Chapter 3
Daddy thinkshe’s being sly. Like I don’t know him so well by now that I can read his mood as soon as he walks into the room.
Today, as he returns from the management committee meeting, he’s super-tense. His muscles are so rigid I could bounce a quarter off his biceps. He’s wearing a full frowny. But he jokes as he dresses me for the day like everything’s fine.
I can dress myself, of course but I always wait for him. Dressing me relaxes him. It’s not only that he needs the control of picking my clothes—and often a kinky accessory or two, today it’s the evil, wire nipple clamps—but also focusing on me clears his mind. My friend Cynnie calls it “doing the daddy.”
He relaxes as he “does the daddy.” By the time he’s pulled on my purple and black thigh-highs, a hot pink corset with the half-cups so he can torture my poor nips, and a flounced vintage smock over a pleated, black leather skirt, he’s smiling. Hearing me whimper as he fixes the clamps in place brings the light back to his eyes. After he laces me up, he helps me into a cropped cardi and kisses me on the forehead.
“You look gorgeous, baby doll. I know I tell you all the time how much I love seeing you in these clothes ... what do you call them again?”
“Goth fairy, Daddy.”
“I feel like I’m looking at your soul, my baby.” He twirls his finger in the air and I spin for him. “Mmm.”
He strokes the inch of thigh that shows between the bottom of my skirt and the top of my thigh-highs.
“Can I put on some cat ears? They complete the outfit.”
“Of course.”
I take out black furry ears on a headband and pop them on top of my curls. I don’t know what it is about wearing the cat ears—or puppy ears, they make me feel the same—but I love them. I feel cute in the goth fairy clothes Cynnie’s helped me assemble but I know I’m cute when I’m wearing ears.
I take Daddy’s hand and dance at his side down the stairs to the room where the breakfast buffet is served.
Daddy has a ridiculous number of friends at Blunts, even though he was worried about whether he had enough to win the vote for Master Mac’s membership, so it’s never just us when we eat at the club. This morning, we’re at a big, round table with a dozen subs and Dom(mes).
I smile at everyone. There are some tense faces, and a few that are too impassive, probably masking their tension. One of the impassive faces is Mistress Caddy, with whom Daddy has a complicated relationship. In part because she’s a complicated lady. Master Javier mentioned to Daddy a while ago that she was molested as an adolescent by her own uncle, David, while he was the chairman of Blunts. That started me down a rabbit-hole and although Blunts’ own records have been heavily redacted, I am a Research Goddess?. Master Javier doesn’t know the half of it, or he didn’t tell Daddy if he does.
Master David was a monster. His modus operandi was to give his underaged victims intoxicants. He then staged gladiatorial-type scenes where he provided them with weapons. He fought them, beat them, and raped them. Mistress Caddy’s whole family suffered under David’s regime, especially her brother, Bram, who is still on suicide watch over a decade later at an in-patient facility upstate. Mistress Caddy was instrumental in bringing David down, even though she was only twenty-one when she did it. David sponsored her when she became the youngest-ever member of Blunts. She got him removed as chairman and then helped prosecute him. He’s serving seven consecutive 25-year sentences at Five Points in permanent solitary confinement due to threats on his life from other prisoners.
I wondered more than once when I was doing my research if Mistress Caddy hadn’t funded some of those threats.
I give her an extra-bright smile. There’s a man sitting next to her who came to our Day-Before-Halloween-Halloween-Party but I didn’t get to talk to him. I claim a chair next to him once Daddy and I are through the buffet line.
His name is Finn and he’s Caddy’s submissive, which I could have guessed by how he glances at her, seeking approval, every few minutes. His accent is noticeable and when I ask him a question in French, he eagerly responds in the same language.
We chat all through breakfast. He tells me about how he and Caddy met, through a modern art museum where he had an exhibit and where Caddy’s a major benefactor. He tells me about some of the wonderful scenes they’ve done. Her sadistic streak is no surprise but she also has a playful side I wouldn’t have guessed. I tell Finn about the fairytale scenes Daddy and I are planning. The longing I see in his eyes makes me wonder if Finn has a bit of little in him.
While I’m talking with Finn, Master Ten pulls up a chair and squeezes in on Caddy’s far side. He grunts at Master Mac, sitting a few seats away, glances at Daddy, and starts in on his breakfast.
