Chapter 15
fifteen
EMILY
“Why does she keep staring at me?” Cappa asks me.
I glance over at Livvy, who is sitting in a rocking seat on the counter as Cappa and I cook. She’s well back from the potential splash-zone in the semi-reclined seat, probably two feet from Cappa. She is staring at him with those cloudy-blue eyes very fixedly.
“You’re just so handsome she can’t take her eyes off you,” I tease.
That’s probably not the reason. He’s standing just on the edge of her range of vision as he slices carrots for crudités and she’s trying to bring him into focus.
He also keeps swaying from foot to foot.
That could be because of the music Daddy’s got on, which is pretty good Eighties dance music, I’ll admit.
Or it could be because of the butt-plug Daddy put in him, evidently on Mr. De Leon’s order, before we started cooking, which I swear was bigger than my fist. My eyes started watering when Daddy produced that thing and ordered Cappa into the bathroom.
To my surprise, Cappa’s cheeks flush pink from that little bit of teasing.
“Shut up,” he mutters.
“Pretty, pretty boy,” Bren teases, walking past us to get beers for everyone.
Daddy, Mac, Warrin, Javier, Faolan, Jack, and Bravo are all in the great room, watching college football, while Max supervises the extremely competitive Chutes and Ladders game that’s being played at the dining room table.
Cappa turns bright red. I don’t understand why. He is a pretty boy. Handsome. Almost beautiful with his deep-set, sexy-sleepy eyes. Maybe it’s a masculinity thing. Or maybe it’s because he switches, although I can’t see him trying to top Mr. De Leon. That man screams dominant from a distance.
“Bitchy, bitchy girl,” he mocks her back.
Bren tosses her dreadlocks. “That’s Queen Bitch to you, pretty boy.”
Cappa snarls at her back as she walks back into the great room with her double-handful of beers.
“There’s nothing wrong with being pretty,” I say softly to Cappa.
He sighs. “I know. I just don’t want it to be all I am. Playing with De Leon’s made me realize that some of the Blunts Doms think I’m shallow.”
I put down my knife and turn to look him in the eye. “No one who has spent more than five minutes with you would think you’re shallow. And if anyone who has known you as long as they have thinks that, that’s on them, not on you.”
Cappa lowers his beautiful eyes to the carrots on the chopping board. “It’s on me if that’s all I’ve let them see.”
“Why would you hide what you are?”
He chews on his lower lip. “Because what I am is pathetic.”
I take his knife and put it down on the counter before I hug him. “If what you are is pathetic then everyone in this room is pathetic. We all need to give up control. We all want punishment to enforce arbitrary boundaries. We’ll be the Pathos Crew together.”
Cappa chuckles weakly. “You’re not pathetic. You’re great. Logan’s crazy about you.”
“You’re great, too.” I hold him at arm’s length. “Daddy’s taught me I’m the only one who gets to decide my own worth.”
“That’s right,” Daddy says, walking around the counter and putting his arms around Cappa from behind. OMG, Batman Daddy hearing. “Your partner’s investment doesn’t determine who you are inside. You are the only person who determines your own value, Cap.”
Usually when Daddy touches Cappa, Cappa melts. Not today. He holds himself apart. Not rigidly. Not rejecting Daddy’s touch. But not seeking it, either. That’s new.
“Have you seen me as weak?” Cappa asks Daddy.
“Submissives are the strongest people I know,” Master Mac says, leaning into the conversation from the other side of the counter. I hope he followed Daddy into the kitchen and doesn’t share Daddy’s ridiculous radar, otherwise Bren is screwed. “And I’ve known some hard-cases.”
Cappa nods but he doesn’t look at either Dom.
Daddy releases Cappa with a squeeze of his shoulder. He tips his head at Mac and they meander back toward the couches in front of the television.
Once the Doms are gone, I pick up my knife and get going on my peppers again. “What about playing with Mr. De Leon makes you feel pathetic?” I ask.
“No, it’s the other way around,” Cappa says.
“I feel seen with him. Like he’s trying to worm inside my brain and pick it apart.
Really break me down so he understands how deep my submission goes.
I don’t think . . . well, I know I haven’t been tested like that, not in a long time.
Maybe the Blunts Doms are just too comfortable with me?
What’s the saying, familiarity breeds contempt? ”
That is the saying. Not a very nice one.
Since Cappa seems to be giving me his truths, I give him one of mine.
“When Daddy’s ex was here over the summer, she warned me that Daddy would get bored with me.
That he needs constant stimulation—newness—to keep him engaged.
Because my ex-husband cheated on me, that’s something I’ve feared.
I wasn’t enough to keep Ash faithful, so why would I think I could hold the attention of someone as awesome as Daddy?
” I swallow. Admitting this stuff is hard.
