Page 16 of Puck Me Daddy

Demian signed with a flourish, his signature bold and confident. The weight of his commitment was palpable, and I felt a shiver run down my spine. This was it—we were crossing an invisible threshold together. The realization sent a jolt of exhilaration coursing through my veins, mingling with the fear that still lingered.

"We're in this together now, Tilly," Demian said, his voice low and serious. "I'll take care of you, always."

I bit my lip, trying to contain the whirlwind of emotions swirling inside me. The intensity in his eyes was mesmerizing, drawing me in like a moth to a flame.

"Thank you, Demian," I whispered, my voice thick with emotion. "I can’t wait."

As I continued to read, Demian's voice cut through the silence like a knife. "Remember, Tilly—this is all about trust. About giving yourself over to me completely, without reservation or hesitation."

He leaned back in his chair, his eyes never leaving mine. "Can you do that? Can you trust me to take care of you, to guide you through this journey?"

I hesitated, the weight of the question bearing down on me like a ton of bricks. But then I thought of the way he'd looked at me in the diner, the way he'd listened to my fears and doubts without judgment or condescension. And I knew, with a certainty that defied logic or reason, that I could trust him.

"Yes," I whispered, my voice barely audible. "I trust you."

A slow smile spread across Demian's face, his eyes gleaming with a mixture of pride and hunger. "Good girl," he murmured, the words sending a thrill racing through me. "Then let's begin."

My eyes followed Demian's long fingers as he handed me the second document. Instantly, I saw the word “Contract” written at the top.

The air in the office seemed to thicken, charged with a strange energy that made the hairs on the back of my neck stand on end. I took a deep breath, trying to steady my nerves as I reached for the papers.

"This is a template contract from the age play club I go to," Demian explained, his voice calm and measured. "It covers different roles, responsibilities, boundaries, and safewords to ensure both parties remain safe and respected."

My gaze fell on the section covering discipline, and my heart skipped a beat. The thought of being punished by Demian sent a thrill of fear and excitement coursing through me. I remembered the way he'd looked at me in the diner earlier, his gray eyes simmering with an intensity that made me weak in the knees. Could I really trust him to take care of me, even when it meant pushing my boundaries?

I forced myself to keep reading, my eyes skimming over the sections on rewards, clothing preferences, and emotional support. The more I read, the more my head spun. This was so much more than I'd ever imagined, and yet it felt right somehow. Like I was finally finding a piece of myself I didn't even know was missing.

"What do you think?" Demian asked, his voice cutting through the silence like a knife.

I looked up at him, my heart pounding in my chest. His expression was unreadable, but his eyes were fixed on me with an intensity that made me feel like I was the only person in the world.

"I . . . I don't know," I stammered, my voice barely above a whisper. "It's a lot to take in. I like it, I think. I like it a lot. I just feel . . ."

Demian nodded, his face softening slightly. "I understand. This is all new to you, and it's important that you take your time to process everything. But know that I'm here to guide you through it, every step of the way."

His words were like a balm to my frazzled nerves, and I felt a wave of gratitude wash over me. I took a deep breath, letting the air fill my lungs before slowly exhaling.

"Okay," I said, my voice steadier now. "Let's do this."

Demian smiled, a slow, warm smile that reached his eyes. "That's my girl."

And with those words, I felt a strange sense of peace settle over me. This was it. I was taking a leap of faith, trusting Demian to catch me if I fell. And as terrifying as it was, there was nowhere else I'd rather be.

With a trembling hand, I traced the lines on the contract, each word a promise of surrender. The leather couch beneath me was cool and unyielding, a stark contrast to the heat building within me. Demian sat beside me, his presence both comforting and intimidating.

He leaned forward, elbows resting on his knees, and began to dissect the document piece by piece. His voice, steady and calm, guided me through the labyrinth of clauses and expectations. My heart pounded in my chest as I wrestled with my own desires and fears.

"Heavy bondage?" He asked, gaze locked on the paper. I swallowed hard, my throat dry.

"I . . . I don't think I can do that one," I whispered, my voice barely audible, as I pointed at “predicament bondage”. “Or that one,” I said, pointing at “mummification.”

Demian smiled nodded, his expression softening. “Don’t worry,” he said. “Some of these examples are very extreme. We won’t be doing anything you’re not into. Not a single thing.” He jotted a note on the margin of the contract before moving on tothe next point. Public play, age regression, discipline . . . some things didn’t sound too scary at all. In fact, they sounded very exciting.

As we delved deeper into the contract, and Demian made a note of anything I didn’t like the sound of, I felt a strange sense of relief. This man, this powerful, enigmatic figure, was willing to tailor our dynamic to my needs, to respect my boundaries even as he pushed me to explore new horizons. It was a heady mixture of vulnerability and empowerment, and I found myself drawn to him more with each passing moment.

"What about punishments?" He asked, his voice low and gravelly. I felt a shiver run down my spine at the word, my body responding in ways I couldn't fully comprehend.

"I . . . I don't know," I admitted, my voice shaking. "I'm not sure what I can handle."

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