"What stopped you?" I asked.
"He did." Clare smiled at the memory. "He told me I could run if I needed to, but he'd just bring me back.”
Abby’s eyes turned huge. “And did he spank you?”
Clare blushed. “Maybe…”
Abby’s jaw dropped.
I glanced at her, a little puzzled. Abby giggled, covering her mouth. "I got a spanking the first time I lied to Daddy. He did it to remind me he’s not a mind reader, and because I went to do the laundry when I’d promised to stay in my apartment." She sighed dreamily. "But then I showed him my Daddy list, and he told me he loved me and was keeping me forever."
I felt my cheeks heating. These women were so open about their dynamics, while I was still struggling to even acknowledge mine, or work out exactly what it was. Although last night had been special.
And I'd felt better after Daddy had told me I could be both, then I smiled because I'd called him Daddy.
"It's okay to be curious," Clare said. "And it's okay to be scared."
"I'm not scared," I protested automatically, then caught myself. "Okay, maybe I am a little. It's just... I've spent my whole life being strong, being in control. The idea of letting someone else take over, even temporarily..."
"Is terrifying," Clare finished. "But also liberating."
Clare nodded at Abby. “Abby was surprised I’d been spanked, well… I trusted someone I shouldn’t have and was kept in an actual cage for months after.”
I gaped, then reached out and took Clare’s hand. “I kind of understand, even though mine wasn’t as long.”
Clare tilted her head. “You too?”
Warmth spread through me when I realized all the guys had kept my secrets, and I briefly explained.
"How do you do it?" I asked, genuinely curious after they'd listened. "Balance being an adult in the world with... this other side?"
Abby shrugged. "I don't really have to balance much as I stay at home, and Daddy takes care of most things. But I wasn't always like this."
"Abby used to work in a private nursery," Clare explained. "She ran herself into the ground trying to be perfect all the time."
"I was miserable," Abby confirmed. "Always anxious, never sleeping. Then I met Daddy, and he showed me I could be myself—all of myself—with him."
I thought about Dion, about how he seemed to see right through my carefully constructed walls to the vulnerable parts I kept hidden. "But what about your friends? Family? Don't they think it's weird?"
"Some do," Clare admitted. "But my brother’s just relieved I’m happy, and I’ve even started taking some art classes again." She rolled her eyes. "The people who matter accept me for who I am. The rest can mind their own business."
"What if I can't let go?" I whispered, voicing my deepest fear. "What if I'm too broken to ever really trust someone that much?"
Clare moved to sit beside me, taking my hand. "Broken isn't the word I'd use. Cautious, maybe. Protective of yourself. But that's not the same thing."
"I've spent so long fighting," I admitted. "Fighting to be taken seriously, fighting for my clients, fighting against my own needs."
"And now you're exhausted," Abby said softly, moving to sit on my other side.
I nodded, throat tight with unexpected emotion. "I don't know how to stop."
"You don't have to stop all at once," Clare advised. "It's not an all-or-nothing proposition. You can start small."
"Like what?" I asked, genuinely curious.
"Like letting Dion feed you," Abby suggested. "Or wearing cute pajamas. Or asking for a hug when you need one instead of pretending you're fine." Which was true, and I thought back to what we'd shared yesterday.
Clare nodded. "For me, it was letting Maddox brush my hair at night. Such a simple thing, but it helped me learn to trust his touch, to accept care."
