Mayor daddy, p.1
Mayor Daddy, page 1
Mayor Daddy
Down Home Daddies Book 3
Rayanna Jamison
Contents
Chapter 1
Chapter 2
Chapter 3
Chapter 4
Chapter 5
Chapter 6
Chapter 7
Chapter 8
Chapter 9
Chapter 10
Chapter 11
Chapter 12
Chapter 13
Chapter 14
Chapter 15
Chapter 16
Chapter 17
About Rayanna Jamison
Also by Rayanna Jamison
Red Hot Romance
Copyright © 2022 by Rayanna Jamison and Red Hot Romance, Inc.
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All rights reserved. No part of this book may be reproduced or transmitted in any form or by any means, electronic or mechanical, including, but not limited to, photocopying or by any information storage and retrieval system, without permission in writing from the author. maren@redhotromancepublishing.com
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This book is a work of fiction. Names, places, locales, and events are either a product of the author’s imagination or are used fictitiously. Any resemblance to actual persons, places, and events are purely coincidental.
Chapter 1
Kilches
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"Are you sure about this, Kilches?" Brock, my ride or die since grade school, cocked a brow at me from the driver's seat of his pickup truck. "Right before you announce a run for mayor doesn't seem like the ideal time to visit a BDSM club and start exploring an interest in kink."
I wasn't new to kink in the least, just clubs, but he didn't need to know that. It wasn't the sort of thing we talked about.
I waved off his concerns. "That's why I came into the city to visit you and go to a club here. I've looked into it. No photographs allowed. High privacy. And besides it’s not like I'm some major politician or A-list actor. I'm just a hometown boy running for mayor."
He snorted. "See, I thought you came here because Three Rivers is too uptight and goody-goody to have a kink club. Or at least that's how they want to seem," he retorted, alluding to a recent scandal that had rocked the small town we were both from, leaving it nearly barren after the entire police force, most of the town officials, and a handful of civilians had been brought in on a major sex trafficking and drug smuggling ring.
I rolled my eyes. "Yeah, that too."
"Seriously though, dude…why now? The timing seems less than ideal."
I shrugged. "I see my brothers with their wives and how solid their relationships are, even if they are a bit unconventional, and I want that too. And you know, my grandpa's will says I have to be married before I'm thirty if I want my inheritance. That's just two years away. And besides all that, it will look good for my mayoral run if I look like I'm ready to settle down."
"Settle down? This is a kink club. I'm pretty sure this is not where you go to find Mrs. Small Town Mayor."
I grinned. He wasn't wrong. "No, this is where I go to get the wild hairs out of my system before I find a Mrs. Mayor to settle down with."
"Okay. Whatever. Be safe. Don't drink too much and call me when you're done." Brock may ride my ass and give me a hard time, questioning every decision I made, but he had my back. And he was the only person I trusted enough to share my plans for the night.
"Will do. Thanks, man." I opened the door to his truck and jumped down, ambling across the parking lot to the discreet black warehouse looking building. The discreteness of the building and location was kind of ruined by the glaring neon sign that read Club 69.
Rolling my eyes at the obviousness, I glanced down and took stock of myself before I entered. Having ditched my usual flannel shirt, Levi’s and cowboy boots for black slacks and a dress shirt, I felt like a fish out of water. I reached the door, gave my ID to the bouncer and was whisked into an office where I filled out more paperwork than one would think was necessary for a night of kinky debauchery, and was outfitted with a red wristband that apparently indicated that I was a dominant looking to play. After that, I was given an access code to a tiny storage locker where I stored my phone, escorted down a long hallway and finally to a set of swinging doors. I pushed them open and entered the club.
At first glance, it reminded me of the bars back home. Nothing too fancy. High ceilings, neon lighting and a huge bar spanning half the room.
But there were major differences. Instead of a pool table, there was a spanking bench in the center of the room. Several of them. Instead of a DJ on stage there was a half-naked woman affixed to a St. Andrews cross while a man dressed in leather stood behind her holding a whip.
That wasn't all. Back home, the usual run-down drunks sat at the bar and tables wearing dirty denim and guzzling whatever cheap beer happened to be on tap. This room was full of men in expensive looking suits sipping top shelf whiskey. Instead of a haggard looking woman with teased hair sitting in their laps, scantily clad women knelt at their feet. They all wore collars, a few with leashes attached to them. I tried not to stare.
I definitely wasn't in Three Rivers anymore. Holy shit. "I need a drink," I muttered, beelining for the bar. None of this stuff was unfamiliar to me. I had played a bit with different women over the years. I could swing a paddle, and like any good farm boy I was adept with a whip or a crop. But those things had always been done in the privacy of a bedroom—always between me and whatever woman I was with. I had never been in a place like this before. I’d never seen so many people unapologetically being themselves. It was equal parts liberating and terrifying.
When the bartender spotted me, I ordered a whiskey neat and sat on a bar stool sipping it as I turned to survey the room around me.
Now that I had a drink, I felt more comfortable and I was able to look around more objectively. This place was a lot nicer and bigger than the bars I had been comparing it to. On the far end near the restrooms there was a door that I knew from research led to a hallway of private playrooms. I'd rent one if I could find a partner to play with and the night didn't end up being a complete dud.
