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Daddy Issues Page 7
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Page 7
I’d had a moment to calm down and now I was thoroughly ashamed of my little break down. Honestly, I couldn’t imagine what had come over me. Why had I freaked out that way? I’d seen things in Vice that would make a whore blush. Why had the live action butt plug show been my undoing?
I couldn’t answer any of those questions and I couldn’t admit to Salt that I was really upset either. I didn’t want him to think of me as weak or crazy or too stupidly emotional and female to do my job.
So I lied.
“I’m perfectly fine,” I said calmly. “That was all just an act. Pretty good, huh?”
“An act?” He frowned at me, his eyes dark. “Andi, don’t lie to me. I feel you trembling. And there are still tears in your eyes.”
“There are?” I reached up and brushed at my right eye hesitantly. My fingers came away wet. “Wow, I’m an even better actress than I thought.” I tried to laugh but it came out sounding forced and choked.
“Andi…” Salt took me by the shoulders and looked at me intently. “You need to tell me now if this is too much for you. I feel strongly that we need to be here but we can leave and let the Captain find someone else.”
Part of me—a big part—wanted to jump at his offer of an easy out. We were so close to the front door—only three feet away from it! But then I thought better of it. I’d like to say I remembered the girl on the video begging for sex in that shameful way because she was hopped up on Please. I have to be honest though, what I was really thinking about was my professional reputation.
Being a woman and the smallest woman at that, in the PD, wasn’t easy. I had gone out of my way to cultivate a tough outer demeanor—a hard shell that said “don’t fuck with me” in no uncertain terms. I didn’t let anyone crack that shell—didn’t let anyone all the way behind my shields. Not even Salt.
So I gave him a smile that only felt a little forced.
“Salt, really—I’m fine. I just thought that I wasn’t being convincing enough as a Little in the beginning there so I added a little drama to the equation. You can bet that Berkley believes our cover now, right?”
“I suppose so.” Salt still looked troubled but just then a huge gong rang somewhere in the back of the building.
“Dinner is served,” I heard the butler calling in a dignified voice and then the gonging sound came again.
“Uh-oh—we’d better get going,” I told Salt. “We’re going to be late!”
“True. I suppose we should go.” Taking my arm through his again, he led me through the entryway and towards the dining room. As we left, I had one last glimpse in the ornate mirror. A girl with bows in her hair and tear tracks running down her cheeks looked back at me.
I looked away quickly and concentrated on keeping up with Salt’s long strides. Everything was going to be fine. It had to be. I would make it be, I promised myself. I wasn’t going to foul up this case and ruin my reputation just because I had gotten a little freaked out.
I was still giving myself a pep-talk when we entered a large dining area that looked like something you’d see in a movie about British royalty. There was only one long table running down the length of the room with a crystal chandelier hanging above it. A fine, white linen tablecloth covered the long surface and it was laid with real china and silver and crystal goblets. There were also expensive lace napkins that looked like they would be completely useless for doing anything but dabbing delicately at the corners of your mouth.
Ornately carved wooden chairs were placed along the length of the long table and Director Berkley was sitting in the exact middle, presiding over the entire room like some kind of medieval lord. To the right of him sat the red-haired girl, Patty, and her Daddy who we had seen upstairs in the medical suite. All traces of tears were wiped away now and she looked completely happy and content, leaning against her Daddy’s arm and whispering something into his ear.
To Berkley’s left side was an empty chair and after that, several more couples on either side of the table. The monstrous piece of furniture looked like it would seat around forty people but I only counted thirteen at the moment. I wondered who was missing and where we were supposed to sit.
Director Berkley answered my question by beckoning us over.
“Come, come, Mr. Saltanov,” he said to Salt. “Come sit across from me. Is your Babygirl feeling better?”
“Much better, thank you,” Salt said shortly. He pulled out a chair for me but when I sat down in it, I found that I could barely reach the table. In addition to being ridiculously long, it was also ridiculously tall. It was just right for Salt because he was so tall himself that normal tables always fell somewhere around his lap. But for short little me, it was above my chest. I would have to reach up like a kid at the grow-ups table to get anything.
Salt saw the problem at once.
“What is wrong with this table? Is there someplace else for my mishka to sit?” he asked, frowning at Berkley.
“Certainly, Mr. Saltanov.” Berkley smiled. “She can sit in your lap. Or, failing that, she can have a booster seat. Which do you prefer? Some of the Daddies like to eat in peace while others find that having their Babygirl squirming on their lap all through dinner builds the ah…anticipation of what is to come.”
“Mishka can have booster chair,” Salt said at once.
Berkley made a motion to one of the livered servants who were standing around the perimeter of the room.
“I see. So you don’t intend to play with your Babygirl after dinner?”
“If you mean that in a sexual way then no, I do not intend to do that,” Salt growled.
“A pity.” Berkley sniffed. “I was going to invite the two of you to the Daddies’ Lounge for brandy and cigars and other things after dinner but if your relationship isn’t sexual, you might not prefer to be there.”
