Chapter 5
We were playing by the traffic light system.
Red was code for stop, getting out, and green was good—more, in fact.
It was after he’d plated me a choice of fast food as a reward for agreeing to play with him, that we sat at the dining table in his grand penthouse apartment and he told me sincerely that he wanted me to have fun, as much as he was having fun.
Part of me didn’t think any of it could be real, not a single bit of it.
I soaked in the views, and the teddies, which he’d asked me if they were soft enough every time I gave one a squeeze.
He was attentive, different from the man I’d met that first day, the man who’d commanded me to get him his coffee and snapped his fingers.
After dinner, I took a shower under Daddy’s orders, and when I came out there was a new onesie on the bed. I put it on, and there was fur coating the insides of it, sticky but soft on my damp skin. The other one was in a hamper, alongside all the clothes I’d arrived in.
A knock came at the bedroom door. I fully saw the sticker chart. It was a dry eraser one with columns we hadn’t decided on, and hooked to a pin, a chiffon baggy filled with sticker sheets. “C-c-come in,” I said, rushing to sit on the end of the bed and act normal.
In a muscle tee and a pair of gray sweats, Santo stood in front of me. He held out a small navy-blue velvet box. “While you’re here, and mine, I need you to wear this,” he said.
“Yours,” I giggled.
His stern face told me he was being serious. “I’m your Daddy, sweet boy, of course you’re mine.” He got down on one knee and my stomach plunged. “Don’t worry,” he said with a smirk. He opened the box to reveal a gold bracelet. “My name is inscribed on the inside.”
“Okay,” I said. “I’ve already agreed to your terms.”
Pushing my sleeve up, he slipped the bracelet over my right wrist and latched it in place. It was loose, but not enough to slip off. “Again, you can leave whenever you want, but when and if you do, you leave this and you never look back.”
It was a lot, but it lifted me—relief, arousal. Perhaps it was the way he was on his knees, or the way his warm touch was the first real skin-on-skin contact I’d had in a while. I was hard, solid, and luckily undetectable inside the baggy onesie.
“You’re overwhelmed,” he whispered. “That’s okay. Sleep. We have work tomorrow. I’ll be hard on you as my assistant, understood?”
I nodded. “Yes, Daddy.”
He rubbed his hands up both my knees, comforting but close to my crotch, and found out I was all horned up. “I can make you a malt drink if you need help sleeping, or a little scotch, but only a little. I don’t want you getting drunk and losing control of your inhibitions.”
“It’s okay, I’m pretty tired,” I said.
“And your phone,” he said, pulling it out of his pocket.
I hadn’t even recalled it going missing.
I’d been too preoccupied with him and only now realized that my phone had been out of reach.
“I’ve not unlocked it or anything, I know you must feel a breach of trust from the sweep of your apartment.
But you left this on the couch, must’ve fallen out of your pocket.
And I wanted to let you know, the Wi-Fi passcode is a bunch of random shit, so I’ll text it over. ”
I nodded. “You can look through my phone if you want.” I volunteered it without even thinking what I might’ve said about him.
“I don’t need to,” he said. “I trust you now.” He took my hand and kissed the palm of it. “Mhm, good boy for scrubbing up with those soaps. You smell delicious.”
It was expensive stuff, and my skin felt like a million bucks after using it, though I’d tried not to use too much. It was like a luxury hotel that I’d only seen in movies. “Thank you, Daddy.”
“So, I’ll grab you that drink, and if you need anything else, my bedroom is down the hall. You can’t miss it,” he said. “I’ll leave the door open.”
* * *
I should’ve been asleep. After the warm drink, I’d lain in bed playing games on my phone, getting stuck on one level and refusing to pay for coins to get extra turns. I’d gone from horny and tired to unable to sleep, and now I’d circled back, but this time I was just horny.
I’d expressed myself to him earlier, about being ready to have sex, and he’d barely even acknowledged it.
Maybe he didn’t think of me in a super sexual way.
