She squirms, tugging at the front of the dress before she can stop herself. This doesn’t happen often anymore. She knows how much trouble she’ll be in if she fiddles with her titties.
She catches herself too late, sucking in a breath and lifting her gaze to meet mine.
I anticipated this might happen, the overwhelming sensation of the thicker potty-training panties throwing her off her game. I lift a brow.
She licks her lips. She doesn’t bother to apologize.
“Is something wrong with the front of your dress?” I ask, forcing her to verbalize her infraction.
“No, Sir.” Her voice is soft. “I’m sorry, Sir. It’s perfect.” She reaches behind her back and clasps her hands, thrusting her shoulders back.
I lower my gaze to the incredibly sexy view of her small breasts flattened under the cut of the toddler dress, her nipples hard points. I open the drawer next to the sink and remove the bane of her existence.
She takes a step back, but I spin her around so that her bottom is against the counter. I pull her dress back over her head and set it on the marble. Without hesitation, I pinch one of her nipples hard over and over, pulling it outward until she cringes at the burn. When I’m satisfied, I clamp the offended flesh with her least favorite, most painful nipple clamp.
I repeat the action on the other side, listening to her heavy breathing and whimpers as I torment her nipples. Next, I pull out the chair from under the makeup counter and sit, angling her to the side and lowering her over my thighs. I grab her hands and clasp them at her lower back with one of mine, ensuring her breasts are hanging between my thighs.
And then I spank her. The panties will dull most of the force, but my goal tonight is to leave her thighs a hot pink color so that when she walks into the dining room everyone will know she’s been naughty before dinner. They won’t even need to look at her thighs to know this. Her face will be red and splotchy too. Not because she’s going to cry. She never cries when I spank her. Her reaction is always arousal.
I act quickly, swatting her bottom hard, ensuring that half my palm lands on her upper thighs. Just as quickly, I stand her back up, unclamp her nipples, and pull her dress back over her head. She doesn’t fidget this time even though her nipples have to be burning and they’re doubly accentuated beneath the cotton of the dress.
I open the cabinet under the sink next and pull out her face wash. “Do you want me to wash off your makeup, blossom, or do you want to do it?”
She swallows and reaches out a shaky hand. “I’ll do it, Daddy.”
I know she’s not mad when she calls me that.
She steps up to the sink, her thighs wider than usual, and quickly removes the makeup. Meanwhile, I gather her hair, divide it in two, and gather it into two high ponytails. I open another drawer and find two pink ribbons to tie around each ponytail. The long silk ends reach down to her shoulders.
I lead her into the bedroom so I can finish dressing, pointing at the floor at the foot of the bed where I mean for her to sit on her bottom and put on her shoes and socks. Her light-up tennis shoes and ruffly socks.
She sits gingerly and doesn’t even try to tuck her dress under her bottom.
“Ready?” I ask her as I head for the door.
She stands and shuffles toward me, her legs spread more than usual, making her gait slightly awkward.
I pause at the door and pull her against me, my hand going to her bottom. “You okay, blossom?” I need to take her pulse. I just bombarded her with new sensations.
“Yes, Daddy.” Her face is flushed and splotchy. She squirms.
I grip her chin, lifting a brow. “If you’re a good girl at dinner, I’ll give you a treat later.”
She smiles.
God, I love her. I hope she knows how much because I don’t think I can go many more days without convincing her to make it official. I’ve never mentioned the M word to her a single time, but I’ve discussed it with Julius and Claudia. They think I’m crazy for not putting a ring on her.
I pause before leading her downstairs, hating to dampen our evening, but I need to tell her something. I won’t keep secrets from her. Never again. I’ve kept things from her before, and it didn’t go well. “Lucy.” I lift her chin with my fingers.
“Yes, Sir?”
“Daven left the country today.”
She lifts her brows, her mouth falling open.
