Page 188 of The Daddy P.I. Casefiles: The Second Collection
“I appreciate you telling me, but that has nothing to do with it. Sex is a privilege. It’ll take you more than one scene to earn it.”
Her eyes narrow. Bold girl has a competitive streak.
“What if it’s a really, really good scene?” she asks.
“Then you’ll earn it faster, but you still won’t be getting fucked during our first scene.”
Her full, rosy-pink, lower lip juts out. She’s adorable when she’s thwarted. Denial is going right on my list next to humiliation play.
“How I can I earn privileges?”
Fuck, she’s so tasty. The boldness is the frosting. The cake of this girl is her genuine desire to please.
“Tell me what you think will earn privileges and I’ll tell you if you’re on the mark.”
“Calling you sir or master.”
I feed her another mouthful of bread and lamb while I say, “I prefer sir. Showing respect is a good start.”
“Submitting to you.”
“I’d expect that in a scene unless we’ve negotiated resistance. I don’t do brats.”
“Oh.” The lip juts again. “I guess obeying your commands falls into the same category?”
“It does.”
Her eyes narrow. “What about honesty? If I’m always honest with you, does that earn me privileges?”
“Yes.”
That makes her smile. “You taught Master Logan, didn’t you? He’sallabout the honesty,”
I wonder if that’s something she’s observed or if it’s something Emily has told her.
“Indirectly. He served in my unit for several years. We’ve talked a lot about our kinks, but we’ve never done a scene together.”
She considers this, her head tipped to the side, while she chews another mouthful. “Will you, now that you’re here?”
“Depends on how the submissive I’m with feels about being exhibited.”
“Would being exhibited earn me privileges?”
“If you’re honest with me about how it makes you feel.”
“I can do that, sir.”
I notice she didn’t tell me how she’d feel about being exhibited. Either she’s trying to keep me guessing, or she isn’t sure how it will work with me. I like that she’s keeping her options open. Clever girl.
“Tell me about your favorite scene.”
“Ever?”
At my nod, she rubs her forehead with long fingers. Short, bare nails. A sneaky tattoo on the side of her index finger in a scrolling script says, “Crescendo.” I like it.
“That’s hard,” she says. “I mean, my favorite, you couldn’t do on your own.”
“This isn’t about replicating your favorite scene. It’s about understanding what turns you on.”
