I send it to Mr. Westley’s lawyer to pass on to him, anticipating a very unpleasant phone call in my very near future. But I’ll face that when I come to it, and at least my conscience is clear. I can’t take money for looking after Adrienne. There are practical matters I’ll have to consider at some point, like what we’ll do when she doesn’t need bodyguard levels of protection anymore and I need to take another client. I don’t know what we’ll become to each other as time passes, but at least I can take care of the here and now.
Adrienne doesn’t wake until lunchtime and comes downstairs naked and sleepy. I catch my breath looking at her, her pink hair in a curly cloud hanging over her full breasts. She comes to stand next to the stool I’m sitting on at the kitchen counter, sleepily rubbing her eyes. I pull her into my lap and she clasps her arms around my neck and kisses me.
“Hello, daddy.”
Her voice is soft and her body is very warm in my arms. Something clenches deep in my belly, both carnal and protective. I meant what I said in my email. There’s nothing more important to me right now than her happiness.
“You’ve missed class today, haven’t you?” I murmur against her temple, belatedly remembering that today is a weekday.
She wriggles her bottom more snugly into my lap. “You said I could have a day off if we went to see my mother, remember?”
I smile, tucking her hair behind her ears. “Hmm. I did, didn’t I? Littles never forget a treat or a promise. They seem to forget other things, though. Like their rules.”
She blinks up at me, wide-eyed. “But I don’t have any rules.”
I pull a notepad across the bench towards us and turn Adrienne on my lap to face it. Best to do it now while she’s still pliant and satisfied, and her brattiness hasn’t had time to wake up. “You’re about to.”
I sit her on the stool, fetch a blanket from the couch and wrap it round her shoulders and begin to get out her breakfast things: small bowl, small spoon, and a dozen cereals to choose from. Even with my back turned I can sense that she’s pouting, and I suppress a smile.
“But why do I need rules?” she says.
“Good question.” I set the milk carton on the counter. “Why do you think you need rules?”
She scrunches up her face, thinking. “Because you’re bossy?”
“Ha-ha. Apple Jacks and Cheerios?” I ask, indicating the boxes.
“Cap’n Crunch and Cornflakes, please.”
I pour the cereal, add the milk and pass it to Adrienne. One arm snakes out of the blanket she’s swaddled in and she picks up her spoon. I resist the urge to sit down and pull her onto my lap again, forget about the rules and spend the afternoon telling her how pretty she is. Entirely pleasurable in the short term, but disastrous in the long term. If she knows just how badly I want to spoil her rotten, especially after pounding her senseless upstairs, I’ll never be able to do anything with her.
“All right. Why you need rules.” I tick the reasons off on my fingers. “Because your life has no structure. Because you have responsibilities to the people who love you. Because there are things that you want to achieve. Because you are still in danger and I need to know you’re safe. And most of all, because a sub needs rules. They make her feel safe, which is the most important reason of all.”
“That’s a lot of reasons,” she says darkly. “Will there be a lot of rules?”
“Finish your breakfast and I’ll tell you.”
After she’s eaten and administered her insulin, I scoop her up in my arms and carry her through to the couch. The notepad and pen are clutched in her hands.
“Wouldn’t you rather go back to bed?” she whispers, her lips fluttering against my throat.
I sit down on the couch, hard, and she squeals and clutches me tightly. Using my severest daddy voice, I say, “This isn’t my first rodeo, babygirl. I know all the tricks bratty little girls use to get out of their rules, and they do not work on me.” Usually. “Now, number a list, one to eight.”
“Eight,” she moans, as if I’ve just told her to perform the Labors of Hercules, but does what she’s told.
“Good girl. Now, first of all, college. I haven’t seen you do any homework in about two weeks and I know you’re behind in your classes. There have been a lot of upsets in your life recently, so it’s perhaps understandable, but from now on classes and homework come first. Write it down.”
I watch her write in neat cursive, Classes and homework come first, and then look up at me, her eyes expectant. The pliant expression plunges straight to my core. I’ve missed this. When I’ve had a sub in the past it’s just been a part-time thing, a few hours a week together, some texting and maybe Skyping. It’s all I’ve needed to satisfy the part of me that likes submission from my partner along with the sex. Adrienne is the most challenging young woman I’ve taken as a sub, but that somehow only makes it more satisfying.
Clearing my throat, I say, “Number two. Bedtime is at eleven, unless I say otherwise. Number three, no social media.”
“But I’m following that one already,” she points out.
“Yes you are. Good girl.” I plant a kiss on her nose and wait for her to write it down. “Number four. You’re to visit your mother once a month and write her a letter once a week.”
As expected, this one makes her scowl, and she mutters something about it being pointless as she writes it down.
“What’s that, Adrienne?” I ask, my voice hardening.