Her Daddy, Dom, and Neighbor in One Ch. 04

This is the fourth chapter of my DD/bg story. All of the participants of this are of legal age. This is a story from a particular segment of the BDSM community depicting a DD/bg relationship. This is NOT a tale of incest! There will be a fifth part, but it will be after I close a few more projects. Enjoy!

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Cassie awoke to sunlight through the curtains. For a tumultuous moment, she panicked, worried that she was tardy to work. Pulling the cover back, she started to rise in a flurry of activity, only to be stopped by an iron arm and Daddy's will of steel.

"Where are you going, little one?" he growled drowsily. He tugged her on top of him so that they were nose-to-nose, her body's soft spots cushioning her against his hard-muscle-encased bones.

"Hi," she whispered shyly, her nose brushing his playfully.

Max tugged her down by the pigtails he insisted that she wear to bed. "Good morning," he grumbled against her lips. Nothing was said in the moments that followed as his lips rapaciously claimed hers, stealing her breath. Eventually, he broke away with a heartfelt groan. "Babygirl, what you do to me! You have me completely flustered. You never even answered my question. Where are you going?"

"I'm going to work; I'm late," she sighed against his mouth.

A grin was his response. "Today is a holiday, remember? No work for you. I thought we could go visit Zander today and explain that we are dating."

Cassie pulled away a bit, her eyes clouding with memories of yesterday. Sure, Max had explained that Lucinda meant less than nothing to him, but that did not mean that everything was sunshine and rainbows. His defense did not exonerate him or extinguish her hurt emotions from yesterday.

Yes, she had forgiven him his misstep, as both of them were apprehensive about Zander's reaction. But that did not dissolve the hurt or the worry that he might refuse to acknowledge her in the future as his.

"What's wrong, Cass?" Max posed the obvious question, but was certain he knew what brought the doubt and acute misgiving into the brown eyes that mutely challenged his.

She tried several times to speak, but she was unsure how to broach it. Her naturally submissive nature ran deeper than most. Cassie truly did not want to gainsay Max. In fact, she wanted to acquiesce in order to pretend that everything was just fine. She abhorred confrontation.

Finally, she summoned up enough courage to reply, "Just because I have forgiven you does not mean everything is all marshmallows and sprinkles. Things are not one hundred percent okay. I hurt." She inhaled slowly, deeply, knowing her next words would sting. "I don't know if I can completely trust you," Cassie rebuked him.

Max's brown eyes flared in reaction to her words, and she saw the struggle within him not to respond emotionally, to snap back at her. Incrementally, that flame of agony in his own brown eyes banked, smoldering slowly. "You're absolutely right; I have to earn that trust back." He pulled her to him, hugging her protectively close. The last time he had embraced her with such tenderness had been the night of the negative pregnancy test.

For a second, she hesitated. Was she wrong for not trusting him again completely? She had forgiven him, understood, even, why he did not apprise Zander and Cami of the truth of the situation yesterday. They had known each other all of her life. So, why could she not instantly trust him again?

But then she remembered how Daddy's refusal to push Lucinda away yesterday affected her, and her heart ached again anew.

Max eyed Cassie. A large part of him had hoped that Cassie and he could progress from yesterday's events. He realized he was completely in the wrong but had hoped that his history with Cassie would remind her that he was trustworthy. Scouring his brain for the magic words or phrases, he soon comprehended that all he could offer her would be mere platitudes.

He recognized that he had to do something—or he risked losing Cassie as his. Or, worse, he ruminated, he chanced destroying the parts of Cassie that he loved. Max had not lied to Zander when he called Cassie "the one." Now, all that remained was to demonstrate to her that, without a shadow of a doubt, he loved her and needed her as much as she needed him.

Setting her away from him with a kiss to her forehead, Max began to formulate his plan to repair the damage he caused yesterday.

Something Cassie had said had struck as a way to break the ice with her in his mind. A peace offering, of sorts. One that would make his little one smile. She glanced up quizzically as he exited his bed. "It's okay," he whispered, tucking her in. "You stay here, and I'll go get breakfast."

Max set the television on Boomerang so that she could watch cartoons. Her eyes were large in her face; she did not quite understand the purpose of his errand, but she soon would. Backing his truck out of his driveway, Max whistled optimistically.

