Emily’s Submission Journal

My books are hella long, I know. But they could be even longer! I cut an average of 100 pages from each book through the editing process. It hurts me, but it means I can offer deleted scenes!

This is a scene from Daddy P.I. 2.0. If you haven’t read the (free!) prequel and first book, then this might not make much sense, but maybe you can just enjoy it for the view it provides into the relationship between a Daddy Dom and his little girl.

Thinking of her reminds me of one of our Sunday rituals, and when I check, I find that Emily’s left her submission journal in my upper desk drawer. Good girl. 

I lift the leather-bound journal onto my desk and open it, using the little ribbon Emily’s put in to mark this week’s entry. Just seeing the page makes me smile. Emily may not like to color, but she loves stickers. There are hearts down each margin, smiley faces, rainbows, and a random Batman sticker. Grinning, I rub my fingertip over the Batman sticker. Very Emily. 

The entry is short, half-a-dozen paragraphs on a single page, in Emily’s small, spiky handwriting. I haven’t set any requirements for her submission journal other than that she writes at least one entry every week and gives it to me by Sunday. She can write about anything she wants, so long as it relates to her submission. Her entries are rarely concrete, although the week we were building up to anal sex she wrote several pages about the merits of different kinds of lube. Most of the entries are meditative and a few have been jaw-droppingly existential.

Scanning this week’s entry, I can see she’s been reflecting.

What does ‘being the bigger person’ mean? Ignoring slights. Being kind in the face of unkindness. Helping someone who wouldn’t help me.

Is it more? Is it about rejecting hatred? Refusing to allow malice any place in my heart? Defining myself, my submission, my littleness, on my own terms, not theirs?

Is it Batman?

That paragraph is punctuated by the Batman sticker. Not so random after all. But I’m not quite clear on how it connects, either. I may have to ask her. Emily’s quite a non-linear thinker and sometimes I have trouble following her train of thought.

Or maybe she just wants to be Batman. I’m sure I could work that into a scene somehow.

Is it control? Daddy says the only person I can control is me. Daddy controls me, but only because I choose to let him. It’s always a choice. That’s submission. Is being the bigger person submission?

Daddy takes away my voice sometimes, when he wants me to focus on submitting to him. When I ignore pettiness, unkindness, insult – when I greet those things with silence – am I focusing on my submission? Who am I submitting to when I’m being the bigger person? Daddy? A better version of myself? Batman?

We clearly need a Dark Knight binge, because I’m not connecting the dots between bigger personhood and Batman.

Is being the bigger person rejecting unworthiness? Unworthy people, unworthy actions, unworthy thoughts? I always want to be worthy of Daddy’s love and approval. Is being the bigger person defining my own self-worth?

Yes, it is. If she was here right now, I’d wrap her in my arms and give her a huge hug for working that out. In fact, I’ll do that as soon as I’m done. Well, after I figure out the Batman thing. 

Her epiphany is followed by a row of kitty stickers.

Daddy thinks I’m responsible enough to have a kitty! Sable is a million Christmases and birthdays rolled into one.

The entry ends with a cluster of smiley faces and rainbow stickers, which tell me as clearly as her written words how happy she is about her reward. 

I re-read the entry to make sure I have it memorized, before I close her journal and tuck it under my arm. I leave the journal on the bookcase in her little room after I’ve read it each week. When she’s written whatever she wants to for the week, she puts it back in my desk drawer: a kind of underground-railroad communication, like passing notes in class, which delights us both.

I rise and stretch, loosening up my left leg, before braving the stairs.

Once I drop off the journal in her little room, I return to the bedroom. Emily’s still tucked under her fuzzy, but she’s awake. Her eyes gleam in the gloaming created by the black-out blinds, and her teeth flash as she smiles at me.

“Hello, little girl.”

“Hi, Daddy.” She yawns and wiggles under her fuzzy.

I climb up onto the bed next to her, settle back against the headboard and pat my thigh. She wriggles up out of her blanket and curls up on my lap with her head on my shoulder. Her soft palm creeps up to rest against my throat so she can feel the vibration of my breathing and speech. Her sweet gesture makes my chest tight again. 

“How’re you feeling?”

“Good, Daddy.”

I dip my head so I can rub noses with her. “Anything you need to do before we go to the club tonight?”

“No, Daddy.”

“Mmm.” I lick the tip of her nose just to hear her giggle. “I read your journal. Being the bigger person is exactly about defining your self-worth. I’m very proud of you.”

That gets me a big grin. “Ta, Daddy.”

“What’s the deal with Batman?”

That wins me another giggle. “You don’t think Batman is the bigger person?”

“I’m not quite making that connection.”

“Batman’s the bigger person because he’s not like Superman. He’s not Mr. Perfect. He became Batman because he wanted revenge. He’s the dark knight, not a white one.”

“Uh-huh. I’m seeing the anti-hero, but not the bigger person.”

“No, Daddy, he’s still a hero, even though he’s not always noble and humble and all those Superman-y things. It’s easy to be heroic when you’re all those things. Batman’s the bigger person because he chooses to be self-sacrificing. He wasn’t made that way.”

“Ah, I see.”

“Mindful heroism, Daddy.”

I chuckle. “Mindful heroism. I like that, baby. And I like seeing you so happy about your kitty.”

She winds her arm around my neck and hugs me so tight I can barely breathe. “Best reward ever.”

Ready to read the rest? Grab Daddy P.I. 2.0 today!

Leave a Reply

Fill in your details below or click an icon to log in:

WordPress.com Logo

You are commenting using your WordPress.com account. Log Out /  Change )

Google photo

You are commenting using your Google account. Log Out /  Change )

Twitter picture

You are commenting using your Twitter account. Log Out /  Change )

Facebook photo

You are commenting using your Facebook account. Log Out /  Change )

Connecting to %s