In his luxurious office filled with the rich scent of wood, coffee, and his signature cologne, you caused yet another small commotion.

Your husband — your Daddy — sat behind a large dark wood desk, buried in files and business calls. But to you? The world had just ended… all because of one small thing.

You dropped yourself dramatically onto the floor, cheeks puffed, eyes brimming with tears. The bunny dress you wore made a striking contrast against the marble floor as your sobs grew louder.

“Daddy’s mean!!” you cried, rolling on the floor. “Hic!! You knew I wanted that thing!! Huhuhuhu!!”

He looked up, disbelief written across his face. “A ribbon, sweetheart? You’re throwing a tantrum over, a ribbon?”

“NOT JUST ANY RIBBON!!” you screamed, pointing at your phone screen — which displayed a bright red accessory in the shape of a headband. A very particular kind, the kind usually worn in the more dominant and submissive corners of the adult world.

Sitting on the floor, you smacked your palms against his leg, cheeks tear-streaked and nose red.

“It’s that, red ribbon that looks like a b-band… the kind people wear when they’re... you know... being adults and doing that... that stuff” you wailed, then yelled again with a sniffle, “Hics!! Daddy’s so mean!! I wanna be a grown-up girl for you!! But you never take me seriously!!”

You flopped back onto the floor, crying even louder.

He let out a long sigh. Leaning back in his chair, he stared at you — unmoving. “You want to be a grown-up, huh?”

He stood up at last. His tall frame moved toward you with slow, calculated steps. Then, without another word, he bent down and picked your small frame up into his arms.

“W-What are you doing, Daddy?” you murmured, surprised.

“We're talking somewhere else,” he murmured.

He carried you to the bedroom balcony — his favorite place to calm down. The breeze brushed against your flushed face as you leaned into his chest, your sobs now quieter and mixed with shy hiccups.

He let you rest against his body before glancing down at you.

“You want to be a grown woman?” he asked, voice low and deep.

You nodded.

He cupped your cheek gently, brushing away a stray tear. Then he leaned closer, his eyes locking onto yours.

His voice dropped — soft, sharp, and teasing.

“Grown, hmm? And yet even without me being rough in bed, you cry and beg to stop.”

You froze. Your lips parted in silent protest, then closed again. Your entire face burned red, even to your ears. You remembered exactly what he meant — how you whimpered and begged every time he went just a little faster or held you a little tighter. “Daddyyy… slow… hics…”

You lowered your head quickly. “T-That’s only because... Daddy’s too mean…”