Page 43 of Good Girl

With every new discovery of the space, my stomach tightens and my pulse quickens. There are so many things that I recognize from the research I did, but even more that I don’t. And the crazy thing? The fear and uncertainty about the things that I know nothing about is driving my insides crazy with excitement and interest.

I want to know what all the things are in this room.

I want to be tied down, up, restrained, and driven insane with every one of the tools they house in this room.

I want them to own my pleasure. To make me burn the way they did last night.

And isn’t that a complete mindfuck?

Chapter 22

Derek

Emery’s eyes are wide as she scans the room, taking in her reality for the rest of the weekend. It gives her an naïve and innocent look that causes the darker elements inside of me to rise up with the urge to corrupt.

We won’t be using everything on her, not even close; there simply isn’t time. But she will get a taste from each of us.

Hopefully, it will leave her hungry for more.

But I’m getting ahead of myself. Darcy’s intentions are less than subtle when it comes to Emery. It’s plain as day that he wants to keep her, like he has a crystal ball that tells him twelve months from now she’ll still be ours. That she is and will continue to be, perfect for the four of us.

I can’t disagree that she hasn’t been perfect—so far. That, however, does not mean she will be perfect going forward. There have been plenty of women who have been perfect in the moment but have then turned unsuitable. Both in our single pursuits and in our very few group attempts. I’m not going to put myself, or my friends, through another sub who has a preference for one or more, but not all, of us. The outcome of this weekend will shed more light on how she fits with us, but I am refusing to let myself be as hopeful as Darcy.

Besides, Emery is eighteen. She has a whole world of possibilities to explore. For her, this weekend is about earning cash—a lot of fucking cash—as a sugar baby. About pleasing her daddies so her bank account is lined for however long she manages to hold on to said cash.

With that sobering thought, I return my attention to the moment. Emery has seemingly forgotten that she is stark naked. I follow the line of her attention and smirk when my gaze finds what has captivated her.

While she was in the bath with Xavier, the rest of us shifted things around out here, making the spanking bench the focal point of the room. I adjusted the lighting so that everywhere else is slightly darker, naturally drawing the eye to the space. It helps that there is a dimmed overhead spotlight.

I make eye contact with Hudson and Darcy, who are both standing in the shadows, and give a swift nod. Quietly, they prowl among our much-loved and minimally used black leather and wooden furniture until they stand close to the bench.

Emery jumps as I place my hand on her lower back, the wet ends of her hair tickling the back of my hand. When she looks up at me, her eyes are wide and questioning, triggering my daddyness.

“Daddy?”

“It’s okay, baby. We are just going to play. Come and have a look.” I gently apply pressure until she takes a hesitant step forward and then another.

I look at the bench and try to see it for the first time.

It could almost be confused for a wooden picnic bench, except for the fact that the tabletop is very thin—about the thickness of a hand—and padded. The arm and knee rests are positioned parallel to the main support; however, the positions are adjustable. Something for a future play. Right now, they are set up for a traditional kneeling position.

Belt-like straps hang loosely to the ground from every support. Emery can’t see it from this angle, but there is also a headrest ready to be positioned once she is strapped in.

Stopping beside the bench, I place my other hand on top of the black leather cushion and smooth my hand over it. “Do you know what this is?”

Darcy and Hudson have joined our space, but they’re standing back toward the wall, allowing Emery and I to have a moment together as I introduce her to my world. There is something to be said for playing with friends. They know all your quirks and how you prefer for a scene to unfold.

Emery turns her wide eyes to me. “Are you going to spank me, Daddy? Have I been a bad girl?”

There is a touch of fear in those big, beautiful hazel eyes and a slight quiver to her voice. The combination sends streaks of desire straight to my balls.

Reaching out, I cup her face and smooth my thumb over her cheek. “No, baby, you’ve been a perfect girl. You’ve made me very happy so far.”

She bites her lower lip, and her brows furrow, forming a cute little V at the top of her nose. “But why…”

“This is one of the many ways I like to play,” I reply, keeping my voice low and unthreatening. With a soft but continuous pressure, I pull Emery to me, cuddling her naked body against my bare chest. I want to moan at the sensation of her warm, supple body pressed against mine, but I maintain control of myself. “How about I show you what I am going to use on you once I have you restrained and at my mercy?”

Her breath hitches on my last word, then she nods her head jerkily.

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