Purple wristband. That was what the bouncer had told me I was looking for. A purple wristband on a woman would indicate that she was a submissive, unattached and open to play. My eyes had adjusted to the lighting and as I scanned the room, I saw that there were a lot of people who had come already paired off, as indicated by the white wristbands they wore-as if their body language and leashes wouldn't give them away.
In the far corner of the room close to the stage I saw what seemed to be a congregation of singles. Men and women occupied several tables and an oversized couch. Some of them were already starting to pair off for the evening. I had to go now and enter the fray if I wanted any shot at all.
Downing the rest of my whiskey, I left the glass on the bar and strode over, still taking in the scene as I went. The room was dark and I couldn't see well enough to know yet if there was anyone who caught my interest, but at least I'd be in the vicinity of other singles. There was a velvet chair to the side of the couch and I sat down in it. There was also a small lamp nearby. I could finally see well enough to look for a play partner.
Three women in barely-there black dresses and fuck-me heels were fawning over a man who was undeniably rich, or a hell of a good actor. I dismissed them all. Not only would they not be interested in a simple man like me, they weren't really my type. A bit too showy and high maintenance. For a minute I wondered if that was all I would find here, if a woman who was my type would even ever be caught dead in a place like this but I dismissed those thoughts easily, recognizing them for the insecurities they were. Sweet small-town girls could be kinky too. I already knew that for a fact.
Turning away from the gaggle, I spotted her then. She was petite and unassuming. Gorgeous, but she didn't know she was. Long black curls hung half way down her back. Her white babydoll dress gave her an air of innocence. Patent Mary janes and sexy as all hell knee highs with black bows in the front rounded out the outfit in a way that had my cock straining against the fabric of my slacks. I hadn't known that was my type until I knew it. And when I saw her, I knew. She was leaning against the back of the couch with her legs crossed at the ankles, wringing her hands in front of her. She looked as out of place as I had originally felt. And—jackpot! She was rocking a purple wristband.
I took a moment to gather my wits, plot my move and just admire her from a distance. And of course I waited too long. Now a shirtless man in black leather pants had approached and was talking to her. He pointed to her wristband, and she shook her head. My breath caught in my throat. Maybe she wasn't interested. She didn't look interested. Please don't let her be interested. I couldn't hear what they were saying but her body language spoke volumes. The man scowled, shook his head in disgust and walked away. The woman crossed her arms over her chest and hugged herself, looking upset.
I walked up and stood next to her, matching her stance as I leaned against the back of the couch. Just being near her had my heart pounding in my chest and my palms sweating. I cleared my throat to get a breath of air around the lump that was forming in my throat and she looked over at me. She looked annoyed at first, but then she paused. Her gaze roamed up and down the length of my body. She turned to face me and spoke the last first words I expected.
"I think you should spank me."
If I'd had a drink, I would have choked on it.
Her forwardness was unexpected, apparently even to her. As soon as the words left her mouth, she colo
I couldn't hold back a smirk as I turned to give her my attention. I cocked a brow and the corners of my mouth lifted in a grin. "Why? Have you been naughty?"
Her answer was nothing more than a high-pitched squeal. Taking pity on her, I held my hand out in front of me. "I'm Kyle," I said, giving her my middle name. "And I don't make a habit of spanking pretty women whose names I don't know."
"Oh god," she gasped, ignoring my hand as she rambled on. "I'm sorry. I don't know where that came from. That man was just so nasty when I rejected him and I started to wonder why I was even here, what I was doing at a place like this, and then I looked over and there you were and you looked quite normal and not at all scary. Or I mean just like… the right amount of scary for a place like this. Erm. I mean not scary, but intimidating. A Dom. You look like a Dom. And I'm sorry. I shouldn't have said anything. I don't know what came over me. I shouldn't have asked you to spank me. I'm so sorry. I'm just gonna go now."
I put my hand up to stop her. The last thing I wanted was for her to leave. "Or you could, you know, just tell me your name, and we can start there?"
"Oh!" She gasped again, blush rising to darken her already red cheeks. "It's Callie. Callie Rose." She put out her hand and I took it, lifting it to my lips and pressing a soft kiss against her tawny flesh before letting go.
"It's nice to meet you, Callie Rose. Now tell me, what naughty thing have you done that has you soliciting spankings from strangers on this fine evening?" My inner country boy was coming out and I chose not to hide it. If a woman couldn't handle a little manners and charm, she wasn't the woman for me.
"I…um…" She was suddenly tongue tied, worrying her hands again as she stared down at the floor. "Well, see, um that's the thing. I haven't done anything naughty. Not really. I want to do this because it scares me. And on Monday, I have to do another thing that really scares me. So I was thinking, if I did this thing first, then maybe it would be a sort of… um… external motivation for the other scary thing?"
I didn't ask what the other scary thing was. It wasn't my business and it didn't really matter. What mattered was that Miss Callie Rose had a need and I could fill that need.
