Chapter 20. Ford
The elevator opens directly into the penthouse. Extravagant but terribly convenient. Jude steps out behind me and goes quiet, and I watch his reflection in the floor-to-ceiling windows as his eyes sweep across the space. He's been here twice before, but he still isn't used to it.
The city sprawls below us. Inside, the penthouse is warm. It is, in many ways, the opposite of the apartment we just left. The one with the peeling contact paper and the Monstera and the roommate who dances merengue while making eggs.
"Holy shit, I can't get over this fucking place," Jude says, because of course he does.
"We'll have to do something about that language of yours. Maybe keep a tally. Every bad word is a day of orgasm denial," I say, not entirely joking. He looks at me, exasperated, with his mouth open and his big honey eyes.
"Can't I trade? One bad word, one spanking?"
"Of course not. You love spankings. This is meant to teach you a lesson," I say. "I want to discuss our dynamic now. Preferences, limits."
"Yes, Daddy," he says. He's a good boy when he wants to be. "But where's Angel? With your mom?"
"She's at my townhouse. I don't live here. I just come here when I need a break."
"Oh." He gets quiet again. Studying me. I can see the gears turning behind those eyes. "That day when I came to apologize," he says carefully. "Were you at home? Did you come just for me?"
"Yes."
"You arranged all of that. For me."
It's not really a question.
"Yes," I say. "I wanted to hear what you had to say."
His mouth does something complicated, a smile that starts cocky and ends vulnerable. Then the brat facade is back. He's looking like he won a war.
"You love me!" he exclaims. I'm taken aback for a second, but I don't want to turn this into a whole emotional thing.
"Don't look so smug."
He laughs, loud, and I'm glad for it. "I'm just saying."
"With the smuggest expression possible," I say, but I'm smiling. "Come sit down, you little rascal. We have things to discuss."
I settle into the corner of the sectional, and what happens next is so natural it surprises me: Jude sits on the floor, at my feet, his back against the base of the couch, his shoulder resting against my calf. He does it with ease.
I let my hand drift to his hair. His eyes close.
"So," I say. "Let's talk about what we're building here."
He tilts his head into my touch. "Yes, Daddy."
"Good boy," I praise him, and he looks at me as if he'd won the lottery. Something gives way behind my ribs all over again. "Types of play. What you've done, what you want to do, what you dream about when you're not busy being an insufferable brat."
He grins. "Hey!" he exclaims, but I know he's having fun.
"Impact play, obviously. We've covered that.
Bondage, rope, restraints, whatever. Puppy play.
I'm a little bit of a Little too. I like sensory stuff.
Temperature play, wax. Edging. Denial. Chastity cages.
" A pause. "I like being told no, throwing a tantrum, and getting put in my place.
It's my most favoriest of all favorites! "
"Shocking," I say dryly, and he snorts.
"I like no-touch too. Not being allowed to touch myself without your permission.
I like how it gives the vibe that I'm your property, so you can stop me from touching my own body, and it will only be touched by you if I beg.
It makes me feel like a toy, and that's another kink of mine.
I want you to own me. Tell me it's not too much. "
"It's not too much," I chuckle. "It's a perfectly normal desire within kink and consider it done. Your wish is my command. How ironic, since you're the sub."
"That's how it goes! I'm the one with all the power in the end," he exclaims. I nod.
"Mhm, that's right."
"I like having the space to be bad but knowing you'll meet me there, and there will be consequences."
"Mhm, you bet there will be," I say, petting his hair.
"But… Daddy, I'm worried about something," he says and looks at me with those huge eyes. I get scared for a split second. My instincts start screaming: what could he possibly be worried about, and how can I make it right immediately?
"Yes, sweetie, what's wrong?" I ask, still massaging his scalp, and he leans more into my touch, his eyes closed.
"You said you don't like brats, so I'm scared you won't want to play with me for real, and that you only accepted it because I was on your back relentlessly."
That kind of clarity is everything in this. It impresses me every time.
"You don't need to worry about that, sweetheart.
I'm serious about you. And I may have to change my mind about brats.
I adore it when you're playful and silly, when you play hard to get.
It's funny, and I love putting you back in your place.
Besides, bratting is just another way to ask for what you want.
It's okay, sweetie. I know how desperate you are to tell me you want more, and how this is you trying your best."
