Page 22 of Seth’s Doll

Maybe.

My expression remains though, because the closer I get to the box, the more I sense the woman who owns my soul, and something tells me she’s not hiding behind the present. Especially when I see one of the flaps make the slightest movement, as if caught in a heavy breath of air.

Everything in me wants to rip it open and see what awaits me inside, but I remember Doc’s words. This is important to my wife. She’s put so much work and effort into this gift, and that shows just from what I’ve seen around the playroom.

There’s no way she could’ve installed the new stripper pole herself—not because she isn’t capable, but because it wasn’t here last night, and I’ve been with her all day today. Which means she would’ve had to ask someone, most likely the guys, to do that for her.

A big fucking deal all its own.

There’s no way she could’ve removed the heavy-ass cage bed on her own either. Hell, I can’t even move it by myself it’s so solidly made. But again, it was still in place last night when I did a walkthrough before I went home to her. She had to ask for multiple things to be done for this evening’s surprise, not just a quick request drop and run. And my chest swells with pride, because I know for a fact that wouldn’t have been easy for her.

So, instead of diving into the cardboard box, I hold off a moment to take in all the decorations on the outside. Twyla’s handwriting up one whole side reads Happy Birthday! The thick lines of the black marker are outlined in the same holographic washi tape I remember my bestie Vi using to frame a pricelist sign she made for her table at author events. More so, I remember her telling me the roll of sticky decoration is called washi tape, which for some reason I found hilarious.

The same washi tape enhances the drawn arrows on the other closed front flap of the box. They point to a postcard-size label that was stamped in black on the brown cardboard. It’s obviously part of the original shipment, SEX DOLL in a fun but clearly legible font. But the X has been scribbled through with black marker, replaced to make the label read SETH’S DOLL instead, and I grin. Genuinely this time, because God my girl is brilliant.

I have zero doubt she’s the one who made that discovery. She has a slight obsession with word searches that began during a hospital stay… which I refuse to think about. It was the one and only time I allowed something bad to happen to the woman who would become my wife, and I don’t want to ruin even a moment of this special night with thoughts of him.

With my grin unwavering, because I don’t miss the tiny holes that could be at eye-level if she’s standing on something or up on her tiptoes, I look up at the bow on top, paying its due attention, because I haven’t the foggiest where she would’ve found one this size and with this gaudiness level. Either she ordered it, or she had to buy Hobby Lobby out of their entire stock of hot-pink ribbon, then figure out how to make this thing. That’s when I see, hanging from one of the tendrils, is a large envelope.

I reach for it, tugging it free from where the ribbon is tied through a holepunch in one corner, feeling something slightly bulky inside. And then I pull my glasses from the collar of my shirt, slide them on, open up the paper envelope, and wiggle out the folded cardstock to read aloud quietly.

“Seth,

I had no idea what to get you for your birthday this year. I mean, what do you get a man who can snap his fingers, and literally anything he wants will appear… if it’s available for same-day delivery?”

I can’t help but chuckle at that. It’s true. The Zon makes daily deliveries at the Owens residence. I continue reading.

“But then you introduced me to Crystal, and it’s like the timing was fated. I might’ve had a slight breakdown that required the services of our awesome brother-in-law, but as a result, he sent me on a quest. And now, I’m sending you on one too.

Along with this card, you’ll find a remote inside the envelope. When you reach each level of the quest, you’ll find a card with instructions you’ll need the remote for, so keep it in your ‘pack’ and take it along with you.”

I probably shouldn’t, but I can’t stop myself. I ask aloud in a British accent, “But what if ‘I have too much in my pack already’?” It’s a quote our characters say in Champions of Norrath, the only video game I’ve ever gotten her to play with me, and I hear her muffled giggle inside the box before she cuts herself off.

It warms me to my goddamn toes.

“If you noticed, I addressed this to my sweet husband, Seth, and I have one final thing to say to him and my master, before Seven fully takes over.

You are the Dom of every submissive’s dream. Your instincts and ability to read even the tiniest twitch are nothing short of flawless. You bring me unimaginable pleasure every time you touch me, and there’s nothing more I could ask for. Except one thing.”

My gut clenches at this. There’s something my doll feels she’s missing? Something I’ve failed to provide her as her Dom? Never mind the turmoil from dinner that I tamped down after my talk with Doc—those are mistakes I’ve made as a husband and as a partner in raising our daughter. This is something else entirely.

I continue reading, my voice keeping its normal tone, so she doesn’t feel the need to break character and comfort me, which I know she would if I gave any hint of distress, especially over something she wrote.

“I am the luckiest woman in the entire universe to be owned by you, and it is my wish to be absolutely everything you could possibly want in a sub.”

I go to speak to her, to tell her she is exactly that, but the next line stops me, and I power through.

“I know what you’re gonna say. You’ll tell me I am everything you want in a sub, and you might truly believe that. But I believe I can be better. I want to learn to get past my fears, whatever it is that makes me freeze and unable to obey my master’s order. And the only one who can teach me how is you.

So this is my written permission for you to push past my instinctive boundaries.”

My throat clicks as I try to swallow, because my mouth has gone dry. Every ounce of liquid has suddenly risen to my tear ducts, making it hard for me to see the words written inside the card.

I manage to blink them back after taking a moment to get control of myself, summoning my Dominant side to take over so I can make it through the rest of this heartfelt gift from my wife without crying like a little bitch.

“If I freeze when you give me a command, I do not want you to completely shut down the scene and begin aftercare. Even if that’s what your heart tells you to do because I am your wife and you love me.”

Ah, there it is. That’s what she meant by the only other thing she could ask for. And she’s right. That’s something I never would’ve done unless she specifically asked for it. Even after hearing part of her and Clarice’s phone conversation while she sat in her car, I never would’ve just taken that as a hint and done it on my own. It would’ve only happened if she voiced or wrote her explicit permission to do so.

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