When it came to Daddies, my mind had a million questions that kept me awake.
Why was he taking up the position of Daddy?
Daddy Santo . . . almost sounded like Santa when my brain phrased it like that.
I snort laughed to myself, falling into a sigh.
Overthinking was something I did a lot, and I was probably one of the best students of the sleepless-nights class on it. Everything had changed so quickly, and I felt his presence wrapped around me. It was soft, much like the way it had felt when he’d dressed me in his nice smart shirt.
I wandered out of bed. There were low, dull orange lights illuminating the penthouse that painted everything in a dull sepia tone.
I wondered—no, I knew there were cameras.
I could see the flashing red dot in the ceiling corner.
There were probably more as well. I stood in the middle of the open-plan lounge and stared at the camera—I couldn’t help smiling as this was how some of my favorite comfort horror movies started, with found footage.
And yet, those thoughts would usually scare me back to bed and force me to screw my eyes tight as I hugged my arms and teddies.
“If you need a snack, I can come get one for you,” Santo called out. His voice startled me.
“I—” My throat dried as I walked toward his bedroom where he’d promised an open door, and it was just as he said, wide open for me.
The dull orange light didn’t extend inside, just enough to illuminate the end of the bed where one of his feet dangled outside the duvet. “I couldn’t sleep,” I finally let out.
With a tiny sharp click that echoed, a lamp on his nightstand turned on.
Santo was . . . naked, but only partially revealing himself to me.
His midsection was covered in the thick quilted duvet, his one leg out, his chest exposed, with the symmetrical tattoos going all the way up to his shoulders.
“You want to sleep in Daddy’s bed?” he asked, tugging the duvet up to cover himself a little more.
I nodded. “Please.”
“Well, climb in the other side. You’ve used the toilet, right?” he asked. “I don’t want to wake up in the middle of the night to a wet bed.”
Walking around to the other side of the bed, I stared at him from this angle and continued to nod, like it was all my head could do around him. “I’m good, I promise I can hold it.”
“Good boy,” he said, opening the duvet from the other side, and revealing the thicket of bush he had going on right above his cum gutters. “I’ve never been much into the diaper scene.”
“Either—me,” I said, my brain all over the place trying to process my need to run my fingers through his body hair. I climbed into the bed and he leaned over me, tucking the duvet in under my legs, my bum, then my back. His entirely too hot body was making me burn up, and I needed out of my onesie.
“Are you warm?” he asked, as if he could feel me radiating.
“A little.”
“You can take that off,” he said, untucking the sides with a single tug of the duvet. “But I will say, I sleep naked, in case you hadn’t already seen.”
It was probably best I undressed. Santo watched every move, his eyes almost tracing the motions I made to pull my onesie off. His eyes were on the bracelet, and not on the white vest top or the tight briefs with little blue stars on them. I liked tighter clothes, they made me feel compact.
I hadn’t gotten a full view of his naked body, and him being naked in bed wasn’t doing anything for the horny monster raging in me. “Thank you,” I told him as he tucked me back in.
“I’ve got to protect you,” he said, kissing my cheek, and his lips lingered, like he was sniffing me. He pulled away and lay on his side of the bed, turning the light off.
It was just the two of us in the dark, and neither of us were sleeping. I could feel every forced breath he took as it seemed to tug on the efforts he’d put into tucking me in.
“You not tired?” he asked.
“No—yes, I—”
“Okay,” he said, shuffling around. He got out of bed and I flinched with the hope I’d catch a peek at him, but with only the dull orange light from the hallway, he was just a large shadow figure walking to the door. “It’s a bit of a long shot.”
“What is?” I called out, my heart racing.
I still couldn’t see much of him when he walked into the room, but he was carrying something, and that something was scattered across the bed.
Once he was back in bed, under the scattered things I was scared to touch, he turned the lamp on, and his body was covered again.
For all I knew, this could’ve been drugs, even though I knew his operation didn’t deal in that.
They were books—picture books—naughty picture books.
