The Institute: Daddy Issues (7 page)

“Little Patty here, has been throw­ing a tan­trum be­cause her Daddy told her it was time to move up to the next sized plug.”

The stern nurse held up a device about three inches long from its roun­ded tip to its flat base. In between was a roun­ded bulge which tapered sharply be­fore reach­ing the base. Per­haps the weird­est thing about it was the fact that it was bright, Bar­bie doll pink and there ap­peared to be rhinestones wink­ing from the base. All in all it was con­sid­er­ably big­ger than any­thing I would ever want put up my butt. Then again, I didn’t want
any­thing
up there. From the tears in the girl’s eyes, she felt the same way.

“Please, Daddy,” she whispered, talk­ing to the man who was clearly her Big in a soft, plead­ing tone. “Please, it’s too
big.”

“But it’s not as big as my cock, kit­ten.” The man the nurse had called Daddy Thomas stroked the girl’s cheeks lov­ingly. “Don’t you want to be able to please your Daddy and take his big hard cock all the way up that tight little ass of yours?”

“Well…yes…” The girl nod­ded. “But I’m afraid it might
hurt.”

“Not if you re­lax and open up for Daddy, kit­ten.” He stroked her reddened ass cheeks sooth­ingly. “And af­ter­wards, Daddy will make you feel
so
good. Re­mem­ber, good girls get spe­cial kisses between their legs.”

I could feel my cheeks get­ting hot at his im­plic­a­tion. In ad­di­tion to not want­ing any­thing up my rear, I was also very re­luct­ant to let a man put his face between my thighs. It made me feel too vul­ner­able some­how…too open. I didn’t like that feel­ing—didn’t like it one bit.

But clearly, this wasn’t how the red-haired girl felt.

“Oh, yes, Daddy,” she said eagerly. “I
love
when you give me spe­cial kisses!”

“Well then, you have to open up and take your new plug like a big girl, kit­ten,” he said. “Please don’t make me paddle you again. You’re little ass is already rosy red—I know it must hurt.”

“It does…” Two fat tears slipped down the girl’s flushed cheeks. “I don’t want an­other spank­ing, Daddy. Not now, any­way.”

“Well then, spread your legs for Daddy.” He held out his hand and the nurse coated the tip of the bright pink plug lib­er­ally in lube and handed it to him.

“Okay, Daddy.” The girl had star­ted cry­ing again but she wasn’t try­ing to fight him. In­stead, she spread her legs wider, show­ing us the tight bud of her anus as well as the soft, pink folds of her bare pussy. I couldn’t help no­ti­cing that she was clean shaven down there—com­pletely smooth. I sup­posed that was how this sick fuck pre­tend­ing to be her Daddy liked her.

The Daddy in ques­tion pressed the tip of the plug to the girl’s tight rose­bud. She wiggled a little and let out a cry as he began to push it in.

Once more I wished help­lessly for my gun but even if I’d had it with me, there wasn’t much I could have done. If I tried to stop the scene in front of me, I would have blown our cover for sure. Still, I didn’t want to just stand by and watch the girl get anally vi­ol­ated.

I star­ted to step for­ward but Salt stopped me with a hand on my arm. He pulled me back­wards, away from the ac­tion so that we could speak privately in the back corner of the room.

“Let go,” I muttered to him, un­der my breath. “We can’t just stand here and watch this hap­pen without do­ing any­thing about it!”

“Look at her, Andi,” he mur­mured back, speak­ing dir­ectly into my ear.

“I see her,” I snapped back. “She’s
cry­ing
be­cause she’s be­ing anally raped!”

“I do not think it is rape,” he said softly. “And I do not think she is un­will­ing. Look at her—she is aroused.”

“What are you talk­ing about?” I de­man­ded. “How can some­thing like this arouse her?”

“I don’t know.” He shrugged. “Maybe be­cause she en­joys sub­mit­ting? But look at her pussy—she is wet, Andi. So wet and open.”

