Page 27 of Daddy Enforcer
I laugh, the sound bubbling out of me, free and wild, and I feel him chuckle, his shoulders shaking under my grip. This is nothing like my usual life, all controlled chaos and tour schedules…
This is pure, raw fun, and it hits me how much I’ve missed out on stuff like this.
My mind drifts as we zoom down the mountain, the thrill of the ride unlocking memories I’ve buried under years of performing.
Back when I was a kid, before the pop star life took over, I used to dream about doing stuff like this—sledding down hills, roller-skating with friends, maybe even trying skateboarding or zip-lining.
But once I hit the big time, Trent shut all that down.
“Insurance won’t allow it,” Trent would say, his voice all business as he waved off my requests. “Too dangerous, Billie. You’rea brandnow. Can’t risk a sprained ankle or a tabloid headline.”
No amusement parks, no water slides, no late-night bike rides through the city.
My life became stadiums, studios, and VIP lounges, with every move planned to keep the Billie B machine running.
I love my fans, love singing, but sometimes I just wanted to be a kid again, to do something reckless and fun without a contract or a manager breathing down my neck.
I remember begging Trent to let me go tubing with my dancers one summer, picturing myself flying down a river, laughing until my sides hurt. But he just shook his head, muttering aboutliability clauses and paparazzi risks. “Focus on the tour, Billie,” he’d said, handing me another e-doc to sign.
I stopped asking after a while, but the longing never went away.
Now, here I am, zooming down a snowy mountain on a snow-ski, my arms wrapped around Max, and it’s everything I missed. The thrill, the freedom, the way my heart’s pounding not from fear but from joy—it’s all because of him.
Max’s giving me something I didn’t even know I needed, and I’m grinning like an idiot, my cheek pressed against his jacket, grateful for every second of this ride.
“Weeeeee!” I holler, my eyes wide and a huge smile on my face as Max zips and drives the snow-ski with expert handling. “Wa-hoooo!”
We slow as we reach the edge of town, a small, sleepy place with snow-covered streets and cozy shops tucked under frosted awnings. Max cuts the engine and turns to me, his expression serious now, all business.
“Keep your wooly hat low and your jacket collar up,” Max says, adjusting my hat himself, his fingers brushing my cheek and sending a shiver through me. “We don’t need anyone recognizing Billie B. As of now, you’re simply Billie. Stay close, follow my lead. Got it?”
“Yes, Daddy,” I say, nodding, though I can’t help a little eyeroll to keep up my pop star sass.
I’m used to being mobbed by fans, my face plastered on billboards and gossip sites, but out here, I’m just a boy in a hat, and it’s kind of refreshing.
We head to a grocery store first, Max grabbing a basket and leading me through the narrow aisles. He picks out practical stuff—more oats, canned veggies, a loaf of crusty bread—but I sneak in a bag of gummy bears and a chocolate bar, giving him my best innocent smile when he raises an eyebrow.
“Treats are forgoodboys,” Max says, his voice teasing but with that firm edge that makes my tummy flutter.
Max lets me keep the treats, though, and I’m practically grinning as we check out, my heart light despite the cold. This is so different from my usual life—no paparazzi, no screaming crowds, just me and Max, doing normal things like we’re a team. It’s weird, but I love it, and I’m already imagining munching those gummy bears by the fire.
Then Max surprises me, steering us toward a small, quaint toy store tucked between a bakery and a hardware shop…
My eyes widen as we step inside, the bell above the door jingling like something out of a Christmas movie. The place is a wonderland—shelves stuffed with dolls, puzzles, and colorful trinkets that make my inner kid squeal.
“Pick out some things,” Max says, his voice soft but encouraging, like he knows exactly what I need. “Something to keep you busy at the cabin. Maybe help with that Little side you’re exploring.”
I freeze, my cheeks heating up as I remember last night—calling him Daddy, slipping into that dreamy Littlespace after he spanked me to make me feel safe.
I’m still not sure what it all means, but the idea of picking out toys feels… exciting, like I’m stepping into a part of myself I’ve never let out before.
I wander the aisles, my fingers trailing over a pack of glittery coloring pens, sparkling in every color I used to love as a kid.
Then I grab a stack of coloring books—cute animals, princesses, even a unicorn one that makes me giggle.
“Can we get these?” I ask, holding them up, my voice a little shy, like I’m asking for something big. “Pwwease?”
“Sure thing,” Max says, grabbing a small box of building blocks from a nearby shelf. “These too. Good for keeping those hands busy when you’re feeling restless.”
