Princess, what is your address?

Christine stared at the text message for far longer than she should have, worrying her lip as she remembered Meg's words. 'Chris, you don't actually know this guy. What if he's a serial killer or something? Like, it's all fun and games on the computer but you're taking this pretty seriously and it's scaring me.'

Why Daddy? She typed out, hitting send and worrying her lip.

There was a long break in the messages. She wasn't sure why she was worried she had upset him - after all, like Meg said, it was all fun and games through a computer screen and separated by states. So why did her stomach twist at the thought of upsetting him? Why was she suddenly terrified that she wouldn't hear from him again?

Princess, what is your address?

She scrolled back up, wondering if she had misread the first message but - no, it was exactly the same. Had he hit send twice? She looked down the hallway of the school before she turned her attention back to the dim screen of her phone.

Why do you need my add-

Before she could even finish typing out the message her phone buzzed again. I have something that I want to send to you.

She chewed her lip nervously as she stared at the message. Was there harm in it? She could admit that it was dangerous to give your address out to strangers - then again they weren't really strangers anymore, were they? He had seen her, all of her, and she had seen most of him. They had spoken. She heard his voice.

It's a surprise, princess. If you are nervous you don't have to tell me.

Surely it wouldn't be so bad to give him the building number. He still wouldn't know what apartment…

They'll keep it at the front desk and buzz me down she answered, tacking on the address of her building.

That's fine princess, thank you. You'll be home by five?

Four thirty, Daddy she responded, wondering what he had planned for her.

Okay.

She stared at her phone for a while waiting to see if he elaborated but he left it there. She sighed, slipped her phone into her pocket, slung her backpack over her shoulder and made her way to her next class.

Christine loathed public transportation. She reminded herself every day as she found a spot on the bus - today between a coughing man and a woman with a screaming baby - that she couldn't afford a car, that even if she could the dense traffic already made her anxious even when she wasn't driving, that she was doing her part and helping the environment. She tried, hard as she could, to be positive about most things.

It didn't always work. It reminded her a lot of the hours her and her dad spent waiting in the lobbies of emergency clinics. They had spent a lot of time there, especially in the last year or so before he passed. The worst had been the ER waiting room. The man that was sitting next to her, hacking his lung up into a handkerchief, reminded her way too much of it.

She pulled out her phone, glancing around to make sure no one was looking at her, before she opened up the web browser, navigating back to that website she had met him on.

Christine hadn't been on Fetlife since he gave her his number. She hadn't really found a reason to be. But now she was bored and trying to kill twenty minutes.

Not much had changed. She scrolled through the new comments on her pictures, deleting them one by one. She opened her message inbox. Thirty messages, most of them explicit, some halfway decent. She clicked into each message, read it, and promptly deleted them until the only thing left in her inbox was the conversation with Erik. She wondered who she needed to lobby to get a mass-delete button. It was tedious picking through everything one-by-one.

She opened their conversation and then she clicked on Erik's username, opening up his profile. She wasn't really sure why she did it. There wasn't really anything she expected to change, but something had. There, just under his username and "looking for" list there was an extra line of text.

D/s relationship status: Protecting LittleLotte

She stared at it for a while. She clicked the hyperlink and got looped back to her own profile. Christine wasn't sure if she liked the fact that she hadn't received a notification when she was listed there but something about seeing it made her heart race with excitement, even if she didn't fully understand the status.

She was halfway up the hallway to her apartment when she opened her texts. I'm home, Daddy. Can I call you in 15 minutes?

There was a long pause before her phone buzzed. Of course.

Christine unlocked the door and quickly locked it behind her, doing up the chain lock and tripping over a sweatshirt on the floor as she hurried into her bedroom. She paused only long enough to grab the sweatshirt.

She tossed it toward the pile of dirty clothes that sat next to the laundry hamper. She couldn't put them in the hamper because it was still full of clean clothes from the last load of laundry she had done. Christine was trying to be better about it but by the time she got home in the evenings it was hard to find the motivation to do much of anything. It wasn't a new dilemma - it had been that way for a long time now. Meg said she was worried about Christine but the truth was she was just exhausted, mentally and physically.

She changed her clothes quickly. Ever since they began video chatting Christine had been pretty careful about what she wore. She tried her best to pick out decent clothes, nothing with holes or big stains. She always changed her underwear. She didn't really own any sexy underwear but she had some with cute polka dots and she opted to wear that kind instead of her granny panties, as Meg had so affectionately labeled them. It wasn't always necessary - she didn't strip down to nothing for him every night - but if he asked her to she liked knowing that she was at least presentable.

Christine grabbed her laptop and charger. The laptop was on it's last leg and the first thing she had to do when she got to the kitchen was plug it in. It's battery lasted closer to seconds than minutes, that was why all of her notes in class were on paper now. It was an old, clunky thing to carry around, the fan was loud and it took a few minutes to boot up after the battery died. It was too much effort to try to rely on it and she was half afraid that she would fill it with notes and it would die completely and leave her with nothing to study.

She clicked the power button and tidied up the background as well as she could, smoothing the blanket that was thrown over the back of the couch and picking up the socks that she had abandoned in the middle of the floor. By the time she made it back from the dirty clothes pile in the corner of her room her laptop had booted up.

She had just opened up the program to call him when her intercom buzzed and the bored lady that sat the desk mumbled that there was a delivery for her.

