Needed me.
And maybe, just maybe, I was beginning to realize I might need it, too.
“What about punishments?”
He tilted his head, studying me carefully.
I kept my face blank. My posture still. I needed his truth, not a redacted version.
“Punishments come with the territory,” he said.
Not a threat.
Not a lure.
A simple fact.
“Can you give me an example?” I asked. “One that would apply to… my rules.”
Rules.
The word felt wrong on my tongue.
“Okay.” He leaned forward, bracing his elbows on his knees. “For example, if we agreed you’d have salmon and rice for dinner, and you ignored that and grabbed a burger instead… then the punishment might be eating salmon and rice for the rest of the week.”
A laugh slipped out before I could catch it. “That’s it? What if I ignore that, too?”
“Then,” his voice dropped, “I’d have to increase the severity.”
Something warm stirred low in my stomach.
“And in that example,” he continued, “you’d lose the rice. Just salmon.”
I blinked. “No spanking?”
“Not unless that’s something you want,” he said gently. “Or agree to beforehand.”
“Oh.”
The word came out quiet. Breathless.
Everything was clicking into place—clearer than I expected.
“So…” I swallowed. “If I agree? Then you own me?”
He went still.
Utterly still.
“That’s a very big decision, Emma,” he said, voice low. “It’s more than a title. It means you’re under my protection. My care. It’s a commitment—not casual, not unclear. It’s devotion. A mutual bond. I take responsibility for you, and you offer trust. Obedience.” He let that settle. “But you always keep the choice. You can walk away at any time, or we can stop completely and go back to being just us.”
The faint downturn of his mouth on the last line told me exactly how much he’d hate that—and how completely he’d respect it.
The tension in my shoulders eased, but my pulse quickened.
“I…” My voice cracked. “I might want that.”
His mouth parted in disbelief, awe flickering across his features.
