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“Are you serious?” She gives me a puzzled look. “I mean, we really just met. I appreciate you helping me. The hospital for starters, saying I live here now… But truth, I still have this feeling this is some sort of game and I’m the only one that doesn’t know I’m playing.”
I pull her to my chest. “No game. But, truth? I know it doesn’t make sense. All logic tells me so. But here,” I point to my heart then to my mid-section, “and here in my gut, there’s something I don’t doubt, and it’s a feeling I’ve never had before. Like you are family, a lost part of me that I know I’ll never live without again.”
I feel her body fill with a long breath as she shakes her head. “I’m walking around naked. And, I feel comfortable. It’s all so strange.”
“There’s nothing wrong with strange. I’ve been a risk taker all my life and I’ve done pretty well with it so far. This is my biggest risk yet, but you know what, baby?” She looks up with those trusting green eyes. “It’s also going to be the biggest payoff ever.”
“This bedroom is bigger than my apartment. Two of my apartments.”
She’s looking like a little girl walking around, touching everything. A little girl I want to corrupt.
I turn toward the paneled wall and press into the wood with both palms. The controls activate, and the walls slide apart with a muted whirring sound.
“My secret.”
I watch her eyes widen, looking to me then back to the open secret walk-in closet.
“Wow number four.” Her gaze drifts around the items inside. “No one knows?”
I shake my head. “I don’t believe so. There are lots of people in the world that would like to see me fall. This could certainly give them an opportunity to exploit what should be something perfect and special and make it depraved.”
“It’s not depraved.” She steps forward as I turn to watch.
Inside the small room, in the center, is something I am sure will break her or secure her even deeper into my heart. Along the walls are shelves with things I’ve collected over the years as well as things I’d hoped would find a home in and on my precious girl if she ever materialized. Many of the things purchased in the last few hours while she worked and I made arrangements for our home.
“Is that a gold cage?” She lets out a soft giggle as she turns to give me an incredulous look.
“Is that a rhetorical question?” I reply, because it’s clear that it is a cage. “That one, I’ve had for a while. It’s a golden girl cage.”
“A Golden Girl cage? Really? I didn’t think that was your thing. Older women? Much older? And four at a time?”
I let out a hearty chuckle and realize I’ve smiled and laughed more with her in the short time we’ve been together than I have in ten years. “Let me rephrase. It’s a golden cage for one special girl.”
“With white fuzzy pillows inside? Just like my bean bag chair.”
“Just another sign, baby. I’ve been waiting for you.”
She gives me a smile then proceeds to the wall, looking at the variety of items placed along the glass shelves.
A hand-made leather pink collar and leash, with matching wrist and ankle cuffs.
Several paddles in hand-carved wood, hand-stitched leather and even one made from sterling silver. A secret product Tiffany doesn’t advertise.
There are blindfolds, coiled ropes, along with perfectly-folded lingerie from silky sweet to harsh leather. She stops in front of a spreader bar made from stainless steel with the words good touch bad touch engraved on the center of the pole. A shining steel butt plug with a long, faux-feline tail attached.
Finally, at the end of the shelf, she reaches up and picks up a book. One of several in a stack. And when she looks at the cover her eyes go wide.
How to be Daddy’s best little fucktoy. An instruction manual for my perfect pet.
She sets that one down and picks up the next.
Things you will do for me. If you are reading this, you are the one.
And the next, part of a different stack, handwritten, each in its own black leather-bound notebook.
Shhhh, Daddy’s going to make you a big girl tonight.
Don’t tell, it’s our secret.
As she opens the last one, my stomach knots. I watch her eyes scan the handwriting. She turns the page, holding the book in one hand, and with the index finger of her other she touches the black ink as though she’s absorbing it. There are twenty, maybe thirty of my stories there, some run toward the sweet end of my predilections, some to the darker, more depraved.
I hold my breath. I know what’s on those pages. I believe she will understand, but in my heart, a twinge of doubt hangs over the moment.
