Page 5 of Key of Kink

He isn’t going to let this go, is he?

“Fine, but on one condition. We don’t discuss them again. Ever. Agreed?” I knew Theo would never talk about this part of my life with anyone else. I just wanted him to realise I didn’t want to discuss it with him either.

“Agreed.”

I took a deep breath. “One, no emotional entanglements. Two, no staying the night. Three, no Daddy. Four, Contained scenes only. And five…”

Except I didn’t want to give voice to that one.

Five: control is louder than ghosts.

“That’s all you’re getting.”

“Believe me, that’s enough, although number three intrigues me.”

“Nope. Not going there.”

There was a pause before he spoke again, and I knew he’d got the memo. “I’d better let you get back to your whipping or flogging or whatever it is you have planned for some poor unknowing submissive.”

That earned him another snort. “If they’re playing with me, they know exactly what to expect. It’s called negotiation, and I don’t make a move without it.”

He laughed. “Then go play. I’ll see you at rehearsal tomorrow night.”

“When doubtless you’ll arrive with copies of Blackbird, and extensive notes on who’s doing what with it.” I snickered. “So you go play with your laminator.” I hung up, then shoved my phone into my locker. I didn’t need any distractions while I was on the main floor.

And if Theo had his way, I’d be a distracted lovesick fool.

I didn’t really mind him wanting to fix me up with someone. I knew his motives were pure. We’d been friends since college and if I were honest, our decision to form Rough Harmony had taught me something vital.

Leadership doesn’t have to be solitary. Responsibility can be shared.

My mind drifted back to our phone call. Theo had thought rule number three was amusing. I knew better. It wasn’t about the word—it was about what it implied. Daddy wasn’t just authority. It was care, consistency, a presence that didn’t end when the scene did.

Jordan had used it like a promise. Not “command me,” but “stay.”

Daddy meant don’t pull away. Be steady. Don’t disappear when it gets hard.

I hadn’t known how to be that without turning it into control, so I did what I could measure. Structure. Rules. Containment. Control was clean—Daddy wasn’t. It blurred lines.

It asked me to be emotionally available, except that came with expectation, which led inevitably to failure.

Nope. No Daddy, because control was louder than the ghosts lurking in my past.

And I needed it to be.

I left the locker room and headed over to the bar to grab a bottle of water. I waved at the usual familiar figures seated there, then strolled back to the main room. I stood on the edge, surveying the usual chaos with professional detachment.

Luke Thomas was trying too hard—again. He was a Dom, fairly new to the club, and what made him stand out was his continually raised voice and sloppy posture. The man was all bark and no gravity. The sub he was playing with clung to his leg as if it was a flotation device.

On the far side of the room, a couple of guys were negotiating at full volume, as though that added legitimacy.

I sighed internally. Guys, we have a room for this.

London had no shortage of people who wanted control. What it lacked—consistently—were people who understood what it cost.

I’d learned that early, when I was young enough to think I was invincible, and old enough to be very wrong.

Control isn’t about force. It’s about responsibility. Paying attention when it’s easier not to. Knowing exactly where the line is and never pretending you don’t see it.