Page 68 of Morally Gray Daddies

“Come now, my little pet. This is a very small tail,” he said, mimicking Marx’s voice. He chuckled and gave me a smirk.

“It doesn’t feel small.” Both my holes were tender from their invasions. A dull ache was present, yet a dark part of me wanted both my holes filled again. I didn’t like the void as much as I thought I would.

He chuckled. “Well, I advise you to be a good little kitty, or you will find out just how small that tail is.”

“Wait… what?” My voice cracked as I asked the question. He couldn’t be serious, could he? I didn’t know him well enough to read his tone of voice.

“You were such a cute kitty.” He finally laughed, telling me he was indeed joking. His mischievous smile made me smile in return. I liked the playful energy between us. It was nice.

I rolled my eyes. “Not funny.”

“I think it is.”

Erik tossed the towel and tail to the floor then reached for the blankets, pulling them over our nude bodies. Cradling me in his arms as he had done by the campfire, he whispered, “Goodnight.”

“Goodnight,” I responded, also in a whisper as I snuggled my body up against his. His flaccid cock rested against my ass, and instead of being frightened by it, I only felt security.

Chapter Nine

The journey to his cabin was bumpy and curvy, but fairly easy. The weather was pleasant the entire way, and I had grown used to traveling on the back of a dirt bike. We emerged from a dense forest into a clearing, where a small house stood on a spread of open land, and I didn’t need Erik to say anything to know this was his home. I could tell in the way he let out a sigh and his entire body relaxed.

We were home.

“It’s lovely,” I said behind him as I held him firmly around the waist. Not even being inside, I knew I could call this place home. Thick forest surrounded it, and the land that wasn’t consumed by trees appeared fertile and alive. Corn grew in the distance as well as other types of crops I couldn’t make out. Erik had a farm—a small one, but a farm nonetheless.

“Hold on,” he called over his shoulder. “Almost there.”

When he pulled the bike to a stop, he dismounted and assisted me off with a huge smile. I saw the pride he had for something he was building with his own hands. Yes, I had met this man as he was robbing my boat, and I had judged him as nothing but a bad guy, no better than the men delivering me to even worse men. But this man before me was so much more. So much more that I realized I wanted to get to know.

Erik unloaded the bike, placing all the bags on the porch. He turned to me as he came back and said, “Let me show you inside.”

He led me over the threshold by my hand then let go of my sweaty palm so he could rush to the windows to open the shutters, casting the sunlight into the room. The first thing I saw was a large stone fireplace—the centerpiece of the room.

Erik must have been watching me and seeing where I was looking because he said, “That fireplace will keep us warm. It’s large enough to heat the entire house. I keep a pile of wood outside the back door, so you won’t have to go far to get wood should I be gone and you need to get some.”

I silently nodded as I took in the rest of the room with its wood-burning stove and a large farm sink with a pump.

I looked at Erik, surprised. “Is there plumbing?” I had assumed with a cabin so far removed from civilization we’d be living completely off-grid.

He smiled and his entire face lit up. “We have a well. The first thing I did when I bought this land was work on the plumbing. It was one of the luxuries I splurged on.” He pointed to the bucket under the sink. “You’ll dispose of the dirty water by tossing it out the back. Not because you have to, because we do have plumbing in this house, but because I feel water is precious. So, I would like you to use the gray water to water the small garden outside the back door. But you do get the comforts of a shower living here.”

I took a few steps to the large wooden table and ran my fingers over the top. “Let me guess. You made this table,” I said with a smile as I looked at him.

“I made almost everything in here, including that rocking chair,” he said as he pointed to the chair near the hearth. “But as you can see, there’s still need for a woman’s touch, for sure. I would really like to see some quilts and Afghans around this place, but knitting and sewing are not skills of mine.” He scraped the toe of his boot along the wooden floor. “I would also like to get a big rug for this room, but I haven’t come across one yet.”

He continued to go about the room pointing out where the dishes were, where the matches, the linens, and everything else I would need to get settled in were kept. I tilted my head and studied him and his actions. The way he said the last statement about a woman’s touch seemed odd to me. It was almost as if he were treating me like his bride, and we were living the arranged marriage I was promised to someone else.

Erik went to an armoire to reveal its contents, but then froze when he looked at me. “What’s wrong? Am I overwhelming you with too much, too fast?”

I shook my head. “No.”

“Okay, well the bedroom is behind that door”—he pointed at it and then at another—“and that door is the bathroom. Plumbing in there as well.”

“No cage?” I teased, trying to bring some humor to my growing discomfort about the ease of how we were suddenly playing house.

He chuckled. “Will I need a cage? Are you planning on escaping?”

My heart stopped. The question was like a punch to the gut. If he had asked me that question even a day ago, my answer would have been yes—even though I seriously doubted I would have admitted it to him. But now… now that question did not have a strong answer. Would I still try to escape? Would I still flee, even though I had zero plan?

---