Chapter 21 Cam
twenty-one
cam
“Iforgot.”
Was it more than a mumble? No, but it was all I could offer as I blinked my eyes open.
One positive outcome from getting milked dry until everything hurt was that everything was too fuzzy afterward.
There was no time, no energy, to consider being embarrassed or self-conscious.
I just burrowed deeper into Daddy, my nose pressing against the crook of his armpit. He smelled very earthy. It was nice.
“You forgot what, darlin’?”
I really liked how he called me darling.
I liked how he was all but cradling me against his lap. He must’ve moved me while I was out of it, because we were comfy now. Not that the swing wasn’t comfortable, but it wouldn’t be if it was the two of us lying there.
The smart thing would be to look around and figure out what was going on exactly. I opted for the self-care thing. The self-care thing involved relishing in how Daddy’s arms felt wrapped around me, and getting more comfortable on his lap.
He hadn’t put on his shirt yet. His skin had a thin layer of sweat I really wanted to lick.
My tongue darted out of my mouth to get the sneakiest taste. The saltiness reminded me he’d asked a question. Not answering Daddies was considered rude in most circles.
“Warning that I pass out sometimes.”
Daddy sighed. He didn’t sound annoyed, but I kind of didn’t want to look up and have my fears confirmed. “It’s okay. You were out for less than a minute.”
“That’s good,” I mumbled.
One Dom I’d played with once was a doctor, so I texted him about it—no way I was going to explain kink to a vanilla doctor and deal with all the judgment.
He said I didn’t really pass out; it was more like a deep state of relaxation I stumbled upon.
He assured me he’d watched other subs pass out and that wasn’t what I did, but I still worried.
Even though his explanation had made sense.
I didn’t fully lose consciousness. It was more like my eyelids grew really heavy, and I didn’t have the strength to stay fully present.
When I focused on it, I could remember hushed voices between Daddy and Damian, and cuffs unclasped, and wrapping myself around Daddy like an octopus while he moved us to a bed with way too many cushions for Mr Gothic House.
I had so many questions about Damian.
“There’s a glass of milk on the nightstand when you’re ready.”
Huh?
Oh, right.
I nuzzled his skin. I’d told him about wanting milk after a scene while I was out. It made sense that he had it all under control.
“Daddy?”
“Yes, darlin’?”
I really, really liked how he saw that word. My entire body responded to it like a spark was warming me up from the inside out.
“Do you promise you’re not going to be mean?”
I felt my eyes water before I could do anything to shield them from him. He knew I regressed, and I could feel it in the new softness that attached to my voice, but I didn’t know.
What if he wasn’t actually—
This was why I didn’t do this.
“I have no idea what makes you ask, Cam, but I solemnly swear I’m not going to be mean.”
His grumbly voice made it sound so silly. I pressed my lips together so that I didn’t end up laughing. The last thing we all needed was him thinking I’d lost the plot.
I hadn’t lost the plot.
The plot had lost me.
Whatever that meant.
“Um.” I fidgeted where my fingers met around his back. “I’m not good at pretending shit hasn’t happened.”
Evidenced by the fact that I kept referring to him as Daddy in my head—shit that should’ve stopped the second I was out of the swing.
Daddy snorted. “Doesn’t surprise me.”
“What’s that supposed to—” I shook my head. It didn’t matter. “If things get awkward, you think the others will let me move with them to the other house?”
Three seconds passed. Three seconds of the loudest silence. It didn’t make my heart pick up back to its baseline anxiety, but it was close.
“Sure.”
There had to be more to it, but I didn’t want to ask. I didn’t want to ruin whatever was happening here. I’d already come close enough.
“Daddy?”
I blinked up at him when he tucked my chin up. “Hmm?”
Can we burrow under a blanket so I can suckle on your chest and stop talking and pretend there is nothing else to concern myself with?
“Can I have my milk now?”
I didn’t know what made the words stick to my throat. Things were different with Daddy, and I didn’t know what to do to untangle everything so that I could come close to a solution or an answer of some kind.
“Yeah.” The soft smile looked odd on his face. Maybe it was just that I hadn’t seen it before, or maybe he was out of practice. I’d overshared way more than he had in return. “Do you want me to feed you?”
I’d imagined I’d just drink my glass as dignifiedly as I possibly could while casually resting against him.
I’d always wanted to be bottle-fed, though, and the fuzziness was still there, protecting me from considering all the reasons why I shouldn’t be bobbing my head up and down with the excitement of a child who’d just been given permission to open their Christmas presents.
The milk was in a regular glass and not a bottle, but the sentiment was there. I curled my hands around Daddy’s arm while he tipped the glass toward my mouth and kept his other hand curled around the back of my neck, keeping me perfectly still.
I could only swallow the creamy milk as he slowly poured more into my mouth. And stare at him. So much staring. It was so hard to not get lost in the second part, to remember it wouldn’t be a good look if I spilled milk all over someone else’s sheets.
Daddy just looked… I wasn’t so fucked in the head I couldn’t tell it was the moment and the action, but Daddy looked so in love as he rocked us oh-so-gently, and it was a lot of big feelings to know what to do with them.
I licked my lips, catching a stray drop of white liquid. “Daddy.”
“What do you need, Cam?”
“Need Daddy.”
Thoughts were leaving fast, okay? That was my excuse.
“Okay. We’re in no rush, darlin’.”
He meant it, too.
I had no idea how long I spent curled up there. The basement having no windows meant I couldn’t track where the sun was, how long I’d been in the swing, or how long it was until Daddy patted the outside of my thigh gently and prompted me to head upstairs so we could rest in a proper bed.
I didn’t know what made this bed not proper, but I supposed it made sense to a functioning adult brain that wanted more than just curling up with a bunch of blankets and maybe suckle on my thumb—since there was no way I felt confident enough to suckle on something else.
“You think too loud, darlin’.”
“That’s not true!”
Was it a half-hearted complaint? Duh.
But, hey, I complained about that and not the fact that Daddy pushed me into the guest room that was technically his.
Maybe he was tired and hadn’t realized, but before he could comment on it, I plopped on the bed and sneaked beneath the covers because everyone knew Littles couldn’t be disturbed when they slept.
If it was extra hard not to sneak a peek or giggle as I heard him walk around the room with no light on and rustle out of his clothes? Whatever.
No one needed to know.