Dear Diary (Love, Daddy 7)

“A Golden Girl cage? Really? I didn’t think that was your thing. Older women? Much older? And four at a time?”

I let out a hearty chuckle and realize I’ve smiled and laughed more with her in the short time we’ve been together than I have in ten years. “Let me rephrase. It’s a golden cage for a special girl.”

“With white fuzzy pillows inside? Just like my bean bag chair.”

“Just another sign, baby. I’ve been waiting for you.”

She gives me a smile then proceeds to the wall, looking at the variety of items placed along the glass shelves.

A hand-made leather pink collar and leash, with matching wrist and ankle cuffs.

Several paddles in hand-carved wood, hand-stitched leather and even one made from sterling silver. A secret product Tiffany doesn’t advertise.

There are blindfolds, coiled ropes, along with perfectly-folded lingerie from silky sweet to harsh leather. She stops in front of a spreader bar made from stainless steel with the words good touch bad touch engraved on the center of the pole. A shining steel butt plug with a long, faux-feline tail attached.

Finally, at the end of the shelf, she reaches up and picks up a book. One of several in a stack. And when she looks at the cover her eyes go wide.

How to be Daddy’s best little fucktoy. An instruction manual for my perfect pet.

She sets that one down and picks up the next.

Things you will do for me. If you are reading this, you are the one.

And the next, part of a different stack, handwritten, each in its own black leather-bound notebook.

Shhhh, Daddy’s going to make you a big girl tonight.

Don’t tell, it’s our secret.

As she opens the last one, my stomach knots. I watch her eyes scan the handwriting. She turns the page, holding the book in one hand, and with the index finger of her other she touches the black ink as though she’s absorbing it. There are twenty, maybe thirty of my stories there, some run toward the sweet end of my predilections, some to the darker, more depraved.

I hold my breath. I know what’s on those pages. I believe she will understand, but in my heart, a twinge of doubt hangs over the moment.

She raises her hand from the page, her fingers moving to her lips as she reads. After an impossibly long few minutes, she closes the journal and puts it back in its place on the shelf, licking her lips, then finally turns to look at me.

Her eyes lift to mine, her face glowing.

“I know you want this. You’ll be my most cherished treasure. For as long as I live, and for as long as you live.” I step back and lift my arms open wide. “It’s all yours now, baby girl. They’ve never touched or been seen by any other woman and they never will. No one but you gets to see this part of my life.”

She turns to face me, and her thighs squeeze together.

“You’re wet. Aren’t you?”

She blushes a deeper shade of perfect pink and my cock is relentlessly pounding out her name in Morse code behind my zipper.

I see the sheen of her arousal wet her inner thighs and my mouth waters, remembering the way she felt on my tongue.

“Is there something you’d like to say?”

“Yes. Is it time?” Her twinkling, lust-filled eyes flick to where my cock is clearly showing his own need under my trousers.

I smile at her eagerness. “I wish it was. But, no, not yet.”

Her chin lifts, and a flash of annoyance and deprivation flashes on her face. She's got a temper.

“Then I’d like to get dressed,” she snaps, the tone in her voice not one I will tolerate.

“No.” The one word falls between us in the silence, and her eyes widen. Her cheeks flame and I realize it’s not funny anymore. That turns her on too.

My refusal.

“I’m in charge of when you wear panties, when you get to wear clothes, when you get to taste my cock, and when you get to feel it inside you. Among a multitude of other things that we will go over as time goes on. I’m a man who likes to be in charge, baby. A man that will give you rules, dole out praise and punishment. This is no game or joke for me. It’s who I am, and who you will be with me.”

She moans as I take her wrist, opening the door on the cage.

“Get in.”

“What? Why?”

“If I have to repeat myself again, you will earn another punishment. Get. In.”

Watching her lower herself and twist and turn to sit inside the golden bars gives me more pleasure than is probably legal.

She crosses her arms, pulling her legs underneath her on the soft pillows as I close the door and snap the combination lock shut.

“Be good.” I turn and leave her there, stifling the low chuckle that catches in my throat.