“As you know, my men have been keeping tabs on him. He shuffled around the country for a while doing odd jobs, but he crossed into Mexico this morning. Hopefully he’ll stay there.” The important thing is that he hasn’t bothered my girl again. Not one attempt to contact her since the day he tried to get money from her. As soon as the police let him go, he left town. I know for a fact the police gave him a stern warning and a do-you-have-any-idea-who-you’re-dealing-with speech. He must have realized he was never going to get a dime out of us. He was lucky we let him off so easily. The police informed him he wouldn’t be that lucky if he pulled a stunt like that again. The fact that he’s left the country makes me feel even better.
“That’s good. Thanks for telling me, Sir.” She shivers a bit and then rights herself as if shaking him off for good.
I kiss the top of her head and hold her closer for a moment, so proud of her. That chapter of our lives is over.
She follows me downstairs, and when we enter the dining room, Julius is already there. He’s standing at the windows facing the back lawn, a scotch in his hand.
He turns around smiles. He won’t make a single comment about Lucy’s new look. He knows me well, and he understands our dynamic. “I wasn’t sure if you two were going to show up for dinner or not,” he says, smirking.
Lucy tucks one hand in the crook of my arm and plasters herself to my side, barely peeking around my arm. This is a new thing she does. Her duel personalities have taken on specific qualities. Sometimes I let her dine with my friends as an adult. Sometimes I do not. When she’s an adult, she’s everyone’s equal and sits at the table conversing as if we are one big dinner party.
When she is my little, she has taken on a shy side. I’m not sure if it happens consciously or not, but she keeps her gaze lowered often and sticks to my side. I don’t mind it a bit. I think it’s cute.
“Hey, Lucy. How was your day?” Julius asks innocuously, his voice soft.
Lucy could have been at the office making important decisions. Or she could have been at preschool learning to stack blocks. “Good,” she whispers.
I pry her off me and bring her to my front, setting my hands on her shoulders. “You want to try that again, blossom, with a bit more respect?”
“My day was good, Sir,” she manages.
I swat her bottom lightly and turn her around to face me, knowing I will be able to watch her face go from red to scarlet when I put her back to Julius, exposing her hot pink thighs and the bottom inch of her training panties to his gaze. “You seem tired tonight. After dinner, you need to get to bed.”
“Yes, Sir.”
I tweak her nose and then lead her to her spot at the table. After pulling out her chair and helping push her back in, I take my seat.
She squirms. Expected, considering she has on thick training panties, my come is pressing into her pussy, and her thighs are burning. She knows the rules, and she immediately picks up her glass of milk with two hands and drains it, wiping her lips on her napkin.
I turn my attention to Julius. “Smirk all you want, but I’m sure you hate missing a meal with your family.” I love to razz him now that he has a submissive who rocks his world as hard as Lucy does mine. We don’t see each other as often as we used to, but we have business together, and sometimes we have to carve out time to discuss it.
Julius is so in love that it’s been written on his face for months. He fought it for a long time, so badly burned by his ex that he’s had trouble trusting again. There’s no way to stop the freight train when it barrels into the station though, and Abby did just that to him.
<
br /> I glance at Lucy as she eats her dinner. She’s definitely a freight train too. That’s for sure.
Chapter 29
Lucy
* * *
Master Roman sends me upstairs to get ready for bed while he and Julius remain in the dining room discussing business. I’m pretty sure the reason he dressed me as a toddler and sent me away after dinner was to avoid boring me, and I appreciate it. I’m exhausted. Working a regular job and then coming home to submit to Master Roman is tiring.
I enter the master bedroom smiling. There is hope for my night since I haven’t been sent to my little girl room.
I’ve been squirming all through dinner. The combination of the thick panties and Daddy’s come made it difficult to focus on anything else around me. I barely tasted my food.
In addition, my nipples are sore and swollen from the clamps, another intentional move to distract me. It worked.