His mouth falls open, and he looks up at me, and there it is. Devotion, the thing I've seen in his eyes before, the thing that makes me want to protect him forever. He looks at me as if I'm the most important thing he's ever seen, and this always undoes me.
"Phew! Because I'm not about to leave anyway! You're going to have to get used to the idea of taming me."
I catch his chin, softly, and make him keep his eyes on me. I'm smiling now.
"I don't want to tame you, angel. I want you exactly as you are. Wild, free, irreverent. I'll be there to remind you of your place, every time."
"If I had a tail, I'd be literally wagging it," he says, and I laugh.
"I'm glad, puppy."
"What about you, Daddy? What do you like to do?"
"I like building frameworks and watching someone thrive inside them.
Domestic discipline appeals to me. Rules, routines, consequences.
I'm a caretaker by nature, even when the caretaking looks like discipline.
" I pause, considering. "I like knowing that someone trusts me enough to hand over the steering wheel. The gift of that. The responsibility."
"Such a classic Dom answer," he says. I chuckle.
"I'm glad you're starting to understand I am a Dom. I know it's hard for this silly head of yours." His mouth falls open at the degradation, loving every second. I don't let him say anything, though, because I continue: "We have to buy some stuff. Collar, leash. The works."
He looks so happy that he really does look like a puppy wagging his imaginary tail. I chuckle, softly. "You're so cute," I tell him.
"You're the best Daddy ever!" he exclaims.
"Let's see if you still think that after we discuss some rules I want."
"Ruuuuleeessss?" he asks, and sighs dramatically, stretching the word, his Little side showing.
"Of course. Silly puppies need structure, don't they?"
"I guess," he mumbles, and it's endearing.
"So, first thing. No more alcohol without permission. Zero. If you're good, I'll let you have a beer or one drink as a reward. This is a hard rule, and I don't want you bratting about it."
His mouth opens. Just a little. Something flickers behind his eyes. Not quite protest, but the ghost of it, the reflex of a man who's been using alcohol as his emergency exit for a year. I see it, and I don't comment on it. I let him close his mouth on his own.
"Yes, Daddy," he says, quieter now.
It takes a huge weight off my shoulders.
"Good boy," I say and massage his scalp. "Second rule, no more cussing and bad words. But this isn't a hard rule. I'll keep a tally and punish you accordingly."
"Whyyyy not?!" he asks.
"Because it's bad behavior for bad puppies and bad babies, and you're my good little boy. Besides, I want to have a reason to punish you without you having to break actual big rules."
"Fucking hell, you're strict," he says, not missing a beat, and I can't help laughing.
"Okay. That's two tallies. I'd be careful if I were you."
"Two?!" he exclaims.
"You said two words, didn't you?"
"Fucking hell? I think it should count as one."
"Four tallies now," I say. He laughs and sticks his tongue out at me, and I want to grab it between my thumb and finger. But he's faster.
"Also, I expect bratting. The eye rolls, the tantrums, that sharp tongue of yours. That's you, and I adore it. But there's a difference between testing me and disrespecting me. The first comes with consequences we negotiate. The second is a hard stop."
"Yes, Daddy, of course. Can I say something, though?" he asks. I nod, eyebrows drawn together, not imagining what it could be. "You're always rolling your eyes! What will your punishment be?!"
Again, he gets me. "I don't have punishments because I can do whatever I want, brat," I say. He sighs, exaggerated, and it's cute and funny.
I keep going.
"As we established, you're my property, so I want you to update me on what you're doing and where you are. You won't touch or play without permission. Actually, you mentioned chastity cages, and I love that idea. And you'll wear my collar. Does that sound like something you'd like?"
"Fuck yes, I love all of that," he says. I raise an eyebrow.
"Five," I say. He giggles, as if he's testing me, testing the boundaries, seeing if the rule will hold. It will. "We can re-discuss any of this at any time. I expect you to use your safewords whenever you need them."
"I know, Daddy!" he exclaims. "I told you, I've been a sub forever, I know what I'm doing. I want to be your property, your puppy, your good little boy. Actually, I begged you for that."
"You did, didn't you?" I ask, rhetorically, smiling at him.
"Many times!" he exclaims.
"Good boy," I say, and caress his cheek. "I'm really proud of you. Come on, we have stuff to buy!"
He looks so ridiculously happy. That stupidly wholesome smile of his. I don't think I'll get used to how warm he makes me feel.