I want her fulltime. Even though I have her in my home and totally under my care, I’ve given her an out. I had to. It’s imperative that she not feel trapped.
I need to watch myself too. I must be careful not to get too attached. Ever. It’s the reason why I’ve arranged for her to have her own room, far from mine. She needs to sleep in her own bed. I need her to sleep in her own bed. I need the few hours I’m alone in the night to regroup and remind myself this might not last.
I shove off the door to her room and wander through the house, taking the back stairs she’s been told to use and then walking aimlessly around the first floor. My staff is amazing. I know I’m fortunate to have them. Because they worked for my father and even knew my grandfather, they are completely aware of my preferences.
I’ve never moved a woman into the house before, but they know where my tastes lie. They weren’t surprised when I hired her, nor were they surprised when I called them together to inform them she would be moving in. They respect my privacy. And I’m certain they will respect Lucy’s too.
Having Nancy get Lucy settled in was partly intentional. I want Lucy to see Nancy as someone of authority around here. It’s not untrue, of course, but having a woman in and out of Lucy’s room creates a certain feel. Nancy is like a headmistress at a boarding school. She has a stern vibe that suits her role in my scenario perfectly.
I will be the one making all the decisions where it comes to Lucy, including her clothing, bedding, and toiletries, but having Nancy deliver her things every morning and night will add to Lucy’s experience.
The worst part about this entire scene is that I can’t plan too far ahead. I can’t know how Lucy will react to my domination. I will have to take everything one step at a time. This entire experiment could blow up in my face before breakfast tomorrow.
I take a deep breath as I pause in my library to stare out into the night through the floor-to-ceiling back windows. I shouldn’t doubt myself. I watched Lucy for several Friday nights. I’ve had her under my thumb for eight full days. I know she’s submissive. I also know she’s more than prepared to experiment with age play.
If I’m honest with myself, she has also more than exceeded my expectations so far. I can’t believe how perfectly smooth our time went as I tucked her in. She had obviously stepped into the role and embraced it.
I know she has needs that stem from a missing childhood. I get that. But how long with they last?
This is my primary concern. I must guard my heart. If I fall too hard for her, I could find myself blindsided by her departure from my life. It’s possible she needs me as a transition. Someone to help her heal and gain self-confidence. She could leave.
I shudder, leaning my forehead against the cool glass of the window.
Who am I kidding? I’m already in this too deeply to extricate myself. All I can do now is force myself to stick to the plan of sending her to her room for eleven hours a night. Without that separation, I know I could easily grow even more attached than I already am.
Chapter 23
Lucy
* * *
Childhood music fills the room at the same time the lights come on. I bolt to a sitting position and glance around, my heart beating fast. It takes me a few seconds to realize where I am and what I’ve committed to. I turn toward the Hello Kitty alarm that is blaring “It’s a Small World” and push the button on the top. It stops.
A knock sounds at the door.
“Come in,” I call out in a scratchy morning voice.
The door opens and Nancy steps in. She’s holding a pile of clothes, which she sets on the wicker chair. “I hope you slept well, Lucy.”
“Yes, ma’am.” I did. Once I finally convinced my mind to stop running and was able to ignore the ache between my legs.
She smiles at me, her expression softer than last night. “Excellent. You’ll have plenty of time to get dressed each morning. I’ll bring your clothes in every day. Put your nightgown down the chute. Use the bathroom. Wash up. Comb your hair. Master Roman will expect you in his office by seven. You can use your extra time to read or relax, but don’t fall back asleep.” She narrows her gaze, and I shudder, imagining what kind of trouble I might be in if I snooze and don’t show up at seven. “Yes, ma’am.”
As soon as she leaves the room, I slip from the bed and pad to the bathroom. It was weird sleeping without panties. I feel exposed. I use the toilet and then lift my nightgown over my head and deposit it in the clothes chute. It must extend a significant distance because I can’t hear anything, not even the swoosh of my clothes.
Naked, I quickly return to the bedroom and glance at the door. It doesn’t have a lock on it. So far, the only two times someone entered, they knocked first and I invited them in. Will that always be the case, or is there a chance Evelyn, Nancy, or Weston might enter without knocking? What about Master Roman?
Uncertain, I decide to dress quickly. I grab the pile of clothes and return to the bathroom, shutting that door behind me. There are shoes on the bottom of the pile, and I set them on the floor. My pulse picks up. The shoes are black Mary Jane’s, the kind a child would wear to a private school.
I take a deep breath and rummage through the rest of the pile. On top is a white blouse. The material is thin and starched. Under the perfectly folded blouse is a pair of panties. My hands are shaking as I lift them. They are full cut, pink, and covered with brown teddy bears. The kind a child would wear.
I am a child. I need to remember this. I’m playing a role. I’m stepping back into my childhood. The one I missed out on.
My hands are shaking as I step into the panties and pull them up. I’ve never owned sexy lingerie in my life. However, the white cotton underwear I’ve worn for the last ten years have always been bikini cut. It feels awkward putting on something that rises so high on my belly.