Those are some weighty looks. Daddy didn’t tell me who he thought might oppose Master Mac’s application for membership but it’s clear Master Ten did. That’s probably not a surprise since Mac’s fiancée used to be one of Master Ten’s unofficial harem when she was a house submissive. There were hard feelings when Brenna resigned from the club, and although Master Ten partied with us at Halloween, it’s looking like not everyone’s feathers have been unruffled.
Daddy grumbles to Mistress Maude, who is sitting on his far side. Then he takes a sip of tea.
I’ve been waiting for him to try his tea, since I switched his usual Earl Grey for turmeric while he was getting an extra helping of scrambled eggs.
“Emily,” he growls.
I lean against his firm shoulder and blink up at him innocently. See, this is the super-power of the cat ears. No one could think me guilty of anything while I’m wearing cat ears.
“This is not the tea I got,” he complains. “Would you know anything about that, trouble?”
“Turmeric tea is better for you.” I squirm in my chair. “But I don’t want to be in trouble.”
A tolerant smile teases the edges of Daddy’s lips.
“Just a little bit of trouble,” he grumbles, then softens it with a wink.
“Tickling-level trouble?” I ask with a wiggle.
Daddy stretches his arm around the back of my chair and leans in to rub noses.
“Could be,” he says.
“Tickling with orgasms?”
“I’ll consider tickling with orgasms if you ask Master Ten to play the Pied Piper.”
There was a time when I’d have done anything to get out of asking one of the Blunts masters to participate in a scene. My introduction to them after Daddy was injured was overwhelming and people aren’t always my best thing. But most of them have gone out of their way since then to make me feel at home. Although he was really mean to Brenna and is at odds with Daddy and Mac now, I’m not afraid of Master Ten anymore.
I grin up at him. “I can do that.”
“Good girl.” He kisses my forehead, sits back in his chair, and takes a sip of tea before he remembers. “About this tea.”
I blink at him. Look at me, all innocent in my cat ears.
“If you drink that whole cup, I’ll get you a cup of Earl Grey,” I wheedle.
“If I tell you to get me a cup of Earl Grey, little girl, you’ll get me a cup of Earl Grey.”
“Of course, Daddy. But it would be better for you to drink the turmeric tea first.”
He shakes his head at me, because we both know he’s going to drink the turmeric tea. I try hard to take care of him and, even though he stages a token resistance, he appreciates my efforts.
“Does Daddy get a kiss for every sip?”
I grin. “Absolutely.”
He holds his nose and gulps down half of the cup, then points to his mouth. “Kiss.”
I beam at him, lean in, and press my lips to his. He lets me get away with a gentle peck for a second, before he bites down on my lip until I shiver and squeak. He laves away the little hurt with his tongue before he masters my mouth with his. When he pulls back, I’m panting. He runs his knuckles down my cheek until I can focus again.
“Don’t you want another sip, Daddy?”
He taps the tip of my nose. “Not really but I definitely want another kiss.”
My answering giggle makes his eyes light up.
Daddy tucks me under his arm as we walk from the subway to his townhouse. Every step we get closer to our house, he relaxes further. Daddy treats the club as his second home but sometimes it’s more like a visit with prickly in-laws. Particularly now that Mac and Brenna have moved in with us and we’re starting to realize Daddy’s desire for an extended family home, he’s happiest at the townhouse.
It doesn’t hurt that we have Cappa and Austin with us. Daddy acts like it’s an imposition for our friends to stay with us but I know he actually loves it. After Daddy’s daughter arrives, we’ll have even less space but I doubt Daddy will discourage any of our friends from staying over.
Inside, my kitty greets us at the door with purrs and a lashing tail. I give him the petting he demands before turning him over to Brenna and then to Cappa, who carries Sable through to the kitchen after we all take off our shoes and line them up by the door.
I prepped dinner before we left for the club yesterday, so all I have to do is take everything out of the fridge and pop it in the oven. I pull out a tray of snacks as well since the men always get the munchies while they’re watching sports. They’ve already settled on the couches in the living room to watch some team take on another team. I don’t want to offend Daddy but I can’t keep the teams straight and have to Google who is playing every time.
I make up a tray with the beer I know Daddy, Mac, and Austin like and take it through to them, dancing a little to the hip-hop Brenna has playing in the kitchen as she mashes potatoes. Daddy pulls me down for a kiss and the promise of a reward later that sends me back into the kitchen floating on a happy cloud.
Once everything’s cooking, I plate up the snacks and take them through to the living room along with my laptop. I have a couple of deadlines coming up for my publisher. Daddy’s been keeping me on track with my word count so I don’t have to pull a week of all-nighters the way I used to with big deadlines. If he had to relax my bedtime so I could meet my deadlines, he would. But he’d be disappointed in me, and I never want that.
