because I seem to recall begging and whining."
Mark snickers and folds his arms across his chest. His end of Brayden's leash is looped around his hand. "You biting off a bit more than you ca n chew, hon?"
"Who is?" And welcome to the show, Cade Kingsley. Both he and Dylan appear behind Mark, who shifts to the side to make room. This is just great. Insert eye-roll. "Little Kayla?" He cocks a pierced brow at me. "And here I was, thinking she's always a good girl."
Daddy lets out a gruff laugh and hugs me from behind . "That’s funny." Oh yeah, a real crack-up. I scowl at the ground in an attempt to hide my flushing cheeks. "Wasn’t that funny, baby girl?" Dipping down, he nips at my neck while his large hands roam my upper thighs, slowly bunching up my already-short dress. "If only Cade knew just how much trouble you could be, huh?"
"Nah, I don’t believe it for a second." Cade smirks in challenge.
"Well, this looks like fun…" Mark grins. "But Evangeline has a date with my new cane." I hadn't noticed it, but now I see his toy bag at his feet. "And Brayden's dying to try a new plug."
Even in the darkness of the club, it's easy to see the fire spreading over Brayden's cheeks, but I remember Evangeline telling me when we spoke on the phone over the holidays that humiliation turns him on.
After wishing us a nice evening—and promising that Evangeline and I can catch up later—Mark steers his subs toward the Cave and the scening stalls there.
"Why don’t we take this to the private booth?" Daddy suggests, and I wish my name for the booth—the Cabana—would catch on. 'Cause it really looks like a cabana! A dark and gothic one, with velvet fabrics hanging down, offering complete seclusion and an erotic atmosphere. It's big, too—eight or nine people would fit. Well, if they're as small as me. Maybe six Nicholas's? "Come on, baby girl." Before I know it, Daddy picks me up and positions me on his hip. "I think you're done running around for tonight."
I squeak and try to pull down my dress, but Daddy clearly doesn’t want that. "I'm not wearing any panties," I whine. "Everyone can see my bottom."
"It's a very gorgeous little bottom." He squeezes it for emphasis, and I wince from the walloping this morning. Daddy laughs, the evil dummy.
With a hmph , I look over his shoulder, then giggle when Dylan crosses his light blue eyes and sticks out his tongue at me. Always the clown. Always the one who demands to see people in a good mood. He recently moved to San Francisco, yet it took no effort at all for him to find his place in our group. He's very outgoing, a people person like me.
Some even think we're siblings, 'cause we share the same reddish brown hair—although his is only a few inches long and shaggy—light blue eyes, and fair skin. But that’s where the similarities stop.
Like Brayden, Dylan has a swimmer's body, but that’s because he actually is a swimmer—a professional one. Wide shoulders, narrow hips, and defined muscles.
Cade seems to like having all that goodness on display, because he's ordered Dylan to only wear baby blue pajama bottoms.
"Here we go." Daddy has my attention again as he pulls the velvet aside and enters the private booth. "You and Dylan can sit over there." He nudges me toward the left corner of the booth while Cade points for Dylan to take the right. "We'll be right back with drinks. And behave, Kayla." Stern look.
"Okay—but, Daddy? May I please have a new lollipop? A strawberry one?" I just love that little addition to the menu, and surprisingly, it was Mark who had thought of it. He does the inventory—and the alcohol and snack orders—being in charge of the bars and all. I thought it was very sweet of him to think of the Littles. However, it's disturbing that he also put ginger root, lemon slices, salt, mint oil, and wasabi on the menu, all parts of chemical play.
Daddy called it genius and added Tabasco.
Evangeline said "ow." Then she probably came.
"We'll see if I'm
Mark snickers and folds his arms across his chest. His end of Brayden's leash is looped around his hand. "You biting off a bit more than you ca n chew, hon?"
"Who is?" And welcome to the show, Cade Kingsley. Both he and Dylan appear behind Mark, who shifts to the side to make room. This is just great. Insert eye-roll. "Little Kayla?" He cocks a pierced brow at me. "And here I was, thinking she's always a good girl."
Daddy lets out a gruff laugh and hugs me from behind . "That’s funny." Oh yeah, a real crack-up. I scowl at the ground in an attempt to hide my flushing cheeks. "Wasn’t that funny, baby girl?" Dipping down, he nips at my neck while his large hands roam my upper thighs, slowly bunching up my already-short dress. "If only Cade knew just how much trouble you could be, huh?"
"Nah, I don’t believe it for a second." Cade smirks in challenge.
"Well, this looks like fun…" Mark grins. "But Evangeline has a date with my new cane." I hadn't noticed it, but now I see his toy bag at his feet. "And Brayden's dying to try a new plug."
Even in the darkness of the club, it's easy to see the fire spreading over Brayden's cheeks, but I remember Evangeline telling me when we spoke on the phone over the holidays that humiliation turns him on.
After wishing us a nice evening—and promising that Evangeline and I can catch up later—Mark steers his subs toward the Cave and the scening stalls there.
"Why don’t we take this to the private booth?" Daddy suggests, and I wish my name for the booth—the Cabana—would catch on. 'Cause it really looks like a cabana! A dark and gothic one, with velvet fabrics hanging down, offering complete seclusion and an erotic atmosphere. It's big, too—eight or nine people would fit. Well, if they're as small as me. Maybe six Nicholas's? "Come on, baby girl." Before I know it, Daddy picks me up and positions me on his hip. "I think you're done running around for tonight."
I squeak and try to pull down my dress, but Daddy clearly doesn’t want that. "I'm not wearing any panties," I whine. "Everyone can see my bottom."
"It's a very gorgeous little bottom." He squeezes it for emphasis, and I wince from the walloping this morning. Daddy laughs, the evil dummy.
With a hmph , I look over his shoulder, then giggle when Dylan crosses his light blue eyes and sticks out his tongue at me. Always the clown. Always the one who demands to see people in a good mood. He recently moved to San Francisco, yet it took no effort at all for him to find his place in our group. He's very outgoing, a people person like me.
Some even think we're siblings, 'cause we share the same reddish brown hair—although his is only a few inches long and shaggy—light blue eyes, and fair skin. But that’s where the similarities stop.
Like Brayden, Dylan has a swimmer's body, but that’s because he actually is a swimmer—a professional one. Wide shoulders, narrow hips, and defined muscles.
Cade seems to like having all that goodness on display, because he's ordered Dylan to only wear baby blue pajama bottoms.
"Here we go." Daddy has my attention again as he pulls the velvet aside and enters the private booth. "You and Dylan can sit over there." He nudges me toward the left corner of the booth while Cade points for Dylan to take the right. "We'll be right back with drinks. And behave, Kayla." Stern look.
"Okay—but, Daddy? May I please have a new lollipop? A strawberry one?" I just love that little addition to the menu, and surprisingly, it was Mark who had thought of it. He does the inventory—and the alcohol and snack orders—being in charge of the bars and all. I thought it was very sweet of him to think of the Littles. However, it's disturbing that he also put ginger root, lemon slices, salt, mint oil, and wasabi on the menu, all parts of chemical play.
Daddy called it genius and added Tabasco.
Evangeline said "ow." Then she probably came.
"We'll see if I'm
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