“I agree. There’s this ominous presence that looms, waiting. It’s suffocating. I want it gone.”
She nods. “That’s exactly it. And I hate that the only way to eliminate it is for you to kill someone. That’s not a world I’m familiar with. I know my dad has killed people. I know you have, too. Probably more than I can imagine. But that was war. This is not. You’re a civilian. Civilians don’t run around like vigilantes, taking the law into their own hands and doling out punishments.”
“Some civilians do, Baby. That’s why Black Blade Protection exists. We take care of things that no one else is capable of or willing to do.”
She pushes her food around on her plate.
I point toward the barely touched meal. “Eat, Baby girl. I mean it. No more upsetting thoughts.”
“Okay…” She finishes her meal in silence.
I don’t mind us talking at the table. On the contrary, I enjoy light back-and-forth banter, but I want her to eat without growing nauseous over the constant reminder that a man is on the loose who murdered her father and spied on her for heaven knows how long. His perverse voyeurism could go back longer than any of us would care to ponder. He has violated my girl in a way that won’t be easy for her to recover from.
She has me now. I’ll do everything in my power to replace the icky thoughts with ones of joy. I hate what she’s going through, but at the same time, I’m grateful that it wasn’t worse. If she’d come home one minute later, this story would be on a very different path. She would have called the police and dealt with her father’s death exactly the way Samson planned. She would be at home now, and that motherfucker would be living in her house, wooing her, pretending to be her knight in shining armor.
I need to stop letting my mind wander there, too. It makes me furious every time.
When we’re done eating, Autumn takes her dishes to the sink. “Can I clean up?”
I pull her into my arms and tip her chin back with one finger. “No, sweetheart. You can wait on the couch. I’ll be finished here in a minute, and then I’ll come spank you.”
Her cheeks pinken. “Okay, Daddy.”
When I join her, she’s sitting on the edge of the cushion, wringing her fingers together in her lap. I squat in front of her and set my hands on either side of her hips. “Why are you so stressed? I’ve spanked you before. You know what to expect.”
She looks up at me. “It’s not about that. I think I have anxiety. Mostly about you going after Frank.”
I scoot closer and wrap my hands over hers in her lap. “I can’t leave this alone, Baby girl. You would be looking over your shoulder for the rest of your life.”
She nods rapidly. “I know. I get that. But I’m still scared for your safety.”
Hoping to lighten the mood, I smirk. “That scrawny thing? You think I can’t take him?”
She rolls her eyes dramatically.
“I’ll have men with me, sweetheart. We’ll be prepared and have an elaborate plan.”
“Okay.” She keeps nodding. “I know. But I’ll be worried.”
“That’s natural. When the time comes, I promise I won’t leave you hanging around without information for any longer than absolutely necessary.” I stand. “Now, how about that spanking? I bet you’ll feel better if I take you over my knees.”
“I bet I’ll feel very Little.”
“That’s probably a good thing. Let yourself escape.” I sit next to her and point in front of my knees. “It might help if you spend some time in a deeply Little headspace. Escape reality.”
“Like really young?” she asks as she slides off the cushion.
“No. Deep role-play. Doesn’t matter the age. What matters is letting yourself fully immerse in any younger age. Tell yourself you’re five and that you’ve been very naughty. Close your eyes if you need to. Go into your head and accept the fact that Daddy is going to spank you for misbehaving. Afterward, Daddy is going to make you stand in the corner, where naughty girls go to think about their poor choices.”
“But it’s just pretend, right?”
I pull her between my legs. “Yes, Baby girl. It’s always pretend. You’re not actually five. You’re an adult. But it feels good to let yourself regress. It’s deeply submissive. It’s a conscious decision to be Little and turn your care over to me. It only works if it’s something you crave. I can’t force you to submit that way, or any way at all.”
She stares at me. “Okay.”
I shift my grip, so I’m holding her fisted hands in one of mine, and I set my other palm on her chest. “Being Little is a feeling that’s in here. It’s something you’ve known about yourself and craved for a long time. But knowing and doing are two different things. You have to experiment to find out what appeals to you. You already recognize you like to be spanked. It won’t be shocking this time.”
She licks her lips. “Will you…”