So, while Daddy, Mac, and Austin watch the game, and Brenna settles on a cushion at Master Mac’s feet with her sketch pad and pencils and starts sketching Cappa, who is handsome enough to be an underwear model, I open my laptop and start writing.
Daddy watches me type for a minute, then takes out his phone. He taps up the app for the house’s heating system and dials up the heat. Setting my laptop aside, I start stripping off my clothes, since I know where this is going.
Daddy waits until I’m down to my stripey, cotton thigh-highs. He taps the back of my hand, which is his signal for me to stop what I’m doing. I leave the thigh-highs on, fold my clothes into a neat pile, and smile at him before I pull my laptop back across my legs.
“Such a good girl, Emmy. That gets you a bubble-bath with Daddy tonight as well as your reward.”
I wiggle happily on the couch cushion.
”Austin, leave your clothes on. Cappa, clothes off. Bren, Mac”s choice,” Daddy tells the other subbies.
Master Mac grunts. ”Clothes off, snuggleslut. And go get your clamps. The pretty ones with the hearts on them.”
Brenna grumbles at her Dom but climbs to her feet and trots off to fetch the nipple clamps.
Daddy wraps his arm around my shoulders and twirls a curl of my hair between his fingers. “If you get chilly, baby doll, tell me.”
”Okay, Daddy.”
”What are you writing?”
”Naughty words for that erotica anthology,” I admit, staring at my fingers on the keyboard and feeling the heat rise into my cheeks. It’s silly for me to feel even a twinge of embarrassment about what I’m writing, given all the things Daddy and I have done. A lot of them in front of the people in this room. But that doesn’t stop the rush of blood to my face.
”Mmm, you can read it aloud to me tonight. I want to hear it.”
”We all want to hear it,” Master Mac says.
My cheeks are so hot I could fry eggs on them. ”It”s not any good yet.”
”Then Daddy will help you make it better,” Daddy promises.
Could I have a better Daddy? I tap with renewed zeal. “Ta very much.”
I work all through the game the men are watching, in my zone despite the grumbling and hissing and occasional cheer from Austin, whose team is winning. Between the golden November sunshine pouring through the French doors, the roast in the oven, and the central heating, I’m not cold, even mostly nakey. Daddy checks my fingers several times over the course of the game and I’m happy to wiggle my pink digits at him.
Master Mac finds another way to keep Brenna warm. Her feet get cold easily and she doesn’t have my toasty thigh-highs. Master Mac gives her a long foot massage that has her squirming all over the floor cushions. As he’s digging his thumb into a spot on her instep that makes her writhe, he says to Daddy, “Now the vote’s behind us, son, we have some work to do with the house subs.”
My ears perk up. Although I’m not a house submissive, I’m more than a little interested in what’s happening with them.
Cappa, who was lolling half-asleep on the other section of the couch, rolls over to look at Daddy and Master Mac.
“Something to say, boy?” Daddy asks.
“Just that—if you wanted to talk with some of the subs who are struggling—I could suggest where to start.”
“Someone other than Mally?” Daddy asks.
“Yes, sir,” Cappa says.
We had a dinner with Cappa and Mally back in September. I thought Mally was going to tell Daddy about the problems the house subs were having. But the timing was all wrong. Mally was totally preoccupied with Mistress Dana hooking up with Austin. All Daddy took away from the dinner was that the Blunts Doms had to do a better job of setting expectations about exclusivity with the house subs. Daddy got Mistress Dana to talk with Mally and that was the end of it.
It definitely wasn’t the end of the problems, though. A lot of house submissives are going outside the club to find Doms. Lucy asked Daddy to top her. And just a few weeks ago, Cappa picked up a Dom who ignored his safe word and beat him so badly that he needed sixteen stitches.
Daddy’s been working with Cappa ever since, and although I wouldn’t exactly call Daddy Cappa’s Dom, Daddy provides Cappa with a lot of structure. Daddy gives Cappa a daily schedule and punishes him if he deviates from it. Cappa has more rules and consequences about self-care than even I do. Daddy’s been vetting all of Cappa’s scenes to make sure he’s topped in a safe way and that his tops are clear on Cappa’s signals and safe words.