Under the panties is a skirt. I lift it next and hold it up. The pattern is a plaid combination of gray, pink, and purple. It’s pleated and short. Without even putting it on I’m aroused. It’s not going to extend much below my bottom, which will make me constantly aware of the little girl panties I’m wearing underneath.
Why does this arouse me?
I glance back at the vanity and freeze. My eyes slide closed. They have not deceived me. There is no bra. The only thing left is a pair of white socks.
My fingers tremble as I set the skirt down and put the blouse on. I button it up without looking in the mirror. Next, I step into the skirt and zip it at the side. I grab the socks and sit on the edge of the bathtub to put them on. They are my size but clearly intended for a child. I fold them down and then put on the Mary Jane’s.
When I stand and look around, I confirm there is no bra. I step back into the bedroom and look around the chair and the floor. Definitely no bra.
I return to the bathroom and lift my gaze to the mirror. My breasts are small, modest, and pert, but my nipples are a darker shade of pink, and I can sort of see them through the thin material of the blouse if it presses against me.
In addition, the material is starched and slightly itchy, which means every time I move, my attention is drawn to the sensitive tips. I pinch the blouse at my chest and try to pull it away a few inches, but it fits me too snuggly to get the relief I need. I’m going to struggle to ignore my plight all day.
Could it have been a mistake? An oversight? Maybe Master Roman forgot, or Nancy. Or she dropped my bra somewhere. That thought makes me even more nervous as I picture a bra lying in the hallway. In fact, just to ensure that isn’t the case, I quietly open the bedroom door and peek out. Nothing is on the floor in any direction.
I shut the door again and shuffle back to the bathroom to brush out my hair, and then I find a clip in the drawer and secure it at the back of my head.
My hair full and the curls are everywhere, but it can’t be helped. I brush my teeth next and then return to the bedroom. I stand in the middle of the room for several minutes, thinking. Worrying.
I contin
ually brush my hands down the front of the skirt. It’s covering my bottom, but only by a few inches. The pleats mean that it can easily be lifted. I have tucked the blouse in, but my lack of bra is making me feel as though I’m completely naked.
On top of everything else, my panties are wet from my arousal. There is a knot in my belly too. It’s like I’m wound extremely tight and nothing is going to relieve the pressure for as long as I’m dressed like this. It will get worse when I leave the room.
I close my eyes and force myself to take several slow, deep breaths. Master Roman is right. I’ve never been more aroused. I need this type of submission. I’m already restless from the idea of role-playing as a young girl.
The only part I don’t think I can tolerate is the lack of bra. Everything else is fine. But with my breasts hanging loose and brushing against the stiff material, I’m going to feel exposed and unable to concentrate on anything.
I glance at the clock. I’ve taken so much time worrying about my outfit that it’s already ten minutes until seven. I need to head to Master Roman’s office. I can’t imagine how this day is going to go, but it’s time to face it.
Chapter 24
Master Roman
* * *
When Lucy steps into my office, she shuts the door before slowly shuffling toward me. I haven’t instructed her to shut the door, so I’m fighting a grin already.
I barely glance up at her and then lift a finger so that she will know I want her to wait until I’m finished concentrating on the work on my computer screen.
There is no work open on my computer, but I need to compose myself. My dick has gone from stiff to out of control at the one glance.
Lucy is as divine as I knew she would be. She is dressed in exactly what I picked out for her. She also looks like the young girl she is meant to portray. I have just one addition I’m going to add…
When I think I can focus without giving away how damn affected I am, I lift my gaze and motion for her to come to my side.
She rounds the desk, her hands clasped in front of her. Her gaze is toward the floor, or maybe her chest. I can’t be sure. But because her attention is not on my face, I lower my gaze to take her in more thoroughly.
My God she is perfect. Her tits are fucking amazing. Small, but pert and high. I can see not only the outline, but also the faint darker area where her nipples are. She’s trying to hide them with her arms by pressing her blouse forward. I’ll be putting a stop to that in a heartbeat. This is the first time I’ve seen her without a bra, and I realize she hardly needs one. Her tits are indeed proportionately small, like the rest of her.
The skirt is exactly how I wanted it. Short but not too short. It’s covering her butt, but I could easily slide a hand under it to inspect what’s mine. I gulp at that thought.
My gaze scans down her sexy legs to her feet. The little girl shoes and socks cement the outfit. She even has her toes turned in a bit as she stands before me.
“Did you sleep well, cherry blossom?”
She nods. “Yes, Sir,” she murmurs before tucking her lower lip between her teeth. Sexy as fuck.
I wonder if she has any idea how damn turned on I am. I need to rein it in a bit. She is way too innocent for me to bend her over my desk and fuck her senseless. “Don’t slouch, Lucy. Hands at your sides.”
She slowly straightens her spine and drops her hands, her fists curling at her sides. “Nancy didn’t provide a bra, Sir.” Her voice is soft. “I feel weird.”
I fight the urge to grin. God she is precious. “Nancy wasn’t supposed to provide you with a bra, Lucy. It wasn’t an accident. I’m the one choosing your clothes. You’re twelve. You’re playing a role. I want you to fully immerse yourself in the age. For the time being, until I say otherwise, don’t break from the role. Understood?”