When I enter the bathroom, I turn on the water to fill the tub, plugging the drain and testing it with my hand. While it fills, I take off my shoes and socks first, followed by my dress and the thick soaked panties. I remove the ribbons from my ponytails and twist the long lengths of my hair around each band, creating a Princess Leia look, tucking the ends under the bands so that my hair won’t get wet in the tub.
I step gingerly into the warm water, hoping it doesn’t sting on my heated thighs. It’s not often that Daddy spanks me for punishment instead of pleasure, but he did tonight.
I don’t mind when he disciplines me like that. In fact, I like it. It adds variety to our lives and always precedes me spending a few hours horny and unfulfilled, which I also don’t mind because in the end, the orgasm is even sweeter.
I wince as I lower myself into the water, but in a moment, it begins to soothe me. I lie back, exhausted, and close my eyes. My day was long. All of them are. Now that I have to get up at five thirty so I can be sure I have enough time to shower, dress, apply makeup, fix my hair, and leave time for a hard fuck, my days are longer.
I love my job. I’m interning in the sales department of a large company that makes, of all things, innovative children’s toys. I know my bosses love me, and I’m hopeful they’ll offer me a permanent position in a few months.
I work eight to five, but I almost always stay until six. Anything past that makes Master Roman antsy. If I have work I need to do in the evening, I bring it home and quickly inform Master Roman so he can adjust his evening plans for me accordingly.
I try not to let it happen too often. He’s not the only one who frowns when I can’t be fully present and his when I get home. I don’t like it either.
Tonight is Friday. I don’t have to work tomorrow. I’m hoping Master Roman will join me soon, preferably intent on putting his cock inside me for a drawn-out round between the sheets.
I take several deep breaths and let them out slowly, trying to relax. I’ve been horny from the moment Master Roman approached me in the kitchen. His quick fuck and the single orgasm he gave me in this bathroom only revved me up. The thicker panties and very young toddler dress did nothing to dampen my ardor. I love that he surprises me with new ideas. He never seems to run out. He knows I draw the line at diapers, but he obviously isn’t afraid to come very close to that line.
After several minutes, I grab the strawberry body wash and a Strawberry Shortcake washcloth and clean my skin, leaving it smooth and soft and smelling like a little girl. I also take ten minutes to shave, everywhere. I’ve done so every day for years. It’s second nature. I never even nick my pussy anymore.
I’ve just opened the drain to let the water out when Master Roman steps into the room.
He’s got that look on his face, the one that suggests he intends to ravish me.
I meet his look, tipping my head to one side and drawing my shoulders in shyly to let him know I’m eager.
He grabs a towel and wraps me in it as I step from the tub. After drying me, he hangs the towel on the rack and leads me from the room. He points to the four-posted bed where he’s already drawn the comforter and dark navy sheet back. And then he stares at me as he removes his clothes, taking in my naked body, pinkened from the warm water, while I watch my favorite show in the world. The unveiling of Master Roman.
When he’s finally naked, he stalks toward me and shocks me by climbing between my legs, pushing me farther across the mattress, and then grasping my thighs.
I whimper as he spreads me wide, his gaze going to my pussy. I’m already wet from the show and thoughts I had in the tub of what he might do to me.
“You’re so damn beautiful,” he whispers as he spreads my folds with his fingers and blows across my pussy. “Every inch of you. Every facet.” He lifts his gaze. “Did you like the dress?”
“Yes, Sir.” My legs are shaking.
“What about the training panties?”
I shiver and nod.
He chuckles. “I love how embarrassed you get when you admit to enjoying another aspect of kink.”
We’re not in a particular role in this bed. We never are. From the moment a few years ago when he finally let me sleep in his room with him, we developed a dynamic that happened organically. When we’re both naked in this bed, I’m not really his little girl. I’m also not his equal. I let him make the decisions, and I address him respectfully, but we speak normally and openly. We rarely mention my little status. It’s like everything we do that involves dress up and playtime and spankings and timeouts and coloring and toys and pigtails and panties… All of that is foreplay for us. It works for us. It makes us both horny.
