Page 198

Kamden

I am calm.

Okay, that’s a lie.

A very obvious one, too, because I have spent the last twenty minutes coloring the same section of a dress without noticing that I switched from pale pink to purple somewhere around the waist, and there is now a strange diagonal stripe running through what was supposed to be an eighteenth-century ball gown.

I stare at the mistake.

Daddy has been gone for almost three hours.

I know that because I have a clock now.

A very large digital clock, actually, with numbers bright enough to be read from practically anywhere in my room, and it can even project stars onto the ceiling at night.

Daddy also gave me one of his older phones.

It doesn’t have regular service, and there are enough restrictions on it that I’m pretty sure I couldn’t search for the local police station even if I wanted to, but it connects to the house Wi-Fi and, most importantly, has Daddy’s number programmed into it.

I have checked it six times in eleven minutes, even though Daddy already responded to my message, and he’s probably driving.

Me: Are you almost done?

Daddy: Soon, sweetheart.

Then, three minutes later:

Daddy: Everything okay?

I stared at that one for a full minute before replying.

Me: Yes

Another bubble appeared almost immediately.

Daddy: Good boy. I’ll be home shortly.

That had been eighteen minutes ago.

Not that I’m counting.

Okay, I am absolutely counting.

The shirt Adrien picked out this morning is white, cropped short enough that it leaves a strip of my tummy exposed whenever I stretch, with pale pink edging around the sleeves and collar. It fits close to my chest without being too tight, and the cotton is so soft that I can’t help but rub my fingers over it.

My shorts are pale pink too, loose and ridiculously soft, with little ruffles around the hems that flutter against my thighs every time I move.

Underneath them are pretty white panties trimmed with pink lace.

And underneath that…

…is the plug Daddy put in me this morning.

It’s not a small one either—he had me bent over the side of the bed, legs trembling, while he worked it in, slow and “gentle,” except even gentle was almost too much.

He told me if I keep it in until he gets back, he’ll replace it with something better. He said it while holding my hips and looking right into my eyes, using the voice that means no negotiation, no arguments. I’ve been thinking about it ever since.

And I can’t help thinking that he meant his dick.