Page 54 of Tame Me Daddy

Below her message was an earlier text from my mother:I hope you're well.

Five words. Not an apology, not acceptance, but something. A crack in the wall they'd built. I wouldn't give up who I was to please them, but I wouldn't close the door on reconciliation either.

"From your folks?" Maya asked cautiously.

"My mother," I said, setting the phone down. "Baby steps."

A knock at the door made us both turn. Maya reached it first, swinging it open to reveal Grant standing there in dark jeans and a crisp button-down shirt. His eyes found mine immediately, and the rest of the world faded a bit at the edges.

Two months of being together openly hadn't dulled the electric current that passed between us. If anything, it had strengthened, deepened into something that hummed beneath my skin like a constant melody.

"You look beautiful," he said simply.

I crossed the room to him, suddenly sure in a way that reached bone-deep. There was no nervousness now, no hesitation. Just certainty.

"Ready, Baby Girl?" he asked softly, using the endearment that still made my heart skip.

Maya grabbed her purse, giving us a moment of privacy with her usual tact. Grant's hand found mine, his thumb tracing small circles on my palm. In the quiet space between us, I felt all the things that had drawn me to him—his steadiness, his strength, the way he saw me completely and cherished what he saw.

I squeezed his hand and stepped confidently toward the door. "Ready, Daddy," I replied, the word no longer whispered in shame but spoken with quiet pride.

As we walked toward the waiting truck, the evening air wrapped around us like a promise. I'd spent so long hiding in shadows, and now I was stepping deliberately into the light—collar and all.

*

The Sanctuary looked nothing like I remembered from my first nervous visit. Soft golden light spilled from vintage chandeliers, transforming the main room into something almost ethereal.

"Cherry!" Lily's delighted voice cut through the gentle murmur of conversation. She bounded forward in a froth of pink lace, her Daddy Matthew following with an indulgent smile. "You're here!"

She threw her arms around me in a hug that smelled of strawberry shampoo and cotton candy perfume. When we'd firstmet, her exuberance had overwhelmed me. Now, I returned her embrace with genuine warmth.

"Wouldn't miss my own collaring," I said with a small laugh. "Nice dress."

Lily twirled, making her skirt flare. "Daddy got it just for tonight. Said it was a special occasion."

Matthew nodded to Grant, that silent communication passing between them that I'd come to recognize as the shorthand of men who shared our lifestyle. Respect, understanding, a touch of pride.

More familiar faces approached—David with his partner Melissa, their hands linked comfortably; the older couple who ran the educational workshops; several people I'd met during community gatherings over the past months. Each greeting carried the same genuine pleasure, the same acceptance.

Maya stepped up beside me, her eyes wide as she took in the transformed space. She wore a simple dress in emerald green that made her skin glow and her dark braids shine.

"So this is where the magic happens," she whispered, nudging my ribs gently.

I smiled. "Not exactly how I'd put it, but yes."

Her presence meant more than I could express. Though not part of the lifestyle herself, she'd approached it with the same open curiosity she brought to everything. She'd asked thoughtful questions, read the resources I suggested, and never once made me feel judged. When I'd hesitantly invited her to the ceremony, her immediate "of course" had been yet another thread in the tapestry of belonging I'd been weaving since arriving at Warwick Ranch.

"How many people are here?" she asked, scanning the room.

"Maybe twenty?" I estimated. "Just close friends and community members."

Grant's hand found the small of my back again as he guided us further into the room. I noticed several faces I didn't immediately recognize—older men and a couple of women who greeted Grant with backslaps and warm familiarity.

"College friends," Grant murmured, following my gaze. "And a couple from my early days in the community. They helped me figure things out when I was where you were, years ago."

The thought of Grant—confident, assured Grant—ever being uncertain about his identity or desires seemed almost impossible to imagine. Yet the way one gray-haired man clasped his shoulder spoke of shared history and mutual growth.

"Everyone," a woman's authoritative voice called over the chatter. "If you'll take your places, we'd like to begin the ceremony."

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