Daddies' Princess

By Calista Jayne

Your daddies want to treasure you.

I can see it now, that we went about this out of order.

It's so easy to get wrapped up in the sensations, in the pleasure that these men can give me, I lost sight of who I was for a while.

Is there anything left for us, when we strip back our armor and show each other who we truly are?

I'd like to hope that love will win, but sometimes it's hard to believe.

Daddies' Princess is the fourth episode of the serial Their Babydoll. If you like MFM stories packed with romance and steam, buy your copy today!

• Language: English
• Publisher: Calista Jayne
• Release date: Mar 8, 2022
• ISBN: 9781005059927

Calista Jayne

Calista Jayne adores filthy, smutty romances featuring dominant-yet-tender men. When not writing or reading, she’s falling in love with the heroes in K-dramas or walking along a California beach.

Book preview

1

Olivia

Ican’t believe Ryder, of all people, showed up to my presentation. It’s like if my mom were to arrive with balloons and flowers—demonstrating an interest and approval in my work after ignoring it for so long. Ryder’s presence here is major.

Somehow, I’m able to put that from my mind and focus on my rehearsed presentation. I get through it with only a couple of mistakes where I stumble over a word, but it’s easy to get back on track, and I feel pretty good about it by the time I’m done. When I finish, I have to open it up for questions from the audience. People ask me some good, thought-provoking questions that spark a nice discussion. Professor Browning looks impressed with how it goes, and I feel…proud. Despite the fact that my actual sculptures aren’t here for people to look at, I am now done with San Esteban School of the Arts. It feels strangely without fanfare. I missed graduation and wouldn’t want to walk, anyway. But I’ll be able to pick up my diploma in a few days, and then I can do whatever comes next. The organization that I want to start. Mom would approve of a nonprofit, of course—it’ll give her opportunities to network with other donors.

I answer the final question and thank everyone for coming. There’s polite applause, for the most part, but both Jaxon and Ryder stand up and clap enthusiastically, and Samantha follows suit, letting out a wolf whistle that is entirely inappropriate for the occasion but makes me laugh.

As people get up to leave, I set down my index cards and walk straight to Jaxon. He looks handsome as always, with his business suit and his trimmed beard. The man really knows how to wear a suit, his broad shoulders and athletic waist highlighted by the tailored fit. He holds out his arms, and it’s all I can do not to leap up into his embrace and wrap my legs around him. Instead, I give him a brief hug and a kiss on the cheek.

Thank you for being here, I whisper.

Of course, Babydoll, he says.

Someone clears their throat, and I turn to see Samantha. Her blond hair is up in two little buns that she calls space buns and she’s folding her arms across her chest in mock disapproval. Do you have any sugar left for your bestie? she asks, trying to sound indignant.

Of course I do, I say, grabbing her in my arms and planting a big smooch on her cheek. Thank you for coming—it means a lot.

I notice the congresswoman isn’t here, she says, frowning.

Samantha has always called my mother the congresswoman—because in Samantha’s view, my mother has always put her job before me.

She was going to try, I say, unsure of why I feel the need to defend her. "There’s this legislation for an endangered fox or something. Anyway, you are here, and Jaxon—I turn and smile at him—and Ryder."

Ryder? she says.

I point to him and gesture that he should come over, but he’s already on his way. He barely spares a glance for Jaxon before he pulls me into a hug.

Ryder. Is. Hugging. Me.

Holy shit.

We’ve fucked, of course, but this feels like a first.

I’m enveloped in his evergreen scent. He smells like Christmas and summer campfires and sex. His front is pressed to mine, and I’m extra conscious of my breasts being squeezed against his chest. I could be imagining it, but I feel almost as if he’s gripping the back of my silk blouse in his fist. He’s strong enough to tear it off of me. Everything feels super tight and super hot all of a sudden.

We pull out of the hug before it can get too awkward for anyone else, but Samantha’s looking at me with major mischief and questions in her eyes, so I introduce the two of them. I’m not sure how to explain my relationship with Ryder. He’s not a friend, exactly. But he’s not not a friend. I think. And definitely more than a fuck buddy.

Probably seeing how flustered I’m getting, Ryder holds out a hand to Samantha and says, I’m a friend of Jaxon’s, and by extension, Olivia’s.

Nice to meet you, Samantha says, shaking his hand.

Likewise.

You’re that other guy from Vice, Samantha says. And— She snaps her mouth shut. Never mind.

I’m dying to know what thought she decided against sharing, but it will have to wait.

I’m also going to have to tell her more about the things I do with Jaxon…and with Ryder.

Unless it’s not going to be a regular thing. If Ryder’s going to join in just sometimes, and not be a real part of the relationship, then telling Samantha about it might just make things weird. No, she won’t let it be weird. If anyone in my life will understand, it’ll be her. And I can also talk to Jasmine, the woman I’m renting the apartment from. If she’s a part of a kinky subculture, she won’t be judgmental.

