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My eyes got wider, but I simply nodded. Devil Daddy was in control now.

“Good boy.” He reached out a finger, placing it under my chin and raising my head up, just a little. “Now,” he started, clapping his hands together and glancing around the room. “Do you have any toys down here?”

My heart stuttered. I actually had a room that I hadn’t shown Tristan yet, one where I kept all the BDSM equipment I rarely used but had purchased optimistically. My desires as a Daddy Dom were relatively tame compared to most, so I hadn’t had occasion to use the implements I’d purchased in the process of discovering what I liked. But in Tristan’s hands . . .

Fuck, now I needed to know what he’d do with them. How he’d use them on me.

It felt like I’d purchased all of them for this very moment.

I nodded, dropping my chin submissively and leading him to a closed door across the room. He folded his arms over his chest when we arrived, that evil eyebrow raised as he watched me reach for the handle.

I turned it, leaning inside to flip the light switch as soon as the door was open wide enough.

Tristan gasped when our eyes adjusted. “Oh, Henry,” he breathed, venturing into the space. He first walked to the spanking bench that sat in the middle of the room then turned to the mid-sized glass-enclosed shelving unit I had along the wall. I watched his eyes pass over the flogger, the crop, and the paddle, perhaps intuiting I wasn’t ready for impact play. But then his eyes lit up at the next selection of toys.

Cages in different materials and sizes filled a full shelf of the curio cabinet, and I realized with a jolt that I’d purchased cages in my own size. I was unusually large, so how did I think I’d find a partner as big as I was?

I’d bought them for me without even realizing it. Holy shit.

Tris reached for the glass doors and pulled the right one open, reaching for the cages I knew he was going for. He handed three of the largest ones to me, one by one, making me hold them, see what he was going to torture me with. Then he turned back to the cabinet.

“Hmm,” he murmured, tapping his finger against his lips as he perused the selection of toys. He reached for a large plug, one I hadn’t used before because I wasn’t sure I could get it to fit, and handed that to me as well. Next was a glass dildo that was longer and thicker than I’d ever taken.

My arms were getting full, but Tris didn’t seem to care.

Next was a pair of silicone handcuffs, another optimistic purchase. I bought them because I loved the idea of bondage but hated the thought of something happening to my partner and me not being able to escape.

Oh, fuck. I’d bought those to be used on me, too. How did I miss all of this?

He pulled out a red ball gag with the comment “Hmm, not pink; we’ll have to remedy that later” as if I wasn’t in the room and had no say. My dick throbbed.

Next, Tristan reached for what I knew to be an inflatable plug, a pair of nipple clamps, and a bullet vibrator. What the hell was he planning to do with that? Then, last but certainly not least, he grabbed an enema kit from the supply I had on the bottom shelf.

Well, he’d certainly cleaned me out. And was going to literally.

I nearly snickered aloud at my internal Dad joke, but I bit it back just in time. I suspected Devil Daddy didn’t need any more incentive to torture me—especially with the armory currently overflowing my arms.

I was starting to regret giving him carte blanche. And honestly, the enema kinda scared me. I’d never done one, by myself or otherwise.

I was about to bare myself to Tris completely, and with this game we were playing, it didn’t feel like I had a choice. I knew I did, but it didn’t feel like it.

And I was enjoying that. Who knew?

“Okay, boy. You will take all those things up to your bedroom, display them on one side of the bed so I can choose my implements as we go, then you are to stand by the bed with your chin down and your hands behind your back until I come get you. Understood?”

I nodded swiftly, eyes downcast. My time spent as a submissive had never felt like this—I’d always felt a little wrong in my skin with other bigger, stronger men commanding me to submit to their will. But with Tris? This felt all kinds of right.

He smacked my ass—hard—when I didn’t move quickly enough, so I jumped into action, hurrying upstairs while ensuring I didn’t drop a single thing.

When I arrived in my bedroom, I laid out each item carefully as he’d asked, shivering as the activity drew my attention to each individual item. I suspected that was the point of this exercise—mind games were part of the torture.

I stood next to the items, staring down at them as I assumed the position he’d described, and tried to quiet my mind as I waited for him. This was part of the role play, too: waiting on him. It showed his absolute authority in this moment, and Jesus, it was fucking hot.

It must have taken him several minutes to get up here, and by the time I heard him walk into the room—he didn’t say I could look up, so I didn’t—I was nearly vibrating in anticipation. I was apprehensive of every single item laid out on the bed, and I suspected he knew that.

“Look at me, boy.”

My eyes shot up at Tristan’s command, and I noticed him standing at the foot of the bed with his hands behind his back. I stared at his torso as if I could see through it. Did he bring something with him that I didn’t see him grab? What else had been left in that room?