“I’m going to eat cake until I explode,” I whisper into Daddy’s jacket.
He chuckles.
Sammi and Jack lug in the huge sheet cake and set it on one of the old wooden trestles, which groans alarmingly but holds. I peer out from behind Daddy and then draw near to exclaim over it in wonder.
It’s a scene out of the illustrated Beauty and the Beast that Daddy and I love so much. Somehow Sammi’s made the frosting in the luminous pinks and reds and oranges of Mercer Mayer’s illustration. The cake shows the scene where the Beast reveals himself as the prince and asks Beauty to be his wife. I feel my eyes overflow hotly.
Sammi, who is dressed in a bright red suit with short pants like a British schoolboy, throws his arms around me. “Do you like it?”
“I love it.”
He squees, then I squee, then Aggie and Yumiko pile on, hugging us and squeeing.
Martyn brings out his own cake contribution, a towering topsy-turvey cake covered in edible violets and frosted pocket watches that has us all squeeing again. The cake is followed by racks of cupcakes with “Eat Me” piped onto their tops. Then come plates of tarts, sugar cookies frosted with playing cards, and little sandwiches cut into the shape of hearts.
By the time Martyn carries in several big platters of salad, everyone who is coming to the tea party is seated. We’re down by twelve since quite a few people decided to go sightseeing today, but all of the littles and their mommies and daddies as well as all the Blunts subs are here and I feel surrounded by friends. Everyone eats and no one gets angry when macarons that Martyn’s provided for the purpose get thrown. The cupcakes and cakes are wonderful and Daddy just smiles when I have a bite of each but leave most of each piece on my plate. Even with just a few bites, the sugar goes to my head and makes me feel so giddy that when Martyn brings out a huge surprise, I stagger out of my chair and fall on my butt.
Laughing, Daddy helps me up and guides me over to the grassy area. The five littles get seated in a circle and Martyn puts down a huge wicker basket between us that’s filled with hay. Peeping out of the hay are ten pairs of bright eyes.
“It’s a fluffle!”
“A fluffle?” Daddy asks.
“A group of bunnies is called a fluffle. Martyn, can I pick one up?”
“You can,” Martyn says, standing back and beaming. “These are therapy bunnies and they’re very tame and used to being handled. The right way to pick up a bunny is to scoop your hand under its chest and then your other hand under its bottom and then hold it to your chest or put it in your lap. They don’t like to be held out in the air.”
I follow his direction, scooping up a very fuzzy gray bunny and placing it in my lap. The bunny has a piece of hay sticking out of its mouth that it continues to chew as I pet it. Daddy stretches out on the grass behind me and when the bunny finishes its piece of hay, Daddy pulls a handful from basket and offers the bunny another piece, which it contentedly chews.
Pretty soon everyone is sitting on the grass, passing the bunnies around. As Martyn said, they’re very tame and don’t seem to mind going from lap to lap, particularly as long as they have some hay to munch on. Some of them fall asleep while they’re being petted. After an hour, Martyn collects the bunnies back into the basket and says it’s time for games. We play duck, duck, goose, and Simon Says, and then run outside to play croquet. A light, misting rain drives us back inside around dinnertime, but we’re all still so full from the tea party that we just pick at the leftovers until Martyn calls us through to the bar where the chairs and tables have been moved back and there’s a huge pile of pillows and blankets on the floor. We build a giant blanket fort and crash in it with bowls of popcorn to watch Disney movies.
Daddy, changed out of his Mad Hatter’s outfit and into jeans and a warm, brown Henley, burrows into the fort to find me amid squeals from its many occupants since most of the submissives have embraced their inner child enough to join us littles in the fort. I think the only subbies missing are Brenna and Ryan’s wife, Tania. Daddy climbs over me and settles onto his forearms so he’s not crushing me while he rains kisses on my mouth and cheeks and nose and I wriggle under him with delight, sinking my hands into his soft shirt and holding him close.
“I’m going for drinks with the Doms. Ginger has offered to stay and supervise—”
“I promise-promise-promise we’ll be on our best behavior so Ginger can go with you. Martyn’s here and I have my phone if anything happens.”
Daddy rubs noses with me. “Promise-promise?”
“Promise-promise. Cross my heart and hope to die, promise.”
“You’ll watch out for Yumiko and Sammi and if they go very little and need their daddies, you’ll call me? No messing around and no trying to deal with them yourself. Promise?”
“Promise.”
“That’s my good girl. I’ll be back by midnight but if you get tired and want to go to bed earlier, just text me so I know. You’ve had more sugar than you’re used to today, so I wouldn’t be surprised if you crash.”
I stifle a yawn. I am already a little sleepy and it isn’t even eight o’clock. “Okay, Daddy, I will.”
“Mmm, my very good girl. Have you had a good day?”
“Super-good. Have you?”
“Yes, sweetie. You know what tomorrow is?”
I feel the smile that breaks out all over my face. “My collaring?”
“Your collaring. Are you excited?”
I nod so hard my hair