Re­luct­antly, I looked at the girl on the table again. To my chag­rin, I saw that Salt was right. The girl’s pussy was swollen and spread as though beg­ging for at­ten­tion. And she was so wet her juices were coat­ing the in­sides of her thighs. This seemed to catch the at­ten­tion of her Daddy too.

“Look at you, kit­ten,” he muttered, his voice thick with lust. “Look at how hot and wet your little cunny is get­ting for Daddy.”

“Yes, Daddy,” the girl gasped breath­lessly. “Please Daddy, touch me while you do this. Touch me while you fill up my little hole.”

“Of course I will, kit­ten.” As he con­tin­ued to in­sert the plug with one hand, he slipped his other between her legs and began rub­bing her swollen pussy. The girl moaned and ground her­self against his fin­gers, gasp­ing and cry­ing as he slipped the thick plug deeper and deeper into her back pas­sage.

“Oh, Daddy,” she gasped, writh­ing against him. “Oh, Daddy, I think…I think I’m go­ing to come! Please, Daddy—can I come?”

“As soon as I get your new plug all the way in­side you, kit­ten,” he told her. “Then you have Daddy’s per­mis­sion to come all over his fin­gers.”

“Yes, Daddy…
please,
Daddy!” she moaned, press­ing back against him.

Though I would have sworn earlier that this whole scene was com­pletely non­con­sen­sual, I saw now that Salt was right. It was just some kind of a show the two of them were put­ting on and it seemed like the girl really got off on hav­ing an audi­ence. Prob­ably that was the whole point of hav­ing the nurse in the room in the first place—so she could “wit­ness” the op­er­a­tion. And now we had got­ten roped in to watch­ing too.

The whole thing was sick but I found I couldn’t drag my eyes away. As the bright pink plug fi­nally slid home in­side her, the girl threw back her head and moaned like a wild an­imal.

“Daddy!” she gasped, press­ing back hard against his fin­gers. “Oh, Daddy I’m com­ing! Com­ing so hard just for
you.”

“That’s right, kit­ten,” he growled, rub­bing her slick pussy harder and faster. “That’s right, come for me. Come for Daddy. Come nice and
hard.
”

God, were they for real? Did this weird fet­ish really turn them on that much?

More to the point, was it turn­ing
me
on? Be­cause my nipples were tight and tender and the V between my legs seemed to be pulsing in time to my heart­beat. I felt wet and swollen there. But why would watch­ing such a sick dis­play do that to me?

Sud­denly, as we watched the in­tim­ate scene, I real­ized Salt and I were still hold­ing hands. I tore my eyes away from the sight on the exam table and looked up at him, ex­pect­ing to see him with his gaze glued to the erotic sight be­fore us.

In­stead, his ice-blue eyes were fixed on me. For a mo­ment—just a mo­ment—I ima­gined let­ting him do that to me. Ima­gined let­ting him open me like that and fill me.

Then I gave a little gasp and yanked my hand out of his.

“Andi,” he began in a low voice but I was already out of the room, run­ning down the hall­way to the black double doors. I bolted through them and clattered down the steps as fast as I could. The damn pat­ent leather shoes pinched me hor­ribly but I didn’t care. I just wanted to get away from the weird scene we’d wit­nessed and the strange, dis­turb­ing feel­ings it raised in me.

“
Mishka! Mishka,
no—please stop!” Salt caught me be­fore I could get to the front door. Caught me in his arms and held me though I tried to get loose.

“Let me go, Salt!” I beat against his chest use­lessly. “Let me go, I don’t want to stay here. I don’t want that done to me! I don’t want you to do it!”

“Of course not. Of course not, my darling.” He stroked my hair sooth­ingly, still hold­ing me close.

After a mo­ment, I stopped fight­ing him and clung to him in­stead, bury­ing my face in his broad chest. Why had we come to this hor­rible place and how in the hell were we go­ing to get out of it? It oc­curred to me that I was act­ing like a frightened child, but I couldn’t seem to stop.

