The three of them were asleep, utterly spent.

Madison lay curled against my left side, one sleek leg slung possessively over mine, her slow, sated breaths warm against my ribs. Patricia was tucked into my right, face buried in the hollow of my shoulder, palm spread flat over my heart as if to be sure it was still beating for her.

At the foot of the bed, Sofia had collapsed in a boneless sprawl, limbs starfished, cheek pressed to the sheet, looking exactly like someone who'd been thoroughly, repeatedly wrecked--which, in every sense that mattered, she had).

Two straight hours of Dark Lord Mode with three women at once will do that to a person.

The master bedroom still hung thick with the scent of raw sex, expensive perfume, and that heavy, victorious languor that follows a war won in silk sheets.

I should have been unconscious.

Instead, every nerve felt freshly charged, new titles crackling under my skin like live wires I hadn't yet learned to ground.

[Having trouble sleeping, Master?]

Taboo's voice coiled through my mind--velvet and smoke, nothing like the System's crisp, clinical alerts. This was her, the succubus who'd taken up permanent residence the day the Taboo System first ignited. Pure liquid sin wearing amusement like jewelry.

I'd long since learned the difference. Dark Seduction spoke like a user manual. Taboo spoke like she was already naked and laughing at the mess she'd made of you.

"Can't stop thinking about the new abilities," I subvocalized.

[Mmm. The Daddy title and Motherfucker Halo.] She practically purred it. [You felt them snap into place during the reconciliation. Felt how instantly Sofia and Patricia reoriented around you. But you still don't grasp what you're holding, do you?]

"I read the descriptions."

[Descriptions are sterile, lover. Let me show you what you actually own now.]

Her presence thickened, lounging somewhere in the back of my skull the way a cat claims the warmest spot on the bed. I could almost see the slow curl of red lips, the lazy flick of a tail.

"Explain."

[Let's start with Daddy.] Her tone shifted to something almost professorial, yet still dripping with delight.

[You already know what daddy issues are: the raw, bleeding wound left by fathers who were absent, cruel, or simply never enough. Little girls grow into women still carrying that hollow place, forever scanning the world for the man who will finally fill it with safety, worth, permanence.]

"Yeah."

[Your Daddy title makes you the event horizon of that wound. Women carrying father-trauma don't merely find you attractive; they find you inevitable. You become the living answer to the question they've screamed into the void their entire lives: 'Where is the man who will keep me safe? Who will see me, truly see me? Who will never leave? Who would burn the whole world to ash if someone hurt me (just to keep me whole)?']

"That's beautifully fucked up. I like it."

[It's power.] Her smile widened in my mind. [Picture Sofia. Eighteen years under a father who was physically present but emotionally vacant. Who treated her like a chess piece, never once asked if she was happy. Who sold her future to Jack for quarterly growth. She has been starving for a protector who actually gives a damn.]

I remembered the exact moment the title locked in; how Sofia's eyes had changed, how some ancient, aching part of her simply leaned forward and placed its head in my hands.

[And now you are that protector,] Taboo crooned. [Passive. Constant. Effortless. Her defenses don't just lower around you; they dissolve. She seeks your approval with a ferocity that bypasses every higher brain function. You could ask her for almost anything and she would give it; not because you forced her mind, but because, you're her man now!]

"So, I'm exploiting trauma."

[You're supplying what was missing.] Her voice sharpened, for once, carried a razor edge. [Don't go soft on me now, Master. You didn't create the damage. Her father did. Jack did. You're simply the first man who feels like the cure. Safety incarnate. The dragon who guards the door and breathes fire on anyone who tries to hurt her again. The voice that says, without words, 'You are enough. You are mine to defend.']

"But there's always a catch."

[Always.] I could hear the wicked grin. [Because you're not just safety, darling. You're corruption wearing safety's face. You are the shelter and the storm in one breath. The protector who teaches his little girls brand-new sins. They will trust you implicitly to keep them safe… and you will burn their old worlds to the ground while they smile up at you, hearts shining, whispering 'Thank you, Daddy' as the ashes cool.]

I let that settle, heavy and intoxicating.

I thought about Sofia's face after everything (forgiveness granted, wounds cauterized, future rewritten). The way she'd looked at me in the aftermath.

Like I was her entire sky.

Like I owned her past, her present, her future.

Her man.

Her world.

Her everything.

Most of all, her protector.

[The passive effect,] Taboo continued, her voice a low, velvet caress, [is constant. Any woman carrying unresolved paternal wounds feels that inexorable tug toward you, like gravity made personal. But the active invocation—]

Her tone darkened, grew heavier, almost reverent.

[When you consciously step into Daddy, when you let that ancient authority roll off you like thunder, it magnifies tenfold. Your words land like scripture. Your touch becomes holy forgiveness. They will confess their insecurities to you they've never dared whisper, because for the first time they feel truly, perfectly safe.

[And then (this is the part that makes me shiver with pride) they will remake themselves in your image: sharper, fiercer, freer, stronger, more radiant than they ever allowed themselves to be. They will sever every toxic tether just to stay inside the orbit of the man who finally saw them.]

"I see," I murmured. "Turning them into the highest version of themselves… that's always been the goal."

[One warning, though.] For once her voice lost every trace of teasing and turned deadly serious. [Like every gift I've ever slid into your soul, this title does not invent emotion. It only amplifies what already there. Sofia already carried that father-shaped hole in her chest. Patricia already ached for a protector.

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