Page 41 of Christmas With The Kings
She nodded, soft and certain, her eyes shining with trust as she blinked up at me.
“Then, can you do me a favor?” I asked. “Close your pretty eyes while I go get what I want to play with.”
“Yes, Daddy,” she purred, her lashes lowering as she obeyed without hesitation.
I slipped out from under the blanket, tucking it tightly around her. She looked like a damn present, and my chest clenched as I grabbed the bagof gifts. When I returned, her eyes were still closed, but she was hummingBaby, It’s Cold Outside, soft and sweet like honey sliding into tea.
She sensed me before I even touched her, her throat bobbing with a silent swallow, anticipation etched into every inch of her.
“God, I love your obedience,” I said, crouching beside her, my voice low. “You know it’s what I crave most from you, but have I ever told you why?”
Her lips parted. “No,” she breathed, her voice laced with both reverence and curiosity.
I reached out and brushed my knuckles along her cheek. “Because in those moments—when you surrender like this—fuck, it does things to me. You give me full access to every part of you. Not just your body, but your heart, your trust, your mind. It’s not about control. It’s about our connection. When you say yes, when you obey, you’re telling me I’ve earned the right to hold all of you. And that is a responsibility I never take lightly.”
Her eyes fluttered behind her lids, her breath catching. “And the times I don’t obey…” she whispered, voice wavering. “It’s never to defy you. It’s because I need you…strong. Certain. Steady. When my world starts spinning and I can’t find my footing, it’s your discipline that anchors me. It’s not punishment necessarily that I revel in…it’s safety. It’s a reminder that no matter how messy I get, you can handle me.”
I stilled, letting the full weight of her words settle between us. Then I leaned in and pressed a kiss to the top of her head.
“And it’s an honor to handle you,” I whispered. “Every bit of you. I’m going to blindfold you now, okay?”
“Yes, Daddy.”
I quickly secured the sash I’d grabbed and guided her to the center of the soft rug, the firelight dancing across her skin. The rope, freshly coiled and resting in my hand, felt like an extension of my intentions. I didn’t need to tell her to kneel. She went willingly, her thighs parted, showing off her perfect cunt.
“We’re going to take our time tonight,” I said, voice low and measured. “I’m going to bind you—that was what the rope was for.”
Her lashes fluttered. “Oh, so a physical representation of our soul ties?” she asked.
“Exactly. That is why you are my girl. It’s to honor what we’ve built. What we’re building still. Color, please.”
“Zelenyy,” she breathed—the Russian word for green.
With her consent, I stepped behind her, brushing her hair over one shoulder and placing a slow kiss at the nape of her neck before starting. First, I took her wrists and wrapped the rope around them in a single-column tie. It was more about symmetry than restraint. Her pulse fluttered beneath the fibers.
“This is your offering,” I said, cinching it with deliberate tension. “Your willingness to obey. To give yourself to me, fully. Mind, body, soul.”
“Heart, too,” she breathed.
I kissed the center of her back and guided her down onto the plush blanket, laying her gently so her chest and cheek rested comfortably. Her breath hitched as I took her legs and bent them, tucking each ankle against its matching thigh.
The next step was to bind her in a simple frogtie. I looped the soft purple rope around her thighs and ankles, crossing behind the knees, each knot placed with precision. She let out a tiny moan when the rope tightened enough to hold.
“This one,” I said, tying the last knot, “is for your courage. Every time you’ve stood back up. Every time you’ve let us love you, even when you didn’t think you were worth it.”
She swallowed hard. “Daddy…”
“Shhh.” I leaned forward, pressing my forehead to hers. “You’re safe. You’re mine. This whole ritual—it’s me saying with my hands how much I love you.”
“Say it more, please,” she whimpered.
I moved around her, unhurried, and gathered a fresh coil of rope. With a featherlight touch, I began to form a simple diamond chest harness, wrapping around her shoulders and under her breasts, careful not to compress but to contour and honor her beautiful body.
“This is your heart,” I murmured. “Wrapped and protected. By me. Always. These ropes are promises. Mine to you. They’re the physical threads to the invisible bonds between us.”
“I can feel it,” she choked. “It’s like the tension in them…echoes what’s going on inside me.”
“Tension,” I said, pulling a final pass and tying it off at the center of her sternum, “creates shape. Structure. Beauty. Like us. We’ve been tested a time or two. But we’re stronger for it.”