What I had seen had really shaken me up for some reason. I didn’t know if it was the ab­ject sub­mis­sion the girl had shown or the way she kept shout­ing out “Daddy” when she came, but for whatever reason, I felt com­pletely freaked out. And let me tell you, that’s not easy to do. I’ve been with the PD for a long time and not much ruffles my feath­ers. But this
did
. So much that
I felt like I needed to scrub my eye­balls out with soap. Or maybe my brain so I could get rid of the weird, sexual im­ages that were now play­ing on a loop that wouldn’t stop.

“Mr. Saltanov?” I heard Dir­ector Berkley say, com­ing down the stairs after us. “Is everything all right?”

“Fine,” Salt said, still hold­ing me close. “Everything will be fine.”

“I don’t think so,” Berkley said.

I looked up from the shel­ter of my part­ner’s broad chest and saw that the Dir­ector was star­ing dis­ap­prov­ingly at both of us.

“Look, Mr. Saltanov, I’m truly sorry but I’m afraid your Little may be too…er,
high strung
for life here at the In­sti­tute.”

“She is simply frightened—be­cause
you
frightened her,” Salt growled an­grily. “I told you she is new to this scene and then I told you I do not use her back pas­sage in this way. And what do you do? You say it is rule that all Littles must have plugs and show her a scene to frighten any little girl to death! What is
wrong
with you?”

“I…I’m sorry.” Dir­ector Berkley seemed some­what taken aback at Salt’s vehe­ment at­tack. “I didn’t know she was quite so new as all
that
.”

“I have paid good money to be here and I wish to stay,” Salt said, still glar­ing at the other man. “But I do not wish to have my little girl frightened in this way. She is vir­gin here.” One big hand drif­ted down to cup my trem­bling ass. “I do not even put my fin­gers or my tongue in­side her there—not yet.”

Fin­gers and tongue? Not yet?
I looked up at Salt but Berkley was already talk­ing again.

“Very well.” The Dir­ector looked dis­gruntled. “We can delay the pla­cing of the plug for a little while at least. But I must in­sist that you and your Little have a ses­sion with our staff psy­cho­lo­gist, Dr. Ne­w­house, while you are here. In fact, the sooner the bet­ter. I think the two of you should meet with her to­mor­row at her earli­est con­veni­ence.”

“All right.” Salt drew him­self up to his full height. “This we can do as long as this doc­tor prom­ises to keep his hands to him­self.
Mishka
is
mine
and I do not al­low any­one else to play with her.”

“Dr. Lucy Ne­w­house is a fe­male and a con­sum­mate pro­fes­sional,” Berkley said stiffly. “I wouldn’t have chosen her for my staff, oth­er­wise.”

“Thank you. Then we will stay. And we will speak with this Dr. Ne­w­house to­mor­row.” Salt nod­ded his head regally as though he was do­ing the other man a fa­vor.

“Fine.” Berkley still didn’t look happy about it. “Then if your Little can con­trol her emo­tions, I do be­lieve it’s time for sup­per.”

“You have shown us where din­ing room is—we will meet you there,” Salt said firmly. “First I must talk to my
mishka.”

“Very well.” The dir­ector strode off, the set of his shoulders un­der his ex­pens­ive suit look­ing very angry in­deed.

The mo­ment he was gone, Salt pulled me close and leaned down to whis­per in my ear.

“Andi, are you all right?”

I’d had a mo­ment to calm down and now I was thor­oughly ashamed of my little break down. Hon­estly, I couldn’t ima­gine what had come over me. Why had I freaked out that way? I’d seen things in Vice that would make a whore blush. Why had the live ac­tion butt plug show been my un­do­ing?

I couldn’t an­swer any of those ques­tions and I couldn’t ad­mit to Salt that I was really up­set either. I didn’t want him to think of me as weak or crazy or too stu­pidly emo­tional and fe­male to do my job.

So I lied.

“I’m per­fectly fine,” I said calmly. “That was all just an act. Pretty good, huh?”

“An act?” He frowned at me, his eyes dark. “Andi, don’t lie to me. I feel you trem­bling. And there are still tears in your eyes.”

