Page 182 of Daddy, Sir

For the first time, Frankie’s attention shifted to the pair of metal bars at the end of the platform, where a man easily twice the size of Mistress Rogue stood, his arms and legs splayed in the same X formation as the device he was cuffed to. “Yes, Mistress.”

Mistress Rogue’s smirk spread to a grin as she ran the strips of leather she held through her fingers. A flogger, Frankie was pretty sure it was called, and it looked a lot more fearsome than her Daddy had made it sound.

“Now… what should we do about that, I wonder?”

It was obviously a rhetorical question, because Mistress Rogue didn’t bother to wait for a response before she let the leather fly. The flogger connected with the man’s upper back, and he jerked against the metal bars.

For a moment, Frankie was worried he was really hurt. But then she got a look at him. Even with the scruff of his beard obscuring part of his face, she could see the euphoric smile curving his lips. And when the flogger connected with his shoulders again, he let out a low moan that couldn’t be mistaken for anything other than ecstasy.

Would it be like that for her? Would she enjoy letting Holden hurt her like that?

Behind her, Holden shifted, and a moment later she was pulled back against him, the thick band of his arm wrapped around her waist as his other hand slid up her bare thigh and under the glittery black dress she’d poured herself into for their date. Per his instructions, she’d left her underwear at home, which he’d praised her for moments before shoving a huge chunk of rubber up her ass.

“You’re being such a good girl, Francesca,” he murmured in her ear as his fingers brushed over her soaked lips. “Put your feet shoulder width apart and lean back against me.”

Spellbound by him and the scene playing out in front of them, she shifted into position, her fingers digging into his arm for balance as he pushed a thick finger inside her.

“You put orgasm denial down as a ‘Yes’ on your survey. I wonder… do you actually know what it’s like to be denied, my naughty little siren?”

At the time, she’d assumed she did. After all, she’d been with plenty of men who didn’t know a vagina from a hole in the ground, so it wasn’t unusual for her to leave a man’s bed feeling less than satisfied.

But Holden had already proven he knew his way around a woman’s body. A fact she hadn’t taken into consideration when she’d filled out her survey.

And now she was trapped against him, with his clever fingers leisurely stroking her pussy, slowly driving her out of her mind with need as they watched the scene in front of them play out.

A low whine slipped from her lips and the arm around her waist tightened. “Shh. You mustn’t make a sound, little siren. You wouldn’t want to distract Mistress Rogue, would you?”

That was the last thing she wanted. Not only had he explained how dangerous it could be to interfere with a scene, he’d made it clear if she broke the club rules he would take her back to his house and send her to bed with a sore bottom and no orgasms.

The spanking she could handle. The orgasms, however…

What the hell had she been thinking when she’d filled out that damn survey?

Chapter Eight

Holden

She was perfection. Heaven in his arms, with her arousal coating his hand as she struggled to keep quiet despite the pleasure he was tormenting her with. Fingernails digging into his flesh, she bucked her hips against his hand, clearly seeking release.

“Naughty girl,” he growled in her ear. “Daddy decides when you get to come. Not you.”

Pulling his hand away, he tugged her dress back down, and he had to swallow a laugh at the annoyed huff she let out. “Come on. Let’s see what else you might enjoy watching.”

“You’re mean,” she whispered sulkily, pouting up at him in a way that actually looked genuine rather than for show. “Are you going to make me wait all night?”

“Maybe. I haven’t decided yet.”

“Ugh. That’s just… justmean!”

There was such righteous indignation in her tone, he nearly laughed. Pulling her into a dark corner, out of the way of the scenes happening around them, he grabbed her wrists in one hand, pinning her against the wall behind them. He shoved hisfree hand between her legs, watching in delight as fear flickered in her eyes.

“Whose collar is that wrapped around your pretty little throat, Francesca?”

“Yours,” she whispered, her breath catching as he pushed two fingers inside her tight channel.

“That’s right. And who am I?”

“D-Daddy.”

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