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As I gawked at the statue and the beautiful fountain, Master—no, Daddy—Skyler kept a firm grip on my hand and led me onward.
My body willingly followed him, eager to go wherever he led me. If we’d been on a traditional date, I would have frozen up by now, but at Club Wicked, it felt like I was on a different plant, like I was a different person. A younger me, one who still believed in happily ever afters and true love at first sight. I could feel the years slipping away from me as the shrieks and giggles of women filled the air seconds before a trio of middle-aged women dressed in pretty, beribboned, and bejeweled baby doll dresses ran by, laughing so hard they bumped off each other as they scurried away.
I looked behind them and caught sight of the reason for their running. A well-built, older man with a smattering of silver chest hair, wearing a full-face black leather dog mask, chased after them. Judging by the size of the erection in his pants, he was more than equipped to please all three of them.
“Girls,” Tyler said in a stern voice that made everyone freeze, “be careful not to slip. The tiles around the fountain sometimes get damp. It’s all fun and games until someone needs stitches.”
“Yes Master Skyler,” they said in unison while one of them, a woman with long curly red hair and pretty lips, gave Tyler fuck me eyes.
The man in the dog mask gave a growl so deep, my clit twitched in response, then he turned his masked face in the direction of the now pale faced littles. “Thank you, Skyler, I’ll take care of it from here.”
One of the littles, a beautiful black woman with a sassy tilt to her smile, said, “But you’ll have to catch us first, Master Dorian.”
He growled and they ran off in a flurry of giggles, a group of women probably in their forties acting like carefree teenagers. Master Dorian paused for a moment, obviously giving the women a head start before he took off after them, his sleek muscles flexing in a rather nice display. As they disappeared around a corner, Tyler put his hands on my shoulders and turned me to face him. He studied me, and I somehow felt like he could see through my mask to my all too expressive face.
“I forgot to mention tonight is Pet night at the Playhouse. The predators aren’t allowed in, but the more submissive animals and their Masters and Mistresses are welcome. The littles organize all kinds of games and fun things to do. Are you interested in checking the pets out? Remember, you don’t have to join in, you’re free to just watch. Oddly enough, many of our littles are quite the exhibitionists, always wanting to show off for their Daddy.”
I bit my lip, glad I wore my super resistant lip stain that was almost impossible to get off. “I would. I mean, I don’t think I’m ready to play or whatever, but I would love to see what the littles came up with. Everything I’ve seen so far has been out of this world amazing. It’s like they looked inside my head and made all my dreams into a reality.”
He grazed his fingertips over my exposed chin, his firm lips softening as he said, “You are so sweet. Come on, I have the sudden urge to spoil you.”
“Spoil me?” I laughed as I once again laced my fingers with his, glad for the constant contact.
“Spoil you. But first, let’s go find Tawny,” he replied. We turned a corner and the sweet scent of sugar filled the air.
Staring around me as we entered a large room, I took in an honest to goodness—fully staffed by littles wearing gold and black masks along with pretty dresses—ice cream and candy store. The ice cream parlor was a little girl’s dream, a fantasy brought to life where money was no object. If you could dream it—and afford it—they could build it. The whole place was mostly white with pink and purple accents along with a dash of tangerine orange. It had at once an old-fashioned feel with a modern edge. Tables with shiny red tops seating groups of two to eight were artfully arranged, and most of them were occupied by laughing, smiling littles.
Across the room, there was a long bar with red stools perched atop shiny chrome poles. On one of those stools, I easily found Shyla, a spot of darkness in a sea of flowers. A similarly darkly dressed man sat next to Shyla, and it wasn’t until he spun around that I realized the man was a woman with creamy brown skin with her black hair cut short in an edgy, masculine way. She was drop dead gorgeous, like Vivica Fox and Ruby Rose had a baby. She wore a suit without a shirt beneath, and the sides of her perfect, small breasts showed along the edges of the material. Just a hint, enough to tease. My gaze returned to her face, and I found myself gripping Tyler’s hand harder as the woman, clearly a Domina of considerable power in probably her thirties, examined me from behind her simple black mask.