Her curiosity got the best of her and she made her way downstairs before she called him. She wasn't sure what she had expected but it certainly wasn't a warm styrofoam take-out box.

She didn't open it until she was back in her apartment. She pried open the lid and found chicken strips, french fries and a container of ranch dressing. She hit call before she dared to take a single bite.

He answered almost immediately with a soft "You are exactly three minutes late."

"I'm sorry, Daddy," she mumbled. "... did you send me dinner?"

He was silent for a long moment. "I did," he answered eventually. "I'm sorry, sweetheart. I wasn't sure what you'd want and I didn't want to ruin the surprise and ask you."

"No, it's perfect," she said quickly. "I just… didn't expect it. It's really nice. You didn't have to do that."

"I know," he said softly. "I wanted to. I'd like to take you to dinner but I know that isn't possible - not yet. Would you like to have dinner with me tonight, sweetheart?"

It was silly but she couldn't help the way she smiled. "I'd really like that, Daddy," she answered. She could feel her blush but she did her best to ignore it.

"Good. I would too," he answered. "I have one more rule for you, Christine. It's a very important one, probably the only rule that I'm not willing to compromise on."

She blinked, staring at the black box where he should be on her screen. "Okay," she answered. She knew whatever it was was serious - first because of the tone of his voice, second because he very rarely ever used her given name, to the point that she wasn't even sure he actually remembered it. "What is it?"

"I'm going to be very blunt with you," he answered. For the first time ever he actually sounded nervous and she sat up just a bit straighter. "I wear a mask, Christine. It isn't just… kink. It's there for a reason. That is the furthest I want to discuss the topic. You are not to ask about it. When we do meet, you are not to touch it. You will not remove it. You will not try to look under it. You will still not ask about it. I know that you will be curious. I've lived long enough to know that everyone is curious. I need you to promise me that you won't ask and you won't try to remove it, Christine."

She had known that. She had seen teasings of the edge of it when she had managed to at least get him to let her see his body on camera. Her stomach flipped as she realized that he was going to turn his camera on. "I promise," she said softly.

"No matter what."

"I promise, Daddy," her voice was shaky with her anticipation. "I won't ask and I won't touch it. I promise."

"Okay," he said softly. "I believe you."

When the camera flickered on it did the same thing it had the first time - there was a flash of light and it took a moment for the picture on the screen to come into focus.

She stared at him. Something in her told her that it was probably pretty rude but she couldn't help it - she had spent so long imagining him in her head. His eyes were, in fact, a light amber. Only one half of his face was covered by a carefully sculpted white mask and from what she could see of him, if she were completely honest, she thought he was handsome. His hair was thick and black, his lips looked soft.

Christine cleared her throat and shifted awkwardly on her creaky chair. "Can I ask just one question, Daddy?" she whispered.

"... what is it?"

A strange thrill went through her when she watched his lips move with his question. It was him. She was so relieved to have that assurance that she honestly couldn't bring herself to mind the fact that he was wearing what would seemingly be a permanent mask. She eyed the way it was cut just over his upper lip and she smiled weakly. "I know that I won't be allowed to touch it or see under it but… will I be allowed to kiss you?"

He visibly relaxed on the camera. "I would love to kiss you, sweetheart," he answered, his smile gentle. "That will be more than allowed."

Despite the fact that he said he wanted to eat dinner with her, he ate nothing. He sipped from a steaming mug while she picked at the food he had sent her. Still, there was something about it that excited her. She couldn't stop stealing glances at him, reminding herself that he was there, that he trusted her. Trusted her enough to let her see him.

And that night, when she undressed herself for him, she watched his eyes. There was something strangely thrilling in watching them rake over her, something comforting about the fact that she knew he was watching her face more than anything else.

It wasn't until afterwards, when she was sated and relaxed, trying to memorize his face, that his eyes seemed to honestly wander over her. They stopped on a specific spot and she watched his lips pull into a slight frown. She shifted and watched his eyes follow her leg.

She tried to trace his gaze and her eyes landed on the angry red scab on her thigh. She hadn't really thought about it much, honestly. Not when she had done it and not when she stripped her clothes off for him. She hadn't considered the fact that it would be in plain view for him - she hadn't known that he would ever see it because even though they talked every single day, it didn't end this way every time.

"Daddy?" she whispered. His eyes shifted quickly back to hers and she sighed, fidgeting. "It's getting pretty late and I - I'm pretty tired. I think I should go to bed now."

He looked at her carefully. "That's fine, sweetheart," he said eventually. "Do you want me to stay on with you tonight?"

"No," she said quietly. "I'm okay. Like I said, I'm pretty tired. I think I'm gonna fall right asleep."

His eyes traced quickly back over the scab before they landed on her face again. "You're sure that you're okay?" he asked softly. She nodded and he returned it. "Okay. If you change your mind - I'll be up. Just call me back, alright?"

"Okay."

"Goodnight, princess," he said warmly.

"'Night Daddy," she answered, biting her lip and leaning forward to click off the camera.

In the silence she let her head fall back against the couch. She ran her hands through her hair and berated herself for being so stupid. She wondered if she had ruined it now, if he would answer the phone when she called him tomorrow, if he would slowly start distancing himself from her. It was a sign of instability and instability was too scary for some people.

When she was finished telling herself that she was an idiot, she cried.

And by the time she fell into bed she realized that she hadn't lied to him. Exhausted, she fell asleep almost immediately.