Doll Parts (The Game 4)

By now, Kit was skipping forward to Ivy with a happy grin on his face, and he was carrying something. A squirt gun? He wouldn’t fucking dare, the boy.

He spoke into the megaphone Ivy was holding. “My Daddies say they love to keep me on my toes, and they hate glitter!” Without another word, he aimed the offending device—Jesus fuck, a goddamn glitter cannon. And he fired. He fired a motherfucking round of glitter straight at us. “Well, I wanna see more tippity-Tops on their tippity-toes!”

I flinched as glitter rained down on us.

The options for punishment were endless, even as I couldn’t help but grin and be in complete awe of their scheming. How long had they planned this?

Noa stole my focus again when he took the lead to change the song. Back to a rock song with a fast beat, and Tate and Gretchen followed along. And I sensed that the lyrics were very much part of their message.

My boy grinned and closed his eyes, beating the drums faster and faster, while the recorded singer accused the subject of his song of asking for it.

“I think we can reach a conclusion!” Shay hollered into the megaphone. “Sometimes—or often—our Tops just talk too much. Act all badass and fuck with our senses—they get cocky. Am I right?”

Approximately half the crowd cheered.

Reese smirked and shook his head.

Ella and Kit reemerged after having fetched something from behind the cages. Big armfuls of white fabric. Cam joined them, and they began running around to toss out T-shirts. Some to the members of the audience, some to themselves. Cam darted inside Noa’s cage, kissed his cheek, and pulled a tee over his head. And my boy kept drumming. He was so fucking good.

Kit threw Colt a T-shirt.

I side-eyed it as Colt held it up.

Kit’s Kittens.

“Oh, he’s going to be sorry,” Lucian murmured.

Colt smiled and refolded the tee, then put his arms over his chest again.

“Our beloved Tops!” Ivy called. “You’ve been asking for this. You asketh, we giveth. Because we’re fucking angels!”

They weren’t done, and I automatically narrowed my eyes when Cam ran up to say something into the megaphone.

He spoke while the music died out. “And please keep in mind,” he said, breathing heavily, “when you talk, all we hear is…”

The new song came on with a drummer’s explosion, with children singing blah, blah, blah.

One raindrop on my cheek turned into two and three, and the weather turned bad pretty fast. But they kept playing, and they kept tossing out T-shirts. Lucian and I were on the receiving end of two from Cameron.

I held mine up.

Noa and Cam’s Dumbinant Daddy.

Lucian coughed through a laugh and held up his own.

Cam and Noa’s Master Maid.

I shook my head in amusement.

They had no fucking idea what they’d just started.

Noa hadn’t experienced me as a Sadist yet.

He was about to.

The next time the music faded, the lights faded too, and every submissive in the crowd went wild.

Lucian picked up my cane for me, and I needed it for support by now. Nothing hurt, but I had little to no strength left in my knees. With a bunch of subs running around with oh-so-fun messages on their new T-shirts, I just stood there and waited for Noa and Cam to come over.

Shay, Ivy, Kit, and Cam prioritized helping Noa, Tate, and Gretchen get their instruments back under the tarp. In the meantime, I eyed the subbies around me. One tee read, “Shut up a Daddy,” another read, “Oh whatever, Sir,” and I spotted one with, “I will fist you, Mistress.”

“Listen up, y’all!” Colt boomed out. “When you’re done gigglin’ your whorish li’l asses off, we still have a Game to kick off!”

I pulled out my phone again and decided to send Ivy a message, because I knew her station would be our first.

Not a word to Noa about my having hosted needle play demos before. Not a single fucking word, Ivy. Understood?

As soon as I’d sent it, I watched her down by the cages, grabbing the phone from her back pocket.

“Everybody gather ’round in sixty seconds!” Reese yelled.

It made me smirk to see Ivy’s shoulders slump.

And so the mindfucky punishments begin…

I understand, Sir.

Good. I texted her back.

Grab a few syringes for me from the medical supply closet too and fill them with water.

She agreed again and looked over at me with a pout.

Noa had made his choice.

Speaking of…

Once the fighting cages had been covered and their equipment was under the tarp, Noa jogged over to me with an impish smile on his face, and Cameron wasn’t far behind.

I didn’t comment on Noa’s T-shirt, which simply read “Shhh, Sir.” Cam’s was similar.

“Hi, Daddy! Did you enjoy the show?” Noa asked.

I smiled and nodded with a dip of my chin. “I didn’t think you could get any better on the drums, but I was wrong. You’re fucking amazing, baby.”