The Institute, Daddy Issues(29)

The only thing I didn’t like about din­ner was the weird pink punch which I no­ticed that all the other Baby­girls had in their gob­lets too. The Dad­dies, how­ever, had both wa­ter and a crys­tal gob­let of red wine in front of them. I sipped a little more of my punch and made a face.

“Hey,” I muttered to Salt. “Can I have some of your wa­ter?”

“Cer­tainly.” He star­ted to hand it to me but just then a petite blonde girl flounced into the din­ing room, draw­ing all eyes to her.

It wasn’t like I wanted to look at her but I couldn’t help it. She was wear­ing an out­fit that made the slutty school­girl getup I’d tried on the night be­fore look ab­so­lutely tame.

Her top was an off-the-shoulder white blouse which hardly de­served the name. It tied in front, barely cov­er­ing her full breasts and clearly show­ing the out­line of her pink nipples press­ing against the thin fab­ric. Then there was a long ex­panse of tanned, toned ab­do­men and a tiny little blue skirt which barely covered her ass. Peek­ing out from un­der the skirt were white lace garters con­nec­ted to white thigh-high hose. High-heeled Mary Jane shoes and a golden neck­lace which said Prin­cess com­pleted the out­fit.

“Hi Daddy.” She came to sit across from me, in the empty chair at Berkley’s side and dropped a kiss on his cheek.

Berkley’s face darkened.

“Prin­cess, what have I told you about be­ing late for din­ner?”

The blonde girl pouted.

“Not to be. And I’m sorry, Daddy but I had to let my new nail pol­ish dry. She held out one hand, show­ing off glit­tery pink pol­ish a girl in high school might like. “See? Isn’t it pretty?”

“It is but I’m still not pleased with you.” Berkley frowned. “If you’re not care­ful, you’re go­ing to earn your­self a pun­ish­ment. Now come and sit on Daddy’s lap and eat your sup­per.”

“Yes, Daddy,” the girl said de­murely. She scooted over and settled on the Dir­ector’s lap, grind­ing against him in a way that was pos­it­ively in­de­cent as she began to take bird-like bites from his plate.

“Bring some punch for my prin­cess,” Berkley com­manded one of his ser­vants. At once, a large gob­let of the bright pink stuff was put in front of her. She drank it eagerly, still rub­bing against Berkley’s lap.

“Mmm, Daddy, I just love sit­ting in your lap for din­ner,” she purred.

Berkley laughed and put down his fork. Reach­ing around the blonde girl, he cas­u­ally cupped one of her thrust­ing breasts and held it in his hand like a ripe fruit.

“As you have prob­ably guessed,” he said to Salt. “This is my own Baby­girl, Mandy. She’s my sweet little prin­cess—well, most of the time when she’s not be­ing naughty.”

“Daddy!” the blonde girl ob­jec­ted. “I’m not naughty! Most of the time, any­way.” She giggled.

“Yes, you are, prin­cess. That’s why Daddy has to pun­ish you so of­ten,” Berkley mur­mured. He was tra­cing her nipple now, I saw, mak­ing it stick out even fur­ther through the thin fab­ric. Tug­ging at the edge of her white top, he slid it down un­til her na­ked breast was re­vealed. Her nipple was very dark pink and looked achingly tight.

“Oh, Daddy!” Mandy ex­claimed, look­ing down at her­self without mak­ing any move to cover her breast. “Now just look what you did to my top!”

“That’s all right, prin­cess, just fin­ish your punch,” Berkley mur­mured. He pinched her ex­posed nipple lightly and she moaned and rubbed against him some more. God, were they go­ing to go for it right here at the din­ner table?

I tried to ima­gine act­ing that way with Salt and felt a strange flut­ter in my stom­ach. Sud­denly I found I had lost my ap­pet­ite.

“But I’m be­ing rude,” Berkley said, still fond­ling the blonde girl in his lap. “Prin­cess, this is the new couple I told you about. This is Mr. Saltanov—he’s from Rus­sia. And this is his Baby­girl, mishka.”

“Hi.” Mandy barely looked at us—she was too busy writh­ing around in Berkley’s lap. Ap­par­ently he thought her in­at­ten­tion was a prob­lem be­cause he re­luct­antly re­leased her breast and pulled her white top back into po­s­i­tion.