I bit my lip. Great, we’d just lost a chance to be in a more casual setting with everyone at the Institute. It would have been a great place to get to know the other couples better and see if any one of them seemed like the types to sell Please. On the other hand, I was grateful that Salt was taking a hard line and declaring our relationship not sexual—at least I thought I was.
“The Lounge sounds like great fun but we will not be able to go,” Salt said.
“Tell me,” Berkley said, as a servant brought an oversized padded footstool looking thing that fit in my chair for me to sit on. “Is your mishka a complete virgin? Or have you already claimed her mouth and her pussy and you’re saving her ass for last?”
I nearly choked on a sip of too-sweet pink punch that filled my goblet. Salt seemed to feel like the question was too much as well because his face darkened.
“This is a very private matter—is not your business, Director,” he growled.
“I beg your pardon, my dear Mr. Saltanov but it is my business,” Berkley returned. “How else am I to know how to compose your schedule? I take my duties as director and owner of the Institute very seriously. I need to know exactly where you and your Babygirl stand, in order to avoid any more, ah, problems like the one we had earlier.”
“I see.” Salt scowled. “Very well, I will tell you this. Is mishka virgin? No, but she is virgin to me. We have only been together three months and she is still frightened and unsure of herself. So I am taking things slowly—very slowly. I do not wish to violate her body or her trust.”
“Of course. I see.” Berkley nodded seriously. “Well, hopefully you can take your relationship to the next level while you’re here as you said you wished to earlier when you asked for something to help her, ah…loosen up a little.”
“Only if mishka is ready,” Salt insisted. “She is far from that right now.”
“Well, we find that many shy and inexperienced Babygirls discover their sexual nature while they are at the Institute,” Berkley said. “Why, by the time you’re ready to leave, you may have claimed all three of your little mishka’s virginities.”
Salt frowned. “I thought you said you do not offer aphrodisiacs here.”
“We don’t.” Berkley smiled at him. “But there’s something in the atmosphere here—in being with like-minded couples who like to play as you do. It’s very stimulating. Or maybe it’s just something in the water.” He laughed and nodded at me. “Drink your punch, little girl. It’s good for you.”
I forced myself to take another sip of the sickly-sweet pink punch even though I didn’t like it at all and then set the goblet down. A server appeared behind me and suddenly the empty china plate in front of me was whisked away and a full one took its place.
After all the opulence of the furniture and surroundings, I’d been expecting gourmet frou-frou food like frog legs or foie gras or some other inedible delicacy. I was pleasantly surprised to see that the plate in front of me contained fairly plain stuff. Rare roast beef, mashed potatoes and gravy, fresh green beans with tiny pearl onions in them…it actually looked good. And despite all the turmoil I’d just been through, I found I was hungry.
Salt must have been too because he dug in eagerly. As we ate, I scanned the table, looking at the other couples. They all seemed to fit a pattern, I saw. The men were all fairly tall—though none was as tall as Salt—and the women were all extra petite, like me. I didn’t believe a single one of them was over 5’3. This made it easy for them to sit in their Daddies’ laps, which most of them were doing.
Many of the Daddies appeared to be ten to twenty years older than their Babygirls. However there were a few couples where they looked to be about the same age. I did see one couple, though, where the Daddy looked to be around sixty and his Babygirl was probably only around twenty. I was pretty sure I knew who was paying for that relationship.
The only thing I didn’t like about dinner was the weird pink punch which I noticed that all the other Babygirls had in their goblets too. The Daddies, however, had both water and a crystal goblet of red wine in front of them. I sipped a little more of my punch and made a face.
“Hey,” I muttered to Salt. “Can I have some of your water?”
“Certainly.” He started to hand it to me but just then a petite blonde girl flounced into the dining room, drawing all eyes to her.
It wasn’t like I wanted to look at her but I couldn’t help it. She was wearing an outfit that made the slutty schoolgirl getup I’d tried on the night before look absolutely tame.
Her top was an off-the-shoulder white blouse which hardly deserved the name. It tied in front, barely covering her full breasts and clearly showing the outline of her pink nipples pressing against the thin fabric. Then there was a long expanse of tanned, toned abdomen and a tiny little blue skirt which barely covered her ass. Peeking out from under the skirt were white lace garters connected to white thigh-high hose. High-heeled Mary Jane shoes and a golden necklace which said Princess completed the outfit.
“Hi Daddy.” She came to sit across from me, in the empty chair at Berkley’s side and dropped a kiss on his cheek.
Berkley’s face darkened.
“Princess, what have I told you about being late for dinner?”
The blonde girl pouted.
“Not to be. And I’m sorry, Daddy but I had to let my new nail polish dry. She held out one hand, showing off glittery pink polish a girl in high school might like. “See? Isn’t it pretty?”
“It is but I’m still not pleased with you.” Berkley frowned. “If you’re not careful, you’re going to earn yourself a punishment. Now come and sit on Daddy’s lap and eat your supper.”
“Yes, Daddy,” the girl said demurely. She scooted over and settled on the Director’s lap, grinding against him in a way that was positively indecent as she began to take bird-like bites from his plate.
