Page 53 of Daddy P.I. 3.0

Matty grins. “Do you mind me asking what your little age is?”

“I’m mostly a middle. But, um, Daddy’s been helping me go younger.” I wring my hands together, not sure if I should tell my new friend so much but uncomfortable truths seem to be the order of the day. “He diapered me during a scene and rocked me to sleep. It was really good. And he pierced me with diaper pins.” I rub the spot on my side where the scabs are a little itchy. “It was all amazing.”

Matty’s coppery eyebrows shoot up. “Wow. I haven’t tried any of that.”

“What’s your little age? If you don’t mind saying.”

“I don’t. I came into age-play backwards, so I’m still figuring it out. Maybe seven or eight? I know I like the discipline side, so at first I thought I was just into domestic discipline with a bit of a daddykink. But after my dad disappeared, I found I really loved the release and mental freedom of playing with dolls and sleeping with stuffies. I’m also a terrible hoarder. Not piles of newspapers or anything but I’ve always collected things. Dad made me get rid of my collection of bird skulls before I went to college but I still collect coins, odd carvings, and gemstones, most especially amethysts.”

“And gold,” I point out. “Like Smaug.”

Matty beams. “Just like Smaug. I want to plate my whole belly with amethyst crystals.” She rubs her belly under the corduroy romper she’s wearing. “I love the idea of being an amethyst dragon. I love being part of a flight. Is this the kind of thing your playgroup does all the time? Hide and seek in the corn maze and costume parties? I haven’t done anything like this before.”

“This is new to me, too. Daddy loves group scenes. I’d only been to dungeon parties before. We went on a cruise together when we first started dating and he organized this scene where his knights stormed my castle and he took me captive and flogged me. I knew then that he was the best daddy I could ever find.”

Matty nods enthusiastically, her curls bouncing.

“I like hard play like that, too. More than a spanking. I know a lot of littles don’t but I do. Faolan’s the first daddy to give it to me safely. He’s very stern. I love it.”

I catch her hand and give it a squeeze. Being a masochistic little can be isolating. Not that I feel Cynnie or Yummy orAmy ever judge me. Just that I can’t really talk to them about things like the best cream to use for deep bruises. I’ve been very grateful to my Big Sub Bestie and the other masochistic house subs for giving me a tribe.

“I love how stern Logan is, too. He never lets me get away with anything. And he has Batman hearing, I swear.”

Matty giggles. “Faolan has some hearing loss from when he was in the service but it would be wrong of me to try to slip stuff by him. But I’ll admit to the occasional muttered minced oath.”

“What’s a minced oath?” I ask.

“Where you say ‘good gosh’ instead of ‘good god’ or ‘sheesh’ instead of the poop swear-word.”

“Uht-oh, I say those.”

“Faolan doesn’t let me get away with minced oaths.”

I giggle at the thought of not even being able to say omigosh.

“I hope your daddy doesn’t talk to my Daddy.”

“Right? It’s like they only share the worst ideas! Faolan’s been so much harsher since Mister Javier invited us to Blunts. Like throwing gasoline on a fire.”

I giggle again. “How does your daddy know Master Javier?”

Matty wiggles her shoulders. “Daddy said they were old friends and discovered the lifestyle around the same time. But he was vague and warned me off spending too much time with Mister Javier. Which made me curious. So, I went digging.”

“Youarea geoarcheologist.”

She grins. “I am!”

She pulls her phone out of her romper pocket, taps open the photos, and scrolls to a picture. I have to clap my hand over my mouth to keep from squealing and summoning Daddy. I wouldn’t have recognized Faolan. He’s baby-faced in the picture, no beard, and hair cut close to his head. But I immediately recognize Master Javier. Has Master Javier always looked the same? Same dark sadist eyes, same aristocratic features. Noteven a full head of deep brown hair makes him look any different. He and Faolan are wearing graduation caps and gowns, their arms thrown around each other.

“I’m amazed it’s in color.”

Matty giggles. “Right? I think they’re wearing corduroy bell-bottoms under those gowns. They went to NYU together for two years and then they went to Aix-Marseille University. Forphilosophy of art.”

She crosses her eyes and sticks her tongue out of the side of her mouth which makes me crack up. She’s so STEM.

“They were roommates in France for that year. Then Faolan went into the Army for three years. He got his Ph.D. at Oxford.” She rolls her eyes. I would be so dead if Daddy caught me doing that. “He stayed in England to teach for five years and, get this, lived in a flat in Oxford owned by Mister Javier’s family. Then he moved back to New York. Mister Javier was married by then?—”

I’m sure my eyebrows disappear into my hair. I had no idea Master Javier was married.

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