Page 13 of Their Little Christmas Bounty
Mostof it is directed toward brats.
She has no reason to call usDaddies.We haven’t established any sort of power play agreement, we haven’t even met in person.
Yet my hand already twitches, eager with the idea of spanking her naughty ass.
We reach the Low Vice parking lot.It’s hidden behind the building so that the vanilla Club Vice patrons don’t accidentally stumble across it.Low Vice is the kinky side of Vice, and one of San Esteban’s best-kept secrets.
We get out of the car.I slam my door shut.“How did sheknow?”
“Know that we’re daddydoms?”He shrugs.“Who cares?She knows, so what are we going to do about it?”
I don’t fucking know, so I say nothing.
Lyle puts on a rare burst of energy and hurries to the door.We’ve both been dragging for days, constantly searching for Ariel and following leads to dead-ends.But stick Lyle in the Low Vice parking lot and he perks up like a dog hearing the word “walkies.”
We get to the door, where a tall bouncer named Tag waits.
He gives us a low whistle.“You two look…different.”
I can imagine.We’re still in our Ironwood gear—black pants, black t-shirts.We usually dress nicer for Low Vice.At least, our clothes would be clean.
“Yeah.Rough couple of days.We just need to relax for a bit.”I don’t want to tell him we’re on the job.He probably wouldn’t like the idea that we’re here looking for a bounty, and I don’t want to cause trouble for him or for the club.So we’ll do this quiet.
“Well, have fun.”He opens the door to let us through.
The entire place is lit by red and green Christmas lights which reflect off the black walls.It’s fairly crowded, too.I thought it might be quieter on Christmas, but nope.Seems like a good number of people are eager to shed the stress of the season by getting their freak on.Two men sit in a booth, their hands under the table and expressions of bliss on their faces.A woman in a red dress, thigh-high red boots, and a Santa hat leads a man and a woman around, leashes attached to their collars.Her subs are wearing Christmas elf ears and forest-green, pleather booty shorts.
No time to enjoy the view; I need to find our bounty.I pull up my mental image of Ariel Capulet.Blond hair, green eyes.Five-foot-six, with a curvy body I couldn’t help but salivate over.
I’ve seen her all but naked, getting herself off against a baseball bat, touching herself, posing with lust in those eyes.
I wonder what she looks like in fetwear, if she’s wearing it here.
She’s a job, though.A bounty.A mark.We have to bring her in, not ogle her in the city’s number one kinkster haven.
Only loud enough for Lyle to hear, I mutter, “Where the fucking fuck is that little brat?I swear to fuck, I’m going to?—”
Lyle elbows me.“There she is.”
I follow the line of his gaze to the Saint Andrew’s cross in the far corner.
There’s our mark, bound facing forward, stripped down to her lacy pink bra and panties, a ball gag in her mouth.
Her jade-green eyes shine with gleeful anticipation.
Her play partner draws back his flogger, ready to swing.
* * *
Lyle
What.The.Fuck.
I can’t look away.I want to, but I don’t want to.Ariel Capulet,ourbounty, is getting her tits flogged by none other than our buddy Quentin.
I want to rip the flogger from his hand.Or maybe film the entire scene.
Austin looks like he’s ready to burn the club down.
