Chapter 15
“Why doesshe 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.
“Feeling lucky, baby doll?” Daddy asks me.
“Yes,” I whisper, not wanting to either antagonize Daddy into adding more days to my sentence or attract the jealousy of my fellow littles.
“I feel like five days is a good length of time,” Daddy says.
I swallow. I’ll die if I have to go through five days of Daddy’s wolfy fucking with no Os. Seriously.
“I feel like five days is setting me up for failure,” I say, looking up through my lashes at Daddy so he understands I’m being earnest. And pleading a little.
“You’re breaking out the big eyes. Good lord, those are killer.” Daddy chuckles. “I’m not ever setting you up for failure, my baby. We’ll keep it at two days.”
I sigh with relief. “Ta very much, Daddy.”
He leans in and presses a kiss to my temple.
After the horror of mass orgasm-denial, everyone settles back into their conversations. Sammi keeps questioning Matty about the gold she “gave up,” which makes her and Faolan trade knowing smiles. Faolan talks to Daddy and Max about the clues they found on their trip to Russia. Aggie regales our end of the table with the story of how Sammi cheated to win Chutes and Ladders, with Fleur providing imitations of Sammi that have even Sammi cracking up. The only person who doesn’t seem to be participating in the conversation is Shannie, sitting on Daddy’s other side.
I don’t know Shannie very well. Unlike Skye and Zuki and some of the nightclub subs, it’s not because she’s standoffish. She’s always been really nice to me. I know she’s one of the last house submissives Daddy personally trained, which could make things between her and me weird but she hasn’t ever acted like she and Daddy were lovers. She treats him like a high school teacher, with a kind of distant respect and affection.
She came with Master Javier and Fleur. I figured Master Javier inviting her was a ruse cooked up by Daddy and Master Mac so they could talk to her in a non-threatening way. Particularly after I scuttled Daddy’s Titanic plans. Watching how she eats with her head down, silent and sad, I hope whatever they discuss helps turn things around for her.
Submission isn’t a guarantee of happiness. I know that. But it hurts to see the Blunts house subs so lost and withdrawn. Brenna found her happiness with Master Mac. It looks like Cappa might be finding some with Mr. De Leon. Surely the other house submissives can find theirs with some help from Daddy?
Livvy wakes up and starts to fuss just before dessert, which is non-dairy ice cream cake and cookies for the littles, tiramisu from the Italian deli down the street for the Bigs. I take Livvy out of her rocking seat and change her, then pop her on her sensory mat and fasten the soft toy mobile over her head. She wriggles and coos at the bright, dangling shapes, so I figure that will keep her entertained through dessert.
Bren and Mac have cleared the table while I’ve been dealing with the baby. I help them bring out fresh plates while Daddy passes out spoons and serves the ice cream cake.
Once everyone is enjoying their processed sugar, I lean into Daddy. “Can I put on a movie and put up the tent once dessert is finished?”
Having endured some mighty blanket-fort-building efforts, Daddy bought me a pop tent. It’s long and low so lots of my friends can sleep in it. The walls and ceiling are gossamer pink and Daddy fixed it up with tiny, winking lights so it’s like being in a fairy cottage. The last time Vashi visited, we painted mandalas all over it with fabric paints. I love my tent.
“Of course,” Daddy says. “And before you ask, yes, everyone can stay over but you’re in our bed.”
“Oookay.” I make it sound like a hardship in case anyone’s listening but I’ll always prefer to sleep with Daddy.
“What’s the movie tonight?” Daddy asks.
“Encanto, because everyone needs to find their own gift.”
Daddy kisses my temple again and smiles. “And because you like to sing along to the crazy flower song.”
I do like that song. Particularly with the alternative lyrics I’ve developed.
“I wish Laurel and Jiro were here so we could all be dragons together,” I tell Daddy. “Matty’s going to be an amethyst dragon but I want to be a flower dragon. Maybe a sundew dragon. They’re carnivorous, you know.”
“And a little sundew just won’t do. Yes, you’ve told me several times. I’ll be suitably wary around my meat-eating flower dragon.”
I grin at him. He doesn’t have anything to be wary about. Although we could role-play the sundew dragon gives Daddy-dragon morning head ...
When everyone’s finished their dessert, I leave Daddy, Bren, and Mac to tidy up and watch the baby while I drag Matty and Sammi off with me. Matty, because I want to show her my little room. Sammi, because I don’t dare leave him to his own devices for more than a few minutes. Even with his daddy nearby, Sammi is a chaos gremlin and can cause an amazing amount of destruction in a very short amount of time.
Matty’s suitably impressed by my little room. She looks through my puzzles and board games, reads my mantra poster, and examines the tools of my latest hobby, calligraphy, which are spread out all over my desk. When Matty says she’d like to practice calligraphy with me, we set up a playdate.
“I’d like to do calligraphy,” Sammi says, just before he knocks three bottles of ink off my desk with an ill-timed, Tigger-type bounce.
Matty and I pick up the bottles, which were fortunately capped, with matching grins.
“We’ll make it an Art Attack playdate,” I offer to Sammi. “I’ll set up a calligraphy station, a coloring station, and a Play-Doh station.”
Sammi bounces again. “I like Play-Doh!”
I know. Play-Doh can distract Sammi from almost anything. “Run downstairs and ask everyone what the best day is for an Art Attack playdate?”
With a whoop, Sammi rushes out, waving his arms over his head.
“No calligraphy for Sammi?” Matty asks.
“No sharp objects or anything that can create a permanent stain,” I say.
Matty grins. “Do you mind me asking what your little age is?”