Cassie nested against the pillows on Max's luxurious bed, reveling in the novelty of not having to do anything. Usually, being idle drove her crazy. But she was following Daddy's orders which made it almost acceptable.

After a few minutes, she decided to do a bit of cleaning. Lifting her dress from where it pooled into molten silver near the door of his bedroom, she then looked in his walk-in closet. There were no free hangers.

Stymied, she shuffled down the hall, humming softly. She glanced in his guest room, but there were no hangers in there, either.

Heading further down the hall, there was only one room that she had never glimpsed inside. Cassie turned the door knob but was quickly thwarted when she discovered it was locked.

Curious, she noted the key hanging from a hook on the door frame. Cassie struggled with her conscience for a few moments, knowing this was an egregious breach of Daddy's privacy. The hurt part of her rationalized reaching with excited fingers for the key attached with the black silk ribbon as an attempt to see if her returning trust in him was justified.

It took two tries with shaking fingers to slide the key into place. As she pushed the door silently open, all thoughts of searching for a hanger for her dress evaporated, and the dress slipped from her slack fingers to the floor. A pregnant pause followed during which she could not even breathe; she could only absorb visually the opulent, sadistic display before her.

She might be nearly a novice in the D/s world, but she had seen enough pictures and videos and read enough descriptions to realize that she stood at the threshold of a dungeon.

Her heartbeat pounded in her ears as she stepped forward, mesmerized like the proverbial kid in a candy store. Whips, crops, paddles, canes, clamps, shackles, and rope vied for her attention in a riotous display. Furniture that she vaguely recognized for use as punishment locations spread spartanly about the room.

But what drew her attention and her gaze was a chest in the center of the room. Heartbeat thudding, she approached it like Bluebeard's wife, her throat dry. All of the moisture in her body seemed localized to the apex between her quivering thighs.

She knelt before it and lifted at the lid. It, too, was locked tight. Cassie looked down at the key she still gripped tightly. Nervous fingers pressed the key in the lock. Turning the key, it clicked.

Slowly, she raised the lid. Just as she was about to peer inside, she heard the harsh shout.

"What are you doing here?"

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Max's hopeful mood continued. In his mind, they had already surmounted their greatest obstacle—letting down their guards enough to become Master and Daddy, submissive and babygirl.

His cheer continued as he walked down the aisle o the grocery store, adding items to his cart. Marshmallows, sprinkles, and white dipping chocolate certainly would not make the healthiest of breakfasts, but he hoped his little girl would comprehend the symbolism behind them, a hearkening back to the words she used as she tried to delineate her feelings about the day before.

As he went through the self-checkout line, he pulled out his phone to check his messages. Last night, after Cassie and he had arrived at his home, he had texted Zander to let his friend know that he had found Cassie and that she was safe.

Immediately after that, Cassie had distracted him by stripping out of her barely-there dress, so he did not see Zander's response.

Zander: Cami and I went by her house at 2 a.m., and her car was still not parked in the driveway.

Oh, shit, Max seethed inwardly, furious with himself. Cassie's car was still at the club from last night. Neither he nor she had wished to separate long enough for them to drive home in separate vehicles. He texted back:

Max: I'm sure she's okay, man. I saw her myself this morning, and she's perfectly fine. Besides, what were you doing out with Cami at 2:00 a.m.?

Zander: Cami and I were worried about Cassie. She's Cassie's best friend, and I'm her brother. Usually, you are at the front of the line in mothering Cassie. What's up, man? Getting back with Lucinda? What happened to your supposed new one and only? "The one," I think you called her.

Max: She and I are back on track, no thanks to Lucinda—or to me. Luckily, she forgave me.

Max paused, and then he added in his text:

Max: You and Cami aren't a thing, are you?

Zander: No way, man! Cami is my sister's best friend. It would be like you and Cassie dating. My best friend and my sister? No way, man! No offense. LOL.

Max visibly paled and sent back an "LOL" in response. He knew he should not, but he felt offended. He, Max, was a responsible adult. Zander and he had been best friends pretty much since birth. And he wasn't good enough for Cassie?

