Page 6 of Daddy’s Rules

My thumb caressed the side of his cheek, pulling softly at his lip to part them. “Can I kiss you?”

“I’ve been waiting for you to ask.”

Our faces met, mouths connecting, tongues locked. There was no fight for control. Benji knew his place, letting my tongue wrestle with his. My hand remained on the back of his head until we were both lying on the bed, his head resting on the stuffed teddy, forcing us to pause for a moment. Then we were back at it as he held the teddy in his arms, at his chest, mixed with the crinkling plastic from the onesie wrapping.

“Get dressed,” I told him. “I wanna see what you look like in it.”

He nodded obediently as we sat upright together on the bed. “Do you want to keep taking my clothes off?”

Benji stood in front of me.

“You do it.”

I removed his clothes, folding them into a stack on the side of the bed.

He stood in his polka dot briefs, his hand covering his bulge as it stretched against the fabric, revealing his own precum wet patch polka-dot pattern.

“There’s a changing room on the ground floor,” I told him. “For future reference. In case you want to bring your own onesie next time.”

He smirked, but his lips trembled slightly. “The next time they hold another event, I’ll remember that.”

“Good,” I said. “Happens every few months.” I watched and analyzed his face, getting in his head, figuring out his motive. I wasn’t about to be played for a sponsorship to this place. It meant covering cost of membership and dues, plus any costs they incurred. It was basically another word for being a sugar daddy, and the only sugar I’d give as a Daddy was in the form of aftercare.

“Then I’ll remember to show up with my favorite onesie,” he said, holding up the new one. It was his size. Quite generic. Most of the littles, middles, and those in sub play wore similar onesies. There was even a tag with the Playhouse logo on it, since they were a white-label product and marked up by a hundred percent.

Grabbing the stuffed animal, I noticed the tag there too. It was a smart decision to white-label the products, ship them in cheap from overseas with their label like they’d created them in house.

“I wish I could take a picture of this moment,” I said, handing him the stuffed teddy once he was zipped up at the front.

“Me too,” he said. “I wish I could—” He looked around, sighing with a smile. “Take a picture of it all.”

Phones were taken at the door, alongside a picture or your ID to make sure nobody could steal it, but also to keep track of everyone who came in and was still here. Playhouse was operational twenty-four hours a day, seven days a week. I’d witnessed some littles, the ones with high-power jobs paid a fortune as CEOs, come here and stay for days. There were entire rooms filled with balls, a bounce house, and even a room with kittens. I never explored them; I never had a little to do that with.

“Look,” he said, lifting a foot. “The feet have grips on them.”

“And you look cute too,” I said.

My eyes captured him like photos, each blink a snap, and my brain was a darkroom, developing them.

“Is it my turn now?” he asked, going down on his knees in front of me, both hands on my legs while the teddy stayed hooked under his arm. “To undress you.”

I looked him over, combing a hand through his hair and pushing his head back. “You tell me. What do you want to do?”

“You told me it was nine inches, so I—”

A laugh came out. “I’ve got no reason to lie.”

His eyes were on my crotch. “I’m full of wonder,” he giggled. And in the full light from above, my bulge had been growing right in front of him. “So, I’m just wondering if I—” Both of his hands stretched the length of my thighs, almost ready to meet my dick, his fingertips on the edge of my low hanging balls. “If I could see it.”

“You’ve got to use some magic words. I think that’s the case.”

“Please,” he said, pouting.

“Mhm, there’s something else you could call me,” I said.

“Please, Daddy.”

“And like the good boy you are, you can unbuckle my belt and see what you’ve caused.” I leaned back, giving space to reveal my buckle. “Good boys get good rewards.” And I’d rather he wanted me for my dick than for my money, because my dick wasn’t going leave me. All nine inches of it—plus a little extra if squeezed right.