“Yes, Sir,” she whispers. She draws her heels closer together and clenches her thighs.
My dick jumps.
“For this entire week, you’re twelve. It’s the oldest age bracket we’re going to explore. When I think you’re ready, I will switch to a younger age. At no point will you wear a bra.”
She tips her head lower. Her hair falls over her shoulder. The lack of bra is making her very self-conscious. I’ll watch to make sure she handles it okay, but squirming isn’t going to make me let up on that issue. It tells me she’s turned on, even if she’s self-conscious. She’ll get used to having her tits free in a few days.
And my God her breasts are amazing. I want to slow down and back up a pace, but I can’t stop myself from stroking one finger from each hand down her cheeks, over her neck and shoulders, and then along the sides of her tits.
She jumps, a soft gasp escaping her lips. She also arches her chest slightly toward me as her lips part. Yeah, she’s fine.
I drop my hands. “Turn around, little blossom.”
She slowly does as I’ve requested, and I reach up and remove the clip from her hair. I open my desk drawer and reach inside for a comb. Standing, I part her hair down the center and then set one side over her left shoulder. With practiced ease, I divide the right side into three sections and quickly braid her thick long hair, starting behind her ear.
She stands very still while I work, but her breathing is labored.
I reach back into the drawer for the pink ribbon and tie off the end. When I drop the braid over her shoulder, it falls across her breast and reaches down to her belly. Her curly hair is even longer braided. I love it.
I repeat the process on her left side and then take her shoulders and turn her back to face me. “Look at me,” I demand.
She lifts her gaze. Her face is flushed. She’s biting that lip. I find it suits her, and I’m not going to say anything about it. It makes her look young.
I hope she’s ready for what I’m about to do. “You need a safeword. How about jacks?”
She smiles. “Jacks?”
“Yep. It’s a toy I haven’t provided you. If there are any childhood toys you would like to have, let me know, and I’ll get them so you can make the most out of this role, but jacks will infuriate me if I step on them, so you won’t have any.”
She giggles, the sound racing to my cock. My balls are going to be blue before lunch. “Okay, Sir.”
“The only time you’re permitted to break this role is to stop me with the word jacks.”
She nods.
I lift a brow.
She clears her throat. “Yes, Sir.”
“Now, I’m not going to go easy on you, not even from the start. So, I’m going to spank you now for two reasons.”
She shudders, her face going white. Her teeth sink into that bottom lip harder.
“One, you won’t decide when the door to my office is open or closed. I will. If I want it closed, I will do it myself or ask you to shut it.”
“Yes, Sir,” she whispers.
“And two, don’t question what Nancy sets out for you to wear again. And if I ever hear that you question my staff about anything, you won’t be able to sit down. Have I made myself clear?”
“Yes, Sir.” A tear escapes one watery eye to run down her cheek. It’s expected. She’s uncertain.
I watch her expression. “Has anyone ever spanked you before?”
“No, Sir.” She lifts a hand and swipes at the tear. Another one falls to replace it.
“It will hurt because it’s meant to deter you from being disobedient, but I will never strike you hard enough to harm you or draw blood.”
She nods. I let it slide.
I take her hand and bring her trembling body to my right side. When I press on her lower back, she leans over my thighs. A soft sob escapes. I know she’s nervous. After this first spanking, she will relax a bit more into the role.
I gently pull her hands to her lower back and clasp both wrists with my left hand. When I lift her skirt and tuck it under her wrists, she squirms. Another small sob makes it difficult for me to concentrate.
The panties I provided her are so fucking sexy
covering her bottom. I can’t resist smoothing my palm over the pink, cotton material covered with teddy bears. I’m dragging this out, and I know it.
Finally, I tuck my fingers under the elastic at her waist and drag the panties down over her bottom, leaving them tangled tightly on her upper thighs.
She breathes heavily, wiggling on my lap.
I stroke her bare cheeks for the first time, admiring how damn smooth they are. Her skin is so tender. “I want you to count while I spank you, Lucy.”
She lets out a slight moan.
I watch as I continue to caress her bottom. She is so petite that my hand nearly covers both her cheeks. My palm is going to cover a lot of skin, leaving most of her bottom bright pink with just a few swats.
I close my eyes. Jesus. I lift my hand and spank her right in the center, hard enough that she flinches, low enough that I know I have her attention. She moans.
“Count, Lucy,” I admonish.
“One,” she whimpers.
I strike her again in the same spot.
“Two,” she murmurs.
Another spank slightly higher.
It takes her a few seconds to react. She’s breathing heavily. “Three.”
I don’t stop. I’m afraid if I drag this out, she will come on my thighs. She’s that aroused. The next swat lands palm open on her right cheek.
“Four.” Her voice is so low.
Another on her left cheek.
“Five.” She’s panting. Her body is stiff. Her toes are digging into the floor. Her skin is pink and hot. I decide she’s had enough. I smooth my palm over her bottom, staring at my perfect little girl.
I can’t resist the temptation to check her pussy, so without warning I slip my fingers between her thighs and drag them through her folds.
She is soaked. And she moans so loud it shocks me. “Sir…” It’s almost a question.
Raising Lucy Page 12