"So when I spank you, you'd like for me to encourage you to do this scary thing?" I asked for clarification.
"Um…" She looked up and met my gaze. "Unless, is that weird?"
"Not weird at all. I'd be happy to externally motivate you," I answered with a wink as her whole body seemed to sag with relief. "Now it's time to negotiate terms. Anything off limits?"
"Whips." Her reply was automatic. "That's not what I need."
I nodded. Whips weren't my forte anyway and not something I would consider for this sort of scene.
"Anything else?"
"No sexual touching and no forcing me to do the same." Her voice lowered to a squeak and her gaze returned to the floor almost as if she were ashamed of the limit or was afraid I would take issue with it. Just the thought angered me.
"Unless those things are an agreed upon part of a scene, that should always be an unspoken limit," I said, training my voice to stay calm.
"Okay, thank you," she whispered, her gaze returning to my face.
Taking a step forward, I cupped her cheek and spoke softly so as not to spook her.
"I like to fully immerse myself in a scene, so that it doesn't just feel like role play. May I call you babygirl?"
Her eyes widened and lit with a flash of excitement that quickly faded. She nodded. "I'd like that. Should I call you Sir?"
"Sir works," I confirmed. "Daddy is better," I added with a wink. Normally I wouldn't be that forward, but there was something about Callie’s demeanor and the way she was dressed that told me this was exactly what she needed.
Her cheeks flushed, and she gave a little squeak, but her head bobbed in agreement. "Okay. Yes, Daddy."
" A fast learner," I murmured, stroking her cheek with my thumb. "Good girl. Just one more negotiation. What's your safeword, and do you want me to get a playroom?"
"Pickle. And no, Sir. I'd rather do it out here, if that's okay."
Her answer was exactly what I had expected, for safety reasons. I nodded, and walked around to the other side of the couch. Settling, I looked over my shoulder and patted my knee. "C'mon babygirl," I murmured, my voice thick and growly. "Get over here and assume the position. Don't make Daddy count."
Her eyes widened, and she rushed to obey, scurrying over and draping her curvy body in all the right places figure across my lap.
"Good girl," I murmured. My play bag was where I had set it near the arm of the couch and I reached over to grab it, unzipping it with one hand. I grabbed a small maple paddle that was rather thin but packed a nice sting.
Setting it on the couch right in front of her face to up the anticipation, I slowly lifted her dress to reveal ruffled cheeky panties in a pale pink. My cock twitched in response.
Down Boy.
"Such cute panties, but they offer far too much protection. May I lower them?"
Her head jerked up and for a moment I thought she was going to protest, but she caught my eyes, lowered her lashes and said "Yes, Daddy," in a voice that was so hauntingly submissive, I wanted to nut right there. I held back a groan as I stuck my fingers in the waistband of the fabric and slowly peeled them down, revealing pale olive skin one inch at a time. I stopped right at the curve between her bottom and thighs, positioning the fabric in a way that offered her a modicum of modesty.
Her body tensed, just slightly. I knew it was just nerves. "You're such a good girl," I encouraged.
She immediately relaxed again, her body melting against me.
I had no idea if she had ever been spanked like this before, and I had forgotten to ask, but now wasn't the time. Negotiations were over. Softness was not what was being called for now. I needed to be caring, yet firm and unyielding. Stern and decisive yet not scary or mean. I needed to be a Daddy.
Leaving the paddle where it was, I laid my hand across her bottom and softly rubbed the flesh of her cheeks. She was deceivingly curvy, more so than the baby doll dress she wore had let on, and the flesh of her cheeks was more than a handful. I ached to explore her curves, to knead the soft flesh on the curviest part of her bottom, to run my hands up her sides and cup her breasts in my palms. I wanted to push her panties to her knees and gaze upon her soft folds, strumming them softly at first and then taking her pussy forcefully with my fingers. She was exquisite and I longed to do all of those things and more, but I wouldn't because I was a gentleman and that was not what tonight was about.
Shifting my hips to adjust myself so that perhaps my stiff erection wouldn't be quite as noticeable, I lifted my hand and brought it down with a satisfying smack, first on one side and then the other.
She yipped. It was the only way to describe her high-pitched squeal of surprise. She gave no other reaction; didn’t move or cry out or try to dodge the next swats.
Instead, her bottom arched, ever so slightly toward my hand, as if welcoming the pain, anticipating the next blow.
I obliged, lighting the fleshiest part of her bottom on fire with a relentless barrage of fast-paced swats. I covered her bottom until the entirety of my canvas was a bright pink from my ministrations and she was beginning to wiggle across my lap.
When her hand snaked back to cover her bottom, I grabbed it, pinning it with one of my own to the center of her back. I tucked her body into my waist, and threw one of my legs over hers to hold her in place effectively. Now it was time to get real. Making sure she was watching, I leaned forward and grabbed the paddle, enjoying her visceral reaction. Her bottom clenched, she whimpered softly, and buried her face in her arms.
"It's time for Daddy to give you that external motivation you are seeking," I told her, tapping the wood of the paddle across her already heated bottom. The barely warm skin would soon be exponentially hotter.
