Chapter 34
“Ding, dong, the witch is dead!”Bren yells, plucking Livvy from her bouncy chair and swinging her around. Livvy giggles madly.
I smother a giggle because Daddy doesn’t like us calling the Mir-beast names but I share her sentiment. I pick up tongs to turn over the breakfast links I’m grilling. If I do a little “witch is dead” shuffle-dance, surely Daddy can’t blame me for that.
Bren missed all the excitement. She’s expressed to Master Mac, very loudly and in no uncertain terms, that she won’t be left behind the next time he answers a distress call. I think it was all the curse words she used that got her the spanking I heard before she and Master Mac came down for breakfast. Her glowing pink cheeks and thighs don’t seem to be dimming her enthusiasm this morning, though.
She holds Livvy against her chest as she bounces over. She smacks a kiss on my cheek and starts the coffee maker.
“C’mon, Emmy, you have to feel a little triumphant,” she says.
I do. I also feel a little sad for Miranda. I can’t imagine being that desperate. And she seemed genuinely horrified and contrite after that moment of madness when she tried to stab me. But she brought the scalpel along and people don’t randomly carry scalpels—not even doctor-people—so she’d clearly thought about hurting me or Daddy before the confrontation. I don’t feel so sorry for her that I stopped Daddy from calling Theo and lodging an official complaint. If Miranda can’t come back to New York because of an outstanding warrant that would be too bad.
But what I mostly feel is proud. I handled Miranda. No one got hurt, except three Little Larrys and I think they might be salvageable with some careful stitching, and I didn’t break any rules. Daddy’s super-proud of me and I got all the Os last night after we put Livvy to bed. I’m proud of myself.
I’m a fierce, white, baby dragon. Hear me roar.
I tamp down my roar through breakfast because it turns into another strategy session when Jiro, Laurel, Bravo, Yummy, Maude, Javier, and Master Theo join us. I gather from the discussion that Master Chess has called the emergency meeting Daddy was pushing for. I don’t have anything to add and they’re talking serious stuff. I just listen and play with the world’s cutest dragon-baby.
After breakfast, Master Theo takes a statement from me and I send him the recording from my phone. He takes the scalpel and puts it in an official-looking plastic bag that has “Evidence” printed in red across it. I see Daddy eying the bag and wonder what he’s thinking until he murmurs that he’s going to order a bunch of evidence bags so he can collect glitter as evidence of the Littles’ Army’s crimes. I object to that almost as loudly as Bren objected to Master Mac leaving her behind. Yummy joins in, berating Daddy for maligning the Littles’ Army, until Daddy has to throw up his hands and apologize. I take my apology in kisses.
It”s a very good apology.
True arrives after breakfast and we retreat to Daddy’s office. I don’t want to make the Avengers angry.
True watches two recorded classes and submits a quiz while I write. When I take a break to make tea for both of us, she takes off her headphones. “Is Fleur mad at me?” she asks.
“What?”
“She hasn’t answered my texts in two days.”
Something niggles in the back of my head. I pick up my phone. I don’t have Fleur saved as a contact because I’ve never had a need to call her but she’s in a bunch of chats with me, including the Littles’ Army Plus chat where we organize outings. I flip through them and see that she hasn’t looked at any of the recent messages.
I call Cappa.
“Hey, babe,” he answers. His voice is ridiculously cheerful, particularly for someone who is not long off five whole days of orgasm-restriction. If something was bad wrong, he wouldn’t sound so happy. My muscles relax a fraction.
“Is everything okay with Fleur?” I ask. “True says she’s ignored her texts and I can’t see that she’s checked any of our chats.”
“Mmm, hold on.” I hear him tapping. “She hasn’t answered me from yesterday, either.”
I thought they lived together?
“Where are you, Cappa?” I ask.
“At Myles’ apartment,” he says, his tone sheepish.
That explains why he hasn’t seen Fleur, although I suppose they could just be on very different schedules.
“Master Theo was trying to get in touch with her yesterday,” I tell him, having placed that niggling feeling. “Is there any way you can check on her?”
“Yeah,” Cappa says. “Don’t worry about it. I’ll track her down. She’s probably in monster-mode, creating something new. She tends to turn off her phone. Tell True it’s nothing personal and I’ll make sure Fleur gets back to her. Is the kid doing okay?”
I glance at True, taking in the jeans and sweatshirt that fit, the glossy hair she’s done in a Katniss Everdeen-type braid, the bright eyes. “She’s good. Do you want to say hi?”
“Yeah, pass me over.”
I hand True my phone and let them greet each other while I think. I don’t want to make a big deal out of it if Fleur’s just retreated into a creative space. And the last few days have been a lot. Everyone’s on edge.
But I am a fierce, white, baby dragon. I have good instincts. I protect my dragon-friends.
I open the office door and walk into the kitchen. Daddy and several other people sitting at the table glance up.
“Fleur’s missing,” I tell them.
In the kerfuffle that follows, Daddy herds me back into the office.
“Sweetheart, this is your writing time. We’ll find Fleur. You focus on meeting your deadlines.”
I don’t resist. I huggle him and kiss his chin. I know my Daddy will take care of it because that’s what he does. I’ve done my part; I’ve roared. Now I need to retreat back into my cave and do the things I should be doing.
