Page 125 of Morally Gray Daddies

Devlin nodded, then began to leave. Master followed, the sound of them talking quietly trailing in their wake as they strode across the living room., The door opened, then closed, but I didn’t move, maintaining my position, waiting patiently. I doubted Master would make me stand there long. This had been a training exercise, of sorts, but I didn’t believe Master would leave me here for hours this time, as he’d done once in the past. No, I expected him to return to praise me for how I’d performed or chastise me for my failures, possibly both.

His boot heels rapped a tocktocktock on the granite floor as he approached. Coming to a stop in front of me, he gazed into my eyes impassively.

“Humble,” he ordered.

I immediately dropped down, face to the floor, ass up, hands palm down and crossed.

I listened as he moved to the couch and sat down.

“Ready to please,” he called out, and I came up into the proper crouched position, leaning forward, ready. Obedient. Submissive.

Perfection.

I could hear his voice saying the word in my head, because that was what he’d kept calling me over the past week. Once he was gone, I think that was what I was going to miss most of all.

“The number, Aubrey, if you please.”

I repeated the nine-digit phone number back to him he’d made me memorize.

“And when will you use it?”

“If I ever feel I’m being mistreated, Master.”

“Your training will be hard at times. Difficult. Painful, even. But then, you’ve already experienced that, haven’t you?”

“Yes, Master.”

“And you’ve thrived.”

“Yes, Master.”

“And your reward…”

“Will be more than I can imagine,” I finished, just as he’d told me so many times.

He leaned forward. “Yes. More than you can imagine. But remember—if you ever, ever find yourself in any… difficulty, you have funds in the account I created that will tide you over until things can be sorted out.”

I nodded. The bank account was one he’d established in my name. When he’d showed it to me, and I’d read the dollar figure deposited within, it had been the first time since arriving here I’d broken down. Not out of fear, or the threat of pain, or even the knowledge of him leaving me soon. I’d begun crying because never in my life had I experienced a gesture of concern for my well-being as profound as that.

Something a Daddy would do.

“And I need you to remember this most of all, Aubrey: if you ever feel your situation has become volatile, and you feel unsafe or vulnerable, you know what to do, don’t you?”

“Yes, Sir.”

“Good girl.”

I gazed at him, watching his eyes, waiting for what I knew would come.

He spread his legs open casually. “Do you know what I want now?”

“Yes, Master,” I answered, drawing in my lower lip between my teeth.

“Then show me.”

And I did, without another word.

Words.

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