Page 23 of Tame Me Daddy

"I want to," I said finally, the words soft but clear.

The moment I spoke those words, I felt a weight lift off my shoulders—the weight of hiding, of pretending, of fearing discovery. Whatever came next, at least I could face it honestly.

Grant studied my face intently, his eyes searching for any sign of hesitation or uncertainty. "Are you sure?" he asked. "This needs to be your choice, freely made."

I met his gaze steadily, finding courage I didn't know I possessed. "I'm sure," I replied. "I'm scared, but . . . I want this." I took a deep breath before adding, "I need this."

Something shifted in Grant's posture—a subtle straightening of his shoulders, a slight lift of his chin. His voice, when he spoke again, had changed. Not dramatically, but with a new note of authority that made me stand a little taller even as it sent a shiver down my spine.

"Alright then, little one," he said. "We'll begin now, addressing today's incident. Then we'll talk more about expectations moving forward."

He stood and moved with quiet purpose to a straight-backed chair in the center of the room. The simple wooden chair, devoid of armrests or cushions, suddenly became the focal point of the entire office.

"Come here, Baby Girl," he said gently.

The term of endearment—so simple yet so powerful—resonated deep within me. My eyes prickled with unexpected tears.

I rose on slightly shaky legs and approached him, each step carrying me toward something both frightening andexhilarating. The distance between the leather chair and where Grant stood seemed both too short and impossibly long.

This was it—the moment I stepped willingly into a new chapter of my life at Warwick Ranch. A chapter where I would no longer hide who I was. A chapter where failure might be painful but would be faced directly rather than avoided. A chapter where, perhaps, I could finally be whole.

As I stood before him, vulnerable yet strangely empowered by my choice, I realized that for the first time since arriving at the ranch, I wasn't pretending. Whatever happened next—punishment, comfort, growth—I would face it as my authentic self.

Chapter 4

I stood before Grant in his office, my hands fidgeting with the hem of my flannel shirt. My mouth had gone dry as sand. Grant's eyes held mine steady, and something in his gaze told me he wasn't just seeing my mistake—he was seeing me. All of me. The real me.

"Cherry." My name in his mouth sounded different now. Lower. More deliberate.

I swallowed hard. "Yes, sir."

"Do you understand why you're here?" He leaned against his desk, arms crossed over his broad chest. The leather of his boots creaked as he shifted his weight.

"Because I let the yearlings get out." My voice came out smaller than I intended. I hated how easily I slipped into this voice—this part of myself I'd tried so hard to bury.

Grant's posture changed. It was subtle—a straightening of his spine, a slight tilt of his chin. His movements became more deliberate, more measured. I felt the shift between us like a change in air pressure.

"That's part of it," he said. The timbre of his voice dropped, wrapping around me like a firm hand. "But we both know there's more to this conversation."

“Yes, sir.”

"We're really here because you need structure. Boundaries." His eyes softened a fraction. "You need someone who sees and accepts you—but also holds you accountable."

My eyes burned with unexpected tears. I'd spent my whole life hiding, being kicked out by my family when they discovered what I was, never dreaming I'd find someone who understood.

Grant pushed off from the desk and walked to a straight-backed wooden chair in the corner of his office. He moved it to thecenter of the room and sat, his posture perfect, hands resting on his thighs.

"Before we begin, we need to establish some things," he said. "This isn't just punishment, Cherry. It's a structured experience designed to help you process your fears and mistakes. To help you integrate both sides of yourself."

I nodded, not trusting my voice.

"First, boundaries and expectations." He held up one calloused finger. "What happens in this room stays between us. It has no bearing on your job security or standing at the ranch. Second—" Another finger joined the first. "This only works with complete honesty. If something doesn't feel right, you tell me immediately."

"Okay," I whispered.

"Third, and most important—" A third finger rose. "You need a safe word. Something that will immediately stop everything if you feel uncomfortable or unsafe."

I blinked in surprise. I'd heard of safe words, of course, but had never been in a situation where I needed one.

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