Daddy's Careless Little (Wounded Daddies 4)

Chapter Two

Leo

“Sit down right now,” I say sharply. “I’m trying to make things right, okay?”

The man looks at me and then at his friends, all intent on getting him to sit down as well.

“How?”, he asks suspiciously.

“Well,” I say. “I’m thinking a shot for everyone, the special of the night—that’s the rambler, with gin and whiskey—and a beer chaser. On the bar. “I look at his companions. “But he’s not driving.”

He looks at me for a moment and says, “Well. I guess everyone can have a bad night.” He starts to sit down, and I note that the man next to him pulls his keychain from his belt buckle. I turn to Helen and say, “Go get those drinks, now.”

She hurries away and I spend a minute or two talking with the customers until I’m satisfied there won’t be any problems before I walk back to my spot behind the bar.

It feels good.

It feels very, very good.

It feels a hell of a lot better than it ought to feel, in fact.

I know it’s a little bit silly to be so excited about having the opportunity to deal with a possible conflict at the club. Hell, I deal with stuff like this regularly. It’s part of my job. That’s what happens when a group of people get together and drink.

But I got to protect a girl.

No.

I got to protect a little girl.

That is the thrilling part. A little girl got herself in trouble and I had to rescue her. There is powerful fulfilment running through me because of that simple fact. I got to be a Daddy in a small way, and that is something I really didn’t believe I would be able to do again. It feels wonderful to know I was able to step in and protect a little even if she isn’t my little.

Not only did I get to protect her but in a moment, she will finish delivering the drinks to the table she offended and will return so I can give her direction. I have not had a chance to correct and guide a girl in the Daddy/little girl community for a very long time. My heart beats faster with anticipation.

As I carefully watch her deliver the drinks, I start walking over to ensure there are no hard feelings about the situation. I hear Rollie, my boss’s little girl and the club’s entertainment, start up a wonderful version of a great old song, House Rent Blues. The song is old-style rock blues, and I find her delivery amazing--haunting and almost ethereal, a soulful voice.

Helen leaves the table and walks slowly back to me. She looks reluctant, maybe ashamed at her careless behavior. I understand, but I have to talk to her. She put herself and the club in danger. Like it or not, she will deal with the situation.

She says, uncertainly, “I delivered the drinks.”

I say, “Put your tray down and come with me.”

I walk her back to Carl’s office, where he is working on some paperwork. “I need to talk with Helen away from the customers,” I say.

“No problem,” he replies. I expect him to stay. He owns the club, and he’s the boss, after all, but he gets up and says, “I’ll keep an eye on things, so take all the time you need.”

Helen looks frightened as he walks by and I realize she probably now understands the import of what happened. She almost trembles as I direct her to take a seat. Out of nowhere, I suddenly want to pull her to me and hold her tightly, to reassure her that everything will be okay.

I have never felt that way about Helen!

I have known her for a very long time, but I am not interested her in an emotional way. Or am I? I shake off the thought and chalk it up to getting to protect a girl in my particular BDSM community and try not to let my thought show on my face. I sit down where Carl sat a moment ago and start out with a shock approach.

“I’ve fired employees for less than what you did tonight.” She lets out a gasp and the fear on her face is so strong I quickly add, “But I’m not going to fire you. You’re too good an employee.” If she were my little girl, I might spank her. She’s not, though, as much as I would like that.

Dear God! I don’t want a relationship with her! The temptation to do some things like what I would do as a Daddy must really be messing with my mind. “So, what do you think we ought to do about it, little girl?” The words just come out, unintentional.

She breathes in sharply and the surprise is about as cute as anything could possibly be. I can’t believe I phrased things this way and suddenly I wonder if she might suggest a spanking. God! I want her to suggest a spanking. What the hell is going on with me?

“I… I need this job. Please don’t fire me.”