Page 20 of Make Believe
This pause is even longer. Just when I’m starting to get mad, though, he finally speaks. “You didn’t,” he croaks.
I sigh, not believing him. “Okay, I think we need a new rule. And that’s when Daddy asks you a question, you have to be honest with me. I know this is your kink, but I do understand that this is one hell of a power imbalance. We’ve got to be able to trust each other. So I’m going to ask you again. What’s wrong? I assume it’s not normal for you to become hysterical after a scene.”
“Normally, I just leave,” he spits out, trying halfheartedly to pull away from me once more.
I just hold him tighter, resting my temple against the top of his head while I think.Ahhh.Something clicks into place. He rushed off after our first encounter as well.
Until now, I might not have had a wealth of kinky encounters. But I know that after rough sex, it’s important to me to tend to my partner, cleaning them and making them feel cherished. Otherwise, it can fuck with their heads. I think the official term for that is aftercare.
It seems perhaps my pretty doll isn’t used to that.
“Are you upset because I said I was going to look after you?” I ask.
I feel him cringe against me. Bingo.
Well, my first instinct is rage. I know this young man isn’t really mine, but right now, he belongs to me, and I don’t like the idea of other people mistreating my property in the slightest. But whoever those assholes are who didn’t see to him after they’dused him, they aren’t here now. Kiki is, and that’s all I really care about.
“Kiki,” I say gently as I rub his arm and kiss his hair. “This is going to be another of our rules. You will let me take care of you after we have sex and, actually, whenever I damn well see fit. You asked to be spoiled, and that doesn’t just mean pretty clothes. That means you will let me hold you and clean you and tell you that you did well. Do you think you can accept that?”
Another pause. This one doesn’t last as long before he’s turning his shimmering eyes on me. “Why?” he whispers.
I frown. “Why what?”
He licks his lips and blinks, sending fresh tears cascading down his face. “Why are you being nice to me? You don’t know me.”
My frown eases a little. I brush the droplets from his cheeks. “We haven’t known each other long, that is true. But we’ve had sex twice now, and you’re going to be sleeping under my roof for the next couple of nights. I call that intimacy, which is a different kind of knowing you. Does that make sense?”
He shrugs, the gesture somewhat petulant, but I let it slide. He’s clearly torn up about this.
“And as for why I’m doing this, it’s because it’s just the right thing to do. You gave me a gift by offering yourself up to me without question. I broke you down, now I have to put you back together. It’s just logical.”
By the way he’s scowling, I assume that to him it’s not that simple. Well, unfortunately for him, this is my house, and these are my rules, and they are non-negotiable.
“Kiki, if you won’t let me care for you, I’m afraid I’ll have to cut our liaison short. But I really don’t want to do that. Will you please trust that I know what’s best and submit to me? I’m not going to hurt you. I would never do that.”
He cringes again, feeling so small in my arms. But I am patient, and after several moments, I’m rewarded with a tiny nod. “Good boy,” I say firmly, kissing his hair again. “That’s my good, pretty doll.”
Gently, I encourage him to stand. He sways on his feet, so I’m also up in a flash, hugging him to me. Together, we walk toward the bathroom. The sun is dipping outside, so I flick the light on before sitting him on the closed toilet lid, then I twist the taps on the tub. When I stocked up his living quarters, I purchased toiletries I like so he could smell the way I want. Everything is floral and fruity, so he’ll be juicy and sweet for me. I pour bubble bath into the running water, and soon the room smells of roses.
Turning back to him, I help him to stand once again, then begin undressing him. He’s only got the belt and dress left on, so it doesn’t take long. I drink in his smooth, creamy skin. He’s got no tattoos and just a single piercing in one ear where a tear-shaped pearl hangs. He’s a blank canvas for me to paint on.
“Beautiful,” I say yet again, skimming my fingertips along his stomach and over the curve of his hips. In that moment, there’s no hiding that he is definitely a man. Yet I am still attracted to him. I’m relieved. I didn’t want to be lusting after an illusion. After all, part of the point of having him stay here was that I can see him whenever I want. Yes, I’ve told him that I want him to always be beautiful for me, but that doesn’t necessarily mean dolled up to the nines.
He’s quiet as we wait for the clawed bath to fill. Once I stop the water, I take his hand and help him step inside, then perch on the side and take my time drenching his body with a sponge laden with water and suds. Eventually, his shoulders start to relax. I ask if I can wash his hair, and he agrees. He also asks me to get his bag of toiletries from his suitcase so he can use a particular product to take his make-up off. I didn’t realize how much he was wearing until he removes it.
When I’m satisfied that he’s squeaky clean, I help him step out again and then spend a while drying him with a big fluffy towel. I’ll be honest, when I offered to tend to him after our scene, I hadn’t envisioned that it would be this intense. However, now that we’re here I wouldn’t change a thing. I meant what I said before. We might only just be getting to know each other, but this kind of intimacy skips a lot of that irritating small talk bullshit.
It’s my turn to sit on the toilet lid as I watch him apply several different products to his face that leave him looking plump and glowing. He’s wrapped in the towel around his waist to give him a little privacy. I figured he might need it after being so upset. When he’s done, he turns and looks at me as I smile back at him. He huffs and fiddles with his fingers.
“I’m sorry for being weird,” he mumbles.
I stand and pull him against me for an embrace. “You have nothing to apologize for. Thank you for opening up to me and admitting what was wrong.”
We both know he didn’t really tell me much. I pieced it together from what little he did let slip, and I’m sure there’s something more lurking beneath the surface. But we’ll never make any progress unless I bribe him a little with flattery, or at least that’s the impression I’ve gotten so far.
“Thank you, Daddy,” he says quietly.
God, I love hearing that.