“I was going to show you these earlier, but you seemed tired, so I let you go to bed,” he said, gathering the books. “So, I heard about this company, they sell adult picture books. So which do you like the sound of, as a bedtime story?”
A little squeal came out and my body clenched as I sat upright.
I usually struggled to sit up in bed from all the teddies—there wasn’t that problem here.
“I’ve seen these on the forums. I love the little comic things they’ve got on social media, but I’ve never—” I ran my hand across one of the glossy covers.
It featured two cartoon pirates as they embraced, and the pirate with a hook for a hand was wielding a sex toy. “This one, maybe?”
Daddy Santo turned the book over. “Benny Bottoms the Beloved Pirate,” he said with a snicker. “Okay, this one sounds fun.”
“Right,” I said with a mimicked snort of laughter. “Oh my god, there’s more toys!” It was like a “spot the butt plug” game right there on the cover.
“Okay, so this is—” he said through contained laughs. “Sorry, I think this sounds hilarious. I thought they were going to be you know . . . playful.”
I placed a hand over his. “They’re very naughty,” I said. “I hope you don’t mind.”
“I was going to make sure you didn’t mind,” he said, placing another hand over mine now, and he stroked his thumb across it.
It was hard to think this was the same guy who’d shot a man in front of me, the same man who’d demanded his coffee be remade, or the one whose cold eyes had undressed me in his office. “Please,” I said. “Can you read it to me?”
We got comfy in the bed together, cuddled up in the center of the bed. The other books of similar fun titles were stack and housed on the nightstand.
“Benny Bottoms the Beloved Pirate,” he said, turning the pages. “One day, Benny Bottoms was on the shores of Suckalot Island, where the famed pirate, Nine Inches, buried all his treasures.”
I giggled, pointing out all the phallic-shaped items sticking out of the sand.
As Daddy turned the pages and read the book to me, we discovered another pirate in search of the treasure.
This was Nine Inches’s brother, Ten Inches, and it wasn’t picture accurate, but he wielded a so-called ten inch veiny peach dildo on the contraption in place of his missing hand.
Turned out they were racing to this island, and they were ex-lovers, which meant when they met they just started going at it on the beach, against palms, and almost being knocked out by coconuts. It was hot and funny.
My hand rested on Daddy’s hand as he went to turn the page.
“It’s not making you feel sleepy, is it?” he asked.
“No, I’m just—”
“I told myself I wouldn’t,” he whispered and kissed the side of my head. “I told myself I had to be different this time.”
“Different?”
He shut the book and placed it on the pile. “Yeah,” he let out. “I’ve fucked my way through half of Boston.”
I knew he had a reputation, both as a bit of a man who fucks a lot, but also as a hard ass—not a bottom, just mean. I knew what I was getting into, and to my humor, referenced as a wannabee Miranda Priestley from Devil Wears Prada, I nodded. “But you don’t want to—fuck me?”
“Let’s talk about language,” he whispered with a smile. “No adult words like that.”
“Okay, Daddy.”
“Good boy.” He kissed my forehead again, and again, longer each time his lips touched my skin.
There was a moment of quiet, and I still hadn’t been given an answer. I knew better than to prod again, but my entire body was taken over. I just wanted him, Daddy.
“I fear if we have sex, you’ll leave,” he said as if the silence had been torture treatment. “But I don’t fear anything.”
“I know,” I said. And anything that happened here, he’d NDA’d me up to the eyeballs—even if it wasn’t enforceable because of the whole criminal thing. “But you’re naked, and I—” I gulped so hard I dried out my entire throat.
Daddy placed his hand on my neck, sliding it down with the width of his fingers spreading to consume more of me. “If you want me, I’ll give it to you, but I need you to promise you’re not going to leave afterwards.”
I nodded, letting out a gentle whimper. “I just wanna feel you.”
He whipped the duvet away from his legs and there it was—soft, heavy, thick, pushed up prominently on his balls. “I’m uncut,” he said. “Is that a problem?”