Rationally, he realized that a major part of Zander's vehement "no" where he and Cassie were involved came about as a result of Zander's knowledge of what he called "Max's interest in that whips and chains stuff."

He started to second guess his decision to come clean to Zander this afternoon. There would be no way of pretending that he and Cassie were engaged in a merely 'nilla relationship. And now he was forced to pull his head from the sand and admit that Zander would go ballistic when he discovered their relationship.

Quickly paying for his purchases, Max walked out to his truck, slid in, and sped away. He did not peek at his phone again but instead secreted it in his pocket.

When he arrived home, he entered the house through the kitchen door and set down the "breakfast" goodies. He crept into the bedroom, hearing the cartoons still on the television. But Cassie was not there—or in the bathroom attached to his bedroom. Or the closet.

He retraced his steps to the hallway and noticed three things that set his blood to boiling. One, the key was missing from its hook. Two, the door to the dungeon was unlocked and open. Three, Cassie's dress from the evening before lay in a molten pool of silver at the dungeon's threshold.

Cassie! How dare she violate his privacy that way!?

His first inclination was to stomp loudly and furiously into the room. Reflecting a moment, he decided it would be best if he caught Cassie unawares. Plus, this gave him the opportunity to temper his anger.

Slowly, silently, he crept to the door. Cassie was opening the lid of the trunk.

"What are you doing here?" he thundered.

Cassie's reaction was comical. She arose from her kneeling position, the key clattering to the wooden floor. Fear and apprehension painted her face a pasty white. But she correctly interpreted his mien—Master, not Daddy.

"Strip and kneel, Abby," Max ordered. The shift to her online name signified an altered tone to his attitude. Shaking hands and trembling fingers curled around the open button-down shirt of his that she had pulled over her My Little Pony cami top featuring Pinkie Pie. Anxiously, she shrugged out of it and toyed with the hem of the top.

"All of it, Cassandra Abigail," he prompted.

Eyes downcast, Cassie lifted the cami top up over her head, leaving her bare from the waist up. Max's eyes were drawn to her nipples, already aroused and erect from viewing the instruments in the chamber. "Yes, Master," she whispered, already contrite.

Max felt his resolve to punish her falter. Again, he had to remind himself that, without punishment, she may never learn what he considered acceptable behavior. And sneaking behind his back in this manner could never be considered appropriate. It was time to explain to her the rules he expected her to follow.

Hooking her thumbs on either side of her pale pink panties, she slid them down and stepped out of them. He could not mistake nor did she attempt to hide the wet spot on the pale blush cotton. From where he stood, ten feet away, he could smell her aromatic juices.

Maintaining a calm expression even though he sported a tenting erection, he strode into the room stopping a few feet away from her, sealing and locking the door in the process. "Kneel," he commanded, gesturing at his feet.

Cassie appeared to consider his command, trying to read his desires and intentions in his face as she shyly looked upon his face. Sinking first to kneel and then on all fours, she crawled to him, her ass swishing as she progressed.

Seeing her ass thus animated, Max's fingers itched for one of his crops—or a cane. Instead, he curled his fingers into fists at his sides.

Her fingers brushed his boots and she rose up to her knees, kneeling properly and presenting herself to him. "Master, I'm so sorry. It was not right of me to enter your locked..." she trailed off trying to find a euphemism.

"Dungeon?" Max supplied, enjoying the discomfiture his offering caused.

"Dungeon," she echoed, and she shifted slightly to hide her moistened inner thighs.

"Now, little one, before your punishment which you will shortly receive and before your breakfast, you will hear my expectations for you," he spoke, reaching down to caress her cheek.

She sighed from his tender touch. "Rules, Daddy?"

He nodded. "Rules, my pet. Come," he said, guiding her to be seated at a low bench, a spanking bench.

Knowing she would soon be placed in another less comforting position, she relished his gentleness as he lifted her on his lap, cradling her close against his chest.

"Rules, yes," he began, running a yearning hand down her back. "I will have these rules typed up for you to sign. These rules form the basis of our contractual relationship between you and me. Rule number one is that you must respect me in all things and represent me in everything you do. Do you agree to this rule?"

"Yes, Daddy," she whispered, subdued. She displayed very little respect in unlocking and opening that door. And she did not represent him well, at all.

