Page 28 of Hero Daddy

Saying these desires out loud made me feel exposed, vulnerable in a way that had nothing to do with physical nakedness. But Chad's expression remained attentive and accepting, his eyes warm as he documented each point.

"These are all very common and healthy expressions of Little space," he assured me. "Nothing to be ashamed of."

The knot of tension in my chest loosened slightly at his validation.

"Now," he said, turning to a new page labeled "Chad's Daddy Dom Role," "let me outline what I see as my responsibilities in this dynamic. Please stop me if anything doesn't align with what you need or expect."

He spoke with calm authority, laying out his commitments point by point.

"My primary responsibility is care—consistent, attentive, and comprehensive. This means being aware of your physical and emotional needs, sometimes before you recognize them yourself." His pen underlined the word 'care' twice. "Secondis guidance—providing structure, routines, and boundaries that help you feel secure and valued."

I nodded, warmth spreading through me at the thought of being looked after so thoroughly.

"Third is protection," he continued, his voice deepening slightly. "Not just physical safety, which I'm already committed to through your training, but emotional protection as well. Creating a space where you feel safe to express all aspects of yourself, including your Little side."

The promise in his words, the absolute certainty with which he spoke, made my chest feel tight with emotion.

"And finally, discipline," he said, meeting my eyes directly. "This is often misunderstood, but it's essential. Not punishment for its own sake, but consistent, fair consequences that help you grow and feel secure in our dynamic. As a former Navy SEAL, this is something I feel very passionate about."

My breath caught at the word 'discipline,' images from my research flashing through my mind – corner time, writing lines, mild spankings, privilege revocation. The thought should have made me bristle with indignation; instead, it sent a complicated shiver down my spine.

So, he had been a Navy SEAL? I wanted to find out more about that, but now wasn’t the time.

"What kind of discipline?" I asked, my voice barely above a whisper.

"Only what we agree to in advance," Chad assured me. "And always with your ultimate well-being as the goal." He tapped his pen against the notebook. "Which brings us to our next section: limits."

For the next thirty minutes, we methodically worked through what was acceptable and what was not, categorizing each into "hard limits" (absolute no's) and "soft limits" (potentially open to exploration with proper preparation). The conversationwas direct and unembarrassed, Chad's matter-of-fact approach making it easier to discuss intimate topics.

"Now for safewords," Chad said, after we'd compiled comprehensive lists. "These are non-negotiable. We need clear signals for when something isn't working for either of us."

"Like a tap-out in jujitsu?" I suggested.

A small smile touched his lips. "Similar principle, yes. Is there a word that you’d like to use?"

“How about, parrot?”

“Like the bird?” He raised an eyebrow in amusement.

“It’s the first thing that came to mind.”

“Parrot it is. Now, the final section," Chad said, turning to the last page, "addresses how we'll integrate this dynamic with your training at the academy."

This was something I'd wondered about—how our professional relationship as instructor and student would mesh with our personal dynamic.

"Training sessions will remain primarily focused on building your self-defense skills," he explained. "But our DDLG dynamic can enhance that process in specific ways." He looked up, holding my gaze. "For example, praise during training will serve as both technical feedback and as a DDLG reward. 'Good form on that strike, Daliah' becomes 'Daddy is so proud of his strong girl's focus.'"

The example sent heat rushing through me, the idea of hearing those words during training both mortifying and thrilling.

"Similarly," he continued, seemingly oblivious to my reaction, "negative self-talk or deliberate lack of focus during lessons would be addressed both as training issues and within our dynamic. 'Little One needs a reminder about respecting her training and her Daddy's instruction.'"

The dual nature of the relationship he was describing—instructor and student, Daddy Dom and Little—created acomplex tapestry of authority and intimacy that made my head spin. Yet somehow, it made perfect sense.

"Does all this align with what you want, Daliah?" Chad asked, his tone softening. "This is a collaborative process. Nothing here is set in stone if it doesn't work for both of us."

I looked at the notebook between us, pages now filled with the framework of our relationship—detailed, thoughtful, carefully constructed to meet both our needs. The thoroughness of it, the explicit nature of every agreement, felt like the ultimate form of respect.

"Yes," I said, surprised by the steadiness in my voice. "This feels right."

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