were wearing the black gym outfits.

“Come on, Pops, time to do some work,” I whispered to myself.

With a deep breath, I approached the intimidating piece of equipment.

“Lat pull-down,” I read.

I hadn’t seen it in action before, but it seemed simple enough. You just pull it down, right? Tentatively, I adjusted the weight stack, selecting a relatively low weight that I hoped wouldn't embarrass me.

As I sat down and gripped the handles, my heart raced with a mixture of excitement and self-doubt. The pulsing beat in the background seemed to synchronize with the rhythm of my breath.

My first attempt nearly sent me sprawling, my face flushing with embarrassment as I struggled to find my balance. But something shifted inside me, a flicker of determination sparking to life. Gritting my teeth, I adjusted my grip and tried again, and again, each small success fueling the fire in my veins.

Sweat soon dampened my brow and the small of my back, my muscles quivering with effort. I lost myself in the unfamiliar rhythm, the burn and the strain a sweet ache that whispered of progress, of change.

Deep down, a small, secret part of me thrilled at the prospect of enduring this exquisite discomfort in pursuit of transformation.

As I paused to catch my breath, a towel landed in my lap. I glanced up to find myself pinned beneath a penetrating gaze, a tall figure with sculpted features and eyes that glinted like obsidian shards in the low light.

"Looked like you could use this." A deep, honeyed voice washed over me, sending an entirely different kind of shiver racing down my spine. "I'm Byron. One of the trainers here."

"Poppy," I managed, ruthlessly tamping down the wild flutter behind my ribcage. "Poppy Cups."

Something dangerous and enticing danced in those unfathomable eyes as his lips curved in a ghost of a smile. "Welcome to Celestial Fitness, Poppy Cups. I have a feeling you're going to fit in beautifully here."

My cheeks warmed under the intensity of his stare, a trickle of sweat sliding down my temple that had nothing to do with the punishing workout I'd just endured. I clutched the towel like a lifeline, all too aware of how I must look—flushed, disheveled, and so far out of my depth it was almost laughable.

"Thanks," I mumbled, dropping my gaze to the floor. "I'm just trying to get in shape. Figured it was time for a change."

Byron's fingers brushed mine as he adjusted the towel, sending a jolt of electricity up my arm. "Change can be a powerful thing, Poppy. But it requires dedication. Commitment. A willingness to push beyond your limits."

His words hung in the air between us, weighted with unspoken implications. I swallowed hard, my heart a wild drum beat in my ears.

"I'm not afraid of hard work." The words came out softer than I intended, but there was a thread of steel beneath them.

A smile played at the corners of Byron's mouth, a look of satisfaction flashing in his eyes. "Good. Because I have a feeling you're capable of more than you know."

He was ridiculously handsome. Stupidly attractive. He had cool, blue eyes and a jaw that looked like it had been cut from stone. Close-cropped scruff and a clean, masculine crop of dark hair, shot through with threads of silver. He was just her type, too—a little older than her, kind of a dirty daddy-looking guy.

Yum.

Byron was the kind of man you’d dream about kissing and touching, but deep down, you knew it would never happen.

He took a step closer, his presence overwhelming in the small space. I caught a hint of his scent—clean sweat and something dark and spicy that made my head spin.

"I've been watching you, Poppy. The way you move. The fire in your eyes. You have potential." His voice dropped an octave, sending liquid heat rushing through my veins.

My breath caught in my throat. I knew I should step back, put some distance between us. But I was rooted to the spot, caught in his orbit like a moth drawn to a flame.

"What kind of potential?" I asked, my voice barely above a whisper.

"The kind that could change your life. If you're brave enough to embrace it."

His words were a challenge, a gauntlet thrown down at my feet. I knew I was standing on the edge of something momentous, a decision that could alter the course of my existence. But looking into those fathomless eyes, I felt a strange sense of certainty settle over me.

"I'm not afraid," I said, my voice steady despite the tremor in my body.

His smile widened, a predatory gleam in his gaze. "We'll see about that, little dove. We'll see. Do you mind if I adjust your posture?"

I bit my lip. Was he asking permission to touch me?

“Okay,” I replied, feeling almost sick with anticipation.

Sure enough, I felt his strong hand at the small of my back, making tiny adjustments to the way I was standing. His touch was electric, his skin rough against mine. “That should help. Remember, to push with your glutes—”

“My glutes?”

“Buttocks.”

I swallowed hard, my heart racing. How was I going to find the money to join this damn gym?

“My personal training style,” he continued, finally taking his hand away from my back, “is a little unique.” I knew I should step back, put some distance between us, but I couldn't seem to make my feet obey.

"W-what exactly does your unique style entail?" I managed to ask, my voice trembling slightly.

Byron's lips curved into an enigmatic smile. "Complete surrender, little one. Pushing past your limits. Embracing the pleasure that comes from relinquishing control. There would be some paperwork. A contract. But my method gets results."

His words sent a shiver down my spine, equal parts thrilling and terrifying. I'd never considered myself the type to give up control, but something about Byron made me want to explore parts of myself I'd kept hidden away.

"And you think I have potential for that?" I asked, my breath catching as his thumb brushed over my lower lip.

"I know you do. I can see it in your eyes." His voice was a low rumble, filled with dark promise.

This was crazy. I’d only just started talking to the man, but I felt like I was ready to obey him, to throw myself at his feet and pant.

It was hard, but I had to remind myself that he was offering me personal training, not anything else.

There’s no way he’s interested in someone like you. Don’t make yourself vulnerable.

"Thank you for the offer, Byron. I’ll think about it." I stepped back, regaining some semblance of space between us.

His eyes held mine for a moment longer before he nodded. "Very well, Poppy. “I’ll be here when you’re ready to submit. Just remember, I don't do things halfway."

He pushed a card into my quivering hand, and then, he turned and left, his toned ass disappearing into the gym's depths.

Submit.

I collapsed onto a nearby bench, my heart still pounding in my chest. What had just happened?

I’d flirted with that guy, hadn’t I?

Completely out of character, Poppy.

But as I sat there, my mind replaying the way his hand had touched my chin, I couldn't deny how alive I'd felt in his presence.

Maybe it wouldn't hurt to try one session? I could always back out if it got too intense, right?

I looked down at the card. Byron Adonis, Personal Trainer and Lifestyle Coach. The card was thick and luxurious, like him. I slipped it into my pocket, my fingers tingling from where they'd touched his.

As I made my way home, I couldn't stop thinking about his heated gaze, the feel of his strong hands on my hips. What would it be like to truly submit to him? To give myself over, body and soul?

There was only one way to find out.