Yes, Daddy.
Good girl.
Now show me the glass.
I reached for the tumbler went to fill it from the filtered tap, rolling my eyes at myself as I took a selfie with it like some kind of hydration influencer. Send.
All of it, angel.
I will know if you cheat.
I downed the whole thing, grimaced, took another picture of the empty glass. He heart-reacted it.
Good girl.
That’s one.
I smiled down at the screen, stupid and soft in a way I would never let anyone else see.
Now.
Is there anything you want to tell Daddy?
My brows knit.
About… what?
About why my pretty sub thinks filters are going to save her from me.
My mouth went dry. I glanced at the last photo again, zooming in, hunting for what he’d seen. I’d turned the filter on for my own ego, not for him. How had he known I used one.
It’s a light adjustment filter.
Barely anything.
Mm.
See, that’s the thing.
You and I don’t get “barely anything” between us.
You noticed that?
Baby.
Do you remember the night I made you clean your drawer on camera?
Heat hit my cheeks. I remembered every second. Standing there holding up panties for inspection while he lay there with that look on his face. The one that said he was counting every bow, for later.
Yes.
When I rebuilt it, did you think I only ordered lace?
I assumed most of the budget went to lace, yes.
First off. No budget.
Cute.