“There are?” I reached up and brushed at my right eye hes­it­antly. My fin­gers came away wet. “Wow, I’m an even bet­ter act­ress than I thought.” I tried to laugh but it came out sound­ing forced and choked.

“Andi…” Salt took me by the shoulders and looked at me in­tently. “You need to tell me now if this is too much for you. I feel strongly that we need to be here but we can leave and let the Cap­tain find someone else.”

Part of me—a
big
part—wanted to jump at his of­fer of an easy out. We were so close to the front door—only three feet away from it! But then I thought bet­ter of it. I’d like to say I re­membered the girl on the video beg­ging for sex in that shame­ful way be­cause she was hopped up on Please. I have to be hon­est though, what I was really think­ing about was my pro­fes­sional repu­ta­tion.

Be­ing a wo­man and the
smal­lest
wo­man at that, in the PD, wasn’t easy. I had gone out of my way to cul­tiv­ate a tough outer de­meanor—a hard shell that said “don’t fuck with me” in no un­cer­tain terms. I didn’t let any­one crack that shell—didn’t let any­one all the way be­hind my shields. Not even Salt.

So I gave him a smile that only felt a little forced.

“Salt, really—I’m
fine.
I just thought that I wasn’t be­ing con­vin­cing enough as a Little in the be­gin­ning there so I ad­ded a little drama to the equa­tion. You can bet that Berkley be­lieves our cover now, right?”

“I sup­pose so.” Salt still looked troubled but just then a huge gong rang some­where in the back of the build­ing.

“Din­ner is served,” I heard the but­ler call­ing in a dig­ni­fied voice and then the gonging sound came again.

“Uh-oh—we’d bet­ter get go­ing,” I told Salt. “We’re go­ing to be late!”

“True. I sup­pose we should go.” Tak­ing my arm through his again, he led me through the entry­way and to­wards the din­ing room. As we left, I had one last glimpse in the or­nate mir­ror. A girl with bows in her hair and tear tracks run­ning down her cheeks looked back at me.

I looked away quickly and con­cen­trated on keep­ing up with Salt’s long strides. Everything was go­ing to be fine. It
had
to be. I would
make
it be, I prom­ised my­self. I wasn’t go­ing to foul up this case and ruin my repu­ta­tion just be­cause I had got­ten a little freaked out.

I was still giv­ing my­self a pep-talk when we entered a large din­ing area that looked like some­thing you’d see in a movie about Brit­ish roy­alty. There was only one long table run­ning down the length of the room with a crys­tal chan­delier hanging above it. A fine, white linen table­cloth covered the long sur­face and it was laid with real china and sil­ver and crys­tal gob­lets. There were also ex­pens­ive lace nap­kins that looked like they would be com­pletely use­less for do­ing any­thing but dab­bing del­ic­ately at the corners of your mouth.

Or­nately carved wooden chairs were placed along the length of the long table and Dir­ector Berkley was sit­ting in the ex­act middle, presid­ing over the en­tire room like some kind of me­di­eval lord. To the right of him sat the red-haired girl, Patty, and her Daddy who we had seen up­stairs in the med­ical suite. All traces of tears were wiped away now and she looked com­pletely happy and con­tent, lean­ing against her Daddy’s arm and whis­per­ing some­thing into his ear.

To Berkley’s left side was an empty chair and after that, sev­eral more couples on either side of the table. The mon­strous piece of fur­niture looked like it would seat around forty people but I only coun­ted thir­teen at the mo­ment. I wondered who was miss­ing and where we were sup­posed to sit.

Dir­ector Berkley answered my ques­tion by beck­on­ing us over.

“Come, come, Mr. Saltanov,” he said to Salt. “Come sit across from me. Is your Baby­girl feel­ing bet­ter?”