“But after she left and I thought about it more, I realized that I can’t control what my partners do.
Ash straying was his decision. If he’d been honest with me and talked about the reasons he felt tempted and if my behavior was feeding into that, maybe we could have fixed things.
But he didn’t. That’s on him. I am worth more than a partner who isn’t honest, who doesn’t talk to me about their feelings.
Daddy’s always honest with me and I’m always honest with him.
That’s why we’ll go the distance and she’s wrong about us. ”
“Wow,” Cappa says quietly.
“Wow, I’m naive? Daddy’s ex thinks so.”
“No, wow, I never thought of it that way. Just . . . give me a minute.”
He pulls his phone out of his pocket and slips away, pecking a kiss on my cheek before he disappears into Daddy’s office.
I finish slicing up the carrots and arrange the sliced vegetables on two trays with homemade hummus and baba ghanoush. I carry one tray to the dining table and the other to the living room table. Daddy snags my hand as I head back into the kitchen.
“That was a very serious talk you were having with Cappa,” he says, rubbing my hand between his huge paws.
I nod. “I think he’s going through some stuff.”
Daddy dips his head to give me butterfly kisses. “Very proud of you, my little wonder.”
“Because I’ve been working on my insecurities?”
“Yes, and because you’re generous with your friends. I’m proud of my kind, big-hearted girl.”
“Even though I’m very little sometimes?”
“Especially because you’re very little sometimes.”
I stretch up to give him a kiss before returning to the kitchen.
To keep Master Mac out of my kitchen, I’ve made the easiest of party dinners.
All finger foods. Nothing that requires more than defrosting and a trip through the oven.
There aren’t any complaints about the simplicity of the food, not even from Master Javier, since I’ve made the wild-rice-stuffed eggplant rolls with sriracha drizzle that he’s crazy for.
Because it’s a mixed group of littles and non-littles around the table, there’s no High Protocol tonight.
I lean against Daddy and sigh wistfully.
“What’s that noise for, sweetheart?” Daddy asks after swallowing a mouthful of pulled pork.
“Could we have another High Protocol dinner soon?”
Daddy grins a wolfy grin. “We could. Maybe after the Nursery’s Grand Opening. Which, by the way, I think is a fine way to end your coming days of orgasm-abstinence.”
I glare at him. “It would be a fine way of celebrating not having any orgasm-abstinence.”
“Not going to happen, little girl.”
“Boo,” I say.
“Without doing anything so gauche as inviting myself to dinner,” Master Javier says from across the table, “I could find a submissive or two to join in those activities.”
He slides his eyes toward Shannie and Fleur, who are sitting to Daddy’s right.
“Not it,” Fleur murmurs.
“Too late,” Master Javier tells her.
“Monday after the Opening suit you?” Daddy asks.
“To a T,” Master Javier replies.
“But not to an O,” I grump.
Too many of the Doms around the table chuckle. They’re all giant meanies.
“If there’s wide-spread enthusiasm for a High Protocol dinner, I’ll book the Trattoria,” Master Javier says.
“Oh, there is.” Faolan leers at his little. Poor Matty, is her daddy a sadist, too?
“How many days of orgasm-abstinence are we discussing?” Bravo asks.
Beside him, Yummy freezes with her knife and fork in the air.
“Two for Emily but I believe that it’s five for Cappa. Do I have that right?” Daddy asks.
Cappa hangs his head. “Yes, sir.”
The Doms chuckle. They’re an evil, evil bunch.
“Three is an excellent compromise,” Bravo says.
“Compromise?” Yummy squeaks, the horns of her green dragon onesie shaking above her head. “Compromise? There hasn’t been any compromise. I demand a negotiation.”
“Yeah!” Sammi pipes up. “We have rights. Pooyah!”
Jack lifts his dark eyebrows at his boy. “No, little boy, you don’t. Daddy owns your orgasms.”
Sammi gulps. “Oh. I forgot.”
“Too bad for you. So that’s six days.”
“Six? Wait! That’s not a compromise!” Sammi protests.
“It’s a compromise from twelve,” Jack points out.
“Every day feels like a month when there are no orgasms!”
Everyone laughs at Sammi’s consternation.
“Four,” Sammi demands, his lower lip jutting.
“Six,” Jack responds. “This is not a negotiation, little boy.”
“Five?” Sammi asks, his lip trembling.
“Is six days of pleasing Daddy so terrible?” Jack counters.
“No?” Sammi responds but it’s definitely a question.
Jack chuckles. “Five, little boy.”
“We hates orgasm-denial, precious,” Sammi mutters.
“It could be five in a cock cage,” Jack says.
“No!” Sammi squeaks. “It’s fine. Good, good even. Five days is good. All good.”
Jack grins at his submissive. His grin is almost as wolfy as Daddy’s.