“Bring some punch for my princess,” Berkley commanded one of his servants. At once, a large goblet of the bright pink stuff was put in front of her. She drank it eagerly, still rubbing against Berkley’s lap.
“Mmm, Daddy, I just love sitting in your lap for dinner,” she purred.
Berkley laughed and put down his fork. Reaching around the blonde girl, he casually cupped one of her thrusting breasts and held it in his hand like a ripe fruit.
“As you have probably guessed,” he said to Salt. “This is my own Babygirl, Mandy. She’s my sweet little princess—well, most of the time when she’s not being naughty.”
“Daddy!” the blonde girl objected. “I’m not naughty! Most of the time, anyway.” She giggled.
“Yes, you are, princess. That’s why Daddy has to punish you so often,” Berkley murmured. He was tracing her nipple now, I saw, making it stick out even further through the thin fabric. Tugging at the edge of her white top, he slid it down until her naked breast was revealed. Her nipple was very dark pink and looked achingly tight.
“Oh, Daddy!” Mandy exclaimed, looking down at herself without making any move to cover her breast. “Now just look what you did to my top!”
“That’s all right, princess, just finish your punch,” Berkley murmured. He pinched her exposed nipple lightly and she moaned and rubbed against him some more. God, were they going to go for it right here at the dinner table?
I tried to imagine acting that way with Salt and felt a strange flutter in my stomach. Suddenly I found I had lost my appetite.
“But I’m being rude,” Berkley said, still fondling the blonde girl in his lap. “Princess, this is the new couple I told you about. This is Mr. Saltanov—he’s from Russia. And this is his Babygirl, mishka.”
“Hi.” Mandy barely looked at us—she was too busy writhing around in Berkley’s lap. Apparently he thought her inattention was a problem because he reluctantly released her breast and pulled her white top back into position.
“Now, Mandy, that’s not a very nice way to greet our new guests,” he said to her reprovingly. “I thought maybe you and mishka here could have a play-date tomorrow.”
“Huh…” Mandy looked me up and down, apparently seeing me for the first time. “I don’t think so, Daddy,” she sneered. “She doesn’t look grown up enough to play with me.”
I felt suddenly grubby and way too young in the blue party dress. I wish I had worn my own slutty schoolgirl outfit even though I didn’t think I could possibly out-slut Mandy. She appeared to be a pro at it.
“Now, Mandy—that is not nice. Not nice at all! I warned you that you were going to get a punishment, didn’t I?”
“Daddy?” Mandy’s pale green eyes got wide and her bottom lip trembled. “Please, Daddy, you’re not going to spank me, are you?”
“I most certainly am, young lady,” Berkley said, frowning. “Now get over my knee and pull up your skirt this instant.”
Mandy moaned and protested but I noticed she moved pretty quickly to get into position over Berkley’s knee. Everyone at the table was watching their little display by now and I had a feeling that was just exactly the way they wanted it.
Berkley pushed up her little blue skirt, baring tiny white lace panties that were barely more than a thong. Even though most of her ass was already bare, he made a show of pulling the tiny scrap of lace down past her hips before spanking her soundly on both cheeks.
“Daddy! Daddy, no—please!�� Mandy wailed, wriggling like a fish as tears filled her eyes. I noticed though, that she never wiggled completely off his lap, which she could easily have done if she tried. I wondered if she was getting wet from this, like the redhead, Patty, had earlier from getting her new plug put in. Then I decided I really didn’t want to know.
Berkley spanked until both of his Babygirl’s ass cheeks were a glowing red. Then he gave her a final smack and pulled her panties back up.
“Now,” he said sternly, looking into Mandy’s tearstained face. “Have you learned your lesson, princess?”
“Yes.” Mandy gave a little sob. “I…I’m sorry, Daddy. I’ll have a play-date with the new little girl if you want me to.”
“Very good, Princess,” Berkley said gravely.
Mandy’s eyes flashed. “Even if she does look like she got her clothes from the Good Will.” She gave me a wicked sneer and I realized she wasn’t really contrite at all. In fact, it seemed to me she was angling for another punishment.
“Mandy!” Berkley roared. “That is unacceptable. Get down—you’re spending the rest of dinner under the table.”
“Yes, Daddy.” Without even a protest, Mandy dropped to her knees and slithered out of sight, under the long white linen tablecloth.
“My deepest apologies,” Berkley said, frowning. “Mandy is…is…” There was a muffled sound from under the table that sounded like a zipper coming down and Berkley’s’ eyes crossed for a moment. “Mandy is something of a brat,” he continued at last, obviously forcing himself to talk. “I have to…have to punish her…continuously.”
Salt and I exchanged a glance. Was Mandy doing what we thought she was doing? From the way Berkley was gripping the tablecloth, it seemed likely. I wanted to take a peek under the table to be sure, but then I decided again that I really didn’t want to know.
“Is understandable,” Salt said blandly. “Sometimes Littles can be…troublesome.”
“Troublesome…yes, that’s it exactly. That’s my little Mandy in a…in a nutshell,” Berkley groaned.
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