Page 117 of Papa's Bébé
“What?” she finally asked, cracking. “No dinner tomorrow? Give you a hundred dollars? Do all your laundry? What is it?”
“I will never take your money. Nor would I allow you to go without a meal. You don’t eat enough as it is.”
She had no idea what he was talking about. She ate plenty.
“Extra chores is a good idea. But until I know what you don’t like, it’s hard to know what to give you. For all I know, you might enjoy laundry.”
“Who the heck would enjoy laundry?” she asked him in confusion. “Nobody likes cleaning dirty underwear and socks. Especially when they’re not your own! It’s just gross.”
“All right, are there any chores you do like doing?”
“They’re called chores for a reason.”
“For the rest of the week, you’re on dishes clean up,” he informed her. “You’ll be washing and drying all the dishes.”
Not so hard. She had a dishwasher that did most of that.
“By hand.”
My God.
He wasn’t just a Dominant! He was a freaking sadist.
Do all the dishes by hand for a week?
“I am really thinking about some of my life choices right now,” she muttered.
“Good. Then my job here is done.” He stood and held out his hand to her.
She might have refused to take it. But she liked touching him.
And she didn’t want to be a jerk.
So she slid her hand into his and let him pull her up. He led her to her bedroom and pushed open the door.
“Just so you know, I sleep lightly. Do not even think about leaving this house without me. Got it?”
She grimaced. “Ahh, yeah, I’m not going to do that again. My hand is already going to drop off from all those lines.”
“Maya,” he said quietly as she stepped into her bedroom. She stopped but didn’t look back.
She didn’t know what to make of that soft note in his voice. What was he about to say? Why did he sound so . . . tender?
It was unlike his usual tone. Not that he was harsh or anything. Just more calm.
“Yes?”
“You don’t have to accept any sort of consequences, you know. I actually don’t have that right over you.”
Yeah. She knew that.
She could tell him no. Maya wasn’t an idiot who just followed people blindly. But the thing was . . . she kind of felt like she deserved some sort of consequences. There was a gnawing feeling in her stomach that she knew was guilt.
And she hated feeling that way.
Maya often acted without thinking first. And then when she was in the wrong, the guilt she felt was immense. Maybe a consequence would help. Even if the thought of it made her feel a bit squirmy. What did she tell him to explain all of this, though?
“I deserve it,” she whispered. “I shouldn’t have done that. I knew the rules. And I think . . . I think it will make me feel better.”