Cappa’s already so much better than he was. I can’t resent the time and attention Daddy’s given him when it’s clearly what he needed. Daddy’s good about making sure we still have a lot of one-on-one time, even when Cappa stays over, although he hasn’t been doing that this week. It also makes a difference that Master Mac and Bren live with us now. Any pique I might have felt during the time Daddy’s focused on Cappa is offset by having Master Mac, my confidante and co-conspirator in all things relating to Logan’s daughter, and Brenna, my Big Sub Bestie, around all the time.
I wish I was a big enough person to feel the same way about Daddy topping Lucy. But that’s a different story.
Unfortunately, all of Daddy’s efforts so far haven’t improved things for the house subs. Annabelle, a newer sub and one Daddy didn’t train, quit over the weekend after a scene with Master Emmett. Brenna said that she, Austin, Fleur, and Master Javier tried to talk with Annabelle to understand what went so wrong and if it could be fixed. Annabelle wouldn’t talk to them but she told Master Chess when she resigned that nothing could bring her back to the club.
Maybe Cappa’s gotten through to her and wants her to talk to Daddy?
“Let’s start with them,” Master Mac says, rubbing between Brenna’s toes so she’s a floppy puddle on the floor. Daddy chuckles against my temple as we watch her melt. “Something low-key. I don’t want anyone feeling like we’re interrogating them.”
“Movie night,” I suggest.
“Movie night,” Daddy echoes. “Something neutral like Titanic.”
I hide my grin as everyone around the room groans.
“No, Daddy,” I say gently, patting his knee. Daddy doesn’t cry at movies, so he wouldn’t understand why watching Rose’s goodbye to Jack would reduce someone who might already be emotionally fragile to rivers of tears.
“Maybe something a little less loaded,” Master Mac says.
“Die Hard,” Daddy grumbles, which makes everyone laugh.
Brenna and I have breakfast down to a fine art.
With all of us having very different schedules, breakfast could be chaotic. Daddy doesn’t like chaos and I hate displeasing Daddy. Bren and I have worked out a schedule that suits everyone. On the island between the kitchen area and dining area, we set out a cold buffet with cereal, homemade Bircher, and a bowl of different kinds of energy bars. When Cappa stays over, he usually sticks to the buffet but he took off after dinner last night.
Once the buffet’s set up, Brenna starts the coffee and puts links on the grill. She also puts on some music that we both dance to as we grill tomatoes from the little greenhouse Daddy’s built me in the backyard, scramble eggs, and pop bread into the toaster. How much do I love starting my day dancing with my Big Sub Bestie? By the time Master Mac and Daddy come up from the basement, still sweaty from their workout, we’re plating up the hot food to take to the table.
Daddy smiles and kisses my forehead as he takes his seat. I sit beside him, while Master Mac and Brenna sit across the table from us. We often have High Protocol dinners where Brenna and I kneel to our masters but so far, Daddy and Mac have kept breakfasts informal.
“What are you doing with your free time this morning, little love?” Daddy asks as he plows into his eggs and links. I notice he’s pushed the whole wheat toast I made for him to the side. I nudge it closer to his eggs with the handle of my fork.
“Bren and I are going to work on the fairy book this morning. My editor wants the galleys approved by the end of the week.”
“Bet you didn’t think you’d end up a published author,” Master Mac says to Brenna.
She shakes her head. “Emily’s the author. I’m just the illustrator.”
“That’s not true,” I protest, because Bren tends to hide her light under a bushel, as my aunt used to say. “You were the one who came up with the whole idea of the Bunny Queen rescuing Olivia from the troll. You wrote those scenes as much as I did. I already told Maxine that you need to be listed as co-author, as well as illustrator, so it’s too late.”
Brenna glowers at me but she’s blushing. I think she’s secretly happy about being listed as an author.
Daddy lays his big hand over mine and squeezes my fingers. “Have I mentioned how proud I am of you, baby doll? Not just writing a whole book for Olivia but for going outside your comfort zone.”
“A good-girl flogging level of proud?” I ask, wishing I was wearing my cat ears this morning. Daddy would immediately agree to a good-girl flogging if I was wearing cat ears.
“Is that what you want?” he asks. “Because I was thinking that we might do that breeding scene I mentioned.”
“Breeding scene level of proud,” I whisper, delighted from my nonexistent cat ears down to my toes. “That’s really proud.”
“It is,” he agrees.
I toy with a crust of my whole wheat toast. “You, um, also mentioned, maybe, giving me the second brand while we were doing a breeding scene.”
“I did,” he says.
My breath catches as joy fills up every cell. Daddy’s going to brand me again. It’s Christmas and every birthday rolled up together. I know even some of my fellow submissives don’t understand why I’d want to be branded, or why Logan would want to give me such excruciating pain.
