"Of course there are rules… in addition to the first three?"
His expression doesn't change, but there's warmth in his eyes now. "Yes, rules for our relationship. Not the safety rules I gave you for the weekend. Rule one: you tell me when something's wrong. No hiding behind jokes, no lying and no making me guess. Honest and upfront. I can’t fix anything I don’t know about."
"Okay."
"Rule two: you eat. You rest. You take care of yourself. Keeping you healthy is your newest priority."
"That's very Daddy of you."
"I'm aware." His tone is dry, but there's an edge to it, something that makes my skin prickle with awareness. "Rule three: when I ask you a question, you answer honestly. There will be no lies between us, ever. We will always have open communication. It’s the only way this works."
"Even if it's embarrassing?"
"Especially then."
I take a shaky breath. "What if I mess up and break a rule?"
"Then we talk about it. And if necessary..." He pauses, letting the implication hang. "There are consequences."
My stomach flips. "What kind of consequences?" I think about all the punishment scenes I’ve read in my novels. The ones that make me pull out my vibrator…
"The kind that remind you someone cares enough to correct you. Nothing you don't want. Nothing we haven't discussed first."
"Have you disciplined someone before?"
"Yes." His gaze is steady. "But every dynamic is different. What worked with someone else might not work with you. That's why we communicate."
I nod, processing. "And what if I want to stop? If it's too much?"
"Then you use your safeword and everything stops immediately. No questions, no judgment."
"What's my safeword?"
"What do you want it to be?"
I think for a moment. "Mistletoe."
His mouth twitches. "Appropriate.”
We stand in the quiet chapel, colored light shifting across our faces as clouds move overhead. Outside, snow begins to fall again, but gentle this time, just a dusting.
"Can I ask you something?" I say quietly.
"Always."
"What do you get out of this? The dynamic? I know what I get out of it, or at least, what I think I’ll get out of it. But, what do Daddies get out of it?"
He considers the question carefully. "Purpose. Knowing that someone trusts me enough to be vulnerable. And..." he hesitates, "Permission to care and dominate without apology."
"You don't let yourself care often, do you?"
"No. It's easier to keep a distance."
"But not with me."
"No," he agrees. "Not with you."
I move closer, until I can feel the heat of him. "What changed?"
