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The kettle begins its whistle. I jump off Rev’s lap, but I don’t get far.
He hooks me with one arm and pulls me back between his legs, so I’m face to face with him. He grasps my chin and captures my gaze. “You’ll call me Daddy because I want to offer you protection. I want to be responsible for you. I want to take care of you. Every aspect of you. Your heart and soul, and your body.” His gaze dips down to take me in, and his tongue comes out to wet his lips. “Like a good daddy.”
I swallow hard. What he’s talking about sounds all-inclusive. It sounds intimate. It sounds like more than what Jud means when he uses the word.
“And discipline me?” I croak, thinking of Jud’s weirdly-pleasant crotch-spanking this morning and how whenever I defy him he takes something he wants from me, like devouring, toe-curling kisses.
Rev shakes his head no. “A good daddy knows his little one, and I can tell you’re a good, good girl. You won’t require discipline. Not from me. The Reverend will always be gentle with his little lamb.” He speaks the words like a promise.
What he’s saying sounds…nice. And the way he’s saying it, with his patient, undemanding touch and his hypnotic voice makes me want what he’s saying. He’s making mewantto be his little one, his little…lamb.
He’s offering me a place to be insecure and needy, a place to be young and uncertain. He’s offering me pleasure from a skilled, patient hand that only brings gentleness. It’s another gift to add to the ones stacked against my wall, and it’s more appealing than the rest put together.
I’m overcome. I’m confused. I didn’t expect Rev to make me feel this vulnerable and…aroused.
“I—the kettle.” The whistle is relentless, and I suddenly can’t stand it anymore.
Rev lets me escape to the kitchen. I need the space to process my feelings, so I take my time pouring and steeping the tea.
Rev as…daddy? Can I bring myself to call him that? I think maybe I can, considering his explanation. I think maybe Iwantto. And if he’s serious about protecting me and caring for me, maybe he’ll be willing to help me with my fear of being penetrated.
I come back with the hot tea and wonder if he’ll want me on his lap again. The answer is yes. He’s dragged the coffee table closer to the armchair so we can set our hot mugs on top.
Rev is somehow able to sip his tea right away. He must have lips of steel. I always have to wait a few minutes for it to cool. When he sets down his mug again, he picks up where he left off.
“Calling me Daddy takes nothing away from your father. Nor does it take anything away from what you and Jud have.”
I snort before I can catch myself.
“What?” he asks, smile lines deepening. For the first time, I notice a flirtatiousness about him. I can almost imagine what he might have looked like as a young man, gangly and charming, but with a dangerous edge.
“Nothing.” I shake my head and take a careful sip of tea. It’s too hot, but I sip it anyway to give my nervous hands something to do.
“Don’t lie to Daddy, little one.”
I go stiff. Is he going to punish me if he catches me telling lies? Washelying when he claimed he’d always be gentle?
“Easy,” he coos. “Daddy’s never gonna hurt you. Even if I was into discipline, you don’t need or want it. Daddy’ll never do anything you don’t need or want.”
I sag with relief. “I wish Jud felt the same way.” I sound petulant, like the “little one” Rev has dubbed me. The complaint escapes me before I realize it’s not entirely warranted. Jud steals kisses and bosses me around, and even though I might bristle at first, I always end up enjoying his brand of discipline.
“He hittin’ you?” Rev asks with narrowed eyes that shine with violence. The change comes over him in a split second, stopping the circles he’s rubbing on my back and making me shiver.
“No.” I answer quickly. I mean, he did sort of smack me between my legs, but that wasn’t really hitting. Not in a bad way. “No. He doesn’t…hurt me.”
“Ah.” Rev nods. The violence is extinguished, and a crooked smile takes its place. He begins rubbing my back again, and I’m so relieved I lean into it. My scars itch sometimes, and he’s giving them a nice, gentle scratch through my shirt. “He’s disciplining you with nice things, then?” My blush must be answer enough, because he chuckles and says, “That ain’t discipline. That’s foreplay.”
My face is hotter than the tea.
That quiet chuckle makes him shake, and the vibration soothes my embarrassment. I start laughing too.
“It should be weird, shouldn’t it?” I ask. “Having seven…boyfriends?”
“Five boyfriends and two daddies,” Rev corrects. “Though you might come up with different titles for the others, too. They don’t have to be boyfriends if that word don’t sit right with you.”
“What else would they be?” I’m confused. The usual progression of a relationship is boyfriend, fiancé, husband. What else is there? Well, I just learned there are daddies. Why not other things I’ve never heard of?
“Lovers,” Rev says, head cocked, eyes on the ceiling. “Husbands, masters, submissives, brothers—”