Sometimes we have sex without me being fully naked in his office or my playroom. Sometimes he lifts my dress and fondles me to completion without penetrating me. Those times, I’m his little.
But here, in this bed, in this adult room, I’m just a woman who’s totally aroused from a night of role-playing. We never discussed it. It just happened.
Master Roman lowers his face and drags his tongue through my folds, flicking it over my clit at the end.
I moan, my legs shaking in his grip as I drop fully onto my back, giving up the idea of watching propped on my elbows.
Master Roman takes his time, making me burn for him without letting me over the edge for long minutes. I’m close to the forbidden stage of begging when he finally climbs up my body and slides into me. The moment his cock is fully seated, the base pressed against my clit, I come. I grab his biceps as I ride the waves of pleasure.
I know he’s staring at me because he loves to watch me come. He waits until I’m floating back to earth to pull almost out and then ease back in.
I blink up at him, not unaware that we’re having a vanilla moment with him on top making love to me. It’s rare. It’s special. It makes my heart beat faster.
He holds my gaze the entire time he cherishes me, until the last second when his eyes slide closed as his orgasm takes him down. He never can maintain eye contact while his cock pulses its release.
Master Roman’s weight presses into me, but I don’t mind. I love the heaviness. It surrounds me. For long seconds I take shallow breaths before he eases out of me and slides to one side. He nestles one leg between mine, plants his chin on his palm, and cups my face. His gaze is intense. More so than usual.
“I love you.”
“I love you too.”
“I bought you something.” He smiles, and then he surprises me by rolling away from me.
I push to sitting, leaning against the pillows, grinning at his excitement.
He grabs a black unmarked bag from the bedside table and reaches inside it to pull out a small square jewelry box.
Now I’m smiling even broader. I love when he gets me little gifts. It lets me know he thinks about me when we’re not together.
Stuffing the bag behind him, he hands me the box.
I meet his gaze.
“Open it,” he encourages, nodding at my palm.
I sit up taller and lift the hinged lid. I gasp, my hand coming to my hea
rt, my gaze lifting to meet his. Tears well up.
“Do you like it?” He’s smiling too, and he takes the box from me and pulls out the necklace. It’s a tiny silver heart with diamonds around the edges on a short silver chain. At least I assume they’re diamonds. Master Roman isn’t the sort to buy something fake.
He flips over the pendant, and I lean forward to read the inscription on the back. Mine.
“It’s sort of like a collar, but one that you can wear in public without anyone questioning it. Small, unassuming, personal.”
I nod as the tears fall. “Thank you. God, it’s gorgeous.” I love it. It’s perfect. It will serve as a constant reminder that I’m loved when I’m not with him.
He motions for me to lean my head forward, and then he clasps it behind my neck.
I finger it as I sit up. The silver chain is dainty and short enough that I can’t see the pendant without a mirror.
He snaps his fingers. “Oh, I almost forgot. I got you something else too.” He reaches for the bag behind him and draws it between us. Seconds later, he has an identical black box in his hand.
I imagine it will contain matching earrings, though my ears aren’t pierced.
He doesn’t hand me the box this time though. Instead, he holds it in one hand and slowly lifts the lid with the other.
I gasp, my eyes bugging out. This isn’t a set of matching earrings. It’s a ring.
Master Roman is grinning broadly as he shoves off the side of the bed and lowers to one knee on the carpet. He still holds the diamond ring in one hand, but he tugs on my other hand, pulling me off the bed until I stand in front of him.
The tears are falling on top of each other now. Streams of them that won’t stop. I’m naked. We’re both naked. My Master is on the floor on one knee, looking up at me. Hopeful.
I return my gaze to the ring. It’s a heart-shaped diamond surrounded by tiny smaller diamonds that match the heart of my necklace. I realize they are both white gold, not silver.
Leaving Roman Page 20
