stuck to the refrigerator door yesterday and reaches over to the counter to hold up something new.
I smile. Stickers. “You really got the stickers?”
“Of course, I did. Little girls need positive reinforcement when they do their chores. Did you make your bed?”
“Yes, Sir,” I whisper. It seems like the right thing to say. It feels natural or…appropriate. After all, he said I was to call him Sir when we’re in sexual situations. I’m so turned on right now that we might as well be having sex.
He pulls off a pink flower from the sticker sheet and hands it to me.
I lift it up and stick it in the first square I drew next to “Make my bed.”
“Did you brush your teeth, sweetie?”
“Yes, Sir.” I smile at him as he hands me a lavender sticker this time.
He sets the sheet down on the counter and kisses my forehead. “Good job. We’ll add to them throughout the day or sometimes at the end of each day.”
I can’t stop smiling ear to ear.
When his hands land on my hips and lift me up to swing me onto one of the stools, I squeal, kicking my feet out. He chuckles as he plants me on my butt. My skirt is flowing around me. I’m sitting on my panties. I consider tucking my dress under but then decide against it. The only person who can see me is Davis and he certainly doesn’t care if my panties are exposed. I suspect he likes it.
“Since we’re exploring your neglected pink side, I’ve ordered several pink-themed items. Some already arrived. Some will come later today.”
“What kind of things?” I ask, swinging my legs, the hem of my dress grazing my thighs with every movement. I’m glad I have the freedom now to wear dresses.
“It wouldn’t be any fun if I told you, sweetie. I’ll slowly let you open them.” He turns around and gives me a stern look. “When you earn them.”
I glance at the naughty chart.
He chuckles. “You’re catching on.”
“When are you going to tell me what the tally marks mean?” I ask, anxious to discover this oddity.
“When I’m ready. Stop asking.”
“Yes, Sir,” I murmur.
The next time he turns around, he has breakfast in his hands.
My eyes widen when I see what he’s holding, and I’m tongue-tied as he sets my food in front of me. “Pink cup. Pink plate. Pink fork.” He sets the last down with a flourish. “Let the pink phase begin.”
He turns back around, leaving me dumbfounded. He’s gone all-out. The plate and cup are ordinary enough, but the fork is chubby, like a kid would use. Granted, it was probably hard to find pink silverware for adults. I shrug it off and start eating.
“Milk?” He holds up the carton.
“Yes, Sir.”
He fills my glass about halfway and then cups my face. “Yep, I like this respectful addition.” He’s referring to the fact that I keep calling him Sir. If it pleases him so much, I’ll keep it up. It’s obviously part of his Dominant side, though I’m beginning to realize his Dom isn’t a side. It’s a way of life.
He eats next to me and then swings me into the air again before setting me on my feet. I’m reminded of his previous girlfriend. Collette. She was his submissive. He took care of her. I’m curious about his preferences, however. I thought submissives took care of their Dominant, not the other way around. That is not Davis’s dynamic. He clearly thrives on taking care of me.
“Dishes, sweetie,” he admonishes when I start to walk away.
“Yes, Sir.” I rush back and pick them up, take them to the sink, rinse them, and put them in the dishwasher. I’m not sure I’ve ever cleaned up after myself immediately after eating before. I’ve been a slob for a long time. I hope I can remember Davis doesn’t like that and change my ways. This is his home after all.
He points at the table. “Your first gift.”
I smile as I rush over to pick up a pink-wrapped package. It’s flat. Feels like a book. “Can I open it?”
“Yes, you may, sweetie.”
I rip into it and find two things that make me nearly jump up and down with excitement. I’m absurdly happy for a grown woman, but the reality is Davis is fulfilling my childhood dreams one at a time. I clasp the book to my chest. “I’ve never had a coloring book or crayons of my own.”
He’s smiling but it doesn’t reach far enough. He pulls