There are a lot of footsteps in the hallway as I get back to writing. True is still talking to Cappa, so I leave my phone with her. The stories in my head have always been at least as real as the life going on around me. It’s not hard to refocus. But my back is tight and by the time I’ve reached my word-count for the day, the hard needle of a headache shoots up my neck every time I move. I leave my computer backing up everything I’ve written while I pad into the kitchen to make myself a cup of chamomile tea.
True follows me into the kitchen. She gives me my phone and I check my messages. Logan’s gone to the club with Master Theo for the emergency meeting. Master Mac has Livvy and he’s gone with Bren to her shop. Cynnie’s asked me to go shopping with her later and there are Littles’ Army rumblings about filling the pool at Blunts with rubber duckies but it looks like everyone’s going to be out of the house for several hours.
Since it’s just going to be me and True one-on-one for a few hours, I offer her a snack and take the opportunity to talk with her. Once we have our tortilla chips, hummus, salsa, and guacamole, I sit down across from her at the breakfast table and say, “A lot of my friends have shared their stories with you but I haven’t. It’s not because I didn’t want to. It’s because I wanted you to have a context for my story, since I’m not exactly the usual kind of submissive.”
“You’re a little, right?” True asks.
I nod.
“And you told me that’s a state of mind, not a size or an age or anything,” True says, dipping a chip.
“That’s right. Littleness can mean a lot of different things, just like submission can be lots of different things.”
“Can it ever!” True says, covering her mouth as she munches. “I had no idea how many different things it could be. Like, even watching scenes at Sacrum, I didn’t have any idea. There’s Brenna’s kind of submission where she’s always submissive to Master Mac and she’s got really specific rules she follows and the punishments are hella scary. There’s Justine’s kind of submission where she submits to anyone who asks for scenes at the club but she doesn’t have any rules outside of scenes and never gets punished. There’s Cappa’s kind of submission where he’s submissive to more than one master but Logan gives him rules and then Mr. De Leon punishes him if he breaks them. There’s so many different kinds of submission.”
She hasn’t even scratched the surface. “Daddy says there are as many different kinds of submission as there are submissives. I think that’s a good thing. It lets everyone be themselves and find their own way.”
“What’s your way?” True asks.
I explain my relationship with Daddy, the rules I follow to keep me safe so I can be little all the time, and the difference between correction and punishment, which makes True’s eyes go round.
“I wouldn’t want to ever earn a punishment from Master Logan,” True whispers.
I don’t really want to, either.
“I love funishments from Daddy,” I explain. “Those are spankings and paddlings and even floggings that Daddy gives me out of love, not to punish rule-breaking or prevent me from ever doing the bad thing again. Correction makes me feel bad because I know Daddy’s disappointed with me but I appreciate that he’s helping me follow the rules. Punishment is awful. A trillion percent, do not recommend.”
True giggles.
“Worst punishment ever?” she asks.
I shake my head. I don’t think True’s a masochist and even if she is, I’m not going to scare an almost-sixteen-year-old with a description of my time on the wooden pony.
“I’ve only earned three real punishments. They were awful. ‘Nough said. I know Cappa and some of the other subbies who have talked with you like to brat. I don’t. I tease Daddy and play practical jokes on him but I don’t resist his orders or break rules on purpose. I’m not comfortable with that. It’s taken me a while to find a Dom who understands that I’d rather follow the rules than break them. It’s important to understand your own needs as a submissive so you can communicate them clearly to your Dom or Doms.”
True nods. “Everyone’s said that. But I don’t always want one thing. Like, I get that you don’t want to break rules but what if I don’t want to break rules one day but feel like breaking them another day?”
I grin at her.
“Tell your Dom and be prepared for a warm behind.”
She giggles. “Is it bad that it sounds like fun?”
“No, not at all. Get rid of that good-bad switch inside your head. Have you played ‘Assassin’s Creed’? Everything is permitted. You just have to talk with your Dom about it first.”
“Ooo, yeah, I have,” True says. “Really, everything? Nothing I do is wrong?”
“Oh, no, lots of things you do can be wrong. Everything is permitted means that everything can be negotiated in kink. Do you want to play zombies and have your Dom pretend to eat you? That’s permitted. Do you want play out a no-win situation, one where you’re guaranteed to fail no matter what you do, so you earn a funishment? That’s permitted. Do you want your Dom to yell at you until you get weepy because you need the catharsis of a good cry? That’s permitted. It’s all about communication. You just have to talk about it with your Dom.”
Her eyes have grown round again at my descriptions of potential scenes. “Wow, I didn’t think about all that. It could be so much fun!”
“It is,” I agree. “It’s the most fun I’ve ever had. The most freedom. The most happiness. Kink doesn’t solve everything but it can be everything if you want it to be. You can live it all the time the way Brenna and I do. Or it can be something you do on weekends. It’s up to you and your Dom to negotiate.”
“I didn’t think of it like that. There are so many rules that I thought it was all about following rules and getting punished for breaking rules.”
“Want to know a secret?” I ask. “I barely ever think of the rules. They’re there. I live within their confines.” I reach over and tap the window overlooking the backyard beside me. “I don’t think about them any more than I think about the glass in this window. The glass is there, doing its job, keeping out the cold, letting in the light. The glass becomes important when I bump into it, when it’s dirty, or when it breaks. Then I think about the glass. The rest of the time? I don’t need to. The rules are part of my life.”
“Like gravity?” True asks.
“Like gravity,” I agree. Daddy-gravity. I’ll share that with him when he gets back. He’ll get a kick out of being Daddy-gravity.