It’s hard to explain but nothing Daddy and I have done together except my collaring felt more intimate, more spiritual. I had an out-of-body experience when Daddy gave me the two-moon brand. My soul was subsumed in Daddy’s: consumed, uplifted, floating somewhere up among the stars. I’ve never felt so submissive, so completely in Logan’s control, as that moment when the red-hot metal touched my skin. It was overwhelming, agonizing, sublime.
I’ve seen art that captures a moment of spiritual fractioning, like Bernini’s “Ecstasy of Saint Teresa.” But even in subspace, I’ve never felt it.
Until Daddy branded me.
After Daddy and Master Mac leave, I head up to the third floor with Bren. We’ve got everything for the book spread out in what we’ve all started calling “the studio.” It’s next to the area Daddy walled off for storage and too small to be another bedroom. We’ve squeezed a desk with a drawing board and lots of shelves into the space and Bren’s taken it over as her workspace in the house.
Currently, it’s covered with sketches and proofs for our book. I stop and take a minute to admire one of the finished plates. It’s the moment Olivia meets the Bunny Queen, with the crowned rabbit peeking out from behind a tree as Olivia sits under a rainbow toadstool. The colors of Bren’s art are so vibrant, and she’s perfectly captured the mutual delight of the rabbit and little girl on meeting each other. The piece brings a happy tear to my eye.
I run my fingertips down the framed edge of the plate before I turn to where Bren’s standing beside the messy desk.
If I didn’t know Brenna better, I’d say she looks ... embarrassed. She stares at her wool-socked toes, twisting the hem of Mac’s dress shirt between her fingers. Her cheeks are so pink it looks like she has a fever.
“Everything okay?” I ask.
“Look, you don’t have to wear it, okay? I don’t even know why I had it made. You’ll probably think it’s stupid.”
I sidle over to her and slide my arm around her waist. “You had something made for me?”
She rolls her eyes. “You and the baby.”
“You had something made for me and the baby? Like matching outfits?”
She clears her throat. “I heard you talking with Logan, about how you wanted to take Livvy to baby swim class. That it’s good for babies to learn to swim really young so they never develop any fear of the water. I, um, wish someone had taught me when I was a baby, because swimming’s still hard for me and I just thought, well, whatever.”
“Whatever?”
“Ugh, I hate you.”
Bren moves to one side, revealing a long box sitting on top of the pile of galleys.
I drift over to the box, admiring it. The paper wrapping is blue and purple and silver, patterned to look like scales. I carefully untie the blue-green metallic ribbon. I’ll save it and add it to a scrapbook I’ve started making. Logan has me writing a journal for him once a week, and I’ve kept my own journal for years but my scrapbook is more for impressions, little keepsakes, things I want to remember forever. This ribbon is definitely going in it.
I open the box and peel apart the tissue paper inside. Shimmering, silvery fabric fills the box. I lift out the first piece, admiring the way the warm, morning light sparks highlights of pink and blue in the fabric. There’s a bikini top, a bottom with a long skirt and trailing, filmy, blue fins. Underneath is a baby’s one-piece swimsuit in the same fabric with a detachable skirt of the same filmy fabric but in purple.
I hold the swimsuits up, my eyes filling so they merge into a silver blur. “Bren, these are so perfect. Livvy and I can be mermaids together.”
Bren blinks. “You really like them? You don’t have to wear them if you don’t.”
“I love them! Did you get yourself one, too?”
She shakes her head. “No. But I, uh, well, I’ll show you.”
She pushes around some of the sketches on her drafting board and holds one out.
It’s a delicately rendered silhouette of a mermaid, her hair and tail flowing behind her as she surfs a rolling wave. In her arms, she holds a baby mermaid, its tail curling into the foam of another wave. The figures are black, with color on their tails and in the waves, blue, green, purple, and bright points of orange like the sunset over the ocean.
“Bren, it’s gorgeous.”
“Yeah? I thought I could get it on my back, kind of where Mac’s mermaid is, although this piece would be smaller than his.”
“That’s so perfect. But don’t you want to be in it, too?”
“Naw, I’ll never be a mermaid. That’s for you and Livvy.”
“Bren, you’ll always be a mermaid,” I tell her.
She rolls her eyes. “Let’s look at these galleys.”
I hug her again before I replace the swimsuits carefully in the box and set it aside.
I can’t wait to show it to Logan. Daddy’s mermaids. He’ll love that so much.