The Institute, Daddy Issues(85)

“Is all right, my darling.” Salt stroked my hair sooth­ingly and cradled me close. “I know it was dif­fi­cult. You were so brave. I am so very, very proud of you.”

For some reason his words made me cry all over again. I’m so proud of you…When was the last time I had heard those words from a man? From a man that I cared about and who cared for me? When was the last time I had got­ten that kind of un­con­di­tional male ap­proval?

Not since Daddy left, whispered a little voice in my brain. Not since he left and took everything that was good and bright and happy out of my life for good.

And now Salt had brought those good feel­ings back—at least it seemed like he had. I tried to re­mind my­self that it was all an il­lu­sion but some­how I couldn’t seem to keep the concept in my head. It felt real. In fact, what had just happened between my­self and my part­ner felt more real than any­thing I could ever re­mem­ber. I was his now—he had claimed me in a very real and con­crete way. And part of me wanted noth­ing more than to be­long to him forever.

A sharp rap­ping on the door in­ter­rup­ted my chaotic thoughts.

“Ex­cuse me, Mr. Saltanov but we do not have all day and night for this,” Berkley’s waspish voice came through the thick wooden door. “Are you fin­ished yet?”

“Just now fin­ished,” Salt growled. “Give us just a mo­ment.” He cupped my cheek and swiped gently at my stream­ing eyes with his thumb. “Are you well, my darling?” he mur­mured. “Do you think you can stand?”

“I…I think so. If you’ll un­fasten my feet.” I nod­ded down at my Mary Janes which were still strapped to the damn stir­rups.

“Of course.” Salt did as I asked and then helped me get down off the exam table. It felt awk­ward mov­ing with the damn plug up in­side me but I sensed it was some­thing I could get used to in time—if I had to.

I don’t know if it was ly­ing on my back for so long or all the over­whelm­ing emo­tions I’d just been through but I felt dizzy. When I tried to take a step, I nearly fell.

“Care­ful!” Salt caught me and held me tight against his broad chest. I breathed in his warm scent and felt com­for­ted and safe.

“Mr. Saltanov!” came Berkley’s voice again. “I must in­sist that you let me see if you have com­plied with our rules or not. This is your last warn­ing.”

Salt’s eyes nar­rowed. “Someday I will wring his neck,” he growled. “But today, we can­not.” He sighed. “Today I must show him that I have done this to you. Andi…mishka, can you let me show him? And then I prom­ise I will take you up to room and take care of you.”

“All right,” I whispered. “Do…do what you have to do. I trust you…Papa.”

“Very good.” He stroked my cheek again and then turned me to face the exam table. “Put your hands here and hold on so you do not fall,” he com­manded softly. “I will show him that we have met his de­mands and then we go.”

I nod­ded—I had no more words in me, not then. I heard the door open and Berkley’s sharp voice, want­ing to know if we had “fol­lowed the rules” of the In­sti­tute. Salt replied that we had and, as ex­pec­ted, the dir­ector de­man­ded to see the res­ults.

“Very well. Mishka, bend over the table and spread your legs,” Salt com­manded.

I did as he said, feel­ing shaky and un­sure of my­self. I felt him flip up my short skirt, bar­ing my ass.

“A little wider, my darling,” he mur­mured and spread my legs with his big hands.

I let him do it, my head bowed in sub­mis­sion, my legs still trem­bling like a new­born colt’s. I felt the cool air on my bare bot­tom and knew that both men were look­ing at me, look­ing at the black plug which had in­vaded my body.

“Look but do not touch,” I heard Salt say in a low, men­acing voice. “You are never to lay hands on my mishka again. You or your staff. To touch her means death—you know this.”

“In­deed.” Berkley cleared his throat, sound­ing a bit nervous. “I, ah, see you got the plug seated prop­erly with no help. Are you cer­tain you’ve never done this be­fore, Mr. Saltanov?”

“Never.” There was a cold an­ger in Salt’s deep voice that made me shiver, even though it wasn’t dir­ec­ted at me. “I would never do such a thing to my little mishka if you had not forced my hand. I told you, she was vir­gin there be­fore.”