He pressed his lips against hers that were downturned with contrition and regret. "Rule number two," he murmured against those self-same lips, "allow no outside forces to disturb your peace or ours." When she looked up at him curiously, he whispered, "Lucinda."

She nodded and a new light, a new clarity, appeared in her eyes.

"There will be no further trouble from that quarter," he dictated, and Cassie nodded.

"Three: you will be honest with me in all things. If we are approaching a limit of your endurance at any time, you will say 'yellow.' If your limit is reached or exceeded, you will cry 'red.' Is that clear?"

At Cassie's nod, he continued. "Rule four is a bit problematic at this point. You will trust me in all things. I realize, in light of yesterday's events, this rule will take a while to be accepted, but I hope that you will trust me again."

She nodded again. "Yes, Daddy," she answered, her voice stronger this time.

With a glance around the room, he brought up a new topic. "As to limits, we have discussed the generic, basic ones that deal with legalities. In the next few days, we will define each of our soft—and hard—limits."

Cassie's nod this time was more unsure. Outside of the obvious—animals, blood, and waste products—she was not sure she had any limits—either hard or soft.

Max let out a nearly regretful sigh. "I realize I battered your trust in me yesterday, but invading my privacy was not the way to ameliorate your concerns. As such, you must be punished."

With the utmost care and gentleness that belied his words, he carried her to the low table, menacing only in the context it sat. He arranged her legs, spread them to attach them low at the ankles with leather straps, then bent her over the table top to restrain her wrists along the side of the table.

Cassie's breath hitched on an apprehensive sigh. If he were strapping her down, the punishment had to be severe. With a gentle hand, he stroked down her back, tenderly soothing her.

"Five of the paddle, baby girl. And, then it will be breakfast time." He deliberately softened his voice at the end, reminding her of the treat to come.

Max walked to face her at the table and the reason for only five smacks became visible: the paddle was two inches wide and approximately twenty-four inches long. The truly disquieting part was the line of holes drilled in the darkly-stained wood. Max pulled her up gently by the hair. With a caress equal to one she might bestow on Daddy, she lovingly pressed her lips to the spanking implement.

He smiled down upon her, brushing his lips on her forehead before walking around to the back of the table. Cassie noticed a particularly insidious feature before her. Facing her was a full-length mirror designed to allow her to see every movement he made in disciplining her.

She found she could not look away from it. With a caress on her lower cheeks, Max pulled back his other hand. Cassie remembered in that split second before the board slammed into her, stealing her breath of everything except a scream, that the holes allowed for reduced air resistance.

"Count," he directed, and she struggled to get her bearings for a few moments before being able to even speak. But, fuck! It hurt!

"One," she mewled weakly. "Thank you, Sir." She only just recalled that she was to address him as "Sir" for punishment.

He nodded, his breathing and hers, both harsh, the only sounds in the room for scant moments. She noted that he was hard and erect through his pants, and Cassie felt her pussy dew in response.

Four more, she could do it! When he swung back again and connected with her ass, claiming both cheeks a bit lower in a fiery kiss, she realized the futility of her pep talk. "Two," Cassie howled. "Thank you, Sir."

Before she could breathe, Max volleyed another soul-searing swat, catching her near the crease where ass met thigh. Luckily, she was strapped into place because her entire body sagged. "Over halfway there, Cass. You are doing such a good job," he crooned. Then, he seemed to recall that this was a punishment session and reminded her, "Count, pet."

"Three," she whimpered. "Thank you, Sir."

The fourth swat slammed in the exact spot as the first, making it burn anew. "Four," she croaked, although her inner masochist sang and craved it. She knew that the fifth would make her orgasm.

Max realized it, as well, fingering her slit, gliding between her puffy lips to tease and tweak her clit. Then, he pulled back, and Cassie inhaled sharply and squeezed her eyes shut.

CRAAAAACKKKKKK!!

A starburst of fire engulfed her, propelling her in an orgasmic cataclysm. In the moments that followed, she was blind, mute, and deaf as she drifted to an untouchable oasis of serenity.

Vaguely, some small part of her mind registered that Max unhurriedly unrestrained her from the table, kissing and caressing her ankles and wrists, murmuring endearments and words of praise and caring, another port of calm in the storm that had raged on the table.