“Much bet­ter, thank you,” Salt said shortly. He pulled out a chair for me but when I sat down in it, I found that I could barely reach the table. In ad­di­tion to be­ing ri­dicu­lously long, it was also ri­dicu­lously tall. It was just right for Salt be­cause he was so tall him­self that nor­mal tables al­ways fell some­where around his lap. But for short little me, it was above my chest. I would have to reach up like a kid at the grow-ups table to get any­thing.

Salt saw the prob­lem at once.

“What is wrong with this table? Is there some­place else for my
mishka
to sit?” he asked, frown­ing at Berkley.

“Cer­tainly, Mr. Saltanov.” Berkley smiled. “She can sit in your lap. Or, fail­ing that, she can have a booster seat. Which do you prefer? Some of the Dad­dies like to eat in peace while oth­ers find that hav­ing their Baby­girl squirm­ing on their lap all through din­ner builds the ah…
an­ti­cip­a­tion
of what is to come.”

“
Mishka
can have booster chair,” Salt said at once.

Berkley made a mo­tion to one of the livered ser­vants who were stand­ing around the peri­meter of the room.

“I see. So you don’t in­tend to play with your Baby­girl after din­ner?”

“If you mean that in a sexual way then no, I do not in­tend to do that,” Salt growled.

“A pity.” Berkley sniffed. “I was go­ing to in­vite the two of you to the Dad­dies’ Lounge for brandy and ci­gars and
other
things after din­ner but if your re­la­tion­ship isn’t sexual, you might not prefer to be there.”

I bit my lip. Great, we’d just lost a chance to be in a more cas­ual set­ting with every­one at the In­sti­tute. It would have been a great place to get to know the other couples bet­ter and see if any one of them seemed like the types to sell Please. On the other hand, I was grate­ful that Salt was tak­ing a hard line and de­clar­ing our re­la­tion­ship not sexual—at least I
thought
I was.

“The Lounge sounds like great fun but we will not be able to go,” Salt said.

“Tell me,” Berkley said, as a ser­vant brought an over­sized pad­ded foot­stool look­ing thing that fit in my chair for me to sit on. “Is your
mishka
a com­plete vir­gin? Or have you already claimed her mouth and her pussy and you’re sav­ing her ass for last?”

I nearly choked on a sip of too-sweet pink punch that filled my gob­let. Salt seemed to feel like the ques­tion was too much as well be­cause his face darkened.

“This is a very private mat­ter—is not your busi­ness, Dir­ector,” he growled.

“I beg your par­don, my dear Mr. Saltanov but it
is
my busi­ness,” Berkley re­turned. “How else am I to know how to com­pose your sched­ule? I take my du­ties as dir­ector and owner of the In­sti­tute
very
ser­i­ously. I need to know ex­actly where you and your Baby­girl stand, in or­der to avoid any more, ah,
prob­lems
like the one we had earlier.”

“I see.” Salt scowled. “Very well, I will tell you this. Is
mishka
vir­gin? No, but she is vir­gin to me. We have only been to­gether three months and she is still frightened and un­sure of her­self. So I am tak­ing things slowly—
very
slowly. I do not wish to vi­ol­ate her body or her trust.”

“Of course. I see.” Berkley nod­ded ser­i­ously. “Well, hope­fully you can take your re­la­tion­ship to the next level while you’re here as you said you wished to earlier when you asked for some­thing to help
her, ah…
loosen up
a little.”

“Only if
mishka
is ready,” Salt in­sisted. “She is far from that right now.”

“Well, we find that many shy and in­ex­per­i­enced Baby­girls dis­cover their sexual nature while they are at the In­sti­tute,” Berkley said. “Why, by the time you’re ready to leave, you may have claimed all three of your little
mishka’s
vir­gin­it­ies.”

Salt frowned. “I thought you said you do
not
of­fer aph­ro­dis­i­acs here.”

“We don’t.” Berkley smiled at him. “But there’s some­thing in the at­mo­sphere here—in be­ing with like-minded couples who like to play as you do. It’s very
stim­u­lat­ing
. Or maybe it’s just some­thing in the wa­ter.” He laughed and nod­ded at me. “Drink your punch, little girl. It’s good for you.”