Page 15 of Her Devious Daddies

Despite all my protests, I desperately craved whatever he was about to give me. Nodding, I finally answered a muffled, “Yes, Sir.”

Logan dropped his hand and moved behind me, slapping either side of my ass hard. I groaned from the sharp bite of pain. His palm was not light, and we’d barely started. I also realized with growing certainty that what we were doing was far away from a scene. No, it felt personal. He repeated the pattern multiple times, shifting his target to my upper thighs, then back to my ass. It hurt, but something about his handling of me soothed something deep inside. My soul? I didn’t know at the moment, but it might be the right answer. He spanked me hard and fast, but not for long.

Logan kneading his knuckles into the soft, fleshy part of my ass caused me to wince from the unexpected flair of pain. I closed my eyes, begging myself not to sass. Don’t egg him on. I’d already bratted enough to last a lifetime, not just tonight, but for the past few weeks. I’d thought my subtle and sometimes not-so-subtle behaviors and poking had gone unnoticed. I was wrong.

“What color are you, August?”

I considered myself an experienced Dom but never on the receiving end of anything unless it was a demo of some sort. “I’m still green, Sir.”

“Good boy,” he praised.

“Thank you, Sir.” Did I have a praise kink? My cock hardened, painfully pressing against his desk. Why did I want him to call me a good boy all the time? What the hell was wrong with me tonight? I was not submissive. And not into men, huh? Logan’s statement from earlier scrolled through my head like a program on a marquee.

He patted my hip. “Are you ready to apologize yet?”

“No, Sir.”

“How unfortunate for you,” he concluded. “Stay here. Don’t move.”

I really wished I had lied to him and forced some semblance of an apology out of my clumsy mouth instead of telling him the truth. And yet, I could not deny how badly I wanted Logan to absolutely dominate me, spank my ass until it glowed red, and then kiss me like I was the air he needed to breathe.

Stupid.

I’d never admit it, so he would never know. I was tired of pretending to be someone I wasn’t, and yet I did not know how to overcome my nerves. My family had been labeled snobs, outsiders, and the like, since we’d moved here. Well, no. That wasn’t fair. A handful of people had said it and none of them were like the people I met here at the club. Creekside Lounge remained one of the only places in town where I felt truly free and at peace. If I said any of that to Logan, he would have helped me settle in when I first moved here. Instead, I admired him on the sidelines. Friendly, but not friends. I rolled my neck on my shoulders, anticipating whatever my crush had in store for me.

“Answer me limit or kink,” he commanded as he returned to the desk. “Understood?”

I glanced at him. He looked good from this angle too. “Yes, Sir.”

“Rope.”

“Limit.”

“Leather cuffs.”

“Clarification.”

“Go ahead.”

“During a scene or during sex?”

Logan chuckled. “I’m talking about a scene, not sex, but tell me both.”

“During a scene it would be a limit, during sex it’s a kink.” Why the hell was I telling him about what I could be into in the bedroom? I’d let a few of my submissives use cuffs on me and though it had been hot at the time, they wound up getting a little too into it. It left them feeling like they were in charge instead of me and ultimately, I had to stop doing it. Logan would already be in control, so the issue was moot.

“Very good,” he finally answered. “Limit or kink? Butt plug.”

“Clarification.”

“Denied. Answer limit or kink.”

I knew what he was doing because I played this game with many submissives in the same way. It would tell the Dominant quickly if there were any sort of limits he needed to know about. Well, that and the negotiation portion that I had inevitably skipped. “Unknown.”

Logan pressed something hard to my left ass cheek. It felt cool and solid. Four well-placed strikes bounced off my butt with precise precision. It should be illegal to aim so well.

“Ow! That fucking hurt!” I drummed my feet up and down. I did not enjoy the pain presented via whatever the hell kind of material the paddle was made of.

“Color?”

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