“I’m mostly a middle. But, um, Daddy’s been helping me go younger.” I wring my hands together, not sure if I should tell my new friend so much but uncomfortable truths seem to be the order of the day. “He diapered me during a scene and rocked me to sleep. It was really good. And he pierced me with diaper pins.” I rub the spot on my side where the scabs are a little itchy. “It was all amazing.”
Matty’s coppery eyebrows shoot up. “Wow. I haven’t tried any of that.”
“What’s your little age? If you don’t mind saying.”
“I don’t. I came into age-play backwards, so I’m still figuring it out. Maybe seven or eight? I know I like the discipline side, so at first I thought I was just into domestic discipline with a bit of a daddykink. But after my dad disappeared, I found I really loved the release and mental freedom of playing with dolls and sleeping with stuffies. I’m also a terrible hoarder. Not piles of newspapers or anything but I’ve always collected things. Dad made me get rid of my collection of bird skulls before I went to college but I still collect coins, odd carvings, and gemstones, most especially amethysts.”
“And gold,” I point out. “Like Smaug.”
Matty beams. “Just like Smaug. I want to plate my whole belly with amethyst crystals.” She rubs her belly under the corduroy romper she’s wearing. “I love the idea of being an amethyst dragon. I love being part of a flight. Is this the kind of thing your playgroup does all the time? Hide and seek in the corn maze and costume parties? I haven’t done anything like this before.”
“This is new to me, too. Daddy loves group scenes. I’d only been to dungeon parties before. We went on a cruise together when we first started dating and he organized this scene where his knights stormed my castle and he took me captive and flogged me. I knew then that he was the best daddy I could ever find.”
Matty nods enthusiastically, her curls bouncing.
“I like hard play like that, too. More than a spanking. I know a lot of littles don’t but I do. Faolan’s the first daddy to give it to me safely. He’s very stern. I love it.”
I catch her hand and give it a squeeze. Being a masochistic little can be isolating. Not that I feel Cynnie or Yummy or Amy ever judge me. Just that I can’t really talk to them about things like the best cream to use for deep bruises. I’ve been very grateful to my Big Sub Bestie and the other masochistic house subs for giving me a tribe.
“I love how stern Logan is, too. He never lets me get away with anything. And he has Batman hearing, I swear.”
Matty giggles. “Faolan has some hearing loss from when he was in the service but it would be wrong of me to try to slip stuff by him. But I’ll admit to the occasional muttered minced oath.”
“What’s a minced oath?” I ask.
“Where you say ‘good gosh’ instead of ‘good god’ or ‘sheesh’ instead of the poop swear-word.”
“Uht-oh, I say those.”
“Faolan doesn’t let me get away with minced oaths.”
I giggle at the thought of not even being able to say omigosh.
“I hope your daddy doesn’t talk to my Daddy.”
“Right? It’s like they only share the worst ideas! Faolan’s been so much harsher since Mister Javier invited us to Blunts. Like throwing gasoline on a fire.”
I giggle again. “How does your daddy know Master Javier?”
Matty wiggles her shoulders. “Daddy said they were old friends and discovered the lifestyle around the same time. But he was vague and warned me off spending too much time with Mister Javier. Which made me curious. So, I went digging.”
“You are a geoarcheologist.”
She grins. “I am!”
She pulls her phone out of her romper pocket, taps open the photos, and scrolls to a picture. I have to clap my hand over my mouth to keep from squealing and summoning Daddy. I wouldn’t have recognized Faolan. He’s baby-faced in the picture, no beard, and hair cut close to his head. But I immediately recognize Master Javier. Has Master Javier always looked the same? Same dark sadist eyes, same aristocratic features. Not even a full head of deep brown hair makes him look any different. He and Faolan are wearing graduation caps and gowns, their arms thrown around each other.
“I’m amazed it’s in color.”
Matty giggles. “Right? I think they’re wearing corduroy bell-bottoms under those gowns. They went to NYU together for two years and then they went to Aix-Marseille University. For philosophy of art.”
She crosses her eyes and sticks her tongue out of the side of her mouth which makes me crack up. She’s so STEM.
“They were roommates in France for that year. Then Faolan went into the Army for three years. He got his Ph.D. at Oxford.” She rolls her eyes. I would be so dead if Daddy caught me doing that. “He stayed in England to teach for five years and, get this, lived in a flat in Oxford owned by Mister Javier’s family. Then he moved back to New York. Mister Javier was married by then?—”
I’m sure my eyebrows disappear into my hair. I had no idea Master Javier was married.
“Many trips together to the south of France.” Another eye roll. “Daddy stayed there a couple of summers when he did sabbaticals to write his books. So old friends is a bit of an understatement.”
Certainly is.
“I didn’t know Master Javier was married,” I say. “Do you know if his wife was in the lifestyle?”
Matty shakes her head. “Not for sure but I don’t think so. She’s quite the society lady. Old New York money. She’s remarried now. She runs his big masquerade ball thing at a fancy club on Park Avenue. Daddy got free tickets. Would you and your daddy like to come? It’s in January.”
A masquerade ball? I’m all over that.
“I’ll ask Daddy. We should have a ball at Blunts. A Littles Ball.”
Matty grins. “We should. A winter water ball. In the pool.”
I love that idea even more. “With synchronized water dancing.”
Matty giggles. “I can’t water dance. But I figure no one will complain about their feet hurting if we’re dancing in the water instead of on land.”
“Excellent idea. We can do an ‘Under the Sea’ theme.”
“Back to the Future?” Matty asks.
I nod eagerly and Matty giggles.
I think I’ve found a new recruit for the Littles’ Army.