June is breathing heavily as she stares at me.
“Do you understand, honey? I’m not mad at you for anything that happened this morning. I was scared out of my mind. I wished you had come to me instead of taking off and putting your life in danger. But I don’t blame you for your choices. I fully understand why you did it. I’m actually proud of you.
“My heart swells to know you value a stranger’s life so much that you would do anything to save them. I’m grateful you had the forethought to grab a weapon. And I’m so glad I told you where my knives are kept. Thank God you knew where the keys to the car were and how to get to it and get out of the parking garage. I’m even glad you’d be able to evade detection if you ever needed to.”
Silent tears are running down her cheeks. She sniffles.
I pull her closer between my legs. “June, you’re my life. My heart. My soul. Sometimes, your adult self might do things I don’t like, but that happens in every relationship. We will work through those things calmly. I might do things you don’t like, too.” I lift a brow, wondering if she might think of something I do that she doesn’t approve of.
She licks her lips. “Like kill people,” she whispers.
“Exactly. See? Are you mad at Daddy for what I did this morning?”
She shakes her head. “No. He was a fucking monster. I’m glad you ended him. Now I won’t have to look over my shoulder for the rest of my life.”
I inhale deeply, relieved.
She licks her lips. “But I don’t like the idea of you killing people regularly because it scares me. What if they kill you someday?”
I hold her the rest of the way against me and hug her tight. I never want to let her go. “No one is going to kill me, honey. Never. You have to trust that. I’m one of the best in the country at what I do. I was trained by the military. So were my men. I promise I will always come home to you.”
She sniffles against my chest. “So you’re not mad at me?”
I lean her back. “Never, June. I’m not your father, nor am I your ex. There’s nothing you can do that would ever make me angry. Scared, yes. But not angry. I will never raise my voice. I will never scream at you. And I will certainly never strike you in anger.”
“Not even if I steal the car without telling you?”
“The car is yours. I’ll change everything so your name is on it first thing tomorrow. You can’t steal your own car. And you do not need permission to leave the house, June.”
“But…”
“That’s me speaking to you partner to partner in a committed relationship between two equal adults. That’s the bottom line. We might spend most of our time living in an agreed-upon kinky relationship, and it may feel like my word as your Dom is law sometimes, but I don’t have that power over you without you giving it to me. I can give you rules and ask you to obey them, and I will because your Little likes boundaries and guidance. But at the end of the day, under your Little is a fully capable, amazing grown adult who can take the keys off the counter and leave our apartment without permission.”
She tips her head to the side. “You’re giving me permission to just come and go anytime I want?”
“I’m giving your adult permission to do so, June. And frankly, your adult doesn’t need permission. Adults don’t answer to other people. However, your Little doesn’t have permission to even pee alone, so no.” I smile.
She rolls her eyes. “That’s so confusing.”
“Did you just roll your eyes at me, naughty girl?”
“Yes.”
“Does your Daddy let you do something like that?”
“No.”
“Does your Daddy let you speak disrespectfully?”
I love the way she swallows hard. “No, Sir. No, Daddy.”
I slide my hands up to stroke the back of her head. “It feels natural to submit to me, doesn’t it?”
“Yes, Sir.”
“Your entire body relaxed when we slid back into that comfortable arrangement. You have a naturally submissive side that wants to be nurtured and disciplined. You thrive under strict rules, Little one. They’re your comfort zone. Your Little does not have permission to leave the apartment for any reason without Daddy. She may not play with knives or touch the hot stove. She isn’t allowed to surf the internet and rot her brain with social media. She doesn’t choose her clothes or even feed herself sometimes. She has a bedtime and takes naps. She snuggles with a stuffed bear and sits on her Daddy’s lap. She’s all those things nearly full-time, but underneath that Little girl, who’d rather submit to her Daddy than have to adult, is a capable adult. One with agency. When she needs to come out, she will do so, and I will never, ever be angry when that happens. Understood?”
She slumps against me. “Yes, Daddy.” Her small arms go around my neck, even the clunky one. “I love you so much, Daddy.”
