Page 481 of The Daddy P.I. Casefiles: The Second Collection

I don’t resist. I huggle him and kiss his chin. I know my Daddy will take care of it because that’s what he does. I’ve done my part; I’ve roared. Now I need to retreat back into my cave and do the things I should be doing.

There are a lot of footsteps in the hallway as I get back to writing. True is still talking to Cappa, so I leave my phone with her. The stories in my head have always been at least as real as the life going on around me. It’s not hard to refocus. But my back is tight and by the time I’ve reached my word-count for the day,the hard needle of a headache shoots up my neck every time I move. I leave my computer backing up everything I’ve written while I pad into the kitchen to make myself a cup of chamomile tea.

True follows me into the kitchen. She gives me my phone and I check my messages. Logan’s gone to the club with Master Theo for the emergency meeting. Master Mac has Livvy and he’s gone with Bren to her shop. Cynnie’s asked me to go shopping with her later and there are Littles’ Army rumblings about filling the pool at Blunts with rubber duckies but it looks like everyone’s going to be out of the house for several hours.

Since it’s just going to be me and True one-on-one for a few hours, I offer her a snack and take the opportunity to talk with her. Once we have our tortilla chips, hummus, salsa, and guacamole, I sit down across from her at the breakfast table and say, “A lot of my friends have shared their stories with you but I haven’t. It’s not because I didn’t want to. It’s because I wanted you to have a context for my story, since I’m not exactly the usual kind of submissive.”

“You’re a little, right?” True asks.

I nod.

“And you told me that’s a state of mind, not a size or an age or anything,” True says, dipping a chip.

“That’s right. Littleness can mean a lot of different things, just like submission can be lots of different things.”

“Can it ever!” True says, covering her mouth as she munches. “I had no idea how many different things it could be. Like, even watching scenes at Sacrum, I didn’t have any idea. There’s Brenna’s kind of submission where she’s always submissive to Master Mac and she’s got really specific rules she follows and the punishments are hella scary. There’s Justine’s kind of submission where she submits to anyone who asks for scenes at the club but she doesn’t have any rules outside of scenes andnever gets punished. There’s Cappa’s kind of submission where he’s submissive to more than one master but Logan gives him rules and then Mr. De Leon punishes him if he breaks them. There’s so many different kinds of submission.”

She hasn’t even scratched the surface. “Daddy says there are as many different kinds of submission as there are submissives. I think that’s a good thing. It lets everyone be themselves and find their own way.”

“What’s your way?” True asks.

I explain my relationship with Daddy, the rules I follow to keep me safe so I can be little all the time, and the difference between correction and punishment, which makes True’s eyes go round.

“I wouldn’t want to ever earn a punishment from Master Logan,” True whispers.

I don’t really want to, either.

“I love funishments from Daddy,” I explain. “Those are spankings and paddlings and even floggings that Daddy gives me out of love, not to punish rule-breaking or prevent me from ever doing the bad thing again. Correction makes me feel bad because I know Daddy’s disappointed with me but I appreciate that he’s helping me follow the rules. Punishment is awful. A trillion percent, do not recommend.”

True giggles.

“Worst punishment ever?” she asks.

I shake my head. I don’t think True’s a masochist and even if she is, I’m not going to scare an almost-sixteen-year-old with a description of my time on the wooden pony.

“I’ve only earned three real punishments. They were awful. ‘Nough said. I know Cappa and some of the other subbies who have talked with you like to brat. I don’t. I tease Daddy and play practical jokes on him but I don’t resist his orders or break rules on purpose. I’m not comfortable with that. It’s taken me a whileto find a Dom who understands that I’d rather follow the rules than break them. It’s important to understand your own needs as a submissive so you can communicate them clearly to your Dom or Doms.”

True nods. “Everyone’s said that. But I don’t always want one thing. Like, I get that you don’t want to break rules but what if I don’t want to break rules one day but feel like breaking them another day?”

I grin at her.

“Tell your Dom and be prepared for a warm behind.”

She giggles. “Is it bad that it sounds like fun?”

“No, not at all. Get rid of that good-bad switch inside your head. Have you played ‘Assassin’s Creed’? Everything is permitted. You just have to talk with your Dom about it first.”

“Ooo, yeah, I have,” True says. “Really, everything? Nothing I do is wrong?”

“Oh, no, lots of things you docanbe wrong. Everything is permitted means that everything can be negotiated in kink. Do you want to play zombies and have your Dom pretend to eat you? That’s permitted. Do you want play out a no-win situation, one where you’re guaranteed to fail no matter what you do, so you earn a funishment? That’s permitted. Do you want your Dom to yell at you until you get weepy because you need the catharsis of a good cry? That’s permitted. It’s all about communication. You just have to talk about it with your Dom.”

Her eyes have grown round again at my descriptions of potential scenes. “Wow, I didn’t think about all that. It could be so much fun!”

“It is,” I agree. “It’s the most fun I’ve ever had. The most freedom. The most happiness. Kink doesn’tsolveeverything but it canbeeverything if you want it to be. You can live it all the time the way Brenna and I do. Or it can be something you do on weekends. It’s up to you and your Dom to negotiate.”

“I didn’t think of it like that. There are so many rules that I thought it was all about following rules and getting punished for breaking rules.”

“Want to know a secret?” I ask. “I barely ever think of the rules. They’re there. I live within their confines.” I reach over and tap the window overlooking the backyard beside me. “I don’t think about them any more than I think about the glass in this window. The glass is there, doing its job, keeping out the cold, letting in the light. The glass becomes important when I bump into it, when it’s dirty, or when it breaks. Then I think about the glass. The rest of the time? I don’t need to. The rules are part of my life.”