Page 45 of Imperfect Skin

Fifteen

MOUSE

Thankfully, the kitchen stools were padded, and I let out a relieved breath as I sat my bum down. My whole arse was aching dully, and I loved the feeling, even if it was a pain in the arse when I moved. I snickered to myself. It was definitely a pain in the arse.

Daddy was at the other end of the long bench, cutting stuff with his big kitchen knife. I crunched on an apple slice and took a sip of my juice. They were yum, but not as yummy as the two Hobnob biscuits that were sitting out of reach. I contemplated trying to grab them before Daddy spotted me, but I didn’t like my chances. That man seemed to know what I was going to do before I even did it.

I stuffed another apple slice into my mouth and hummed, sinking back into my happy space. I moved to grab my pencil and groaned, the ache in my bottom reminding me of my spanking. I didn’t think I was going to like getting spanked when I was in my Middle space. It wasn’t a fun hurt. It made my heart feel funny, that I had been naughty for Daddy. But it also felt good, in a strange way. Actions had consequences, as I was starting to find, and the way my arse burned was a strong reminder. The dildo of consequence seldom arrived lubed, and it had been shown to me in abundance the last few days.

But those Hobnobs were so damn tempting. I looked at the yoghurt and growled. Didn’t want to eat the stinky, sour milk, wanted the chocolate goodness that was only inches away from me.

“Mouse, if you want cane stripes to go with my handprints, then go right ahead and steal the biscuits. Yoghurt first, then sweets.” Daddy didn’t even look up from where he was cutting.

Fine. I’d eat the stupid, plain yoghurt, but I wouldn’t be happy about it. I grabbed the spoon and started to shovel in big mouthfuls of the stuff, not being careful with how I ate it.

Daddy let out a loud sigh. “You have yoghurt in your beard.”

“Whoops.” I lifted the hem of my T-shirt to wipe my face and caught Daddy’s eye. He shook his head.

“Well, you said I have yoghurt in my beard.”

“Go to the bathroom and wipe your face,” Daddy said, shaking his head again, as if he couldn’t believe he was having this conversation with me.

“Can I have my biscuits after I do that?” I slid off the stool and my T-shirt rode up. I maybe did it on purpose, knowing Daddy was watching me.

“You can if you come over here and give me a kiss.” Daddy set the knife down and leaned against the counter. I wondered if he knew how flipping hot he looked right now, with the sleeves rolled up on his shirt and all that sexy forearm porn on display.

I moved around the counter slowly. If he was going to make me wait for my Hobnobs, then he could wait a little longer for his kiss.

“Get over here and give me a kiss.” Daddy wasn’t asking, he was telling—and boy, that did things to my brain. I moved quickly into his open arms and melted a little bit when he kissed me. I’d never been with a guy who was so open with his affections, and I was already becoming addicted to it. I kissed him slowly. He tasted like the chewy caramel he snuck in when he thought I wasn’t watching, all sweet and sticky. I wrapped my arms around his neck and pulled him down to me, kissing him deeper. I couldn’t hold back the gasp when Daddy grabbed me, his fingers digging into the tender skin of my arse. I was getting hard again, and there was no hiding it.

“Hmm, thank you, lamb. That was just what I needed.” Daddy dropped his hands and stepped back, smirking when he looked down at the noticeable tenting of my T-shirt.

“You’re welcome, Daddy. Now I need to go wash my face, and possibly put a cold flannel on my dick.” I ducked past Daddy and ran to the downstairs bathroom.

I ran the taps and waited for the water to heat up. The pipes in this bathroom were always slow to get warm. Looking at myself in the mirror, I was taken aback. I was smiling—a real smile, not just the shadow of one I normally wore. The inky thorns were still there, hiding in my brain, but for now they were quiet. I was able to let myself enjoy this moment.

I’d spent so long twisting my need for pain into something dark and ugly, not realising it was twisting me up worse than my guilt over my mum had done. I hadn’t expected to enjoy embracing my Middle space, as Daddy called it, but I did. There was no denying it. To let myself feel carefree and happy, to not let ugly adult thoughts and worries intrude, had been amazing. I still felt the edges of it around me.

Maybe today I would just let go and let Daddy take the reins. It seemed to be working so far, even if I’d gotten my butt tanned for being a little shit. “Ugh, hurry up and get warm,” I muttered to the water. I wanted to wash my face and beard and then get back to those biscuits. Daddy had better not have eaten them, or I might have to spank his bottom. I snickered as I tried to imagine any scenario where I would get to spank Daddy’s arse.

Yeah, that was never going to happen, but a boy could have fantasies.

“Are you daydreaming in here?” Cal’s reflection appeared in the bathroom mirror. He was smiling.

“Water was too cold. Need to wash my face, it’s all blotchy.”

Callum hummed, stepping into the bathroom and grabbing a flannel. “Getting your butt spanked will do that. Here, let me do it.”

I stood still while he ran the washcloth over my face and beard. It felt nice, especially when he started to run his fingers through my beard. Mine wasn’t as lush or soft as Cal’s.

“Looks like your beard could do with a tidy and trim. How about after dinner you let me wash you and clean you up?” he said, softly touching my beard before smirking. “And then get you all dirty again.” He leaned in, nipping at my bottom lip before stepping back. “There, all clean. Those Hobnobs are yours for the taking.”

Cal stepped out of the way as I bolted for the kitchen.

Was this how it was going to be between us? Would he take charge of everything in my life now? The idea didn’t frighten me like I thought it would.

I settled myself back onto the stool as Cal took up his spot cutting veggies for the stew. The turnips gave me pause. Normally, when there was a veg I didn’t like, I could do swaps with Alice, all sneaky-like, when Cal wasn’t looking. She liked turnips but hated carrots with a passion, and I happened to like them the way Cal did them, roasted in honey and butter. But tonight, I wouldn’t have Alice to sneak the chunks of turnip to.

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