Daniel destroyed so many of my friendships. Now that he’s out of my life for good, I can start rebuilding my circle.

Jaxon wraps his arm around me.

I have to get back to work, Samantha says. With a meaningful look, she adds, O, you and I need to talk. For reals.

Gotcha, I say. I knew it was coming. My bestie is just too damned insightful. She knew when something was wrong with Daniel, and she knows there’s something more to what’s going on with Jaxon and Ryder. It might not be exactly what she thinks it is, but I still need to talk to her about it and clear the air.

People are starting to leave, but a few of my fellow visual arts graduates come up to congratulate me. Jaxon and Ryder move off to the side, to allow me room to chat with everyone. Professor Browning shocks me by asking if she can give me a hug.

You’re going to do great things, she says as we pull out of the brief embrace.

Thank you, I say. I might be picking your brain later, for an idea I have.

She smiles. Looking forward to it.

She’s the last person to leave, and when she’s gone, I turn to Jaxon and Ryder. Do you two have to get back to work?

I’m thinking we should celebrate first, Jaxon says. Ice cream?

Or something else. Ryder steps closer to me, his blue-gray eyes darkening with intent.

Am I reading him right? Is he…coming on to me?

Jaxon nods, strides over to the door, and closes it. He fiddles with the knob. I like the idea of something else, Ryder. Does this door lock?

Automatically, yeah, I say. Are we doing something here?

Sounds like, Jaxon says. He opens it and tries the knob from the other side, just to be certain. I like that he’s taking care of me in this way, making sure nobody will see us or interrupt us.

That skirt’s too tight, Ryder says in a dark voice. Lose it.

I look over at Jaxon, because Ryder is giving the direction, and I don’t know whether I should listen to him or Jaxon, or both.

Jaxon nods, not looking at all surprised.

Did you two plan this? I ask.

There was no fucking planning in any of this, Ryder says, sounding angry. I had to find out about your presentation from Jaxon’s personal assistant when I came by his office to see if he wanted to grab lunch. Now lose the skirt, Olivia.

Ryder

Olivia checks in with Jaxon again, and a fresh bolt of envy arcs through me.

Stop looking at him, I say. Look at me. Right now, I’m in charge, princess.

But—

What’s your safe word? I ask.

Ponies. Her blush deepens.

Jaxon hasn’t objected to anything yet. If you truly have a problem with me, you can use your safe word and I’ll respect it.

I wait, but she doesn’t safeword out. To my utter delight, she reaches for the zipper at her hip and tugs it down.

Jaxon catches my eye and he mouths the words What the fuck, but I shrug. Maybe it’s not the best time to start a play scene, but to be honest, I’m not all that angry. Miffed, more like. But I’m channeling that anger into something that will be fun for all three of us.

The skirt slides down Olivia’s long legs and pools to the floor at her feet. She’s wearing heels and a thong, probably to avoid a panty line through the tight skirt. The thong is light gray lace, looks expensive. I want to tear it off her.

That’s rather grown-up looking lingerie, Babydoll, Jaxon comments.

I needed to wear a thong, she says, because of the skirt.

He just raises his eyebrows.

I didn’t think you’d see it, she says in an even quieter voice.

Jaxon looks at me. Are you punishing her?

She didn’t tell me about today’s presentation, I say, so yeah, she’s getting spanked.

Give her an extra one for me. I told her thongs are too grown-up for babydolls. I might have given her permission if she’d just asked.

On it. I sit down in one of the chairs set up for the audience. It doesn’t have armrests, which makes it even better. Holding a hand out toward Olivia, I say, Come here, little girl.

She takes short, halting steps over to me and says, I’m sorry I didn’t tell you about my presentation. I didn’t think—

She doesn’t finish the sentence.

Didn’t think what? I ask.

Shaking her head, she looks away. Nothing.

I need to know what you were going to say.

Answer Mr. Ryder, Babydoll, Jaxon adds.

I didn’t think you’d care, she finally says.

It hits me like a punch to the gut. I know my feelings for her. I know they’re strong. I know I’m barely keeping them reined in because I’m afraid of scaring her. Fuck, I’m scared of the strength of what I feel, because my heart’s like a fucking bomb, waiting to go off if it’s handled incorrectly.

But it cost her a lot to admit this, so I simply nod and say, I understand. And I’m going to spank you to show that I care.

Does it make real, logical sense? No. But the spanking will make her feel good, and it will give me some sense of control, for however fleeting a moment.

Lay yourself over my knees, right here, I tell her. Before she can lean over and do as I say, I stop her. Just a second. Safe word or no, I need to know you’re okay with this, little girl.

I’m—I’m okay with it, she whispers.

Good. Now don’t be naughty—sit over my lap and take your punishment like you ought to.

I’ve been dreaming of spanking this girl for weeks now. When her ass is right here, within reach of my hand, I want to savor it, touch her, run my hands all over her legs and cheeks, then send my fingers into her pussy to smear her wetness around, let it coat me in her arousal and her scent.

But